After dinner, I don’t go back to the room with the girls. I decide to explore the house a bit and see what I can. There’s a small backyard where Ajji has planted a curry leaf tree, some coriander plants and even a lime tree.
‘Don’t go into the backyard in the night!’ Ajji calls out to me in an admonishing tone. Oops! I come back inside to see her at the doorway to her room. I’ve been in 1982 for all of two days now and I haven’t been inside her room yet. I want to go inside and inhale her familiar talcum powder and the starch on her cotton sarees. Most of all, I want to put my head on her lap and just sleep. Unfortunately, I can’t do any of that.
‘Why don’t you go to sleep?’ she asks me, her face breaking out into a smile. I remember how mom has told me that Ajji had a hard life, but she was never one to crib about it. In fact, right up to the present she’s always maintained a stoic smile and always indulged us whenever we visited her.
‘I’m not feeling sleepy,’ I tell her.
‘Come,’ she invites me inside her room and I step inside, feeling comfort wash over me instantly. It’s just as I remember, except that in the present day Ajji’s room is a little brighter.
She sits down on the bed and pats the space beside her and I sit down, feeling a little shy. To her, I’m practically a stranger and yet she’s so kindly let me stay in her house just because I’m Manoj’s friend.
‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ I tell her with a smile and Ajji cocks her head and regards me curiously.
‘I don’t know why but you remind me of someone I know,’ she says. ‘I just don’t remember who.’
I nod and hope to change the subject. ‘Who were the other women in the kitchen that day?’ I ask her because I’ve noticed that they’re no longer in the house. It’s only Ajji and the girls … my mother and aunts I mean.
‘They were neighbours. They came that day to help me make some of the snacks that we make and sell. I usually manage on my own but one some days I get tired so they come and help,’ she says. Mom’s words about what a privileged childhood I’ve had are clear now. Ajji made and sold those murukkus I ate the other day to supplement their income.
‘They were delicious,’ I tell her, wishing I could tell her that her days of hardship would get over as soon as my mother finishes college and gets a job. But that’s still years away. At least another 7 years.
‘So who’s there in your house back in Australia?’ she asks me.
‘My parents and my younger sister,’ I tell her. She starts asking me about Raina and I find it sort of surreal to give her all this information.
‘Your parents must be very trusting to send you off alone to another country like this!’ she says when I stop talking.
‘I don’t know. They’re like most parents, I guess,’ I tell her, scratching my ear. Ow! Something just bit it!
‘Wait, wait! Don’t scratch like that,’ she says and gently rubs some talcum powder on my ear. Aah! Lovely Ajji smells.
‘So how come your parents let you come to Bangalore to visit a boy,’ she asks. Oh right.
‘Actually, they are very open-minded,’ I tell her although the truth veers a little to the opposite.
Ajji nods and looks sad for some reason. I yawn. Today has been so tiring, physically and emotionally. I’ve discovered so many things about myself and others and none of it is comforting.
‘You’re tired. Go sleep,’ she says.
The phone is ringing in the hall as I make my way towards the room. Since none of the girls have come to answer it, I pick up the receiver cautiously.
‘Hello?’
‘Tamanna?’ It’s Manoj. My face behaves very silly by heating up immediately. Thank god no one is around to see it.
‘Yes,’ I reply, clearing my throat.
‘You’re coming to college tomorrow right?’ he sounds anxious. ‘You said you didn’t like the work but then it’s for just a couple more days and then college is getting over anyhow. I thought …’
Whoa, why is he babbling?
‘Yes, I’m coming,’ I cut him off mid-sentence and there’s a pause.
‘Oh great!’ he sounds extremely relieved and that insignificant detail makes me very happy for some reason.
I end the call and then go to the room. Reena and Vidya are asleep but Suma is awake although she’s lying on her mattress.
‘How was your day?’ she asks, curling up towards me when I get ready for bed.
‘It was okay. Tiring,’ I tell her as I cover myself with the blanket and pull it up to my chin.
‘How was Manoj today?’ she asks and I grimace. What does she want me to tell her?
‘We met some girl called Neelima today at the bus stop. And he’s very popular in college also I think. Everyone seems to want to talk to him!’ I say.
Suma leans her head on her elbow and snorts. ‘I know!’ she says. ‘I’ve seen that girl Neelima a few times. She’s very pretty, no?’
Oh mom. Don’t go there.
‘Yeah, she is,’ I say because Suma is expecting me to answer her.
‘But you know something?’ she asks and I take a deep breath and shake my head.
‘No. Tell me.’
‘I don’t think Manoj really likes her,’ she sounds pleased as she says this.
‘Hmm,’ I decide not to answer that. When I look at her a few minutes later, she’s asleep with a smile on her face.
Sixteen
SO WE’RE SITTING IN this ice cream parlour called Chit Chat on MG Road. College is over for the day and Manoj has insisted that we come over here because he’s feeling bad for having forgotten about lunch the previous day.
Today I did come prepared however. I had shyly asked Ajji if she would make lunch for me because I wasn’t sure of the canteen food and Ajji had warmed up to me instantly, handing me a dabba packed with piping hot, fragrant chitranna. I ate outside the library on the steps, wondering what Manoj was doing, a little glad that he knew I came with lunch today, so he didn’t have to feel like he had to spend lunch time with me.
The waiter brought us our ice creams and placed it on the table. The ice creams in 2012 are way more sophisticated and there must be at least a hundred more flavours. My glass dish of ice cream has three scoops on it, the typical vanilla, chocolate and strawberry covered liberally with cashewnut pieces and a wafer stuck on top. To be honest, it’s not very appetising because I’m used to eating Death by Chocolate. Nevertheless, I’m sure Manoj’s feelings will be hurt if I don’t seem to enjoy it so I smile and dig in.
We’re eating the ice cream in silence, because I’m quietly observing the people around us. Most of them seem to be young couples although there are a few families as well. Next door is Lakeview, and I’ve been reliably informed by mom that the 2012 Lakeview is not a patch on how it used to be before. But I’m sure the ice cream there would be just as insipid. What 2012 doesn’t have is the atmosphere I think. There’s no rush to go home, and no one is clicking pictures of their ice cream before digging into it. All the oddities of our lives in 2012 would actually make us look like aliens in 1982.
‘My grandfather wants to meet you,’ Manoj says, breaking the uneasy silence.
‘Oh thank god! Has he found a way to send me back?’ I ask, dipping my spoon into the chocolate scoop.
‘Not yet,’ Manoj says slowly. ‘But he wants to talk to you, find out in detail how you came here. He wants to know the exact sequence of things that happened to you.’
I’m a bit disappointed but I shrug. ‘Sure, when does he want to meet me?’
‘Soon. Maybe when you get back home you can freshen up and come home with me,’ he says.
‘Okay,’ I say.
‘Want one more?’ he asks when he notices that my ice cream bowl is empty. I shake my head.
‘Not as good as what you’re used to, I suppose,’ he says and for the first time, I notice a slight hint of bitterness in his tone.
‘We do have better ice creams in my time,’ I tell him, feeling a little defens
ive. That’s not my fault is it?
He doesn’t say anything as he continues eating. When we’re finished, the waiter comes and hovers near us and Manoj pays him the bill.
‘Thanks for the treat,’ I tell him as we get up. He doesn’t reply. Suddenly, I’m feeling angry and irritated and also homesick. I never asked for any of this.
‘What’s your problem?’ I ask him.
‘No problem,’ he mutters as we near the bus stop.
‘Then why are you behaving like this?’ I ask, trying to catch up with him. Why is he walking so quickly as though trying to outpace me?
He stops suddenly and turns around and I end up stepping on his toes and we crash into each other. He holds my arms to steady me and then steps back, shaking his head.
‘You want to know why I was shocked when I came here on Sunday?’ I ask him, hoping to change the topic and make this weirdness between the two of us go away. My arms are still tingling and I ignore it as I walk beside him. He looks at me sideways and shrugs.
‘Well, all this is not there,’ I say, gesturing to the trees and the benches lined up below it. ‘Instead we have the Metro.’
‘What’s the Metro?’ he asks, intrigued. I explain the concept to him and he’s part fascinated, part horrified. I had never planned on telling any of this to him but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop.
The bus rolls along and we get inside and I’m still talking. I’m telling him about the depletion of the ozone layer and the greenhouse effect and a whole lot of other things. Finally, he raises a hand and asks me to stop.
‘What happened?’ I ask feeling breathless.
‘You were right. I wish you hadn’t told me all this,’ he says, looking out of the window. Great. Now I’ve gone and depressed him.
‘But it’s not all bad! There’s a lot of good stuff happening too!’ I think of technology and how much it has changed our lives, most of it for the better.
‘Look, it will all be fine,’ I tell him, shaking his arm to make him look at me. He turns in his seat and looks pointedly at my hand on his arm but I don’t pull away so he jerks his arm free and takes a deep breath.
‘Most of what you said didn’t make sense to me, so I’ll just try and forget the rest,’ he says evenly.
I hate this sudden quarrel that we’re having for no reason. I mean, last week on Tuesday I was at home with my mother, watching her watch endless soaps on TV. I was bored out of my skull and positive my bottom had grown roots in the sofa. I had no idea this guy even existed. Suddenly my world has been turned around on its head. How am I supposed to make sense of anything?
‘Okay, why are you behaving like this?’ I ask him in a fierce whisper.
‘You really want to know?’ he asks, his voice low. To my horror, I realise that his low voice is really sexy. Oh god! I did not just think that.
‘Until Saturday I had no idea who you were. Now suddenly, we’re spending so much time together and I know this cannot last. You’re going to go back to where you belong and that just makes me …’ he shrugs as though unable to complete his sentence.
‘It just makes me angry that I’m not around in 2012. Or even if I am, I’m so much older than you,’ he completes his sentence in a baffled whisper.
I look down at my lap, horrified to realise that I’m fighting tears. Why the hell am I crying? What just happened?
‘I’m sorry for everything,’ I find myself telling him. I have no idea exactly what I’m apologising for. I look up at him and realise that he’s looking out of the window. We get down from the bus in strained silence and a few feet away from Ajji’s home, he stops.
I stop too and look at him surprised. He steps forward and unleashing a huge number of boppity bops in my chest, he cups my face in his hands.
‘I told myself yesterday that you’re too young for me. I kept repeating it all day. But nothing seems to work. I don’t know why,’ he says, shaking his head sadly. Leaning forward, he kisses my forehead and steps back. Before I know it, he’s walking away. I want to call out to him to remind him that I’m supposed to go with him to his house but my throat seems to have stopped working. Never mind. I know the way. I’ll go on my own. I’m so overwhelmed with everything that I just want to go back to 2012 and forget all of this is happening because it doesn’t make sense to me.
I take a big gulp of air and look towards Ajji’s house and my heart sinks. Suma is at the window, arms crossed, staring at me.
Seventeen
MANOJ’S HOUSE IS COMPLETELY dark. I wonder if his grandfather has forgotten to pay the electricity bill but then I ring the doorbell and it peals and I step back, wondering if Manoj will open the door. I’ve no idea what I will tell him or how I will face him.
I’ve spent the past half hour battling a deathly stare from Suma. After deliberating between becoming my friend and disliking me, she’s finally decided that she will not be talking to me. I got ready and Ajji gave me coffee but Suma who it seems cannot resist being in the same room as me, has been giving me the silent treatment. I really don’t know how to counter it, just as I don’t know how to counter it when mom starts behaving this way in the present day.
I inform Ajji that Manoj’s grandfather wants to see me and note that Suma is rolling her eyes indicating that it’s a likely story and that I’m probably just going to see Manoj. I ignore her and step out of the house, trying to follow the way we had taken on Sunday. Was that just two days back? How could my life have changed so much in just two days?
Manoj’s grandfather opens the door and I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. He motions me to follow him and I go on inside. The old man switches on the light in the hall and I realise this house with all its dust is making me feel claustrophobic.
‘Sit,’ he says and I look around and sit down on the closest chair. He shuffles forward and sits down as well.
The house is so silent I can hear the ticking of the grandfather clock on the wall. A loud bong from it startles me, and I realise that it’s 5.30 although it seems like much later.
‘Where’s Manoj?’ I ask to fill the silence. The old man shrugs.
‘He went out. Said that he’ll be back by night.’
I nod, knowing that I’m the reason Manoj isn’t here. I try to focus on the reason why I’m here.
‘You wanted to talk to me?’ I ask, looking down at my lap.
‘Yes, tell me everything. Describe everything that happened,’ he says. I start talking and I tell him about going to the attic, reading my book there and then getting the call from my mother. Then I tell him about finding the photo from the floor.
‘What happened when you picked it up?’ he asks, leaning forward, his eyes squinting a bit as though he is recording this in his funny-shaped head.
‘I just thought that their clothes were funny and I didn’t know who Manoj was,’ I say, feeling a strange heaviness settle at the centre of my chest when I talk about him.
‘Anything else?’ he asks. I shut my eyes tight trying to recall that afternoon. Then it hits me suddenly and I sit up straight.
‘I was able to smell almond oil and I heard something that sounded like waves crashing on the shore,’ I tell him, excited. He looks up, a little surprised.
‘What?’ he asks, shaking his head slowly and then falling silent as though he’s contemplating what it means.
‘Is there a connection to me finding that photo 30 years later and getting sucked into it the very moment it was taken?’
‘I’m trying to understand that, young lady. Time travel through photos has been a dream of mine. I’ve been working on it for nearly three years now. I had no idea it worked on Saturday,’ he says.
‘It didn’t work on Saturday,’ I tell him. ‘It’s worked 30 years later.’
‘However you look at it, it worked,’ he says with a shrug.
‘I don’t understand this at all. How could I get sucked into a photo taken 30 years ago? It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable.’ I put my head in my hands
.
‘But it’s happened,’ he repeats as though in a trance. I look up and feel a bit angry with him for doing these weird experiments that have caused this … this to happen.
‘I have to find the trigger,’ he says slowly. I have an insane urge to shake him by the shoulders and shout at him. I want to tell him—Send me back home before it’s too late, before I decide not to go. The very thought astounds me. How can I not want to go back to 2012? I don’t even want to think of the reason why my mind has suddenly pounced upon this thought.
I get up and say good bye to him, praying fervently that he finds out a way to send me back soon. I have to go back to 2012. That’s my life. Not this.
Eighteen
THE NEXT DAY I wait in the morning for Manoj to pick me up as usual. But when it’s nine, I realise he’s not coming. I’m exasperated and angry with him for not informing me that he’s planning on avoiding me.
Despite Ajji looking anxious, I head out to the bus stop. When I turn back and wave, I see the girls, Reena and Vidya smiling and waving while Suma still looks sullen. Since I don’t even have money for bus fare, I feel ridiculously ashamed for borrowing money from Ajji. When she hands me some funny looking coins, I don’t know what to say.
‘That’s ten paisa,’ she informs me because she probably thinks I’m used to Australian currency. At the bus stop I wonder if Manoj will be there and then realise that since I’m late, he’s probably left by the 8.30 bus. On the way to college, I keep wondering why he’s avoiding me. His words to me outside Ajji’s house yesterday keep replaying themselves in my head on a loop. Maybe this is for the best, I think. It’s just that it hurts and it doesn’t feel like it’s for the best.
The librarian is surprised to see me. ‘I thought Manoj said you weren’t coming!’
I get down to work after telling him I fully intend to work for the remaining two days. At least this way my mind will be occupied and I won’t drive myself crazy wondering whether or not I’ll go back home ever. The utter silence in the library is unnerving. I’m re-shelving some books by the Chemistry section, almost in a semi-comatose state from boredom when I realise that Manoj has come to the library and is looking at me, shocked.
No Time for Goodbyes Page 6
