‘Protect me from what? Being human, for a change? How about asking me the real questions, Mrs Govindikar, the ones that actually matter? Is he an adult? Yes. Am I an adult? Yes. Was it consensual? Yes. Did we hurt or cheat anyone? No. Is it anyone’s goddamn business what we do in our personal lives? No. And most importantly, did I ever volunteer to become the holy centre of virginal morality for this entire goddamn neighbourhood? Certainly not! So what is the bloody problem?!’
Mrs Govindikar’s eyes narrowed. A cold smile spread across her lips. She was recovering her bearings. ‘D’you really believe that the people around you are so open-minded? D’you think they care? My dear, you can rationalize it as much as you want, but the truth is, in their heads, you will be branded forever. And d’you know as what?’
‘Does it matter?’
Mrs Govindikar scoffed. ‘Oh, believe me, it does.’
‘Didn’t make much of a difference to you, though, did it?’
The frigid scorn on her face was swiftly replaced by puzzlement. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘D’you think we don’t know about your son? With a best friend like Mrs Mehtani around, did you really imagine that you were safe?’
Mrs Govindikar’s face was carefully blank, save for a slight twitch at the corner of her clamped jaw. ‘I don’t know what—’
‘Isn’t that why he went abroad in the first place? It wasn’t just for his career, was it? It was to be free.’
‘Free of what?’
‘Free of you, Mrs Govindikar. Free of … of this,’ she said, waving her arms around. ‘Free to be him. Isn’t that why your plans to visit him keep getting cancelled? How can you expect him to accept you in his life when you haven’t even accepted his basic identity?’
Abandoning her sanctimonious stance, Mrs Govindikar struggled for words, her face turning shades of puce by degrees. ‘I—don’t know what you have heard … Mrs Arora … but—’
‘My daughter is still friends with him on Facebook, Mrs Govindikar. There aren’t any secrets anymore. He is happy. And loved, just as he wanted to be. And maybe, it’s about time you accepted it as well.’
Mrs Govindikar’s voice failed her.
Anupama took a step towards her. ‘I’ve wasted a lot of time envying you, you know. Often, I have wondered what it would be like to be the way you are – strong, certain, unrelenting. But now, now I understand … just how exhausting it must be to be you.’
She locked eyes with the old, suddenly frail-looking lady in front of her. ‘Aren’t you tired, Mrs Govindikar? I know I am. Isn’t it about time we just … lived?’
It might have sounded a bit dramatic, but the truth was that in the silence that followed, one could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, marking each second that passed in that minute of that hour that neither of them would ever forget. To give the devil his due, Mrs Govindikar’s eyes remained steady, with nary a hint of moisture in them, but the rest of her seemed to be on the verge of collapse. Something within her was struggling for release – a feeling Anupama was very familiar with by now. Something long-repressed and denied. The part that made her a human just like the rest of them. The part that would crack the shell she had built around her forever, if only she would let it. They were so close…
And then, it was gone. The jaws slackened, the rigidity of the shoulders eased and the tightness over Mrs Govindikar’s face receded, until all that remained was an emptiness, incapable of giving or receiving anything.
‘I should go,’ she murmured.
Anupama allowed her to pass. Her steps were slow although her back and shoulders ramrod straight. Not that it mattered anymore. The only thing Anupama now felt for the woman was pity. She would never be free.
Mrs Govindikar paused at the door for a moment. Without turning around, she said, ‘The confirmation day for the pageant participants is Saturday. Make sure your costumes are ready and talent duly recorded. Mrs Mehtani and Mrs Kaushik will coordinate the event management. I’ll send a notice around in the evening.’
‘I won’t be participating, Mrs Govindikar. Besides, I am not eligible.’
‘There is no rule barring widows—’
‘I don’t consider myself a widow anymore.’
Mrs Govindikar’s brows raised for a fraction of an instant. ‘As you wish.’
And with that, just like that, she was gone.
It took Anupama quite some time to get over what had just happened. It was one of those moments, the impact of which struck you in slow, broken tremors of varying intensity, rather than all at once. Had she said too much? What was to be done now? Was everyone aware of her perfidy by now? What about Nimit? When should she tell him? Would Charlie help and how? She couldn’t remember whether she had had breakfast yet.
It was Nimit’s birthday today!
She pulled herself together. There was a lot to be done. She had wanted it to be a very special day. Now, she just prayed for it to be normal. No more surprises, please.
With trembling hands, she picked up the phone and called Neena, clearing her throat to make sure her voice stayed steady. She would need her and Renu’s help to tide over this new crisis, no doubt, but not today. Today was all about Nimit and everything had to be perfect.
It was all she could do to not break down. Everything was going wrong. Despite her specific instructions to avoid cartoon characters, Neena had chosen to drop by with some Mickey Mouse balloons; and for the sake of variety, they had Daisy Duck thrown in for good measure. Nimit was never going to forgive her for this.
As if that wasn’t enough, seven people had cancelled already, four from her own block citing miscellaneous lame excuses (had the word got to them so fast?). The cable connection had given up the ghost, which meant no TV for the younger guests, and the cake was running an hour late because the delivery man’s bike had stalled – something that spelled disaster in this weather. Renu, who had volunteered to get the food and drinks in spite of Anu and Neena’s attempts to dissuade her, had a nasty bout of morning sickness that had continued into the afternoon. She was asleep now and would hopefully make a full recovery by the evening. However, there was a strong possibility that she would not be able to make it, in which case there would be a mad scramble to arrange for catering at the last minute.
By 5.00 p.m., most of the setbacks had been sorted. The balloons replaced, as were the kindergarten cutlery and plates. The nearest branch of MacDonald’s had been contacted as a contingency measure. However, shortly after that, Renu confirmed that she would be arriving after all, as were the rest of the guests. Nimit had decided to treat his friends to a movie after school and would be back around seven. By then, all the guests would be neatly assembled for the main event.
It seemed like the evening would go just as she had planned, after all.
And then came the telephone call from Nimit’s school, asking her to come immediately. There had been an emergency.
27
Anupama quickened her pace, with Neena in tow, as they headed to the principal’s office at the end of the rather dank, grey corridor flanked by intimidating pillars, walls at the far end embossed with sharp stone edges. The hard tiles underfoot emitted a sharp staccato sound with their every step.
She knew it was bad the moment she spotted the back of Mrs Mehtani’s all-too-recognizable head in the principal’s cabin. The tiny flickers of doubt in her head were dispelled at the sight of her son and Sahil’s (Mrs Mehtani’s son, Nimit’s classmate) bruised faces. Nimit had a deep gash across his cheek and Sahil’s lower lip was badly swollen. Their clothes were filthy and ripped. Although first-aid had been administered haphazardly to the pugilists, the band-aids weren’t doing a very good job of hiding the nastiness of the wounds, which could not have been the result of a simple fall.
They were all seated in front of the principal, Mr Sharma, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Feeling like she was witnessing the scene rather than experiencing it, Anupama asked what the matter was in
the calmest voice she could manage. Mr Sharma, reddening at the ears, politely asked Neena to wait outside as the matter was of a personal nature.
As Neena exited, Anupama sat down between her son and the livid Mrs Mehtani, who was absently patting Sahil’s head.
‘So, what happened?’
‘What does it look like? Your son attacked Sahil in the football ground,’ lashed out Mrs Mehtani.
‘Why?’ asked Anupama, keeping her eyes fixed on Mr Sharma.
‘Ask him yourself. Shouldn’t be much of a surprise though, considering the company he keeps—’
‘Mrs Mehtani and Mrs Arora,’ interrupted Mr Sharma gravely, ‘the reason why I have called you both here is because the matter seems to be rather delicate. Apparently, as per the witness accounts, Sahil and Nimit had first gotten into a verbal argument which quickly escalated to physical violence. At one point, Saahil even got knocked out of his senses for a while—’
Mrs Mehtani gasped in horror.
‘—but there is no cause for worry as, after a thorough medical check-up, we have confirmed that neither of them have sustained any serious injuries or concussions. However, there is the issue of the cause.’
He paused darkly, the acute discomfort back on his face. ‘Now, neither of them have told us what triggered the argument, but we got some bits that were overheard by some by-standers, and … well … I think it would be best if you talked to your children yourselves. Of course, if you wish, we could always arrange for counselling.’
From the corner of her eyes, Anupama spotted the look of comprehension slowly dawning across Mrs Mehtani’s face too. Both the boys were sitting with their eyes downcast. Nimit’s face was puce with rage.
‘Thank you. Can we … can we take them home now?’ asked Anupama.
‘Of course. We just wanted to make sure you personally escort them home. And as I said, please do have a talk with them. They are nice kids, and obviously, can’t be expected to understand everything at this age. So…’
Nodding silently, both Anupama and Mrs Mehtani bundled their boys out; none of them making eye-contact. Neena, who was waiting outside, glanced at the expression on Anupama’s face, and nodded in understanding.
Not a word was uttered until they were halfway home, with Neena driving and Anupama beside her, while Nimit sat sullenly in the rear, staring outside.
‘Is it true?’ he croaked.
‘What?’
‘The thing they are saying. About you. Is it true?’
‘Nimit—’
‘Beta, you need to rest first. We can always talk later,’ suggested Neena.
‘Tell me, Mom.’
‘What exactly are you talking about?’
Nimit winced, shaking his head. ‘I can’t even say it.’
‘Say it.’
‘That assho—Sahil … was saying some pretty, crappy bullshit about you. You and … Charlie … obviously, it’s not true, right?’
Anupama sat still in her seat.
‘Right?’ asked Nimit.
She could lie. That would be easy. It wouldn’t matter to him what he heard from anyone else as long as she denied it. It wouldn’t even matter what he actually did believe, as long as he had her false assurance to fall back on. She knew that more than anything, it was her denial he was seeking right now. It would make him happy – and relieved. But for how long? And to what end? How many more fights would he get into to defend his version of the truth? How many more times would he scream out his truth against that of the others? She remembered her confrontation with Mrs Govindikar this morning, the brief glimpse she had had of the person when her mask was down, and the utter hopelessness of her entrapment.
Her heart sank. It was his sixteenth birthday. She had wanted it to be special.
‘I wish you hadn’t found out this way,’ she said slowly.
There was no sound, but she could feel the weight of Nimit’s horror behind her. She swivelled in her seat to see him sitting frozen.
‘W—What are you saying?’
‘It’s true.’
His mouth fell open. His eyes darted to and fro. ‘Shit…’
‘Nimit—’
‘Stop the car.’
‘Beta, listen—’
‘Stop the car. I’m going to be sick!’
He swung his door open and hurled, heaving the contents of his stomach onto the concrete below. Neena swerved the car to the side, narrowly missing the bus behind them by inches, and came to a halt. Anupama undid her seatbelt, got out and rushed to the rear door, only to have him shrink away from her.
‘Don’t touch me,’ he moaned.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the disgust on his face. ‘Nimit…’
‘Just – stay away, okay? Just…’
He slid across his seat, opened the door on the other side and got out.
‘NIMIT!’ screamed Anupama.
Like one possessed, he dashed across the road – ignoring her and Neena’s cries – and vaulted over the lane divider fence and landed right in the path of an oncoming cab from the opposite direction. It slammed hard into him and flung him forward like a rag doll. He tumbled a few feet forward before lying still.
The next few seconds were a blur for Anupama as she and Neena ran across to Nimit; he lay bloodied and bruised, a small crowd already gathering, his white uniform shirt speckled with blood and dirt, his arms skinned so badly in places that it made her nauseous. The world around her was a fog of chaos and confusion. Neena was on the phone, someone was giving her instructions, people were staring, clicking pictures, passing bottles of water, pointing, murmuring … and a dull, tinning sound was echoing in the back of her ears, getting louder with every passing second until she felt she could bear it no longer…
And then, she was in the hospital. The minutes (or hours) that had passed in between hadn’t quite registered in her muddled mind. All she could tell for sure was that she was seated in this hospital corridor, and her son was inside the ward, still unconscious, still being tended to. She looked at the clock at the far end of the corridor. Nine twenty. Was it night already? What had happened to the party? The surprise birthday party back home that she had planned for her son. Here came her friends with Misha, walking down the bleached white corridor – Renu carrying a paper cup of what she was sure was tea – when had she arrived? Did they have cream biscuits by any chance? Vanilla preferably. Cream biscuits – wasn’t that how it had all started on an innocent rainy day?
‘How are you feeling now?’
She turned around. Charlie.
He was still wearing his black T-shirt with the salon logo on it, so she guessed he must have come directly from work. How long had he been sitting there?
‘How is he?’ she asked.
‘Some of the bruises will take time to heal, but thankfully, nothing serious. The doctor said he should rest for now, though.’
She felt like laughing. ‘Nothing serious’? Had they any idea?
‘I’m really sorry, Anu. I had no idea things would get this bad.’
‘He asked me whether what people were saying was true, and I said yes.’
‘I know.’
‘I didn’t even ask him what he had heard, what the nature of the rumours was that I was accepting … I should have asked him … I should have been more patient, more sensitive, but I just said yes. I wanted to be brave. I wanted so badly to be brave that it made me selfish. Selfish and stupid.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘He could have died. I could have lost him.’
Her vision blurred as her eyes brimmed over with tears. Her throat imploded. Charlie pulled her close, kissing the side of her forehead. She didn’t want sympathy, but the warmth felt nice, and she was too weak to disengage.
‘Mamma …’ Misha came over and hugged her tight, her arms brushing over the space that Charlie’s had just left, the shoulder of her top getting wet with her tears. The touch of her daughter was like a soothing balm. ‘It’s okay … everyth
ing will be fine…’
Although they both knew that the assurance was a mere formality, it felt good to hear it all the same. She opened her eyes. Renu and Neena were standing right behind Misha, their expressions just the right balance of consolation and encouragement. She wasn’t alone, she realized, and for now, that was enough. It had to be.
28
The next morning, she woke up with a start. It took her a moment to realize she was still in the hospital waiting room, having obstinately refused to go home in case Nimit woke up. It took her another, to realize there were voices raised in anger in her vicinity.
‘You have some nerve to show up here!’
It was Misha, an overladen coffee tray balanced precariously in one hand, the other, truculently on her hip as she glowered at Mrs Govindikar and Mrs Mehtani.
‘Now, my dear, I know you are tense, but what happened was nobody’s fault—’
‘Oh, I beg to disagree!’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Anupama, rising from her seat. Her neck had cramped terribly.
‘We just came to see how Nimit was doing and to check if you needed any help,’ said Mrs Govindikar.
‘Well, we don’t!’ cried Misha.
‘Misha,’ said Anupama, silencing her just as Mrs Govindikar passed Mrs Mehtani a laden look.
‘And I wanted to apologize for Sahil, as well,’ she said. ‘Obviously, what he did was wrong, and—’
‘Don’t.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Don’t apologize for your son. What he did was what any immature juvenile in his position would do. It’s what you did that amazes me. Who shares such things with a fifteen-year-old? How stupid or hateful do you have to be to do such a thing?’
‘Now, Mrs Arora—’ began Mrs Govindikar.
‘It was his birthday yesterday, Mrs Mehtani. He was happy, and that was how I wanted him to remember it. But, thanks to you, he almost got killed, and that’s not even the worst part. He hates me now. My son is lying unconscious and hurt inside that medical ward, and he hates me. So, be my guest and gossip all you want. No matter what you do, you cannot damage me any more than this.’
Charlie Next Door Page 22
