The Scent of Mogra and Other Stories

by Aparna Kaji Shah

  Nimesh was quiet for a while. Then he said, “It’s natural that you feel lonely here. You can never have the connections that you have in Mumbai, at this stage in your life, here. You will make some friends if you are working full-time. Both Naomi and I are busy with work as well as social events, so I don’t know that we can spend much more time together. Maybe, I can drop by at your place occasionally, like I have today. Your decision to stay or not should not be based on that; you must really want to live here.”

  Since Maya did not respond right away, Nimesh put his arm around her. He said, “Do you really like this life here, and do you want to move to Canada?”

  “I don’t know. I should think more clearly.” Maya had tears in her eyes.

  Nimesh patted her back, and then he left. He had to pick up Naomi.

  Rahul had been too busy with the project to talk on Skype, given the time difference. He replied cryptically to her messages, saying that he would write a long email when he had some breathing space.

  She spent the next few days staying in most of the time, only stepping out for walks in the afternoons to clear her mind. She had only a week left to decide. Her thoughts strayed to Rahul frequently, not just as a friend, but as a significant other. His not having time for her at present, agitated her.

  She decided to return to India. When Nimesh dropped by, she told him. He said, “I’m glad. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad because you don’t look happy here. I think it is the right decision for you. You have a lot of people waiting for you back home.”

  Maya was relieved that the decision was made. Rahul was applying the last touches to the installation when she called him, so spoke briefly. He sounded pleased at the news of her return, and told her to send all her flight details so that he could come to the airport. She was disappointed that he was not ecstatic; but then he was preoccupied. He had not been engaged in such an important project before. Here was his chance to make it in the art world. He was glad that she would be back in Mumbai in time for the opening. It was to be a big affair.

  Her last six weeks passed in blur. At the little farewell dinner party her brother hosted at their place a week before she was due to leave, Maya met people she had not met before. There were two Indian couples. Maya connected immediately with one of the wives who had grown up in Mumbai.

  Then there was a new head of radiology from Nimesh’s hospital. He was a Canadian in his late fifties. He had clear blue eyes, and straight blonde hair. His smile was open and warm. His wife had died of cancer five years ago. He wanted to know all about Maya, and about Mumbai, as he had never been to India. He said to Nimesh, “You kept your sister hidden for so many months. And now that I have met her, she is leaving.” He took down Maya’s email, and gave her his business card. His name was Mark Johnston. He said there was a chance he would be invited to a radiology conference in India next year, either in Mumbai or Delhi, and if he came, he would get in touch with her. Maya found him interesting, and she said that she looked forward to meeting him again. When he left the party, he shook hands with her, holding her hand a few seconds longer than usual.

  Now that she was ready to leave, Maya couldn’t get to Mumbai quickly enough. She boarded her flight, filled with anticipation. She had a whole month before college opened. Enough time to settle in, and see everyone again. She and Rahul could spend some time together. The opening of the installation was two weeks away. After that, he would be free.

  Her flight landed at six in the evening and, as promised, Rahul was there to greet her. He grinned broadly when he saw her, and waved. As soon as she got to where he was waiting, he took the baggage cart from her and hugged her with an arm around her shoulders. As they headed out of the airport in her car, Rahul looked at his watch. “Oops,” he said. “It is already seven-thirty. I must meet Nina … the other artist, by nine. We have lots of work to do before the opening. Here, I’ve brought the invite for you. You can bring one friend, if you like.”

  “Oh, I thought you would have dinner with me.”

  “Sorry, but I’m going to be dreadfully busy until the opening. What do you think of the card?”

  Maya looked at the card in her hand. “It’s beautiful and very unusual. Did you design it?”

  “No, Nina did.”

  They reached Maya’s building and Rahul came up to help her with the luggage. They sat down for a few minutes, but Rahul was anxious to get going. “I have to leave. Nina and I have to finish up some things tonight.”

  “Why don’t you have a quick bite and then go?” Maya said.

  “I have to pick up some food for Nina anyway … it will be a working dinner. You rest well. I will call you tomorrow.”

  Maya saw Rahul only once before the opening, at a cafe near Victoria Terminus. Just as they were finishing, Nina dropped by to grab a coffee. She was wearing jeans with a vibrant orange kurta. A leather bag was slung over her shoulder. Her thick hair was long and loose. Her dark brown eyes were her best feature. They were rimmed with kohl, and were vivacious and smiling. And when they looked at Rahul a new kind of light appeared in them. There was admiration in Rahul’s eyes as he watched Nina talking. Maya thought Nina was probably in her mid-thirties, quite a bit younger than both of them.

  “Rahul talks so much about you that I feel I already know you,” Nina said,

  “I hope he said all good things.”

  “Yes, of course. You must come for the opening next Friday,” Nina smiled broadly.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Both of you have worked so hard. Do I get a peek before that?”

  Together they said, “No, you don’t. You have to wait for the big day.”

  “The other night when Rahul cooked for me at his place,” Nina said, “he made your favourite dish, chole/puri. He said it wasn’t as good as yours. We’d been working so late, usually until midnight, that we needed a break.” She looked at Rahul and smiled. Rahul returned the smile, the left corner of his mouth lifting just a little; the same smile that Maya had noticed at their first meeting so long ago.

  Maya felt uncomfortable. She felt like an intruder, witnessing an intimate moment between a couple. She stood up and said, “You guys please go ahead and get to work. I will see you at the opening, and good luck.” She felt a tight smile stretching her lips, as she bade them goodbye.

  Sitting in the car in the evening traffic, she thought, I’m being silly. They have been working together every day for almost six months. Naturally there is a professional connection. They have developed a relationship, part of which is also personal. It will evaporate once this project is done. I’m feeling like this because I haven’t had any time with Rahul after coming back. We have a lot to catch up on.

  When Maya went to the opening, Rahul and Nina welcomed her, and Rahul showed her to her seat in the third row. The first two were for government officials and other vips. When the installation was unveiled, there was a sharp collective intake of breath from the audience, and then a thunderous round of applause. Rahul and Nina stood on either side of the installation, beaming at each other. It was an imposing piece of work, made with metal and wood, showing a modern metropolis, but with vestiges of a past glory in the background. There was an elaborate elephant drawn carriage with an umbrella, which Maya loved. The artists came centre stage, waved to the audience and hugged each other before making way for the minister’s speech.

  Rahul and Nina sat down together in the front row. There were several speeches, and a music and dance program. Mukul and Radhika sat next to Maya. While she and Radhika had a whispered conversation, Maya noticed Rahul’s face close to Nina’s ear; he was saying something to her, and then she turned to look at him and smiled warmly.

  Maya left the exhibit without having had the opportunity to speak to Rahul or Nina; they had been surrounded by throngs of people the entire evening.

  Rahul called the next evening. He said, “Where did you go? I was looking for
you, then Mukul and Radhika said you had already left.”

  “I tried to talk to you before I left, but it was impossible.”

  “So, what did you think of the installation?”

  “I loved it. It is a great piece of art. I especially like the elephant carriage. When can we meet properly, Rahul?”

  “Soon, Maya. We need to tie up some loose ends before Nina leaves for Pune next week, to spend time with her parents.”

  Maya was preoccupied with lecture preparation, and faculty meetings before the new academic year began. Rahul called to say that he could have dinner with her after dropping Nina to the train station the next evening. Maya invited him home.

  She came back early from the library, and changed into some new clothes that she had bought in Toronto. They were lounge pants with a flared bottom and a flowing tunic-like top. She applied eye make-up and lipstick, and instead of her usual diamond studs, wore turquoise dangling earrings to match her tunic. Perfume would be too much, she decided. After all, they were going to be at home.

  When the doorbell rang, she ran to open the door, and when Rahul stepped in she enfolded him in an embrace, which he returned briefly. He said, “Hey, what’s all this?”

  “Just some clothes I bought in Toronto. Don’t you like them?”

  “Yes, but you look different. And make up for dinner at home?”

  “Oh, I just felt like it. I’ve got some clothes for you too. See, there are two T-shirts.”

  Rahul opened the package. “What nice colours! Thank you.”

  After dinner, he kept looking at his phone. Maya said, “Are you late for something?”

  “Oh no, just wondering why Nina hasn’t messaged me yet; she must have reached Pune by now.”

  Rahul seemed restless. A little later, he said he was tired and should go to bed as the last few months had been brutal.

  At the door, Maya asked what they should do the coming weekend. “A movie and dinner? I haven’t seen a Bollywood movie in ages.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m going to Pune to meet some artists that Nina knows; there might be a project happening there soon.”

  Maya’s face fell. “Call me when you have time,” she said as evenly as she could muster.

  When Rahul returned from Pune, he told Maya that talks about the project had started in earnest. “It’s a lot of money,” he said. “I can’t let it go. I may even be able to rent my own apartment after this.”

  They did not meet as frequently as they used to before she went to Canada. And when they did meet, Maya felt that there was a distance, a new formality. Once Maya suggested a visit to an art exhibition, but Rahul had already seen it with Nina; though he did offer to accompany her if she wanted company. Maya did not see much point in discussing their current relationship, hoping that in time, they would be back on their old footing.

  It was almost mid-term break when she received an email from Nimesh’s friend, Mark. She hadn’t thought about him since her return. After all, she had met him just once. He said that the conference was to be in Mumbai in mid-December. It would be over by the twentieth, and then he planned to travel around India for a couple of weeks, using Mumbai as his base. Could he contact her when in Mumbai? Did she have any suggestions for places to go to? She replied saying of course, he could. She suggested Delhi/Agra, Rajasthan, and Kerala as places he could visit.

  A few weeks later, Mark’s dates were fixed, and he said that he had decided to go to Rajasthan. Had she been there? Maya replied that Rajasthan was vibrant and colourful. Yes, she had been there, but fifteen or twenty years ago. It must have changed a lot since then, she told him.

  Rahul’s project in Pune was confirmed. He would be there from November to the end of February, at least. He would rent a studio. It was an installation art project near Ferguson College. He hoped that Maya would visit him there on some weekends, though he and Nina would be busy, working all week.

  “Won’t you come to Mumbai?” Maya said

  “Yes, I will. But not more than once a month,” he’d explained hurriedly. It seemed now, there was always someplace else he had to be.

  What about us, Maya’s heart cried out. What place do I have in your life? It was almost six months since she had returned from Toronto. Their relationship was different now, and she feared it would remain like that.

  That night she woke up, breaking out in a sweat. When she got up to have a sip of water, she realized that she had dreamt again of the forest in the wall mural. Only this time, she had trembled with fright; she was alone, staring into the darkness.

  ***

  It would soon be the second anniversary of her mother’s death; had she even grieved for her properly? Maya wondered. She had grieved for relationships with men that had ended, but then she had gone on to other relationships. With her mother, that was not possible. She was gone, and nobody else could take her place, ever. The first anniversary of her mother’s death had gone by without arousing strong feelings in Maya. During her relationship with Rahul, her stint in Toronto, and then settling back into Mumbai life, time had flown. Though she did remember her mother at odd moments, she had not felt the deep bottomless vacuum she was experiencing now, after two years. Was it a delayed reaction?

  After Rahul’s temporary move to Pune, she saw her mother everywhere: in the kitchen, in the armchair, at the dining table. She remembered her warmth, generosity, and unassuming nature; her concern when Maya broke up with a man who had appeared promising. All things considered, her mother had been very liberal and modern in her outlook, even though she had been a conventional wife and mother.

  Maya decided to write to Nimesh, reminding him of the anniversary. They had exchanged emails only once after her return to India. She told him that Mark had contacted her, and was coming to India. In his reply, Nimesh told her that Mark had laughingly said that maybe Maya could join him on the trip to Rajasthan. What did she think about that? Maya did not respond to that question, and it was soon out of her mind.

  A month before he was due to arrive, Mark emailed her to give her his hotel details. He wrote that if he was not being too presumptuous, would she think of coming with him to Rajasthan? It would be holiday time for her too, wouldn’t it? “Your brother knows me well,” he said, “and I will take good care of you. And you would be a great guide for me, as I will be visiting India for the first time.”

  Maya had read the email late one evening, and she’d laughed it off; of course, he was joking, and of course she couldn’t go. She would reply soon, she told herself.

  She had put off replying to Mark for over a week. It was a Monday morning, and her driver was sick. She rushed to get dressed because she would have to take the bus to college. She looked out anxiously for the bus. The red double decker came thundering along, spewing exhaust, and the waiting mass of humanity inched forward. She climbed onto the bus, using her elbows to fight off men trying to push ahead of her. Lifting her cotton sari with one hand, Maya made her way to the top deck, finding a seat at the very front. As a young girl, she had always felt adventurous sitting on the top deck. The strong wind ballooned her sari out to the sides, and her hair blew into her face. Suddenly, a sense of excitement crept up her spine. I’ll go, she said to herself, smiling. I’ll go to Rajasthan with Mark. And she tucked her blowing hair behind her ears.

  The Last Letter

  I haven’t written to you all for a long time, but time just slips through my fingers. In Mumbai, days and nights roll into one as I try and settle down with Anand. I have learned that he has quite a temper. I’m surprised because those few times we met before our marriage, he was quiet, and even somewhat detached when wedding details were discussed, but he did not seem short-tempered. So, often, appearances are deceptive.

  It is difficult to get anything done in this city. You have to chase the phone man and the gas man until they make the connections for you, even after you giv
e them a tip. And everything is expensive here. Anand and I sometimes argue about what is essential for our tiny flat and what is not.

  I’m used to the open spaces in our village, and our house surrounded by green fields and trees. The only thing I can see from my tiny kitchen window is the next building, whose grimy peeling paint and garbage heap makes me want to vomit.

  But don’t think Mumbai is all ugly; for there are some very nice parts. We took the local train the other day. You won’t believe how crowded our compartment was; I almost got pushed out the open door of the train! We went to see the Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal Hotel. What amazing structures! I stood there and couldn’t move, my mouth open in wonder, until Anand pushed me along saying, “Don’t stand there like a country bumpkin. Keep your wits about you, or someone will snatch your purse.” On the way back, it was dark, so we got to see the Queen’s Necklace—those are the lights of south Mumbai that glitter like diamonds. There are so many beautiful buildings from the English people, as well as many modern office buildings. It is my dream to live in south Mumbai, and Anand wants to live there as well. The far-flung northern suburb that we live in is very different, and oh, so remote from all this.

  Anyway, enough about me. How are you? And Ma and Pa? Do give me all the news. I must cook the rice. Anand will be home soon.

  Love to you all.

  Surekha

  ***

  Respected Pa and Ma,

  Hope you are both in good health. I’m settling down well in Mumbai. We still need to buy more things for the house … utensils, some sheets, and curtains. I think everything will be done in a couple of months. The most important thing is that, finally, we have got a phone and gas connection, after having paid a bribe. I would be thrilled if you could come and visit me soon. I’m sitting on our new couch and writing to you. The fabric is soft like velvet. The colour is a deep red, like your bindi, Ma.