Charlie Next Door

by Debashish Irengbam

  ‘It’s stuff. Why can’t stuff just be stuff?’

  ‘Why are you getting irritated?’

  ‘Because you’re not letting it go.’

  ‘How can I? You’ve been here for more than two months now, and every time I come here, I have to look at all this mess.’

  ‘Oh, so now it’s an issue.’

  ‘I’m just trying to help, Charlie.’

  ‘No, you’re trying to be my mothe—’

  He stopped himself quickly, but it was too late. Anupama froze. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Did you just call me your…?’

  ‘No! No, of course not.’

  Slowly, Anupama put her plate down. Swinging her legs off the edge of the futon, she stood up, trying hard to absorb what had just happened. Behind her, Charlie stayed still – petrified.

  ‘I didn’t mean it,’ he said. ‘It was just a generally offensive statement. Like, you know, I am such a dick, or she’s such a witch. Nothing literal about it.’

  Her head was spinning. A sudden bout of weakness came over her, as if her blood sugar had dropped. The rational part of her mind tried to meekly suggest that perhaps she was overreacting, only to duck for cover as her emotions hurled their full fury at it. She sat back down on the bed, pressing her temples. Charlie crept up behind her and tried to hold her, but she pulled away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘No, don’t be. You’re right. You’re absolutely right.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m idiotically wrong.’

  ‘It’s okay, Charlie. I agree. I was trying to be your mother. And why shouldn’t I be? Right? I mean, how old is she?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Your mother. How old is she?’

  ‘Er, I’m not sure.’

  ‘How old was she when you were born?’

  Charlie stared at her uncertainly.

  ‘Answer me.’

  ‘I don’t know …’ he said. ‘Twenties, I think.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  She rose from the bed, clutching her head. ‘Oh God … oh God.’

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Charlie.

  She glanced back at his befuddled face – his young, boyish face, gorgeous even in its puzzlement. ‘What are we doing, Charlie? Mrs Govindikar was right. What are we doing? What am I doing?’

  ‘Okay, you need to relax.’

  ‘No, I have relaxed for too long. That’s the problem. I have let a lot of things slide. But we need to think, Charlie. We need to think where this is going.’

  ‘I thought we were taking it slow.’

  ‘Well, we can’t slow down time, can we? I mean, what happens twenty years later, when I’m sixty and you’re – what – forty?’

  ‘Forty-four.’

  ‘I don’t care about your single digits!’ shrieked Anupama.

  Her kurta was lying on the floor. She picked it up in a huff, followed by the rest of her clothing.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Where’s my bra?’

  ‘Over there, by the coffee mug.’

  Rolling her eyes, Anupama hobbled over to it. She had just removed the tee and strapped it on, when her eyes fell on Charlie – and the rather prominent tent in his boxers.

  ‘Seriously? Now?’ she snapped.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry but this isn’t in my jurisdiction! And if this is happening in spite of all your disturbing Freudian motherly talk, then just imagine how much I must be attracted to you!’

  She paused. It took all her willpower not to laugh at that, yet an involuntary, transient trickle of a smile did appear on her lips, and that was all the encouragement Charlie needed.

  ‘Just … sit down for a minute,’ he said. ‘I’ll make some coffee. We’ll talk. That’s all I ask.’

  ‘I don’t want coffee.’

  ‘Fine, then, just sit down for a minute. ’Coz if you step out in this mood and someone sees you, I’ll probably get booked for assault or something.’

  She had to admit he had a point. Huffily, she sat down, expecting Charlie to cajole and reassure her. Instead, he got up from the bed and headed towards his packing boxes.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Anupama, as he ripped open the taping on one of the boxes.

  ‘I just want to show you some of the stuff I keep.’

  ‘That’s not necessary.’

  Charlie ignored her and continued undoing the tape. Finally, when the box was open, he rummaged through some of the items and finally came up with what appeared to be a photo frame. He came back, sat down beside her and placed it in her hand. To Anupama’s surprise, it was a picture of Charlie taken from a while ago. He was on stage, but he wasn’t singing. Clad in a white Bengali-style dhoti and kurta, he seemed to be in a rather dramatic pose, his hands flung up at the sky, his face darkened with bitterness and despair.

  ‘This was me as Devdas when I was part of a travelling theatre group in Kolkata,’ said Charlie. ‘Probably one of the most memorable experiences of my life.’

  ‘You were an actor too?’ asked Anupama, amazed.

  Charlie nodded, gazing reminiscently at the picture. ‘I dabbled in theatre for a while. This was my first lead role.’

  ‘How old are you, really?’

  Charlie laughed. ‘This was two years ago, before I came to Mumbai.’

  ‘And the singing?’

  ‘Right after school.’

  ‘Anything else I should know about?’

  Charlie fetched out a green cloth strip. ‘My green belt from my karate days in Delhi, when I wanted to be a professional martial artist.’

  Anupama held it in her hands, fingering the fabric. How did a guy go from all this to styling ladies’ hair in a salon? How many cities and professions had he changed in the past few years? And how could one change one’s ambition so swiftly?

  ‘Were you good at it?’ she asked, handing him back the belt.

  ‘Well, I don’t like to brag, but by the end of my second year in training, I was one of the top two in my class. My sensei even thought I had the capability to compete in international competitions if I kept at it.’

  ‘So, why did you quit? I mean, if you were so good at all of these things, why would you leave?’

  A ponderous look came over his face as he replaced the belt in the box and shut it. ‘Remember that thing I told you about how I hate closed spaces? I guess the same funda applies to my life as well. What’s the point of having a passion if you don’t feel passionate about it anymore, right? If there’s one thing I can’t stand, Anu, it’s the feeling of being trapped.’

  ‘But maybe if you had just stuck with it—’

  ‘But why? We are all here for a short while. Why waste time over things that don’t interest us anymore? My biggest fear is regretting in the end that I didn’t live the life I wanted. I know this is all in the past and I’ll never go back to it, but I just like to keep this stuff around for the sake of nostalgia. That’s it.’

  ‘I see,’ said Anupama grimly. ‘So tomorrow, if you start feeling trapped here—’

  ‘I won’t. Because I’m happy.’

  ‘For now, you mean.’

  He sighed. ‘What do you want me to do? Give you a written guarantee?’ Charlie cupped her face in his hands, locking eyes with her. ‘You’re not a talent or an experience I’m trying out, Anupama. What we have is unique, it’s real. What we have can’t be put in a box and sealed away.’

  She wanted to believe him. She really did. But somewhere, deep within, the germ of a fear had sprouted. And try as she might, she found it difficult to eradicate it.

  ‘You do like being a hairstylist, don’t you?’ she asked.

  Charlie smiled. ‘I love it. From the bottom of my heart, I do.’

  ‘And you’re so good at it,’ added Anupama. ‘It’s such a nice field too. Everyone loves you.’

  ‘Anu, I’m not running away.’

  He held out his arms, and she sank into them, burying her face in h
is chest.

  ‘It’s just … this whole week has been so heavy,’ she murmured. ‘It’s just … too much information, too many changes. I feel like everything’s getting out of hand. Things are moving too fast and I can’t control them.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ said Charlie softly. ‘Just try going with the flow for a change.’

  Anupama scoffed. ‘Trust me, I am trying. But it’s hard when you don’t know which way the flow is headed.’

  ‘That’s … kind of the idea, you know.’

  She hugged him tighter. ‘I’m just scared. I know it sounds bizarre after all of the neurosis I just displayed, but the truth is I don’t want to lose you.’

  ‘And you won’t. Trust me, I am as serious about this as you are. In fact—’ He paused abruptly.

  ‘What?’ asked Anupama.

  ‘Never mind. We’ll talk later.’

  Something about that sounded rather ominous. Slowly, Anupama stood looking at him anxiously. The wary expression on his face confirmed her suspicions. ‘Tell me, Charlie.’

  ‘Seriously, we don’t have to talk about it right now.’

  ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Nothing. I just wanted to suggest something, but it’s okay.’

  He tried to pull her in again, but she stiffened. The suspense was killing her. ‘Charlie.’

  Closing his eyes, he let out a resigned sigh. ‘I was just wondering if you’d like to meet my mother.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘She’s coming here in a few days to visit me, so I thought—’

  ‘You thought why not introduce her to your forty-two-year-old girlfriend within two months of your relationship?’

  ‘She has met all my girlfriends so far.’

  ‘And how many girlfriends have you had?’

  ‘Can we please stick to the topic?’

  ‘Charlie, it’s too soon. I mean, I’d love to meet her obviously, but there is a place and time for everything. Besides, it might take her some time to get used to the bizarre idea of you being with someone like me. So, let’s just take it a bit slow, okay.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Again, that abashed look came over his face that suggested something dreadful had happened. And the only dreadful thing she could think of at this point was, ‘You have already told her, haven’t you?’

  Charlie nodded sheepishly. ‘But if it helps, I didn’t mention the age thing at all.’

  ‘Oh, brilliant.’ Anupama groaned. As the horrors of this new and unwelcome surprise gradually dawned on her, she added another unexpected name to the mental checklist she had prepared only this morning – Charlie’s mother.

  Someone above was really having a laugh.

  Just then, the doorbell rang. Both of them froze, staring at each other.

  ‘Were you expecting someone?’ asked Anupama.

  Charlie shook his head.

  ‘Go, see who it is,’ she whispered, nudging him, just as the bell rang again.

  She watched him cautiously approach his main door and peer through the peephole. A second later, he turned back to her with alarm writ large on his face.

  ‘It’s Mrs Mehtani!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know what she’s doing here. There’s a man with her too.’

  Terror flooded through her veins in a freezing tide. She was trapped! The bell rang again, impatiently.

  ‘Just stay there. I’ll make sure they don’t come in,’ whispered Charlie.

  Anupama nodded and slammed the door shut just as Charlie opened his main door to behold Mrs Mehtani and a grumpy-looking man in a khaki uniform, with what appeared to be a cylinder with a sprinkler strapped to his back.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hello, dear,’ chirruped Mrs Mehtani, ‘mandatory pest control inspection. May we come in?’

  ‘Actually, this isn’t a good time.’

  ‘Ah, unfortunately, this is the only time Shambhu can manage. And we have strict orders to make sure that none of the flats are left uninspected. I’m just trailing along to make sure he does his job right. Doing my bit for the society, you know.’

  ‘So why don’t you come back in five minutes?’

  ‘Because we have other things to do as well, dear. Yours is the only flat left. Why? Is something wrong?’

  ‘No—’

  ‘Perfect! This will only take two minutes,’ she said, nudging the door open gently yet firmly as Charlie struggled to protest. ‘Come, come, bhaiya.’

  Inside the bedroom, Anupama’s heart stopped as she heard their voices down the hallway. They were in! She could hear Mrs Mehtani guiding the pest control guy.

  ‘You can leave out my bedroom,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s completely pest-free, I assure you.’

  ‘Nonsense, dear. You can never be too sure. Bhaiya, just check those corners and then we can go directly to the bedroom.’

  ‘Really, Mrs Mehtani, don’t you think this is an invasion of my privacy?’ he said tersely.

  Mrs Mehtani paused, the smile on her lips turning frigid by degrees. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I’m just saying, you know, this is my personal space. And I do believe you are intruding.’

  ‘Oh, is that so?’ she said sweetly, approaching him until they were standing nose to nose. ‘So of all the tenants and residents in this housing society, you think you’re the only one who needs to guard his privacy? Because no one else had an issue? What does that really imply, I wonder.’ Her eyes drifted to the closed bedroom door.

  ‘I just—’

  ‘And if that’s too much of a hassle for you, then I could call Mrs Govindikar here right now to resolve the matter.’

  That silenced Charlie. Helplessly, he watched the smirk deepen on Mrs Mehtani’s face as Shambhu announced he was done with the kitchen and living room.

  ‘Great. Follow me,’ she said in a sing-song voice as they both headed for the bedroom.

  Time had never moved more slowly for Charlie. With rising dread, he stared at them, drawing step by step closer to the inevitable discovery that would—

  Mrs Mehtani swung the door open and stepped into the bedroom, swiftly scanning her surroundings. Messy as before, and empty. Charlie swiftly followed on her heels and peeked in, feeling momentarily relieved. However, the en suite bathroom door was shut and he knew it was only a matter of moments before the fox noticed it. Just as he feared, Mrs Mehtani immediately trotted up to it and turned the knob, only to realize that it was locked from the inside.

  ‘Huh, that’s interesting,’ she remarked, turning to Charlie. ‘You didn’t tell me you had a guest.’

  Before he could reply, she turned back to the door and knocked on it. ‘Hellooo? Who’s there?’

  In the bathroom, Anupama was on the verge of hyperventilation. Why, oh why, hadn’t she just crawled out of the bedroom window instead? It would have been a risk to her life, but at least, she wouldn’t have been cornered like this. What was she to do now? She knew for a fact that Mrs Mehtani wouldn’t leave until she had exposed her completely. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Was this the way things were really going to end after all those precautions? Outside, the knocks continued.

  ‘Hello? Are you all right? Can you hear me?’ called Mrs Mehtani, tapping on the wood.

  She turned back to face the men. ‘Who’s inside, Charlie?’

  Charlie gaped at her mutely, eyes unblinking, jaws clammed shut.

  ‘Okay, I’m getting worried now. Shambhu, d’you think you could break down this door? Or else I could call—’

  ‘Wait!’ cried Anupama, from inside.

  Mrs Mehtani’s eyebrows rose in a mixture of astonishment and barely concealed delight. She swivelled on her heel just in time to see the door opening and Anupama stepping out, harried and defeated.

  ‘My, my,’ drawled Mrs Mehtani. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Look, Mrs Mehta—’

  ‘Finally, you’re out!’ came Misha’s voice f
rom behind them.

  Everyone whipped around to see Misha standing in the bedroom doorway in her nightdress, toilet kit and towel in hand. ‘I’ve been waiting forever.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Mrs Mehtani, confused.

  ‘Our bathroom is messed up. Something to do with the piping. Charlie kindly offered to let us use his until the repairs are done. Mamma said she wanted to go first,’ said Misha.

  The spotlight was back on Anupama, who nodded weakly. ‘Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Charlie.’

  ‘Oh—please—what are neighbours for?’ said Charlie, smiling nervously.

  ‘Then why didn’t you answer when I was calling out?’ demanded Mrs Mehtani.

  ‘Because I was embarrassed. Can you imagine what this situation would look like to a cheap, narrow-minded, soulless gossipmonger with nothing better to do? Not everyone is as mature as you, Mrs Mehtani.’

  Mrs Mehtani’s eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t have any toiletries, though.’

  ‘I just came to use the washroom.’

  ‘If you like, you could inspect their loo too, perhaps with a plumber in tow,’ suggested Charlie innocently.

  With her tightly-pursed lips and clenched teeth, Mrs Mehtani managed the best twisted smile she could.

  ‘Maybe next time,’ she declared coldly, storming out of the recently disinfected premises with Shambhu trailing behind her.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Misha turned to acknowledge the grateful smiles. ‘Next time, give me a heads up. It will make life so much easier.’

  24

  ‘Smile wider, ladies … that’s it … let the joy reach up to your eyes … your Inner Woman needs to know that you love and embrace her…’

  The instructor’s soothing voice reverberated mystically in the acoustics of the large, mosaic-tiled auditorium in which Anupama, Renu and Neena were sitting cross-legged on the floor with a dozen other ladies in more or less (mostly less) the same age range.

  After zumba, ballet classes and power yoga, the latest fad to hit the upmarket segment of women’s fitness in the city was this Inner Woman routine – the aim being to unleash one’s feminine potential and embrace the woman residing within using a combination of workouts, dances and meditation techniques. Neena had had her eyes set on the program the moment she spotted it in the ‘Upcoming Events’ section of her paper, and more so when she discovered its benefits for pregnant women. She wasted no time in contacting Renu and Anupama and suggesting that they make this a group activity, for Renu’s sake. The registration fees had already been paid by her, and all they needed to do was show up. Renu, in turn, wasted no time in replying that her ear fluids had gone out of balance so she couldn’t come, while Anupama claimed her head was hurting. The next day, Renu claimed she had suffered a massive stitch in her lower left diaphragm and was bedridden, while Anupama claimed her ankles were hurting. The day after that, Renu was struck by a mysterious case of vitamin B-12 deficiency, while Anupama claimed her back was hurting. The day following that, Neena showed up at both their places with bottles of multivitamin pills and pain relief sprays and bundled them into a waiting cab, before they had a chance to muster up their individual maladies of the day.