I continue my work, thankful that I have not dropped any of the books because of clumsy reflexes. When I turn to see if he’s still there, he’s gone. I feel a flash of dismay and hurt balling up inside me but I continue to let my OCDs rule by making sure none of the books are out of place.
In the evening, I’m at the bus stop and he’s there as well but we might as well have been strangers. I’m tired, irritated and my shoulders are aching from slotting books in the top shelves. But I want to talk to him so I walk up to him and I can see him looking at me uncomfortably.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ I ask him outright and he looks away, as though he hasn’t heard me.
The bus rolls in and people clamber to get inside but for a crazy moment, I don’t want to get in. Manoj steps inside and looks around to see if I’m on the bus. He is surprised to see that I haven’t boarded the bus. Soon, everyone is on it except me. I’m still at the bus stop staring at Manoj when it starts moving.
Manoj shakes his head and then making a quick decision, moves a few people out of his way and jumps out right before the bus picks up speed. I’m still at the stop, watching him straighten up and look at me.
The two of us are standing there looking at each other warily and not saying a word and I realise it’s ridiculous. Finally, I have to break the silence.
‘Why did you jump out?’ I ask him.
‘You know why,’ he replies, looking away before strolling towards me, his hands in his pockets. He leans against the railing and looks away, probably deciding to ignore me until the next bus comes.
‘I’m not getting on the next bus if you don’t talk to me,’ I inform him and he turns to face me, looking exasperated.
‘What is the matter with you?’ he asks, annoyed.
‘I want to know why you’re cutting me off,’ I ask. He looks resigned.
‘So that when you go back to 2012, I’ll hopefully be able to continue as before,’ he says, looking down at his shoes.
‘But you’re the only friend I have!’ I tell him, my voice rising a little in panic. ‘I’ll go crazy if I don’t talk to someone who knows the truth!’
He doesn’t say anything in answer to that and continues staring at the ground.
‘Manoj! Look at me!’ I tell him. A couple of other people at the bus stop are looking at us curiously.
‘What do you want Tamanna?’ he asks me, his eyes flashing anger. I step back involuntarily.
‘I just want everything to be as it was,’ I say the first thing that comes to my mind. Manoj looks away and begins examining his hands. Then, after what seems like a huge amount of deliberation, he looks at me and finally speaks.
‘Fine. Everything will be just as it was. Don’t worry,’ he says in a clipped tone. I don’t know what to make of it because the next bus comes and we get in. It’s not as empty as the previous one but I manage to get a seat although Manoj is content to stand, swaying against the other people in the jolting bus.
We get down quietly at our stop and this time Manoj walks me home. I don’t know what to make of his behaviour but I decide to just wait and see. Suma opens the door and goes inside without speaking to us. For just that fraction of a second, he looks at me and shrugs as though wondering what is wrong with her. I don’t enlighten him but go and freshen up.
When I come out of the bathroom, Reena has kept out some of her clothes for me. It’s quite nice of them, and really sweet in the way they keep rotating their clothes although Suma has probably decided not to share any more of her clothes with me.
‘Her parents can send her money right? Or her relatives in Delhi can,’ I hear Suma whispering fiercely to Reena just moments before I step out. Oh mom, if only you knew. With a heavy heart I wear Reena’s clothes and realise that they are actually decent. It’s a white churidar kurta with delicate embroidery done on it and I feel feminine and fresh as I step out. I’m completely taken aback when I see that Manoj is in the hall and he’s talking to Ajji earnestly. I thought he would have gone back home.
I join them feeling a little self-conscious especially when Manoj glances at me for a little longer than usual, before looking away. Suma is also sitting in the hall, listening to him intently.
‘What’s happening?’ I ask, as I join in. Ajji smiles at me.
‘Manoj has been telling us that you will be going back very soon and that we should have a picnic with you before you go,’ she says. I look at him surprised and he smiles at me in a most normal manner. I’m confused. Then I remember his words at the bus stop that he will try and make everything like before. Is this a part of that attempt? It would seem that way because Manoj is behaving almost exactly the way he did on Saturday when we met for the first time. Only difference is that he’s not throwing baffled glances my way unlike then because he didn’t know who I was.
‘A picnic sounds good,’ I smile.
‘We haven’t yet decided where we’re going,’ Reena says, and I nod, thinking of possible places to go.
‘Nandi Hills,’ Manoj and I say together. Everyone looks at us almost shocked.
‘How do you know Nandi Hills?’ Suma asks, her brow furrowing in suspicion. I glance at Manoj although I can’t make out what he’s thinking.
‘He told me about it,’ I say, gesturing towards Manoj and they nod in understanding.
‘At this time of the year? Are you crazy?’ Suma asks and I sigh. My mom—always so practical.
‘Oh yeah, I forgot it will be cold there. And how will we even go there?’ Ajji muses.
‘I’ll bring the car,’ Manoj offers.
‘Oh no. Not in your car. Especially not Nandi Hills,’ Suma says, shaking her head fiercely.
‘It will be fine,’ Manoj insists. Ajji is looking dubious. I can see what she’s thinking. The girls go out so infrequently, it would be a good thing for them to enjoy a picnic somewhere.
‘Why don’t we go to Mysore instead?’ I ask.
‘It’s far,’ Manoj replies, not looking at me. ‘But I think we can manage. Yeah, we could even go to Brindavan Gardens.’
Ooh, that will be lovely, I think. The last time we went to Brindavan Gardens was in 2010 and it was awful. Mom kept reminiscing about how beautiful it used to be in her time and generally annoyed us more than we already were. I’d like to see what she meant and this is one of the nicest things about going back into the past. Checking out to see if the good old days that mom talked about were really good.
But then they’d have to be, I think. With someone like Manoj in their lives, who’s even now making Reena laugh hysterically by imitating his Electronics teacher and the peculiar way the man stands, how could the good old days not have been good?
I’m pondering this in my head and smiling to myself when I catch Manoj’s eye and he smiles at me briefly before mouthing, ‘Mysore okay?’ to me. I nod slightly, finally understanding the meaning of the word ‘bittersweet’ because that’s what I’m feeling right now.
Nineteen
I’M HOLDING AN ENVELOPE containing the grand sum of twenty rupees, my pay for working in the library for four days, and I cannot stop grinning. This is the first money I have ever made without any help from my parents whatsoever and the feeling is really awesome. Manoj looks at my face and he’s grinning too.
‘Get over it!’ he says as we walk outside the library. I say good bye to Mr Kurien, not knowing if I will ever see him again. This Saturday it will be one whole week since I’ve landed in 1982. For some reason, the thought doesn’t depress me any more since I’m having so much fun. Especially now that Manoj has decided to stow away any feelings that he has for me, he’s become much more fun to be with. He’s like the life of the party even when there isn’t any party but there are the odd moments when I see him staring at me, quickly looking away when he meets my eyes.
Even Suma seems to have forgiven me and together, Suma, Reena and I head out to the shops to buy some things for me now that I have my own money. Ajji is hesitant about sending the three of us alone but Mano
j is getting his grandfather’s car serviced for the trip on Saturday so he can’t come with us. I’m relieved actually because underneath all that banter I’m afraid of exploring my own feelings for him.
‘We can get you some nice clothes in the 4th Block complex,’ Reena says as we make our way towards the bus stop.
‘Jayanagar 4th Block Shopping Complex?’ I ask and instantly realise what a gaffe I’ve made. I’m not supposed to know the names of these places. But shopping here! Oh my god, I cringe inwardly. Thankfully, neither Suma nor Reena have picked up on the strange fact that I know the name of the local shopping complex. Since Ajji’s house is in Jayanagar 1st Block, they may not have given much thought to it.
‘Why? Where do you usually shop?’ Suma asks and Reena nudges her.
‘In her own city, obviously!’ she whispers to her loudly.
‘Where exactly in Australia are you from?’ Suma asks me as we get into the bus.
‘Melbourne,’ I say the first name that pops into my head. I’m praying that she won’t ask me anything more because seriously, I don’t have Wikipedia to guide me. How on earth did these people manage without the Internet?
In the bus, Reena is chattering about the Mysore trip excitedly and her enthusiasm is a bit catchy. We get down at the complex some minutes later and venture into it. Amazingly, this is one place that looks pretty much the same except that it’s seedier and a lot more crowded in 2012.
I’m not really keen on buying anything for myself here. This is one of the times I sorely miss malls and upmarket stores but I try to think of it as just another adventure in 1982.
So far I’ve rejected quite a few outfits that I would seriously not want to be seen dead in. By this point Suma is annoyed and reminds me a lot of my mother when I do the same thing with her when we’re out shopping.
‘Why can’t you just make up your mind?’ she snaps and I have to hold my tongue not to say something that ends in ‘mom’.
In the end, I decide not to buy anything. I feel like I should probably do something for Ajji and the girls instead. But what can I do to show my appreciation to them? That’s when the idea strikes and I don’t want to let go of it.
‘Let’s go back home and make a cake,’ I tell them. It’s what mom likes to do. Whenever she’s in a good mood, she bakes. And it instantly puts all of us in a good mood as well.
‘A cake? You know how to make one?’ Suma asks surprised. Oh, you do too mom, I think. You make such light and lovely cakes. But I just smile and nod. Even if I’ve never hung around in the kitchen much when mom is cooking food, I always traipse in whenever she’s baking. So I do know the basics.
I pay for our bus fares with a feeling of pride but it’s such a negligible amount that I wish I could do more. Would Ajji mind it if I just gave the money to her? Yeah, she might. It’s not like she knows I’m her eldest granddaughter.
When we’re back at home, Ajji is surprised at the news that I want to make a cake.
‘But what about the ingredients?’ she asks me. Ah! I can spend my money on that! But where on earth is it possible to get unsalted butter in 1982? Nilgiris? When I ask the girls, they nod.
‘You have to go to Brigade Road for that,’ they say. It’s already evening and I’m not in any mood to go all the way there.
‘Let’s just make do with what we have,’ I tell them, not really convinced myself. But I’ve got started and I don’t want to stop. So what if we don’t have unsalted butter. We have salted butter right?
I whip that with some sugar and then add the eggs as I’ve seen mom do it while everyone looks around at me curiously. I realise I’m flushed with nervousness. What if this tastes terrible? Then I ask for baking powder and realise that Ajji doesn’t have any. But she does have baking soda she says and hands it over to me. Unsure if this is the right thing to do, I sieve some flour with the soda and mix it in the batter. The batter is standing out in clumps and it looks nothing like the ones mom mixes. Something is seriously wrong here but I’m too far ahead now to worry about that.
Ajji hands me those round tins that come with pressure cookers and I notice that she’s greased it with ghee. Thank god! Sometimes you don’t need expertise. You need common sense. It’s what mom likes to repeat often enough.
Only when I’ve poured the batter inside the tin, I stop to think about the oven. Usually by now, mom has pre-heated the oven and then she pops the tin inside for thirty minutes.
‘Oven?’ I ask, with a troubled look and Ajji shakes her head. Oh no! All that butter and eggs and sugar! I’ve wasted it all! I’m on the verge of tears when Ajji shakes her head with a smile. She switches on the kerosene stove and lowers the flame and keeps a tawa on it. All of us are looking at her with interest. Surely she’s not going to bake a cake on the stove!
She gets up and goes outside to the backyard from where she gets some sand. Sprinkling the sand on the tawa she places a large vessel with high walls on it and when it gets heated, she places the tin of batter in it. I’m watching her fascinated. Is Ajji actually making a makeshift oven? Wow! She is so talented!
We all watch amazed as she then covers the vessel with a flat lid and heaps more sand on it. I’ve no idea what will happen to the cake since I can’t open the oven door to peep in as I normally do, but I’m willing to wait and watch.
It’s like all of us have been holding our breaths until she steps back and we all start talking at the same time. Even Vidya has joined us and we’re all chattering away, wondering if the cake will turn out properly.
Ajji is watching the makeshift oven like a hawk but she looks at me and smiles and my heart feels full. I love her so much. Even before she became my Ajji. For a second, her smile falters and then it’s radiant again. It’s like she knows that I am someone special.
‘So, you have an oven back in your house?’ Suma asks and I nod. Yep. Mom has a state of the art oven and microwave which she uses regularly. It’s just that she leaves me to clean up her messes most of the time. She thinks I enjoy cleaning up and she feels she’s leaving a special treat for me when she leaves the kitchen with blackened pans soaking in the sink.
After twenty minutes, the aroma of the cooked cake starts seeping into the air. It actually smells pretty good despite the odd combination of ingredients and the strange way in which it is being baked.
‘Call Manoj. He loves cake too,’ Ajji says and I look down at my feet. I’d managed to not think about him for the past hour. Now I have to face him again and that too, over cake that I have possibly botched up.
Reena doesn’t tell Manoj that I’ve made the cake but since he’s back from the garage, he comes right away. He’s just in time for the cake to come out of the oven. I’m really nervous now. Why did Ajji have to call him? Making a fool of myself with these people is one thing. But Manoj? I’d rather he isn’t here if it turns out to be a disaster.
Ajji lifts the tin out and we see that it’s actually lightly browned on top.
‘When did you start making cakes?’ Manoj asks, looking like an excited child.
‘I didn’t make it. She did,’ Ajji says, indicating me with a lift of her head. I can see Manoj is trying not to react to that bit of information and I, too, pointedly look away.
When the cake cools down sufficiently, Ajji places a plate on top of it and turns it upside down. We hear a slight plop. The cake has come out clean! This is the first time I’ve made a cake without mom’s supervision, well technically she’s not my mom yet and she didn’t supervise, I tell myself when I think about Suma.
The cake is not as light as I wanted it to be and it’s a little salty as well because of the salted butter. In fact, I’m disappointed at how clunky it is, but no one seems to mind. They just keep on cutting out slices and eating until there’s just two slices left.
‘Pack that for me to take home,’ Manoj tells Reena and she does it readily. I’m amused, more than surprised, that Manoj actually wants what’s left of the cake and how quickly Reena follows his orders.
>
Manoj leaves without talking to me and I curb that sense of disappointment because I know why he’s doing it. I wander aimlessly into Ajji’s room and sit down beside her. She’s folding some of her clothes and I ask if I can help.
‘Sure,’ she says and I pick up one of her sarees and try folding it, only to get everything tangled hopelessly around my feet.
‘Here! Give it to me!’ Ajji says with a laugh and I hand it to her. It’s been a strangely tiring day. I wonder about that moment Ajji and I shared in the kitchen but before I can dwell on it, she asks me something.
‘Have you and Manoj fought?’
I blink and then shake my head.
‘You can tell me, ma,’ she says, gently patting the back of my head. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed by everything and to my horror, I realise that tears are running down my face.
‘Shh! It’s okay. It will be fine,’ Ajji croons as she holds me close to her bosom. I cling to her and cry for the first time since all this began and I’m unable to stop. Ajji comforts me and pushes my hair back.
‘The two of you will work out something. I’m sure,’ she says.
‘What?’ I pause in my crying, and wiping my eyes, I look up at her.
‘I know it seems difficult now, but you will find a way,’ she says.
‘What are you talking about?’ I ask her.
‘You and Manoj? The two of you are so much in love with each other. Don’t you think I can see it?’ she asks me gently. I feel a thud in my chest. What!!??
‘I d-don’t love him,’ I stutter. ‘I’m too young for all that.’
Ajji pats my back and says, ‘There’s no right age for love. It can happen to anyone!’
‘But …’
Ajji doesn’t let me speak. ‘Look. I know it’s difficult for the two of you to think of anything because you’re living in Australia and he’s here but anything can happen if you really want it,’ she says, smiling at me.
No Time for Goodbyes Page 7
