by George, MM
The sisters followed Tarun through the floor. Mira found herself gawking at the luxuriously laid out space. There was a large living room, a section of which had been used to create a TV viewing area. “In case we all want to watch something together,” proffered Tarun helpfully. He led them to the opposite side, “The rose garden’s this way.”
Mira’s eyes opened wide. A full-fledged garden on the third floor? Tarun caught her incredulous look. “Dadi loves roses, so Ranbir had this created for her when he came back from Harvard,” he explained, grinning impishly. When Tarun opened the door to the large balcony that housed the garden, waves of perfume from the roses greeted them.
“Di, just look at it! It’s beautiful!” exclaimed Reema.
And it was. Thick bushes laden with roses in all kinds of colors were skirted by lengths of springy green lawn. A swing had been set up in one corner, while comfortable-looking seats had been placed in particularly gorgeous nooks.
“Dadi used to love the garden, but now that she has to use the wheelchair, she finds it difficult to go up and down, despite the lift. So Ranbir had this garden created here since this is a floor she uses often,” Tarun explained before leading them inside once again.
“Kitchen here,” he said next, “though I don’t think you’ll need to use it. There’s a bell near the bed in your room. Just ring it if you want tea, coffee, anything to eat.”
“Oh no,” said Reema, who had perked up considerably once the rest of the family had faded away. “We can easily come down and make ourselves something if we need to.”
Tarun shook his head at her fondly, and she gazed back at him shyly. Mira looked at both of them, feeling decidedly de trop.
“Umm, I think I’ll go up to our room,” she said, and slipped away without either of them noticing. Once in her room, she sat on the bed, wondering what to do with herself. It was only 8.30, too early to sleep. She didn’t feel like fiddling around with the flat-screen TV in the room. And she was too restless in her new surroundings to relax and read. She stepped out on to the balcony and climbed up the stairs to the terrace.
A vague unease continued to nag at her as she strolled up and down in the cool night. Her thoughts kept turning to Ranbir, her mind whirring with unanswered questions. Why had he gone to so much trouble to get her here? He had been so inventive on Tarun’s behalf in getting Reema into the family home, but surely he needn’t have tossed her into the equation. And then there was the way he had behaved with her family and the way she was seeing him behave at home—quiet and unfailingly courteous and caring to everyone around him. Dhruv, too, had only good things to say about him, and Jasmine, as little as she had seen of her, seemed to adore him. She could not reconcile this image of Ranbir with the man she herself had encountered—the arrogant, passionate playboy who had expected her to fall into his bed at the snap of his fingers.
“Thinking of me?” Ranbir’s deep voice broke into her reverie.
She whirled around. “Of course not! Why are you here?”
He looked at her quizzically, “It’s my home, you know.”
Mira blushed. “I’m sorry,” she faltered. “It’s just that I thought I was alone.”
Ranbir fell into step with her and they took a few rounds of the terrace.
Mira was the first to break the silence. “I hope it works out for Reema and Tarun,” she said. “He seems a nice boy.”
She had been quite impressed, in fact, by Tarun, and the way his eyes softened every time he looked at Reema, but she needed to see more of him before she would commit herself any further. It was a question of her sister’s happiness after all.
Ranbir looked at her intently. “And what about you?” he asked. “Don’t you have any dreams of your own? Or are you content to help your younger sister make her way through life?”
“Reema was very ill when she was a baby,” said Mira softly. “Since then, it’s become a habit with all of us to look after her, help her wherever we can.”
“So much so that you molly-coddle her?”
Mira looked at him indignantly. “I do not molly-coddle her,” she said, bristling. “I look after her.”
“You take over her life,” said Ranbir, studying her flushed cheeks. “Come on, Mira, you don't even let her answer questions that are posed directly to her. I’m sure she’s quite a different person when you’re not around.”
“What do you mean?” she stormed.
“She’s a smart and confident young woman, or at least she seems to be. But when you’re in the vicinity, she starts blathering like a child.”
“She does not,” cried Mira. “She isn’t able to handle everything on her own. That is why we—all of us, Ma, Baba and me—we look after her and protect her.”
“You’re not protecting her, Mira,” said Ranbir, stepping closer, “you’re cocooning her, maybe even stifling her?” He put out a hand to brush away a strand of hair that the breeze had blown onto her face. “I can understand you want to protect her. I feel the same way about Tarun. I remember the day when he was born. Dadi took me to the nursing home to see him—he was so tiny. When his little fingers curled tight around my finger, I felt so big, so protective. But that doesn’t mean I’ll hold his hand forever. I have to let him make his own mistakes, to learn from those mistakes.”
Mira stared up at him, half-mesmerized by his fingers stroking her cheek. “And you think Reema is a mistake?” she murmured.
“I did, but now…” said Ranbir softly, his finger moving lower to where her neck began, still stroking gently. “Mira, let Reema live her own life. Let her get to know the family and let the family get to know her. How else will our plan work? Our best bet right now is to just let things take their own course.”
Mira looked up at him wonderingly. She could feel his breath on her face. He smelled of mint and the smoky aftershave he used. She felt soothed, lulled, yet a strange fire was leaping up in her veins.
“Then why did you insist on getting me here?” she asked directly.
“Do you know what you do to me, Mira?” he asked, still teasing the soft skin of her neck. “I seem to be obsessed with you. I think of you first thing in the morning, last thing at night. During meetings, I find myself thinking of you, of the way your lashes veil your eyes like now, the way your hair curls around your cheek like this, your ridiculously glittery bindi, the clamor of your bangles and your anklets. They fill my head. Surely, you also feel something—I’ve felt your response.”
“Ranbir, I…” She hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him frankly. “You know, there’s no point in this. You see me as a toy, which you want right now, but which you will tire of when you’ve had enough. And where would that leave me? The society in which I live does not permit indulgences of the kind you seek. I would be ruined, Ma-Baba would be shamed if I agreed to become your mistress.”
“So, you’re tempted?” he pressed.
“It would be difficult to say no,” she replied honestly. “I have never felt like this before. But my saying yes would have disastrous consequences, not just for me, but for all those whom I love. In our world, such relationships are usually preceded by social sanction and marriage.”
A cruel light gleamed in Ranbir’s eyes. “Is that your game then?” he asked grimly. “If you think I’m going to marry you for the pleasure of bedding you, let me disabuse you of the notion.”
Mira shuddered at the viciousness in his voice.
“We belong in different worlds, you and I, Ranbir,” she said quietly. “So let me go.”
≈
SIX
Dadi called Reema to her room early the next day. Mira went with her, scowling as she remembered Ranbir’s admonitions on the terrace the night before. It was none of his concern—she was here to look after her sister and look after her was what she was going to do.
Dadi was having a cup of tea with Ranbir. She looked questioningly at Mira, when the two girls came in. Mira went up to the old lady and bent and touched her feet. Reema fo
llowed suit.
“Good morning, Dadi!” said Mira. “I thought I would come and see you before I left for office.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ranbir raise an eyebrow. She squared her shoulders defiantly. Who cared what he thought?
“You don’t need to worry, you know,” said Mrs. Dewan gently to Mira. “I will look after your sister. I won’t overwork her.”
Mira’s face flushed. “That’s not what…” she began clumsily, then defensively, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we tend to over-protect Reema because she’s the youngest. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, beta, I understand that. I like to see a bit of family feeling. It’s good. But let Reema be now. She’s a big girl and will handle my work quite efficiently, you’ll see, haina Reema?” Reema nodded, breaking into a shy smile.
“Since you are here, why don’t you take some time off and take your sister shopping?” cut in Ranbir. “She needs some new clothes if she is going to go out with Dadi. And, please, Mira, smart and casual, and not these fluttering draperies both of you seem to love so much. Pick up some evening wear as well.”
Mira looked at him indignantly, eyes flashing in anger. “What do you mean fluttering draperies? Just because we’ve been brought up to wear traditional Indian clothes…”
Mrs. Dewan interrupted her tirade. “Why do the two of you fight so much? Ranbir, beta, Reema is looking perfectly nice in her churidar-kurta, why does she need new clothes? She looks just like a girl her age should look.”
Ranbir gave her a meaningful look, which Mira caught and spurred her to greater fury. “Dadi, I thought a few Western outfits would be good for when you two go for a formal dinner.”
“Theek hai,” said Mrs. Dewan, acquiescing. “I don’t have too much work this morning anyway. Mira, I’ll tell you where to go. Remind me to give you money. Arre haan, while you are about it, get a couple of outfits for yourself as well. There might be times when we’ll need you as well.”
“But I have a meeting with Dhruv at 11.30.” spluttered Mira.
“I’ll tell him you’ll be in later,” said Ranbir, giving her a wicked look.
Dadi smiled after him as he walked out. “Mera beta, he thinks of everything,” she said fondly.
Mira looked dubious. She was not sure that was such a good thing.
***
Some days later, Mira and Reema were at dinner with the family.
“Maji,” Meenu Chachi said to Dadi, “I had called Panditji today for the havan you wanted conducted for Tarun’s twenty-fifth birthday.”
“Haan beta, were you able to decide on a date? It should be in the week of his birthday.”
“We have decided on Tuesday, on his birthday. Panditji says that is the most auspicious day.”
“But Amma, we’re having a party on Tuesday!” protested Tarun. “My friends will be most upset.”
“The havan will be in the morning, betaji, so don’t worry!” said Chachi, laughing at her son’s dismay. “Plenty of time for dancing-shancing and all that loud music I’m sure you will want!”
“Dancing-shancing, Amma?” asked Vasu, with a wicked glint in her eye. “Are you planning to join in? Like last time?”
“And why shouldn’t she?” asked Ranbir. “My friends all enjoyed dancing with her. They thought it was extremely sporting of her.”
Meenu Chachi glowed rosily at the compliment.
“Well, that’s settled then,” said Mrs. Dewan, looking around her. “Reema, I shall want you to help Meenu in the preparations for the havan. Meenu, I think you can let her make the prasad this time.”
Reema looked up in surprise. Meenu Chachi also looked startled. “But Maji,” she remonstrated, “the prasad has to be made by a member of the family!”
“Reema is as good as part of the family. Let her make the prasad!” Dadi could be imperious when she wanted to be. Chachi kept quiet, only the mutinous look on her face revealing her feelings. Dadi turned to Ranbir, “Ranbir, I hope you’ll be in town? I want both you brothers to take part in the havan.”
“Yes, Dadi, I was supposed to go to Mumbai, but this rascal made me change my plans.”
“You have to be here on my birthday, Bhai! How could you have even made plans to be away?” retorted Tarun.
“He’s right for once,” said Vasu, laughing.
“Chalo bhai, let’s discuss the menu for the party now,” said Ajay Chacha, only to have his suggestion drowned out by a clamor of voices telling him he had to watch his cholesterol levels. The meal ended in a wave of laughter at Ajay's crestfallen expression.
***
A few days later, Dadi called Mira to her room. “There’s a problem,” she said as Mira appeared. “Maharaj has drawn up a menu for Tarun’s party the day after tomorrow. And Tarun is refusing to even consider it. Too old-fashioned, he says. I don’t know what we are going to do.”
“I’ll cook!” said Mira immediately.
“Will you, beta?” asked the old lady. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“Of course, I will,” said Mira. “And I’ll work with Maharaj on it.”
Mrs. Dewan looked at her with warmth. “Thank you, beta, I was hoping you would say that, too. You may need to appease Maharaj first. He is a bit old fashioned, but he has been with us for many years and he suits us just fine. He is very fond of Tarun and was most disappointed when Tarun rejected his suggestions. Still, I can’t blame the boy either. I don’t think Maharaj’s menu would have found favor with the young people at the party.”
“I’ll talk to Maharaj and find out what he had in mind, shall I?” asked Mira. “Then I’ll talk to Tarun and see what he wants.”
“That will be good,” said Mrs. Dewan gravely. “God bless you, beta!”
Mira went in search of Maharaj. It took her a bit of time to mollify the aged family retainer, but once she had assured him that Tarun Baba was not rejecting his offerings outright, merely wanting them modified a bit, the old man was soon smiling once again.
Now Tarun, she thought as she went up the stairs to look for him. She found him with Reema on the balcony. “What on earth are the two of you doing here together?” she hissed at them. “Suppose Chachi sees you? As it is, she’s on the warpath after Dadi asked you to make the prasad!”
“Calm down, Di,” said Tarun, who had now, in Reema-fashion, taken to calling her Di. “Amma’s gone out and won’t be back for an hour at least.”
“Di, I was telling Tarun that I don’t think I should be making the prasad if it hurts Amma.” Reema blushed rosily at the slip. “But how can I refuse Dadi?”
“You can’t really,” said Mira frankly. “I really don’t know what got into Dadi, making such a strange request. Chachi was really upset. But hold on now, we’ll discuss that later. Have I news for you, Tarun! Dadi has asked me to cook for your party.”
“Really, Di? Wow, that’s fantastic!” the two voices were one in their exclamation.
“Isn’t it?” Mira beamed happily at them. “So now, Tarun, you have to tell me what you want. I have Maharaj’s list with me. Shall we go through it?”
Tarun’s face took on an obstinate expression. “I don’t want those old-fashioned things he has suggested, Di.”
“Tarun, don’t be mean to the poor old man. He has known you since you were a baby and he wants to contribute to your birthday. You can’t dismiss him like that.”
“Well said, Mira,” came Ranbir’s voice from the door. Mira flushed at the unaccustomed praise. “Little brother, that was not kindly done.”
“But Bhai…” began Tarun.
“Let it be, Tarun,” said Ranbir quietly. “It does not become us to seek our pleasures even at the expense of hurting someone else, especially someone who has been looking after us for so long.”
“I guess so, Bhai,” said Tarun reluctantly. “I shouldn't have been so mean to Maharaj.”
Mira looked at both of them in surprise. She had not thought that Ranbir would be so sensitive to the feelings of an old man who was
not even part of the family. And she had not known he wielded so much influence over Tarun. Thank God he approved of Reema, she thought silently, otherwise it would have ended in heartbreak for her for certain.
There was a sudden sound of loud voices downstairs. They ran down to find Meenu Chachi on the sofa on the third floor, white-faced and groaning. Dadi was sitting beside her. Mrs. Bagchi hovered close by, a glass of water in her hand. Vasu was on the phone to Dr. Singh.
“Amma!” cried Tarun. “What happened?”
“Arre beta, I was climbing down the stairs in the shop when I slipped. My foot twisted under me and now, the pain—it’s unbearable!”
“Show me,” said Ranbir, kneeling before Chachi and pushing back her sari to reveal her ankle. It was horribly swollen.
“I’ve broken my foot!” and Chachi wailed as Ranbir probed the tender area.
“No Chachi, I don’t think so. I think you’ve sprained it. You did walk to the car from the shop, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but it hurt terribly, beta, I’m sure my ankle is broken!”
“I’ve called Dr. Singh, Ma,” said Vasu, putting down her mobile. “He’ll be here in a bit.”
“And to think of all the work I had planned for tomorrow! So much to do! And Ajay will also return only tomorrow. Hai, how will I manage now?!”
Chachi was working herself up into hysteria, when Reema intervened. “Chachi,” she coaxed softly, “you sit here and tell me what to do and I’ll do everything exactly as you want.”
Meenu Chachi just glared at her, refusing to be appeased.
When Dr. Singh came, he confirmed Ranbir’s diagnosis. “A sprain,” he said. “Meenuji, you will have to rest your ankle completely for at least three days. Apply hot compresses every few hours. I am prescribing some painkillers for you. There could be a little fever, but don’t worry, it will be injury related.”
“Hai!” moaned Chachi.
“Shall Ranbir and I help you to your room, Amma?” asked Tarun. He was genuinely moved by his mother’s pain, thought Mira.
