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Showing posts with label short story 2020 longlist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story 2020 longlist. Show all posts
Saturday, 5 September 2020
Saturday, 15 August 2020
Usha Srikanth, Short Story 2020 Featured Writer
Mirth!
Triveni stared at the soft board, like she usually did. The staff room was resounding with laughter as her colleagues discussed about each others' weird habits in a lighter vein. She continued staring at the board and wanted to disappear inside it. She knew that so much laughter around her was harmful. They were mocking at her, she could feel it. It was time for her to vanish and come back empowered the next instant. A repartee to the party that would put this party to a gloomy end.
She was tall, with a creamy complexion, the hair stuck to her scalp and looked well oiled. She always plaited it. A bindi always clung to her forehead. A six yards saree could not quite complete the roundness of her broad frame. Her worn out and faded bra was an old inquisitive hag that always peeped out of the blouse. It was metaphorical of Triveni's own character. She masked her curiosity behind a flimsy cloak of false divinity. She hid herself in shlokas of the Hindu Gods. But right then in the midst of happy people, she felt out of place. Her soft board told her to be creative enough with the repartee. Too much happiness did not suit her. She thrived on sympathy.
'Sympathy' yes this would be it again. Play on these cords with the boss and the brownie points start rolling in. She looked at her side, her eyes narrowed and gave her a good view of her colleagues Ritu and Sneha.
Ritu had her hair cut upto the shoulders. It fell softly with light curls giving her rounded face a youthful, joyful look. Triveni loathed Ritu's existence. She reminded her of everything that she had longed for. Smartness, elegance, friendly attitude! She shifted her gaze at Sneha. She was slim, tall and graceful. Her quick wit tickled everyone's funny bone. The male colleagues too joined in merrily.
She ran down her check list of making Ritu appear small and unimportant. In the past eight years that they had worked together she had used every trick in the bag. The memory flooded her and pumped her adrenaline.
She recalled the day when her chat show was telecast on TV in the local channel. She remembered the huge effort she had put, to keep the opportunity clandestine. The letter was still with her! The invitation was official. Yet, she was careful in concealing it. Ritu had questioned her about leaving late for home. But she had managed it well. The day arrived, she wanted to see Ritu's face. She'd imagined the despair on it and had rejoiced. But Ritu had walked down the corridor coolly and congratulated her. Triveni had never felt so dejected! The telecast did not give her the pleasure that she longed for! Everyone always became friends with Ritu. But this time she had chosen her words well! The staff room became sober as Ritu , Sneha and a few more of them left for their classes.
The male colleagues remained seated. She checked her tone, tuned it to sound doleful and said"Mr. Hari, you seem to befriend only well - dressed women."
Hari was taken aback by the brusqueness of this remark. He smiled and retorted "Ms. Triveni why don't you too dress up well? I don't see the point in not doing so."
Triveni was thrown off guard. This melodramatic dialogue of hers had won her the expected sympathy many times. She was successful in depicting Ritu as arrogant and she'd dropped hints to portray Ritu as a bossy snob. She decided to try her luck some other time. Sitting on her chair, she stared at the soft board. Again her eyes looked up and centre, bringing back the days when she used to be the Principal's assistant.
Twenty year old Triveni, clad in a faded salwar kameez wiped a tear. The Principal of the school watched her from a distance, she wanted her to. Later she was summoned to the cabin for questioning. Her eyes and lips concocted a story of utter desperation. The story highlighted her marital life which was filled with misery.
"My husband is infirm, hence cannot sustain a job for long." She said. "The burden of his parents is thrust on my frail shoulders," She continued "My salary is hand to mouth, my colleagues snigger at my pathetic sight," seizing this opportunity firmly she lamented further. "I am the most diligent worker. I go hungry for long hours and work . Many times, I complete my colleagues' share of work too."
The lady Principal was overcome with sympathy. There was another school which was supposed to commence from the next academic year. If she played her cards right, she knew she'd land herself in a new job.
"There's another school being built nearby, I have contacts there. A new job, a new designation as a teacher with a better pay packet will be yours. Don't worry!" She knew that this would head in exactly the same direction as planned. So, here she was!
In these years, she had eked out a comfortable life style for herself. But was careful to dress in the sloppy manner that was so her! The biggest achievement was buying an apartment. her confidence too had manifested into a hugely blown chauvinism. The new school, as she remembered was quite accommodating of her in-capacities. Her influential entry had secured her position. Her lacuna in talent, subject knowledge and the incapacity to be a team worker had all gone unnoticed. Her uncanny ability to find scapegoats for covering up her lacuna had always excelled. Until,the school expanded and brought in newer and younger employees. If at all there was some threat to her job, it was from Ritu and the others. With the entry of Ritu in her department, Triveni's existence had paled. She had a general appeal that fused with the others. However, Triveni was repulsed.
"Hey! Are you okay?" Asked Sneha who pulled the chair beside her. "You seem lost in profound thoughts!" Said Sneha in a jovial tone. Triveni bolted back to reality. "Why? Don't I have the right to think?" She retorted in a loud, icy tone.
Her garrulous nature took charge. She stormed out of the place. Sneha shrugged off her feeling of contempt and returned to her place.
Triveni hovered near the Principal's cabin. This was where she loved to be most of the times. It was very important to look busy in front of the boss! She created an opportunity to enter the cabin and wiped her eyes with the pallu of her saree. With moist eyes she said "My colleagues are the most insensitive lot, I haven't had a morsel to eat since morning, I was busy with a lot of exclusive work. They find pleasure in mocking me. It's impossible to be in peace there."
She finished her stretched monologue without gulping even one breath of air. The Principal was flabbergasted! He knew she was a complaint box, a pack of lies personified but was helpless. There was no rule in the book which stated that liars, manipulators,trouble creators should be shown the gates. He blocked her out of his mind and told her that he would look into the matter.
She emerged out of the cabin and made sure that she wasn't seen. She was aware of the reputation that she held. The reputation of marring others' reputation, the reputation of presenting herself as an extraordinarily talented personality, the reputation of contradicting what she ardently read in the hymns of the Hindu Gods. The sweet smell of corn wafted through the air. This aroused her buds which salivated profusely.
The stairs led down to the canteen. She took them one at a time.
A five year old Triveni appeared before her. The steps led down her memory lane. Her cousin Priya skipped alongwith her. "We'll race grandpa, the winner should get a chocolate." Said Priya. Grandpa adored his granddaughters. They ran gaily , like two daisies prancing in the wind. Priya won the race. She was turning around to shout out to grandpa, when Triveni fell beside her, ripped off her own skirt and started crying. Priya stood rooted to the spot. Grandpa approached them and carried little Triveni, wiped her tears and consoled her. The chocolate made its way from his hands to Triveni's bawling mouth. Priya's victory was buried in the dust. Triveni handed out a piece of the chocolate to her cousin. Victory was hers! Chocolate was hers! Mm.... it tasted so good!
she descended another step, a twelve year old school girl passed by. Triveni envisioned herself in her uniform so many years ago, when she twelve and in the seventh grade. The final exams were fast approaching, she cast a look at her brother who was working out sheet after sheet of algebra. He was a hardworking boy. Mama adored him. "Sharan will make the family proud." Mama always said. He was in the ninth grade. Triveni paced around from the room to the hall listlessly. Hardwork was for donkeys! She thought this over and smiled. Days went by, the exams were over . One day Kushali, her brother's friend ran towards her. She wore a bright smile across her face. "Hey Triveni, your brother's topped the class this time too. He's broken the record in the quiz too. You're a lucky girl to have a bro like him." "The PTM is three days away, he plans to surprise your parents. So, don't spill the beans." Three days, thought Triveni.
Brother and sister reached home. Mom served lunch. "My stomach's aching, I can't eat now." Said Triveni and pushed the plate away. Later she sneaked into her parents' room to sleep. She also sneaked into papa's wallet and helped herself to some money. In the evening, she told her mom that she needed to meet her friends and helped herself to a bakery. For three days she didn't touch a morsel at home. Mom grew worried. She told Papa about their daughter's strange intermittent stomachache. Sharan declared that the PTM was the next day and that it was compulsory. The next morning, Triveni wouldn't leave the bed. The house was frantic with worry. No one was interested to visit the school. Sharan went all alone. The parents took her to a doctor, who was baffled by the nature of the ache. Various tests were recommended and performed. By evening she was discharged and was told to be kept under observation.
Sharan displayed his marks sheet and trophy proudly,but Papa was only disheartened at Sharan's lack of sympathy and insensitive attitude! The stomachache continued for two more days and finally vanished alongwith Sharan's happiness and glory. No one bothered about her poor scores, they were thankful that their daughter was fine. After that all that mattered was her good health.
She neared the door of the canteen now. She saw that various fruits were on display. Bright red apples, yellow sweet limes, pomegranates and many more. Food had always been her weakness. She placed an order for apple milkshake. The cook put the fruits in a big jar and placed it on the electric mixer. It made a loud swishing noise. This loud noise took her back to the noise, a soft humming one of the monitor that displayed the pressure of blood and heart beat. Her father had met with an accident. He was crossing the road when a bus had hit him. Locals had admitted him to a hospital. Triveni was seventeen. It was already a week since the mishap. Doctors gave no hope of Papa moving out of bed. He had gone completely numb.
Only the eyes moved and cried every now and then. Relatives poured in, bringing with them delicious looking fruits and bakery items. Triveni couldn't resist them. But Mama maintained her stoic hunger. Sharan was even more exasperating as he tried to feed Papa and Mama the goodies. She couldn't fathom the idea behind feeding people who didn't deserve to be fed. Papa couldn't eat anyways and Mama wouldn't eat. No one noticed the juices inside the fruits except her. They were adamant on shedding futile tears for a juiceless body that was her father's. She also realized that the relatives consoled and showed concern for the bereaved wife. The only way in which she could contribute to this situation was to help herself to the goodies and wail!
The relatives continued to pour in but their attention was shifted to her. Fruits were brought in especially for Triveni. For Triveni lamented the most! That was the best summer ever. This thread of memory brought a triumphant smile on her lips. She relished a plate of corn manchurian alongwith the milkshake.
The place was filled with young faces, few of her colleagues stood with filled plates at corners. Each face was lit up with happiness. Smiles and hugs greeted each other. She hated so much laughter! Triveni's smile too crawled up her lips. It sneaked up to her eyes and they glistened. After all, if and when she wished to, she could strip these faces off , the ornament that they so proudly displayed. She was happier than happiness herself! She derived mirth from misery.
Triveni stared at the soft board, like she usually did. The staff room was resounding with laughter as her colleagues discussed about each others' weird habits in a lighter vein. She continued staring at the board and wanted to disappear inside it. She knew that so much laughter around her was harmful. They were mocking at her, she could feel it. It was time for her to vanish and come back empowered the next instant. A repartee to the party that would put this party to a gloomy end.
She was tall, with a creamy complexion, the hair stuck to her scalp and looked well oiled. She always plaited it. A bindi always clung to her forehead. A six yards saree could not quite complete the roundness of her broad frame. Her worn out and faded bra was an old inquisitive hag that always peeped out of the blouse. It was metaphorical of Triveni's own character. She masked her curiosity behind a flimsy cloak of false divinity. She hid herself in shlokas of the Hindu Gods. But right then in the midst of happy people, she felt out of place. Her soft board told her to be creative enough with the repartee. Too much happiness did not suit her. She thrived on sympathy.
'Sympathy' yes this would be it again. Play on these cords with the boss and the brownie points start rolling in. She looked at her side, her eyes narrowed and gave her a good view of her colleagues Ritu and Sneha.
Ritu had her hair cut upto the shoulders. It fell softly with light curls giving her rounded face a youthful, joyful look. Triveni loathed Ritu's existence. She reminded her of everything that she had longed for. Smartness, elegance, friendly attitude! She shifted her gaze at Sneha. She was slim, tall and graceful. Her quick wit tickled everyone's funny bone. The male colleagues too joined in merrily.
She ran down her check list of making Ritu appear small and unimportant. In the past eight years that they had worked together she had used every trick in the bag. The memory flooded her and pumped her adrenaline.
She recalled the day when her chat show was telecast on TV in the local channel. She remembered the huge effort she had put, to keep the opportunity clandestine. The letter was still with her! The invitation was official. Yet, she was careful in concealing it. Ritu had questioned her about leaving late for home. But she had managed it well. The day arrived, she wanted to see Ritu's face. She'd imagined the despair on it and had rejoiced. But Ritu had walked down the corridor coolly and congratulated her. Triveni had never felt so dejected! The telecast did not give her the pleasure that she longed for! Everyone always became friends with Ritu. But this time she had chosen her words well! The staff room became sober as Ritu , Sneha and a few more of them left for their classes.
The male colleagues remained seated. She checked her tone, tuned it to sound doleful and said"Mr. Hari, you seem to befriend only well - dressed women."
Hari was taken aback by the brusqueness of this remark. He smiled and retorted "Ms. Triveni why don't you too dress up well? I don't see the point in not doing so."
Triveni was thrown off guard. This melodramatic dialogue of hers had won her the expected sympathy many times. She was successful in depicting Ritu as arrogant and she'd dropped hints to portray Ritu as a bossy snob. She decided to try her luck some other time. Sitting on her chair, she stared at the soft board. Again her eyes looked up and centre, bringing back the days when she used to be the Principal's assistant.
Twenty year old Triveni, clad in a faded salwar kameez wiped a tear. The Principal of the school watched her from a distance, she wanted her to. Later she was summoned to the cabin for questioning. Her eyes and lips concocted a story of utter desperation. The story highlighted her marital life which was filled with misery.
"My husband is infirm, hence cannot sustain a job for long." She said. "The burden of his parents is thrust on my frail shoulders," She continued "My salary is hand to mouth, my colleagues snigger at my pathetic sight," seizing this opportunity firmly she lamented further. "I am the most diligent worker. I go hungry for long hours and work . Many times, I complete my colleagues' share of work too."
The lady Principal was overcome with sympathy. There was another school which was supposed to commence from the next academic year. If she played her cards right, she knew she'd land herself in a new job.
"There's another school being built nearby, I have contacts there. A new job, a new designation as a teacher with a better pay packet will be yours. Don't worry!" She knew that this would head in exactly the same direction as planned. So, here she was!
In these years, she had eked out a comfortable life style for herself. But was careful to dress in the sloppy manner that was so her! The biggest achievement was buying an apartment. her confidence too had manifested into a hugely blown chauvinism. The new school, as she remembered was quite accommodating of her in-capacities. Her influential entry had secured her position. Her lacuna in talent, subject knowledge and the incapacity to be a team worker had all gone unnoticed. Her uncanny ability to find scapegoats for covering up her lacuna had always excelled. Until,the school expanded and brought in newer and younger employees. If at all there was some threat to her job, it was from Ritu and the others. With the entry of Ritu in her department, Triveni's existence had paled. She had a general appeal that fused with the others. However, Triveni was repulsed.
"Hey! Are you okay?" Asked Sneha who pulled the chair beside her. "You seem lost in profound thoughts!" Said Sneha in a jovial tone. Triveni bolted back to reality. "Why? Don't I have the right to think?" She retorted in a loud, icy tone.
Her garrulous nature took charge. She stormed out of the place. Sneha shrugged off her feeling of contempt and returned to her place.
Triveni hovered near the Principal's cabin. This was where she loved to be most of the times. It was very important to look busy in front of the boss! She created an opportunity to enter the cabin and wiped her eyes with the pallu of her saree. With moist eyes she said "My colleagues are the most insensitive lot, I haven't had a morsel to eat since morning, I was busy with a lot of exclusive work. They find pleasure in mocking me. It's impossible to be in peace there."
She finished her stretched monologue without gulping even one breath of air. The Principal was flabbergasted! He knew she was a complaint box, a pack of lies personified but was helpless. There was no rule in the book which stated that liars, manipulators,trouble creators should be shown the gates. He blocked her out of his mind and told her that he would look into the matter.
She emerged out of the cabin and made sure that she wasn't seen. She was aware of the reputation that she held. The reputation of marring others' reputation, the reputation of presenting herself as an extraordinarily talented personality, the reputation of contradicting what she ardently read in the hymns of the Hindu Gods. The sweet smell of corn wafted through the air. This aroused her buds which salivated profusely.
The stairs led down to the canteen. She took them one at a time.
A five year old Triveni appeared before her. The steps led down her memory lane. Her cousin Priya skipped alongwith her. "We'll race grandpa, the winner should get a chocolate." Said Priya. Grandpa adored his granddaughters. They ran gaily , like two daisies prancing in the wind. Priya won the race. She was turning around to shout out to grandpa, when Triveni fell beside her, ripped off her own skirt and started crying. Priya stood rooted to the spot. Grandpa approached them and carried little Triveni, wiped her tears and consoled her. The chocolate made its way from his hands to Triveni's bawling mouth. Priya's victory was buried in the dust. Triveni handed out a piece of the chocolate to her cousin. Victory was hers! Chocolate was hers! Mm.... it tasted so good!
she descended another step, a twelve year old school girl passed by. Triveni envisioned herself in her uniform so many years ago, when she twelve and in the seventh grade. The final exams were fast approaching, she cast a look at her brother who was working out sheet after sheet of algebra. He was a hardworking boy. Mama adored him. "Sharan will make the family proud." Mama always said. He was in the ninth grade. Triveni paced around from the room to the hall listlessly. Hardwork was for donkeys! She thought this over and smiled. Days went by, the exams were over . One day Kushali, her brother's friend ran towards her. She wore a bright smile across her face. "Hey Triveni, your brother's topped the class this time too. He's broken the record in the quiz too. You're a lucky girl to have a bro like him." "The PTM is three days away, he plans to surprise your parents. So, don't spill the beans." Three days, thought Triveni.
Brother and sister reached home. Mom served lunch. "My stomach's aching, I can't eat now." Said Triveni and pushed the plate away. Later she sneaked into her parents' room to sleep. She also sneaked into papa's wallet and helped herself to some money. In the evening, she told her mom that she needed to meet her friends and helped herself to a bakery. For three days she didn't touch a morsel at home. Mom grew worried. She told Papa about their daughter's strange intermittent stomachache. Sharan declared that the PTM was the next day and that it was compulsory. The next morning, Triveni wouldn't leave the bed. The house was frantic with worry. No one was interested to visit the school. Sharan went all alone. The parents took her to a doctor, who was baffled by the nature of the ache. Various tests were recommended and performed. By evening she was discharged and was told to be kept under observation.
Sharan displayed his marks sheet and trophy proudly,but Papa was only disheartened at Sharan's lack of sympathy and insensitive attitude! The stomachache continued for two more days and finally vanished alongwith Sharan's happiness and glory. No one bothered about her poor scores, they were thankful that their daughter was fine. After that all that mattered was her good health.
She neared the door of the canteen now. She saw that various fruits were on display. Bright red apples, yellow sweet limes, pomegranates and many more. Food had always been her weakness. She placed an order for apple milkshake. The cook put the fruits in a big jar and placed it on the electric mixer. It made a loud swishing noise. This loud noise took her back to the noise, a soft humming one of the monitor that displayed the pressure of blood and heart beat. Her father had met with an accident. He was crossing the road when a bus had hit him. Locals had admitted him to a hospital. Triveni was seventeen. It was already a week since the mishap. Doctors gave no hope of Papa moving out of bed. He had gone completely numb.
Only the eyes moved and cried every now and then. Relatives poured in, bringing with them delicious looking fruits and bakery items. Triveni couldn't resist them. But Mama maintained her stoic hunger. Sharan was even more exasperating as he tried to feed Papa and Mama the goodies. She couldn't fathom the idea behind feeding people who didn't deserve to be fed. Papa couldn't eat anyways and Mama wouldn't eat. No one noticed the juices inside the fruits except her. They were adamant on shedding futile tears for a juiceless body that was her father's. She also realized that the relatives consoled and showed concern for the bereaved wife. The only way in which she could contribute to this situation was to help herself to the goodies and wail!
The relatives continued to pour in but their attention was shifted to her. Fruits were brought in especially for Triveni. For Triveni lamented the most! That was the best summer ever. This thread of memory brought a triumphant smile on her lips. She relished a plate of corn manchurian alongwith the milkshake.
The place was filled with young faces, few of her colleagues stood with filled plates at corners. Each face was lit up with happiness. Smiles and hugs greeted each other. She hated so much laughter! Triveni's smile too crawled up her lips. It sneaked up to her eyes and they glistened. After all, if and when she wished to, she could strip these faces off , the ornament that they so proudly displayed. She was happier than happiness herself! She derived mirth from misery.
Kalpana Naghnoor, Short Story 2020 Longlist
Fucked
There is a charm about this Officers’ Club. It was started as a recreational place for the British Army Officers. After the Indian Independence -1947, it became a civilian club. Still, the secretaries appointed on a salary basis, are always ex-army men, we like to keep the clip in the heel, and the briskness of command. This club has over the years, with its careful selection of elite members, evolved into a hub of all that is intellectual, urbane, and polite.
It is structured well in terms of its cluster of buildings spread across to afford exclusivity for the various facilities, and the way it is managed and run very smoothly. There are office bearers elected annually, from amongst the members, to take care of the matters for its efficacious and smooth running. The president will preside over the vice-president, and ten other elected members, all these people will together make up the committee. These imminent members who are keen on serving on the committee, are people of calibre, it simply means, that at an age of forty and a little more, you have a business that is spinning money and needs little attention, you’ve arrived! The post is very prestigious. Eventually, if you do become the president your photo, as President of the club will be hung on the wall of fame. This is no ordinary club at all. Being the president of the Officer's Club is far more superior than to be the CEO of any listed company or even the President of India.
Nobody forgets a President of this club, and nobody forgets the excellent work the committee and the vice-president give as service. The new members too are selected, carefully as they will make up the permanent body of this institution. There are other clubs in the city, but they have not grown elite like the Officers’ Club, which spreads over seventy acres of verdant trees, secured by a white pristine running wall and three entrances well secured by guards.
The foyer is centrally positioned in the compound with a circular garden acting as a traffic regulating cynosure, with its deep emerald of perfectly manicured grass. There are pathways laid to enjoy a stroll across it and carefully laid terracotta to allow tables and chairs to be set upon them for the garden evening tea. Three large trees, a raintree, flame of the forest and the jacaranda spread over this circle and vie with each other in the spring months. While two Norway spruce stand sentinel to their competition. Then there are larger pathways, leading to the different facilities, like the gym, and swimming pool area. The squash court, tennis court, badminton and basketball courts all spaced out and accessible through pathways undercovers of the glade of various trees. Many dining and snacking areas add to the variety of this lovely club and not to mention, the purchase choice, with a supermarket, pharmacy, a store with frozen meats, green-grocer, and novelty store. There are more stalls, offering Indian street food, chaat, for the younger people, and a play area for children. This club represents its members, who are islands in their journey of life and the places they frequent within its precinct are zones they like to lose themselves in. The avid reader will head to the library, shutting out the world and into the realms of the mind. The tennis player will head to the court and stoke away his blues, the billiard-room is a strange place with strange on-goings.
My favourite is the coffee shop. Simply called the ‘Coffee Shop’, referred to as the café. The café is airconditioned and very cool in the summer months. It has very sensible seating, large deep orange couches, smaller ones too, chairs to suit the size of the many groups that may stroll in there. A large TV screen is set against the ebony panelling, and on low volume, so you can just stare at it and think through the things that are bothering you or enjoy the visuals and think of your narrative of it. There is seating in the garden space outside too. They call it the smoking zone. On pleasant days, I prefer to sit there alone with my Inspiron, the plug points are all provided, and I key my thoughts.
That day was a pleasant one, exactly why I was seated outside on the couch, the height of the table perfect for working on the laptop, and to sip a coffee and bite into a sandwich and spread them all comfortably, on the longish rectangle table. I push away the ashtray to the father most corner. I’m in a pensive mood, even if my eyes scan the tables occupied around me, nobody looks back or stares, so you can wear the glaze over your eyes and unashamedly plot a murder mystery. I noticed a tall man in his early thirties, wander between tables, not finding a spare one. He looked listless, and wandered nearer a tree, and below its glade, pulled out a pack of cigarette from the pocket of his trousers, cupped his hand as he held the lighter, a puff and both the cigarette packet and lighter went into his pocket. His second puff was a long in-breath and the exhalation of smoke was the release of the pent-up tension. The puffs followed, slower as the cigarette got smaller, it was now nearly the stub, he stared at what had helped him out of mental trauma, took the last puff and threw it into the mud bin provided.
He walked back to the smoking zone still no tables were available, I was watching him, our eyes met, and, on instinct, he asked, ‘May I?’
‘Please!’ I answered unhesitatingly, now familiarized with his obvious agitation, and possibly he was hungry as well. Besides, we were all club members, and familiar by face to most.
‘I’m Aditya,’ he introduced himself with a half rise from the couch, seating himself.
‘Veda,’ I proffered my hand and we shook on it.
‘I see you here often,’ he said.
I was surprised. I hadn’t noticed him before. ‘I see you doing this,’ he said strumming the air and then pointing to my laptop. I smiled.
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘I like the company and the solitude if you know what I mean.’
‘Oh yes!’ he agreed. The non-intrusive acquaintances here. They are a blessing! Hope I’m not intruding?’ he asked.
‘No!’ I shake my head.
He pulls out his card and orders sandwiches and coffee, ‘You’re a writer he asks?’
I nod.
‘Veda Pillay?’
I nod.
‘Wow!’ he says. ‘I haven’t read any of your books.’
I nod in defeat.
‘Not into fiction,’ he explains.
I instantly feel better. The lesser-known writers like me hang on to every reader and words of praise, yet strangely we are aloof at other times, socially, not too friendly! I must admit.
‘May I?’ Aditya asks, pulling out the pack
‘Go ahead!’ I tell him.
He shakes his head, ‘I have too much going on, I’m so fucked! Sorry, He apologises. I nod, picking up my coffee, cold but almost full, I sip. I want to listen to what he has to say. ‘I had this fantastic job. Fell in love with my colleague. I love her to this very day. She did not love me back. She never realized I was in love with her. I asked her out many times! We went out, and we became best buddies,’ he stubbed out the cigarette and lit another one. ‘I realized she was the perfect one for me!’ He slides back into the couch, crosses his leg in man-style, his knee at a right angle. ‘But only now she was my person, you know the go-to-person, witty, smart, intelligent and good looking.’
‘You said good looking last!’ I remarked assuming that it was the least of the qualities she had among all other he loved so much.
‘She has killer looks, and mostly unaware of it. Slim tall, she jogs every morning, fair with lush hair worn straight and neat.’
I liked what he loved. He loved the unassuming person, that she was.
‘I love her nature most!’ he says, sitting up to receive the coffee and sandwich the waitress has brought. ‘Thank you,’ he says in her direction. The guy was well mannered.
He reaches for the cigarette pack and lighter. ‘Mind?’ he asks again. I shake my head. ‘He inhales deeply it reaches his heart and then his thoughts pour out again. ‘There are plenty of pretty girls out there. But beauty and brains are a rare combination and coupled with a razor-sharp wit and oodles of confidence.’ Then he pauses, and he shakes his head, that a girl so perfect exists!
‘I must run!’ he gulps down the last of the coffee. Picks up the sandwich, goes inside to the cash counter signs the voucher and returns, waves, ‘Bye!’ and leaves. I watch him walk away.
My mind is completely lost to him. I cannot imagine a girl not falling for a guy like Aditya. Tall, obviously he works out, well-mannered and good-looking himself in an unconventional way. But I had just met him. and to assess and assume by what was said in the passing as it were, will be a little naïve. But he intrigued me. I lost interest in what I was writing, the characters will now have to await further command, I close word and open google. I concentrate on the research required for my narrative and I make notes alongside on another document. It was seven by then. I too signed off at the cash counter left a tip and headed to where I had parked my car. I had a long night ahead. Aria my daughter will have returned from her dance class, she was sixteen and in her final year of school. Of course, she could choose ISC or opt for PUC there was time yet for it, this was only March. I turn the ignition on and think of Rishi. Love dilemmas! I sigh. I should have married him. He was now an acclaimed heart surgeon. We cross path now and then here at the club. He married three years after I did, he had patiently waited for me, never giving up on us. He has a beautiful wife now, Neelam, she is the picture-perfect woman. She is tall like Rishi, very slim, and pleasant always, I have seen her in the club. There is an air of sedateness about her which is calming and attractive. They have two handsome boys.
My parents found Madhav for me and insisted I marry him. He comes from a family of coffee estate owners from Chikmagalur. The estate life and a torpid income from it do nothing to stimulate the mind. Madhav is a good man, but very patriarchal in his approach, he has a large family and I am the only child of my parents, the largeness of his family was too intrusive. The wild ribald jokes and jocular laughter with male cousins was a little harsh for my ears. Since there are no good schools in Chikmagalur I was spared the trauma of living there. I continued in Bengaluru, and as life coursed, Madhav got comfortable in the estate among his parents and relatives, in the neighbouring estates. I have been told he has a live-in relationship with a woman in the town of Chikmagalur, and it is all very legit among the family, friends, and relatives’ circles because they together have a son. So, Aria and I are spared the many trips to Chikmagalur, we are given generous trips to the UK, US, Europe, and other places every year. I’ve made peace with it. I married when I was nineteen, completed my graduation after marriage. Aria was born before I graduated! But the birthing was the true test. Aria is sixteen and now at thirty-five I find myself lonely and wondering how my life would have coursed had I defied my parents. There are somethings we may never know.
Funnily enough, I met Aditya the very following day! ‘Hi!’ his voice was exuberant. I was extremely happy to see him since he had left me intrigued and less enchanted with the characters of my narrative.
‘May I?’ he asked.
‘Go ahead,’ I said taking out my card.
‘This one is on me!’ he said, firmly taking away my card and my handbag from me. He replaced the card into the correct slot in my red wallet and slipped it into my bag and gently pulled the zip across, and reverently set my bag on the couch beside me.
‘So, you are married!’ I deduced.
‘Sherlock!’ he replied. He lit the cigarette and by then the waitress came around and we ordered, the usual lattes and our choice of sandwich. He flicked the ash into the tray. ‘I like talking to you,’ he said. ‘It feels like there is a connection,’ he just shrugged, feeling he did not need to add more.
I nodded, not feeling the connection, but curiosity getting the better of me. Not because this was a remarkable story, but why did he feel so sorrowful or use the word fucked? It’s not like people have not loved and lost, you just get on with life. But there was a throbbing pain behind his exuberance. The pain was like a freshly baked aromatic mince pie, you want to cut into it.
‘I was telling you yesterday about that chick, right? My colleague?’
He didn’t need to jog my mind. I was trailing the story all night, and now in the evening ready to hear it. ‘Yeah,’ I nodded as casually as possible.
‘Yeah, I got so tired of being just friends it began to frustrate me. But I was not willing to risk changing that into a relationship unless she wanted. She is too precious! I did a crazy thing. I quit working there, though the salary was fab. Shifted to another company. Money wise, I got a neat twenty per cent hike. All good. But I just can’t stand being away from her! I thought if I put in the distance it would help, it doesn’t.’ He shrugged, studying the cigarette. ‘She was surprised that I left, but she assumed it was because the next job offered more. I let her believe that. But our close friends understood why I was leaving. Even my boss figured and my parents. But she was so oblivious to my love. How is that possible?’ he stubbed out the cigarette.
He sat prone as our order came, he placed my coffee before me, made sure the plate of sandwich was a comfortable distance from me. The guy was all consideration, politeness written all over him. Why had the girl not seen his love? He was the expressive sort.
‘Did you ever tell her you loved her?’ the question just spilt out.
‘Nope,’ he shook his head. ‘I meant to but when we went out together, it was so chill, I was afraid she may not like the shift from a good friendship to a guy-girl relationship,’ he explained. ‘She is important to me, it’s like my soul is rested with her!’
‘Okay.’ I nod. That was a little hard to digest in my prosaic mind. So, I sipped on the coffee and took a bite of the sandwich.
‘Sometimes I get the feeling that she knows how I feel about her but there is no reaction. Now the distance began killing me. So, the phone calls began. But it was never the same. She was busy when I was free, and I was busy when she was free. The time factor was against us. Even then we went out together and, in those meetings, two really, I realized she had moved even further away from any possible romance than before. She was just as friendly, more a buddy than a girl. I realized there was no future for us. I felt so fucked. I heard she was casually dating, nothing serious. I was getting restless with my life because she wasn’t in it!’ With that flourish, he got up. ‘Sorry I have to leave he looked at the time on his phone. He thumbed through some messages. He bent forward and hugged me, saying, ‘Bye,’ he went into the café to sign the voucher and waved from there as he left. I waved back.
***************************************************************************
Curious and more curiouser. ‘Where is the pizza?’ Aria asked.
I stared back at her dumbfounded. I was supposed to pick it up from the new patisserie kiosk which had just opened, at the club. ‘Sorry!’ I say horrified. I cannot explain my preoccupation with a comparative stranger like Aditya to her. ‘We’ll Swiggy.’ I say.
‘Okay,’ she agrees very easily, she opts for momos as I do. So happy for the lapse, we sink into the couch to stream Downton Abbey for the second time. It takes my mind away from Aditya and my awaiting characters in the un-revisited narrative.
It’s the weekend so Aria and I usually do something together. We took off in the morning, caught a movie at the mall. Went into Kobe Sizzlers. We ordered two iced teas, we shared the main and the dessert. We strolled out of there, went into Kalmane Coffee, that kind of settled us. We walked into Westside, then we went into Shopper’s Stop picked a few things and walked out of there. We walked across the road to Home Centre, spent more than two hours, browsing. Returned went into the Aldo store, hated ourselves for overspending but were excited with the merchandise. We returned home, we were both tired and happy. We warmed the milk, added Hershey’s chocolate syrup, a few marshmallows, and streamed Downton Abbey.
Sunday is a lazy day, we wake up like zombies around noon, order in and stay curled up for most of the day. It’s the time we talk. The day we tell each other about most things, and of days in all these years, Aria has a question for me.
‘Are you happy?’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Don’t know Mama, I am your main thingy. Then writing is your muse. That’s it!’
‘I’m happy. Do I look sad?’
‘No, you don’t look sad, but you do look drab. You don’t care about clothes. Yesterday, I bought such nice stuff, you were being practical about your purchase. Why is your confidence undermined? Why? Is it because of Dad fucking some bitch there!’
‘Aria!’ I was aghast. My daughter had never spoken to me ever before like that.
‘Fuck him, Mama. Forget the bastard. Let’s get on with our lives. We have enough.’ She finished and headed to the refrigerator and for the Baskin Robbin’s tub.
‘No!’ I said taking that away from her.
‘Then let’s shop again.’
‘Okay,’ I agreed not knowing where this was going. I had sheltered Aria from the weaving gossip as much as I could. But then the absence is felt more than seen. Madhav never came home, except once in two years, used the guest-bedroom and left. This has been the case in the last twelve years! My parents live in Chennai, so yes, we spend the winter vacations with them. But never once have my parents broached the subject having placed me in a horrible situation in life.
Aria changes into jeans and tells me too to do that. ‘Okay!’ I agree because she is in a mood. I slip on a pair and I’m surprised they are a little lose. ‘See you’ve lost weight and you don’t realize it because you’re wearing tents,’ she says referring to Kurtis.
I’m mesmerised by my image, yeah, I have shed ten pounds, I look taller than five-six, a little tanned sitting out in the café, so my light brown eyes look lighter, and larger because my cheeks have found the bone contours. My lips have always been full, so the lip-colour looks lush. I throw on a white self-embossed shirt, I feel cool.
Sundays are the worst days to shop. Places like Marks and Spencer’s are comparatively better, the lines are shorter as you wait your turn for the change room. So naturally, we go there. Fellow shoppers are polite not trying to cut the queue, a piece of casual advice or compliment is thrown your way, as you try on clothes, it feels good. I let my hurry-instincts lie low. I wallow in this slow and waited out shopping. Aria is happy with what I have bought. I look at the time, it is eight!
‘Let’s eat out Aria decides. She goes back to the cash counter the assistant is eager and listens. Then a broad smile reaches her eyes, from there tilting her head a little, she smiles at me. She walks away toward the change room, and Aria holds my elbow and guides me back to the change room. The cash assistant cuts off the tag of a turquoise dress, mid-length, and hands it over to me. I change into it, luckily my black stilettoes, and handbag somewhat go with it, though not completely. Anyway, I loosen my hair, comb it, and add on the lip colour. Aria is happy. She’s changed into a short dress.
‘Okay!’ I say let’s make an evening out of this. The store is so responsive to our plan, two reps walk us to the door and the doorman stands more upright. ‘Enjoy!’ three voices wish us.
‘Thank you!’ we respond. We look at each other standing on the elevator and laugh. It’s just fun to be spontaneous sometimes. The elevator takes us to the fourth floor, to a pan Asian restaurant. We order wine, as Aria says please several times. The Chenin Blanc is served to us. The platter of Dim Sim arrives with three sauce varieties. We pick and taste them with chopsticks. I, a little sloppy with it, when Aria freezes. I turn around and follow her gaze. Four tables away Madhav is seated with his son and Lakshmi, that’s what I’m told her name is.
‘Look away!’ I tell her.
She begins tackling another Dim Sim. She sips wine, and suddenly she is all calm. I have my back to the table where Madhav is seated, so I don’t know what is happening unless Aria tells me. I wait.
She smiles, ‘He has not stopped looking in our direction.’
‘Okay let’s order food. Will you share Kim Bap?’ I ask
‘Lovely!’ she agrees, ‘I do want their green tea ice cream later,’
We order, the waiter, suggests a platter again, we agree. He refills my glass. I have forbidden Aria more, the half measure poured into her glass, she must nurse until the end of dinner. So, I am giddy headed when Madhav comes to the table.
‘Hello!’
‘Didn’t know you were in town,’ I said, feeling confident. The floral cutaway was doing something to my spirit as was the wine. Madhav looked at the lipstick-stained wine glass.
‘What are you girls drinking?’ slick as ever, his best English put forth with the Oxford twist, his thick greying hair neatly lifted to add an inch to his six-two frame. The shoulders are broad I re-remember. He draws the chair right next to mine and sits down. His knees touch mine. He then picks my glass up places his lips where my lipstick stain is and takes a sip. ‘Very nice!’ he exclaims.
‘Very smooth!’ Aria says. She raises her hand, the waiter is quickly responsive, ‘Another clean wine glass for the lady,’ Aria says. Much to the chagrin of Madhav.
‘I suppose I should leave!’ Madhav gets up.
‘Yeah go back to that slut and that bastard son of yours,’ Aria says it so casually!
‘How dare you!’ Madhav bites his words, softly and reddening. Looking around to make sure nobody heard.
‘Fuck you! Don’t ever dare me!’ Aria warns. ‘I’m not like her, soft and forgiving. Anyway, you are not her type!’
What are you blabbering? I’m thinking. Half a glass of wine is all you had!
Madhav was too stunned. He meekly returned to where his second family was. I watched him until he reached there. Lakshmi looked at his stunned face, she hadn’t heard, nobody had heard, but us. She could tell we had exchanged unpleasant words, for which she stared back at us angrily. The son looked up ashamed. His gaze returned to his plate of food he was forking into his mouth. The Kim Bap arrived we ate it. Then we ordered the ice cream. We asked for the check and the waiter said it has been taken care of. I looked in the direction of Madhav. He just returned my look with a nod. We left.
What happened to us in the car was something I will never be able to explain. We laughed all the way home.
***************************************************************************
‘Hmm, something about you is different today!’ Aditya commented the following day.
I just smiled.
That morning when I dressed, I decided it was time to shed the leggings, they adjust to weight gain and loss, and so do Kurtis. They aren’t good for the ego. I slipped into a pair of light blue jeans, and because I felt I might meet Aditya, I wore a long top, close to a kurti, not to make apparent changes, I did not want to be misread. Misread for any reason.
‘How are you?’ it was just a question.
He shrugged.
I had ordered my coffee and sandwiches earlier as soon as I had come into the café. He had just come in and ordered his now. ‘It’s on me this time.’ I said.
He smiled taking in my words, a little of my appearance. ‘So, I married,’ he said.
‘What?’ I reacted uncomprehending the statement.
‘Carrying on with my story, remember? So-I-got-married!’ he enunciated.
‘How is that working?’ I asked.
‘I am so fucked!’ he sighed.
I was not sure of how to react to that statement. He laughed at my silence, shook his head on the irony of life and said, ‘I’m a total failure! I cannot keep my head together. I cannot have her, and I don’t want my wife either!’
‘What’s your wife’s name?’
‘Reema!’ he said like it was the most regretful thing he had ever announced.
‘You know you should try to make a go at it,’ I advised. It just came out. I usually don’t advise on matrimonial issues since I suffer from a failed marriage. I’m embarrassed by my namesake marital status.
‘Yeah, I am doing my best, but then it’s not working. I worry about what society will say if I divorce! I’m trying awfully hard!’
As he lit a cigarette, the coffee and sandwiches arrived. He drank the coffee as he held the cigarette. He stubbed it out and reached for a sandwich. He didn’t seem in a rush to leave. ‘I cannot stay much longer in this marriage!’ he sighed. It was a resignation of thought.
‘Don’t you ever think what Reema may want?’ I ask again not comfortable, in this conversation. I may sometimes just listen and take in the information without asking for it.
‘I don’t know what she wants out of the marriage, but she tells me I am mindless, too soft, she doesn’t think I’m intelligent. She finds me boring. I don’t want to say much else because it just gets more unpleasant to the ear.’
‘I understood his quandary. He was in love with someone he was too polite to win her over. Now he was too polite to stay married to over criticism of him. Why was just being nice to each other a problem these days?
I was in that pensive mood when the cologne and the smell of cigar wafted toward me. Even as I turned, and before I saw the figure approach, I had said, ‘Rishi?'
‘Hi!’ he wished coming into my vision as he turned the corner. His smile was wide and genuine.
Mine was half curled and confused. He read me well. ‘I saw you, through the glass,’ he pointed to one section of the gym, ‘So washed up and came down for a chat.’
‘I didn’t know, you used the gym here!’ I was surprised.
‘I don’t, I prefer to jog and stretch. But there is so much pollution in the city, the gym is good.’
‘This is Aditya, Rishi,’ I introduced them. They shook on that. Rishi went inside to place an order. While he was doing that, Aditya had a question for me. ‘Is he always in suits?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think it’s the doctor thing. They say a doctor’s tie is the heaven of germs!’ we both laughed on that. Rishi returned with my favourite dessert which the café has, but I never order. ‘Thank you,’ I took it. There was one for Aditya as well, which he declined. They made conversation as I relished my dessert in silence. Rishi decided it was time to go. ‘See around,’ he smiled.
We watched him leave. Suddenly I felt low. It was for the first time I realised I was still so much in love with him!
‘That’s why you don’t mind me smoking!’ Aditya observed.
‘What?’ I was confused out of my pain.
‘You smelt the cologne and the cigar, and you knew it was him, even before he walked into this section, the Smokers Zone,’ Aditya remarked. ‘The man wasn’t even smoking just that smell afloat and it reached you!’ Aditya was staring at me. He sat back reclined lower into the seat. He had his hands folded behind his head. He stared at the fading light nearer dusk. The trees were latticed against the twilight sky.
‘You know,’ he said, more forlorn than he had ever been before, ‘We are both fucked! Damn life!’ He sat up and pulled out the pack and a cigarette from it and lit it. ‘Let’s hope at least this kills us less painfully than love.’
There is a charm about this Officers’ Club. It was started as a recreational place for the British Army Officers. After the Indian Independence -1947, it became a civilian club. Still, the secretaries appointed on a salary basis, are always ex-army men, we like to keep the clip in the heel, and the briskness of command. This club has over the years, with its careful selection of elite members, evolved into a hub of all that is intellectual, urbane, and polite.
It is structured well in terms of its cluster of buildings spread across to afford exclusivity for the various facilities, and the way it is managed and run very smoothly. There are office bearers elected annually, from amongst the members, to take care of the matters for its efficacious and smooth running. The president will preside over the vice-president, and ten other elected members, all these people will together make up the committee. These imminent members who are keen on serving on the committee, are people of calibre, it simply means, that at an age of forty and a little more, you have a business that is spinning money and needs little attention, you’ve arrived! The post is very prestigious. Eventually, if you do become the president your photo, as President of the club will be hung on the wall of fame. This is no ordinary club at all. Being the president of the Officer's Club is far more superior than to be the CEO of any listed company or even the President of India.
Nobody forgets a President of this club, and nobody forgets the excellent work the committee and the vice-president give as service. The new members too are selected, carefully as they will make up the permanent body of this institution. There are other clubs in the city, but they have not grown elite like the Officers’ Club, which spreads over seventy acres of verdant trees, secured by a white pristine running wall and three entrances well secured by guards.
The foyer is centrally positioned in the compound with a circular garden acting as a traffic regulating cynosure, with its deep emerald of perfectly manicured grass. There are pathways laid to enjoy a stroll across it and carefully laid terracotta to allow tables and chairs to be set upon them for the garden evening tea. Three large trees, a raintree, flame of the forest and the jacaranda spread over this circle and vie with each other in the spring months. While two Norway spruce stand sentinel to their competition. Then there are larger pathways, leading to the different facilities, like the gym, and swimming pool area. The squash court, tennis court, badminton and basketball courts all spaced out and accessible through pathways undercovers of the glade of various trees. Many dining and snacking areas add to the variety of this lovely club and not to mention, the purchase choice, with a supermarket, pharmacy, a store with frozen meats, green-grocer, and novelty store. There are more stalls, offering Indian street food, chaat, for the younger people, and a play area for children. This club represents its members, who are islands in their journey of life and the places they frequent within its precinct are zones they like to lose themselves in. The avid reader will head to the library, shutting out the world and into the realms of the mind. The tennis player will head to the court and stoke away his blues, the billiard-room is a strange place with strange on-goings.
My favourite is the coffee shop. Simply called the ‘Coffee Shop’, referred to as the café. The café is airconditioned and very cool in the summer months. It has very sensible seating, large deep orange couches, smaller ones too, chairs to suit the size of the many groups that may stroll in there. A large TV screen is set against the ebony panelling, and on low volume, so you can just stare at it and think through the things that are bothering you or enjoy the visuals and think of your narrative of it. There is seating in the garden space outside too. They call it the smoking zone. On pleasant days, I prefer to sit there alone with my Inspiron, the plug points are all provided, and I key my thoughts.
That day was a pleasant one, exactly why I was seated outside on the couch, the height of the table perfect for working on the laptop, and to sip a coffee and bite into a sandwich and spread them all comfortably, on the longish rectangle table. I push away the ashtray to the father most corner. I’m in a pensive mood, even if my eyes scan the tables occupied around me, nobody looks back or stares, so you can wear the glaze over your eyes and unashamedly plot a murder mystery. I noticed a tall man in his early thirties, wander between tables, not finding a spare one. He looked listless, and wandered nearer a tree, and below its glade, pulled out a pack of cigarette from the pocket of his trousers, cupped his hand as he held the lighter, a puff and both the cigarette packet and lighter went into his pocket. His second puff was a long in-breath and the exhalation of smoke was the release of the pent-up tension. The puffs followed, slower as the cigarette got smaller, it was now nearly the stub, he stared at what had helped him out of mental trauma, took the last puff and threw it into the mud bin provided.
He walked back to the smoking zone still no tables were available, I was watching him, our eyes met, and, on instinct, he asked, ‘May I?’
‘Please!’ I answered unhesitatingly, now familiarized with his obvious agitation, and possibly he was hungry as well. Besides, we were all club members, and familiar by face to most.
‘I’m Aditya,’ he introduced himself with a half rise from the couch, seating himself.
‘Veda,’ I proffered my hand and we shook on it.
‘I see you here often,’ he said.
I was surprised. I hadn’t noticed him before. ‘I see you doing this,’ he said strumming the air and then pointing to my laptop. I smiled.
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘I like the company and the solitude if you know what I mean.’
‘Oh yes!’ he agreed. The non-intrusive acquaintances here. They are a blessing! Hope I’m not intruding?’ he asked.
‘No!’ I shake my head.
He pulls out his card and orders sandwiches and coffee, ‘You’re a writer he asks?’
I nod.
‘Veda Pillay?’
I nod.
‘Wow!’ he says. ‘I haven’t read any of your books.’
I nod in defeat.
‘Not into fiction,’ he explains.
I instantly feel better. The lesser-known writers like me hang on to every reader and words of praise, yet strangely we are aloof at other times, socially, not too friendly! I must admit.
‘May I?’ Aditya asks, pulling out the pack
‘Go ahead!’ I tell him.
He shakes his head, ‘I have too much going on, I’m so fucked! Sorry, He apologises. I nod, picking up my coffee, cold but almost full, I sip. I want to listen to what he has to say. ‘I had this fantastic job. Fell in love with my colleague. I love her to this very day. She did not love me back. She never realized I was in love with her. I asked her out many times! We went out, and we became best buddies,’ he stubbed out the cigarette and lit another one. ‘I realized she was the perfect one for me!’ He slides back into the couch, crosses his leg in man-style, his knee at a right angle. ‘But only now she was my person, you know the go-to-person, witty, smart, intelligent and good looking.’
‘You said good looking last!’ I remarked assuming that it was the least of the qualities she had among all other he loved so much.
‘She has killer looks, and mostly unaware of it. Slim tall, she jogs every morning, fair with lush hair worn straight and neat.’
I liked what he loved. He loved the unassuming person, that she was.
‘I love her nature most!’ he says, sitting up to receive the coffee and sandwich the waitress has brought. ‘Thank you,’ he says in her direction. The guy was well mannered.
He reaches for the cigarette pack and lighter. ‘Mind?’ he asks again. I shake my head. ‘He inhales deeply it reaches his heart and then his thoughts pour out again. ‘There are plenty of pretty girls out there. But beauty and brains are a rare combination and coupled with a razor-sharp wit and oodles of confidence.’ Then he pauses, and he shakes his head, that a girl so perfect exists!
‘I must run!’ he gulps down the last of the coffee. Picks up the sandwich, goes inside to the cash counter signs the voucher and returns, waves, ‘Bye!’ and leaves. I watch him walk away.
My mind is completely lost to him. I cannot imagine a girl not falling for a guy like Aditya. Tall, obviously he works out, well-mannered and good-looking himself in an unconventional way. But I had just met him. and to assess and assume by what was said in the passing as it were, will be a little naïve. But he intrigued me. I lost interest in what I was writing, the characters will now have to await further command, I close word and open google. I concentrate on the research required for my narrative and I make notes alongside on another document. It was seven by then. I too signed off at the cash counter left a tip and headed to where I had parked my car. I had a long night ahead. Aria my daughter will have returned from her dance class, she was sixteen and in her final year of school. Of course, she could choose ISC or opt for PUC there was time yet for it, this was only March. I turn the ignition on and think of Rishi. Love dilemmas! I sigh. I should have married him. He was now an acclaimed heart surgeon. We cross path now and then here at the club. He married three years after I did, he had patiently waited for me, never giving up on us. He has a beautiful wife now, Neelam, she is the picture-perfect woman. She is tall like Rishi, very slim, and pleasant always, I have seen her in the club. There is an air of sedateness about her which is calming and attractive. They have two handsome boys.
My parents found Madhav for me and insisted I marry him. He comes from a family of coffee estate owners from Chikmagalur. The estate life and a torpid income from it do nothing to stimulate the mind. Madhav is a good man, but very patriarchal in his approach, he has a large family and I am the only child of my parents, the largeness of his family was too intrusive. The wild ribald jokes and jocular laughter with male cousins was a little harsh for my ears. Since there are no good schools in Chikmagalur I was spared the trauma of living there. I continued in Bengaluru, and as life coursed, Madhav got comfortable in the estate among his parents and relatives, in the neighbouring estates. I have been told he has a live-in relationship with a woman in the town of Chikmagalur, and it is all very legit among the family, friends, and relatives’ circles because they together have a son. So, Aria and I are spared the many trips to Chikmagalur, we are given generous trips to the UK, US, Europe, and other places every year. I’ve made peace with it. I married when I was nineteen, completed my graduation after marriage. Aria was born before I graduated! But the birthing was the true test. Aria is sixteen and now at thirty-five I find myself lonely and wondering how my life would have coursed had I defied my parents. There are somethings we may never know.
Funnily enough, I met Aditya the very following day! ‘Hi!’ his voice was exuberant. I was extremely happy to see him since he had left me intrigued and less enchanted with the characters of my narrative.
‘May I?’ he asked.
‘Go ahead,’ I said taking out my card.
‘This one is on me!’ he said, firmly taking away my card and my handbag from me. He replaced the card into the correct slot in my red wallet and slipped it into my bag and gently pulled the zip across, and reverently set my bag on the couch beside me.
‘So, you are married!’ I deduced.
‘Sherlock!’ he replied. He lit the cigarette and by then the waitress came around and we ordered, the usual lattes and our choice of sandwich. He flicked the ash into the tray. ‘I like talking to you,’ he said. ‘It feels like there is a connection,’ he just shrugged, feeling he did not need to add more.
I nodded, not feeling the connection, but curiosity getting the better of me. Not because this was a remarkable story, but why did he feel so sorrowful or use the word fucked? It’s not like people have not loved and lost, you just get on with life. But there was a throbbing pain behind his exuberance. The pain was like a freshly baked aromatic mince pie, you want to cut into it.
‘I was telling you yesterday about that chick, right? My colleague?’
He didn’t need to jog my mind. I was trailing the story all night, and now in the evening ready to hear it. ‘Yeah,’ I nodded as casually as possible.
‘Yeah, I got so tired of being just friends it began to frustrate me. But I was not willing to risk changing that into a relationship unless she wanted. She is too precious! I did a crazy thing. I quit working there, though the salary was fab. Shifted to another company. Money wise, I got a neat twenty per cent hike. All good. But I just can’t stand being away from her! I thought if I put in the distance it would help, it doesn’t.’ He shrugged, studying the cigarette. ‘She was surprised that I left, but she assumed it was because the next job offered more. I let her believe that. But our close friends understood why I was leaving. Even my boss figured and my parents. But she was so oblivious to my love. How is that possible?’ he stubbed out the cigarette.
He sat prone as our order came, he placed my coffee before me, made sure the plate of sandwich was a comfortable distance from me. The guy was all consideration, politeness written all over him. Why had the girl not seen his love? He was the expressive sort.
‘Did you ever tell her you loved her?’ the question just spilt out.
‘Nope,’ he shook his head. ‘I meant to but when we went out together, it was so chill, I was afraid she may not like the shift from a good friendship to a guy-girl relationship,’ he explained. ‘She is important to me, it’s like my soul is rested with her!’
‘Okay.’ I nod. That was a little hard to digest in my prosaic mind. So, I sipped on the coffee and took a bite of the sandwich.
‘Sometimes I get the feeling that she knows how I feel about her but there is no reaction. Now the distance began killing me. So, the phone calls began. But it was never the same. She was busy when I was free, and I was busy when she was free. The time factor was against us. Even then we went out together and, in those meetings, two really, I realized she had moved even further away from any possible romance than before. She was just as friendly, more a buddy than a girl. I realized there was no future for us. I felt so fucked. I heard she was casually dating, nothing serious. I was getting restless with my life because she wasn’t in it!’ With that flourish, he got up. ‘Sorry I have to leave he looked at the time on his phone. He thumbed through some messages. He bent forward and hugged me, saying, ‘Bye,’ he went into the café to sign the voucher and waved from there as he left. I waved back.
***************************************************************************
Curious and more curiouser. ‘Where is the pizza?’ Aria asked.
I stared back at her dumbfounded. I was supposed to pick it up from the new patisserie kiosk which had just opened, at the club. ‘Sorry!’ I say horrified. I cannot explain my preoccupation with a comparative stranger like Aditya to her. ‘We’ll Swiggy.’ I say.
‘Okay,’ she agrees very easily, she opts for momos as I do. So happy for the lapse, we sink into the couch to stream Downton Abbey for the second time. It takes my mind away from Aditya and my awaiting characters in the un-revisited narrative.
It’s the weekend so Aria and I usually do something together. We took off in the morning, caught a movie at the mall. Went into Kobe Sizzlers. We ordered two iced teas, we shared the main and the dessert. We strolled out of there, went into Kalmane Coffee, that kind of settled us. We walked into Westside, then we went into Shopper’s Stop picked a few things and walked out of there. We walked across the road to Home Centre, spent more than two hours, browsing. Returned went into the Aldo store, hated ourselves for overspending but were excited with the merchandise. We returned home, we were both tired and happy. We warmed the milk, added Hershey’s chocolate syrup, a few marshmallows, and streamed Downton Abbey.
Sunday is a lazy day, we wake up like zombies around noon, order in and stay curled up for most of the day. It’s the time we talk. The day we tell each other about most things, and of days in all these years, Aria has a question for me.
‘Are you happy?’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Don’t know Mama, I am your main thingy. Then writing is your muse. That’s it!’
‘I’m happy. Do I look sad?’
‘No, you don’t look sad, but you do look drab. You don’t care about clothes. Yesterday, I bought such nice stuff, you were being practical about your purchase. Why is your confidence undermined? Why? Is it because of Dad fucking some bitch there!’
‘Aria!’ I was aghast. My daughter had never spoken to me ever before like that.
‘Fuck him, Mama. Forget the bastard. Let’s get on with our lives. We have enough.’ She finished and headed to the refrigerator and for the Baskin Robbin’s tub.
‘No!’ I said taking that away from her.
‘Then let’s shop again.’
‘Okay,’ I agreed not knowing where this was going. I had sheltered Aria from the weaving gossip as much as I could. But then the absence is felt more than seen. Madhav never came home, except once in two years, used the guest-bedroom and left. This has been the case in the last twelve years! My parents live in Chennai, so yes, we spend the winter vacations with them. But never once have my parents broached the subject having placed me in a horrible situation in life.
Aria changes into jeans and tells me too to do that. ‘Okay!’ I agree because she is in a mood. I slip on a pair and I’m surprised they are a little lose. ‘See you’ve lost weight and you don’t realize it because you’re wearing tents,’ she says referring to Kurtis.
I’m mesmerised by my image, yeah, I have shed ten pounds, I look taller than five-six, a little tanned sitting out in the café, so my light brown eyes look lighter, and larger because my cheeks have found the bone contours. My lips have always been full, so the lip-colour looks lush. I throw on a white self-embossed shirt, I feel cool.
Sundays are the worst days to shop. Places like Marks and Spencer’s are comparatively better, the lines are shorter as you wait your turn for the change room. So naturally, we go there. Fellow shoppers are polite not trying to cut the queue, a piece of casual advice or compliment is thrown your way, as you try on clothes, it feels good. I let my hurry-instincts lie low. I wallow in this slow and waited out shopping. Aria is happy with what I have bought. I look at the time, it is eight!
‘Let’s eat out Aria decides. She goes back to the cash counter the assistant is eager and listens. Then a broad smile reaches her eyes, from there tilting her head a little, she smiles at me. She walks away toward the change room, and Aria holds my elbow and guides me back to the change room. The cash assistant cuts off the tag of a turquoise dress, mid-length, and hands it over to me. I change into it, luckily my black stilettoes, and handbag somewhat go with it, though not completely. Anyway, I loosen my hair, comb it, and add on the lip colour. Aria is happy. She’s changed into a short dress.
‘Okay!’ I say let’s make an evening out of this. The store is so responsive to our plan, two reps walk us to the door and the doorman stands more upright. ‘Enjoy!’ three voices wish us.
‘Thank you!’ we respond. We look at each other standing on the elevator and laugh. It’s just fun to be spontaneous sometimes. The elevator takes us to the fourth floor, to a pan Asian restaurant. We order wine, as Aria says please several times. The Chenin Blanc is served to us. The platter of Dim Sim arrives with three sauce varieties. We pick and taste them with chopsticks. I, a little sloppy with it, when Aria freezes. I turn around and follow her gaze. Four tables away Madhav is seated with his son and Lakshmi, that’s what I’m told her name is.
‘Look away!’ I tell her.
She begins tackling another Dim Sim. She sips wine, and suddenly she is all calm. I have my back to the table where Madhav is seated, so I don’t know what is happening unless Aria tells me. I wait.
She smiles, ‘He has not stopped looking in our direction.’
‘Okay let’s order food. Will you share Kim Bap?’ I ask
‘Lovely!’ she agrees, ‘I do want their green tea ice cream later,’
We order, the waiter, suggests a platter again, we agree. He refills my glass. I have forbidden Aria more, the half measure poured into her glass, she must nurse until the end of dinner. So, I am giddy headed when Madhav comes to the table.
‘Hello!’
‘Didn’t know you were in town,’ I said, feeling confident. The floral cutaway was doing something to my spirit as was the wine. Madhav looked at the lipstick-stained wine glass.
‘What are you girls drinking?’ slick as ever, his best English put forth with the Oxford twist, his thick greying hair neatly lifted to add an inch to his six-two frame. The shoulders are broad I re-remember. He draws the chair right next to mine and sits down. His knees touch mine. He then picks my glass up places his lips where my lipstick stain is and takes a sip. ‘Very nice!’ he exclaims.
‘Very smooth!’ Aria says. She raises her hand, the waiter is quickly responsive, ‘Another clean wine glass for the lady,’ Aria says. Much to the chagrin of Madhav.
‘I suppose I should leave!’ Madhav gets up.
‘Yeah go back to that slut and that bastard son of yours,’ Aria says it so casually!
‘How dare you!’ Madhav bites his words, softly and reddening. Looking around to make sure nobody heard.
‘Fuck you! Don’t ever dare me!’ Aria warns. ‘I’m not like her, soft and forgiving. Anyway, you are not her type!’
What are you blabbering? I’m thinking. Half a glass of wine is all you had!
Madhav was too stunned. He meekly returned to where his second family was. I watched him until he reached there. Lakshmi looked at his stunned face, she hadn’t heard, nobody had heard, but us. She could tell we had exchanged unpleasant words, for which she stared back at us angrily. The son looked up ashamed. His gaze returned to his plate of food he was forking into his mouth. The Kim Bap arrived we ate it. Then we ordered the ice cream. We asked for the check and the waiter said it has been taken care of. I looked in the direction of Madhav. He just returned my look with a nod. We left.
What happened to us in the car was something I will never be able to explain. We laughed all the way home.
***************************************************************************
‘Hmm, something about you is different today!’ Aditya commented the following day.
I just smiled.
That morning when I dressed, I decided it was time to shed the leggings, they adjust to weight gain and loss, and so do Kurtis. They aren’t good for the ego. I slipped into a pair of light blue jeans, and because I felt I might meet Aditya, I wore a long top, close to a kurti, not to make apparent changes, I did not want to be misread. Misread for any reason.
‘How are you?’ it was just a question.
He shrugged.
I had ordered my coffee and sandwiches earlier as soon as I had come into the café. He had just come in and ordered his now. ‘It’s on me this time.’ I said.
He smiled taking in my words, a little of my appearance. ‘So, I married,’ he said.
‘What?’ I reacted uncomprehending the statement.
‘Carrying on with my story, remember? So-I-got-married!’ he enunciated.
‘How is that working?’ I asked.
‘I am so fucked!’ he sighed.
I was not sure of how to react to that statement. He laughed at my silence, shook his head on the irony of life and said, ‘I’m a total failure! I cannot keep my head together. I cannot have her, and I don’t want my wife either!’
‘What’s your wife’s name?’
‘Reema!’ he said like it was the most regretful thing he had ever announced.
‘You know you should try to make a go at it,’ I advised. It just came out. I usually don’t advise on matrimonial issues since I suffer from a failed marriage. I’m embarrassed by my namesake marital status.
‘Yeah, I am doing my best, but then it’s not working. I worry about what society will say if I divorce! I’m trying awfully hard!’
As he lit a cigarette, the coffee and sandwiches arrived. He drank the coffee as he held the cigarette. He stubbed it out and reached for a sandwich. He didn’t seem in a rush to leave. ‘I cannot stay much longer in this marriage!’ he sighed. It was a resignation of thought.
‘Don’t you ever think what Reema may want?’ I ask again not comfortable, in this conversation. I may sometimes just listen and take in the information without asking for it.
‘I don’t know what she wants out of the marriage, but she tells me I am mindless, too soft, she doesn’t think I’m intelligent. She finds me boring. I don’t want to say much else because it just gets more unpleasant to the ear.’
‘I understood his quandary. He was in love with someone he was too polite to win her over. Now he was too polite to stay married to over criticism of him. Why was just being nice to each other a problem these days?
I was in that pensive mood when the cologne and the smell of cigar wafted toward me. Even as I turned, and before I saw the figure approach, I had said, ‘Rishi?'
‘Hi!’ he wished coming into my vision as he turned the corner. His smile was wide and genuine.
Mine was half curled and confused. He read me well. ‘I saw you, through the glass,’ he pointed to one section of the gym, ‘So washed up and came down for a chat.’
‘I didn’t know, you used the gym here!’ I was surprised.
‘I don’t, I prefer to jog and stretch. But there is so much pollution in the city, the gym is good.’
‘This is Aditya, Rishi,’ I introduced them. They shook on that. Rishi went inside to place an order. While he was doing that, Aditya had a question for me. ‘Is he always in suits?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think it’s the doctor thing. They say a doctor’s tie is the heaven of germs!’ we both laughed on that. Rishi returned with my favourite dessert which the café has, but I never order. ‘Thank you,’ I took it. There was one for Aditya as well, which he declined. They made conversation as I relished my dessert in silence. Rishi decided it was time to go. ‘See around,’ he smiled.
We watched him leave. Suddenly I felt low. It was for the first time I realised I was still so much in love with him!
‘That’s why you don’t mind me smoking!’ Aditya observed.
‘What?’ I was confused out of my pain.
‘You smelt the cologne and the cigar, and you knew it was him, even before he walked into this section, the Smokers Zone,’ Aditya remarked. ‘The man wasn’t even smoking just that smell afloat and it reached you!’ Aditya was staring at me. He sat back reclined lower into the seat. He had his hands folded behind his head. He stared at the fading light nearer dusk. The trees were latticed against the twilight sky.
‘You know,’ he said, more forlorn than he had ever been before, ‘We are both fucked! Damn life!’ He sat up and pulled out the pack and a cigarette from it and lit it. ‘Let’s hope at least this kills us less painfully than love.’
Mallika Prabhakar, Short Story 2020 Longlist
Footprints
It starts like how it always does. A half-seen dream interrupted, faint sounds of the noisy alarm ringing, a mild cool breeze sneaking past the curtains, the sun’s warm rays and the sound of mother making breakfast in the kitchen. As usual, it takes an effort to bathe, to wear my school uniform, tie my hair into two plaits and start another dreary day of my life which will be devoted to listening to teachers drone on and on about some subject or the other. The breakfast looks as uninteresting as the day. Why couldn’t mother make something fancy like pancakes or any of those dishes she watched from those Masterchef shows. What is the point of seeing such a show religiously if she couldn’t even try half of something they make. After all, as she always pointed it to me, these men and women were not celebrity chefs but home cooks just like her. Though i think this, i know i would never say this to her, for the consequences can be dire. There will be an argument, maybe a slight slap on the shoulder or clutching my arm too hard and then days of radio silence. She will stop speaking to me completely till either I beg for forgiveness or father intervenes. But both such scenarios will lead to the same result of her throwing taunts and dirty faces my way till all is forgotten within a few days. And so I munch on my tasteless breakfast quietly.
Soon I find myself walking towards the school bus which, like everyday, is waiting at the same spot for me and a few other children who live close by. The monotony of life never hits me as hard as it always does at this particular time. It may owe its cause to my extreme disinterest in school or the fact that I am always forced to attend school. Getting into the bus, my misery somewhat vanishes on seeing my best friend, “T” (as i like to call her), sitting in our usual spot, saving a seat for me. She gives me a look of mock disapproval which serves as a cue for me to begin my transformation. In a matter of seconds, my pigtails are opened and I tie my hair into a loose ponytail. For effect, I take out some strands from the crown of my head and let them rest on my face as if fanning me. It gives me the devil-may-care-princess vibe I have so come to love. Quickly comes out the kohl stick which will be heavily applied on my eyes. The trick is to apply the correct quantity. Too much would make me look like a goth and very less would hardly enhance my eyes. The correct amount not only makes my eyes look appealing but also makes me look different from the other girls. Last but not the least, I fold my skirt from the waistband, which makes the enormous skirt look chic and shows my thighs. T always carries the transparent glitter lip gloss which completes my look for school. Now I am ready.
The school is a bore. Everything is the same though my appearance always puts me in a better spirit. There are two things I wait for, the lunch break and the free lecture at the end of the day. The lunch break gives me a chance to look at all the students in the school but i always look at “him”. He is a class senior to me, athletic and has a cute smile. I have never really spoken to him but I know who his friends are, what classes he takes, how he is the fastest runner in our school and how he always stands next to the water cooler with his friends during lunch time. The back of all my rough notebooks are filled with our names joined in a heart. My best friend also agrees that he and I would look cute together. We are both tall, lean and do not like mathematics. But like the rest of the good things in my life, this part of the day is always cut short too soon. With another barrage of countless minutes and teachers doing the mundane task of teaching us something valuable, I endure it all till the free lecture. Now this is another favourite part of the day because T and I like to bunk school and go wherever we please, do whatever we please and eat whatever we please. Today we decide to watch the new romantic comedy movie that was released yesterday. We go to the mall and buy our tickets from the pocket money that we have saved thriftily. Halfway into the movie, T is bored and wants to leave but I want to see it till the end. She decides to leave and I decide to sit there. Watching a movie alone is not a novel experience for me as our choices in movies hardly ever match but where i always watch T’s dreadful choices till the end, she always leaves.
I sit in the mall’s food court and am awestruck with the varieties of food on display. I am sure I can never get sick of a food court. After much thought and deliberation, i decide on a burger, fries and a coke. I know i can eat more but i have to be careful with my pocket money. While sitting on a table, I see a lady in her late 20s or early 30s sitting on the table next to mine. She is dressed in formals wearing a grey suit and pants, black pointed pencil heels and her hair is tied in a tight bun. There is a barely touched salad in front of her while she is furiously typing into her brand new phone. I know the phone is brand new because the model had just released last month. Her lips are pursed and there is a hint of pink lipstick on her lips. All in all, the lady looks all business. I mentally disapprove of her, her entire state of being and all that she represents. She looks all work and no play and I just don’t understand such people. My mother is the same. She always forces me to study, do extra curricular activities, doesn't let me watch television much or eat things i want. I am still deep in thought when I notice the woman looking at me. She has caught on that I have been staring at her for quite some time. Before she could ask, I quickly tell her that I had been admiring her mobile phone. She shrugs as if to say, this little thing and continues her work. Her life seems good yet she doesn’t seem to enjoy it. She has a figure I would kill to have. The shoes she is wearing were at the highest price in an exclusive designer’s boutique. She has the best phone ever made right now and yet doesn’t know how to use it well. Beautiful silky thick hair but a complete waste tied up in that tight bun. Looking at this woman, I instantly feel regret at a life being wasted. I know I am being judgemental, but this judgement is rightly deserved. I look at the time and realise I need to hurry in order to catch the school bus home. I finish the remaining Coke and leave without another glance at the woman who has not made use of the gifts bestowed upon her.
School life holds the same mundanities and my routine is unperturbed by any other activity. Giving 12th grade exams has given me relief and dread equally as this brings to fore getting admission into a reputed college. But the phase quickly passes in a blur and my much awaited journey in college begins. Life is completely different now. There are no restrictions on clothing, hair or even at the time. I can choose which lectures to attend and which ones to not. I can choose to sleep the entire day or wake up and go early to college. My mother doesn’t force me to do anything. Life is good now. Wearing lipsticks and kohl is a normal thing now. I don’t have to hide it from my mother. In fact, she encourages me to wear it. With lesser secrets now, i feel much more free. I've even tried my hand at cooking but no one told me it was that tough. When do you even know when the food is under-cooked or overcooked! Or the amount of spices to be put! I now reflect on my thankless attitude of how moodily i used to eat mother’s food earlier, never realising the work she used to put in it.
The 3 years of college whizzed quicker than my school years. Maybe this is why it is said that time goes by fast when you are having fun. Before I could realise it, I was already sending resumes to companies, begging them to take me and pay me anything. I was scared that I would lose out in the rat race and be termed as a loser. The Gods were smiling upon me and I had offers from more than 2 companies and without thinking, I accepted the one with the highest pay.
Working was hard! There was so much to learn, so much to be done. Getting scolded was the new norm. My day felt incomplete without my senior shouting at my ineptness but I loved it. I loved my hectic life, I loved having new friends, getting that paycheck, buying things from my own money, all of it. This phase of life was like a drug, I just couldn’t stay away. The more I stayed in it, the better I wanted to be. I worked hard in lieu of promotions and got them too. With an increase in the salary, I got other benefits like vouchers from the company or new phones. My life was a whirlwind. Office became my new home. I ate there, slept there and sometimes even changed my clothes there. There was no semblance of time but only deadlines. A few years ago, I was a part of someone’s team and now I have a team of myself to lead and give directions to.
Time was favourable to me but it got certain problems of its own. My parents were worried about finding a boy for me. Since I had no time to find love, they had taken it upon themselves to find their son-in-law. Every weekend, I was forced to see various bio-data of men who were excellent in their fields or exceptionally good-looking. I couldn’t help wondering how a person’s looks or occupation was supposed to be a criterion for marriage. What about his personality? What about the fact if he would love me, respect me? These considerations seem to fall on deaf ears and my parents continue excitedly looking one bio-data after the other. I would remember my long-forgotten conversations with T regarding the boy in school and how his looks were enough then. Maybe this is how naivete gives way to maturity.
Another change time brought was the change in my body. I found out that I could no longer eat or drink as before. The weight I gained would stick and it would take a lot of exercising on my part to maintain my shape. Burgers and pizzas gave way to salads and boiled vegetables, Coke and sodas gave way to lemon water or coffee. It was an unexpected and unwelcome but necessary change though I did occasionally indulge in sweet temptations and fast food.
My sense of dressing also improved a lot. In the earlier days, I could show up in a semi-formal shirt and jacket but now I strictly wear a pantsuit or a formal shirt with a skirt. Due to this change, flats gave way to pencil heels. Long hair seemed an inconvenience now but i could never find the heart to chop it. Without realising, I started tying my hair in a bun more often. Apart from the fact that it was convenient, it also gave a chic professional look.
A client I had been working very hard to impress called me to meet him in a shopping mall that he owned. I put on my best attire and left early anticipating traffic but surprisingly, the roads were clear and I reached much earlier. Rather than walk in the mall, I decided to sit somewhere to kill time and found the mall’s food court nearest to me. I sat in the chair and decided to answer some emails. Looking at the food surrounding me, I gave up the temptation of eating a pizza and settled for a healthy smoothie. By the time the attendant delivered the order at my table, I was engrossed in writing an email to my team and didn’t realise its presence. Suddenly, a faint memory triggered but I was unable to grasp it entirely so I decided to let it go. After some quick minutes, I realised that the time for my meeting was approaching and so I got up to go to my client’s office. In a distant mirror on one of the fast food counters, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and the encounter so many years ago came to life. The resemblance was uncanny or maybe the fogged up mirror was playing tricks on my mind but at that moment, in that reflection, I couldn't distinguish between myself and that lady from so many years ago. I had become her or rather I was her.
It starts like how it always does. A half-seen dream interrupted, faint sounds of the noisy alarm ringing, a mild cool breeze sneaking past the curtains, the sun’s warm rays and the sound of mother making breakfast in the kitchen. As usual, it takes an effort to bathe, to wear my school uniform, tie my hair into two plaits and start another dreary day of my life which will be devoted to listening to teachers drone on and on about some subject or the other. The breakfast looks as uninteresting as the day. Why couldn’t mother make something fancy like pancakes or any of those dishes she watched from those Masterchef shows. What is the point of seeing such a show religiously if she couldn’t even try half of something they make. After all, as she always pointed it to me, these men and women were not celebrity chefs but home cooks just like her. Though i think this, i know i would never say this to her, for the consequences can be dire. There will be an argument, maybe a slight slap on the shoulder or clutching my arm too hard and then days of radio silence. She will stop speaking to me completely till either I beg for forgiveness or father intervenes. But both such scenarios will lead to the same result of her throwing taunts and dirty faces my way till all is forgotten within a few days. And so I munch on my tasteless breakfast quietly.
Soon I find myself walking towards the school bus which, like everyday, is waiting at the same spot for me and a few other children who live close by. The monotony of life never hits me as hard as it always does at this particular time. It may owe its cause to my extreme disinterest in school or the fact that I am always forced to attend school. Getting into the bus, my misery somewhat vanishes on seeing my best friend, “T” (as i like to call her), sitting in our usual spot, saving a seat for me. She gives me a look of mock disapproval which serves as a cue for me to begin my transformation. In a matter of seconds, my pigtails are opened and I tie my hair into a loose ponytail. For effect, I take out some strands from the crown of my head and let them rest on my face as if fanning me. It gives me the devil-may-care-princess vibe I have so come to love. Quickly comes out the kohl stick which will be heavily applied on my eyes. The trick is to apply the correct quantity. Too much would make me look like a goth and very less would hardly enhance my eyes. The correct amount not only makes my eyes look appealing but also makes me look different from the other girls. Last but not the least, I fold my skirt from the waistband, which makes the enormous skirt look chic and shows my thighs. T always carries the transparent glitter lip gloss which completes my look for school. Now I am ready.
The school is a bore. Everything is the same though my appearance always puts me in a better spirit. There are two things I wait for, the lunch break and the free lecture at the end of the day. The lunch break gives me a chance to look at all the students in the school but i always look at “him”. He is a class senior to me, athletic and has a cute smile. I have never really spoken to him but I know who his friends are, what classes he takes, how he is the fastest runner in our school and how he always stands next to the water cooler with his friends during lunch time. The back of all my rough notebooks are filled with our names joined in a heart. My best friend also agrees that he and I would look cute together. We are both tall, lean and do not like mathematics. But like the rest of the good things in my life, this part of the day is always cut short too soon. With another barrage of countless minutes and teachers doing the mundane task of teaching us something valuable, I endure it all till the free lecture. Now this is another favourite part of the day because T and I like to bunk school and go wherever we please, do whatever we please and eat whatever we please. Today we decide to watch the new romantic comedy movie that was released yesterday. We go to the mall and buy our tickets from the pocket money that we have saved thriftily. Halfway into the movie, T is bored and wants to leave but I want to see it till the end. She decides to leave and I decide to sit there. Watching a movie alone is not a novel experience for me as our choices in movies hardly ever match but where i always watch T’s dreadful choices till the end, she always leaves.
I sit in the mall’s food court and am awestruck with the varieties of food on display. I am sure I can never get sick of a food court. After much thought and deliberation, i decide on a burger, fries and a coke. I know i can eat more but i have to be careful with my pocket money. While sitting on a table, I see a lady in her late 20s or early 30s sitting on the table next to mine. She is dressed in formals wearing a grey suit and pants, black pointed pencil heels and her hair is tied in a tight bun. There is a barely touched salad in front of her while she is furiously typing into her brand new phone. I know the phone is brand new because the model had just released last month. Her lips are pursed and there is a hint of pink lipstick on her lips. All in all, the lady looks all business. I mentally disapprove of her, her entire state of being and all that she represents. She looks all work and no play and I just don’t understand such people. My mother is the same. She always forces me to study, do extra curricular activities, doesn't let me watch television much or eat things i want. I am still deep in thought when I notice the woman looking at me. She has caught on that I have been staring at her for quite some time. Before she could ask, I quickly tell her that I had been admiring her mobile phone. She shrugs as if to say, this little thing and continues her work. Her life seems good yet she doesn’t seem to enjoy it. She has a figure I would kill to have. The shoes she is wearing were at the highest price in an exclusive designer’s boutique. She has the best phone ever made right now and yet doesn’t know how to use it well. Beautiful silky thick hair but a complete waste tied up in that tight bun. Looking at this woman, I instantly feel regret at a life being wasted. I know I am being judgemental, but this judgement is rightly deserved. I look at the time and realise I need to hurry in order to catch the school bus home. I finish the remaining Coke and leave without another glance at the woman who has not made use of the gifts bestowed upon her.
School life holds the same mundanities and my routine is unperturbed by any other activity. Giving 12th grade exams has given me relief and dread equally as this brings to fore getting admission into a reputed college. But the phase quickly passes in a blur and my much awaited journey in college begins. Life is completely different now. There are no restrictions on clothing, hair or even at the time. I can choose which lectures to attend and which ones to not. I can choose to sleep the entire day or wake up and go early to college. My mother doesn’t force me to do anything. Life is good now. Wearing lipsticks and kohl is a normal thing now. I don’t have to hide it from my mother. In fact, she encourages me to wear it. With lesser secrets now, i feel much more free. I've even tried my hand at cooking but no one told me it was that tough. When do you even know when the food is under-cooked or overcooked! Or the amount of spices to be put! I now reflect on my thankless attitude of how moodily i used to eat mother’s food earlier, never realising the work she used to put in it.
The 3 years of college whizzed quicker than my school years. Maybe this is why it is said that time goes by fast when you are having fun. Before I could realise it, I was already sending resumes to companies, begging them to take me and pay me anything. I was scared that I would lose out in the rat race and be termed as a loser. The Gods were smiling upon me and I had offers from more than 2 companies and without thinking, I accepted the one with the highest pay.
Working was hard! There was so much to learn, so much to be done. Getting scolded was the new norm. My day felt incomplete without my senior shouting at my ineptness but I loved it. I loved my hectic life, I loved having new friends, getting that paycheck, buying things from my own money, all of it. This phase of life was like a drug, I just couldn’t stay away. The more I stayed in it, the better I wanted to be. I worked hard in lieu of promotions and got them too. With an increase in the salary, I got other benefits like vouchers from the company or new phones. My life was a whirlwind. Office became my new home. I ate there, slept there and sometimes even changed my clothes there. There was no semblance of time but only deadlines. A few years ago, I was a part of someone’s team and now I have a team of myself to lead and give directions to.
Time was favourable to me but it got certain problems of its own. My parents were worried about finding a boy for me. Since I had no time to find love, they had taken it upon themselves to find their son-in-law. Every weekend, I was forced to see various bio-data of men who were excellent in their fields or exceptionally good-looking. I couldn’t help wondering how a person’s looks or occupation was supposed to be a criterion for marriage. What about his personality? What about the fact if he would love me, respect me? These considerations seem to fall on deaf ears and my parents continue excitedly looking one bio-data after the other. I would remember my long-forgotten conversations with T regarding the boy in school and how his looks were enough then. Maybe this is how naivete gives way to maturity.
Another change time brought was the change in my body. I found out that I could no longer eat or drink as before. The weight I gained would stick and it would take a lot of exercising on my part to maintain my shape. Burgers and pizzas gave way to salads and boiled vegetables, Coke and sodas gave way to lemon water or coffee. It was an unexpected and unwelcome but necessary change though I did occasionally indulge in sweet temptations and fast food.
My sense of dressing also improved a lot. In the earlier days, I could show up in a semi-formal shirt and jacket but now I strictly wear a pantsuit or a formal shirt with a skirt. Due to this change, flats gave way to pencil heels. Long hair seemed an inconvenience now but i could never find the heart to chop it. Without realising, I started tying my hair in a bun more often. Apart from the fact that it was convenient, it also gave a chic professional look.
A client I had been working very hard to impress called me to meet him in a shopping mall that he owned. I put on my best attire and left early anticipating traffic but surprisingly, the roads were clear and I reached much earlier. Rather than walk in the mall, I decided to sit somewhere to kill time and found the mall’s food court nearest to me. I sat in the chair and decided to answer some emails. Looking at the food surrounding me, I gave up the temptation of eating a pizza and settled for a healthy smoothie. By the time the attendant delivered the order at my table, I was engrossed in writing an email to my team and didn’t realise its presence. Suddenly, a faint memory triggered but I was unable to grasp it entirely so I decided to let it go. After some quick minutes, I realised that the time for my meeting was approaching and so I got up to go to my client’s office. In a distant mirror on one of the fast food counters, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and the encounter so many years ago came to life. The resemblance was uncanny or maybe the fogged up mirror was playing tricks on my mind but at that moment, in that reflection, I couldn't distinguish between myself and that lady from so many years ago. I had become her or rather I was her.
Arpita Ghosh, Short Story 2020 Longlist
Feeling Sentimental
I woke up at my father’s call. It’s already 6:30 in the evening. I was supposed to take a short nap after the lunch but it went on to a sound sleep.
Actually my wife has gone to her mother’s place and I am supposed to prepare tea for my father.
As I woke up late, I found that he is ready with the tea and asking me to join.
However, I went to the washroom putting my mobile on charge.
I grew up without my mother since I was ten. My father and I used to manage everything at home. So it wouldn’t make any difference for us in preparing food and all if my wife is not there.
Having entered the dining hall I found my father waiting for me.
Taking the cup I sat down on the couch next to my father and switched on the TV.
“Have you given the P.L.I this month?” Asked my father, taking a sip.
“Not yet dad.” I replied. “Having some sort of network issues since few days. So let’s see. If it’s not fixed by tonight, then I guess I’ll have to go.”
“When will you go?” He asked.
“May be tomorrow.” I said.
“I need to know the procedures. That’s why I am asking.”
My father, in fact, wants to have a recurring account at the post office. He told me earlier also. I, for some reason couldn’t just go over there.
I am a teacher by profession, currently enjoying the winter vacation. This is the perfect time to complete all those pending works. Besides, I must go to the post office not only because of my father but for my own sake in order to link up my Aadhar and phone no. as per the government rule.
I said that I’ll go.
The next day, coming back from the market I took a shower and headed to the post office.
The counter was less crowded in the morning.
Having finished my work as I was about to cross the road, I heard a voice.
As I glanced at its source, it took me no less than surprised. After so many days and so many years it’s he; my once best friend Prantik.
He has been changed a lot in physique but sounds as confident as he used to be in his school days. Having crossed the road he came to me.
“Hello, how are you?” He asked outstretching his arms.
“Good. What about you?” I embraced him back.
“So great to see you after a long time.” He stated.
“Same here.” I said.
The chat went on. When two old friends meet, they get endless topics to share, discuss and talk like family, workplace, current residence, art, culture, politics and mostly the childhood memories.
Only he was talking most of the time while I remained a silent listener.
After a couple of minutes he paused. “Did you recognize me yet?”
“Excuse me?” I asked surprised.
“Do you even remember me?” He asked again.
“Ob-viously.” I said.
“I doubt.” He said sarcastically. “Because only I am talking and you’re just listening quietly. You haven’t changed yet. Quiet and reclusive as usual.” He stated.
“Not even you’ve been changed.” I smiled. “Eloquent as usual.”
“Well that’s true.” He nodded.
By the way, no work today?” He asked.
“Winter vacation has started in school. “ I answered.
“So you’re a teacher?” He asked.
I nodded.
“Great.” I am in my family business.” He said. “I missed you a lot. I have searched you everywhere; on facebook, twitter, instagram. But all went in vain. No trace of you. Everyone of our troop is in contact with me, Except for you. Today in fact if it were not for my mom I won’t have met you.”
“For mom?” I asked surprised.
“Yeap. Actually, I came here for my mom’s BP medicine.” He said.
The conversation went on for few more minutes.
“Hey listen,” he said, “our school reunion will be in 16th we all are coming. And you also have to come on that day.”
“Reunion,” I uttered the word inwardly. I have been aware of this term since I was in school. As a kid I used to believe that as we pass out we would also come and attend the ceremony.
But today’s reality is totally different. I sighed. Things have changed a lot. Presently I cherish no desire to go the school premises again.
But Prantik on the other hand is totally determined in taking my consent with a “yes”. However, for the time being I had to agree to his proposal reluctantly.
In the following couple of days, I went to the post office again. Submitted the P.L.I., linked up my Aadhar and phone no. which remained due because of the network connectivity issues, took a recurring account form, got it filled and again went to the post office to submit that.
Today however, I am not in a good mood, though I don’t know why. In the morning I messed up in preparing tea. The maid has not come yet; even the curry which I prepared today is not that tasty as it was supposed to be. Disgusted, I am hurrying to finish the kitchen work as quickly as possible. Suddenly my dad entered over there with my phone ringing.
“You have got so many calls from this number since morning” He said.
The screen shows Prantik.
“Nothing important dad,” I said irritably without taking the handset.
“Maybe something urgent. Otherwise why would he call you continuously?”Asked my father.
“I’ll call him later.” I replied.
“You should check at least. Your colleague must be having something serious to discuss.”
“Not a colleague dad. He’s just a classmate.” I breathed. “Two days back, when I was coming back from the post office, he met me. Got my number and now insisting me to attend the school reunion.” I finished.
“Reunion? O my god. It’s such a good news. Why are you saying it in such a way?” He said with a great excitement. “Have a word with your friend and say ‘yes’. Of course you should go.”
The call however got disconnected in the midst of our talk. And I focused on finishing my kitchen work.
In the evening, my father asked me about the reunion again.
“I gave him a call but not sure whether I am going or not.” I replied.
“Why not?” My father narrowed his eyes. “As far I could remember he was one of your closest friends in school. Many times in fact I had heard his name from you. Now you’re getting a chance to meet him after a long span of time; and you’re saying that you don’t want to go??” He finished.
Now it’s my turn to get surprised. I can hardly expect him to remember the name of my childhood classmate. I solemnly swear that I have never imagined my father like that. He’s not at all the same person with whom I have grown up. He has always been very strict, very stern, always preferred to avoid outings, social gatherings and all. And now he is asking me to attend the reunion??
His speech just made me kept staring at him bewildered.
“Why are you glaring at me like that? Can’t tally myself with the person you grew up with?”
Amazing. Now he can read my mind also.
“I am confused as well as amazed. You still remember his name.” I said.
“Listen my dear boy,” He chuckled, “I know that I have raised you with an iron fist. But now I realise that some refreshments can bring happiness in our life. And you must have it.”
“I got it” I said sluggishly.
“Then you must know what you have to do.”
“Then what would I do?” I asked back.
“You know very well what I am saying. You’re after all a clever man ‘Shaan aren’t you?” He stated.
“But I had no contacts with any of them throughout these years. So I am just least bothered.” I said.
“My child, I have gone through so many vicissitudes in life. There’s a time when I lost all my positivities. No love, no compassion, no belief and no nothing. I remained with hatreds, doubts and frustrations only. Poverty, starvation, family’s responsibility would extract the last exquisite ounce of happiness. I used to imagine that as everything would settle we’ll be happy again. Now you can see it yourself that everything is settled, but that time has passed away. I wish I could live all those moments again. Especially your childhood and all. But I can’t. I couldn’t have those days back. Today I regret for not living those moments. And believe me it’s a great loss for me. But I don’t want you to regret like me.”
I was still listening.
“As it is. Go and enjoy yourself. Don’t let these moments just go away from your life. Live every moment.” He finished.
After my father’s long emotional inspirational and motivational speech I just couldn’t just say “no”.
In the next few days Prantik added me into the whatssap friends group where I met some of my old friends. Tanay, Kunal, Satyaki, Anwesha, Shreya, Rupam and of course Prantik. The entire troop was there.
Everybody in this group is coming with the exception of Shreya. Only she amongst us will not come as she is expecting.
Everything has been decided in the group; the dress code, when to reach and where to meet and all.
And finally it’s the day when I am standing in school premises to attend the reunion ceremony. Almost every one of us reached on time.
As the nature takes its course, everyone has been changed a lot in 17 years. None of us are students anymore. We all are established. Satyaki is a banking agent. Tanay is a freelance writer. Kunal runs his own restaurant. Anwesha is a homemaker. Rupam is a content writer.
The entrance of the school was decorated beautifully with a hoarding of reunion and the garlands. We all signed in the register and entered.
The school building itself has been changed a lot. A new assembly hall has been setup. The canteen has been renovated. Our old assembly hall has become the new library.
Our then history teacher Mr. Sanyal has become the new Headmaster of our school. We met some of our old teachers too. Some new teachers were also there.
Perhaps I am feeling a little bit nostalgic. Or may be dad was right. Sometimes meeting with old friends brings fresh air in life.
We all received mementoes, had fun and took selfies. We took part in the games like passing the ball, musical chair and quiz. Rupam received the 1st runner-up prize in passing the ball. All of us enjoyed a lot.
The time however passed very quickly in gossips and sharing personal experiences and all.
It’s a 2 kilometres distance from my home to school. I can easily manage it by walking. Besides, walking by the riverside after years, would surely give an immense pleasure while enjoying the scenic beauty of the nature in the afternoon.
Prantik came along with me.
We started walking along the G.T. road. My companion throughout the way kept on talking about how much he enjoyed the whole day.
“Is it your 1st time in the reunion?” I asked.
“Not really.” He said. “Actually I’ve been attending it since 2 years.”
“But I think it’s your first time in the reunion.” He stated.
“Yes it is.” I said.
After a week’s hard work, nothing is more refreshing than a quiet walk along the bank of the river. Walking is good for health. The sunset sight of the river seems to have a peaceful impression in mind.
“Can we sit at the Ganga ghat?” Asked Prantik.
“Right now?” I asked back.
“I won’t force you. If you have no issues, then only.” He said.
“Sure. Why not?” I asserted.
It’s spring time. It won’t be that bad in the afternoon sitting at the riverside with an old friend.
He took out a cigarette and offered me which I refused.
As kids, often after the school we both used to come here and spend few times.
“How is everyone at home?” He started.
“Good.” I replied. “What about you and your family?” I questioned.
“Just going on.” He paused for a moment. “But nobody knows what the destiny has stored for us in the near future.”
I was taken aback by his words. This phrase doesn’t go with a fellow like him who belongs to a well-off family.
“Everything is fine at home?” I asked without showing any anxiety.
“My parents are all good.” He answered.
“Okay.” I said.
“Do you remember Sneha?” Asked Prantik after a pause.
The name however, took me down the memory lane. Sneha is Prantik’s maternal cousin. She was in the same class with us; smart and beautiful in her teen hood.
However, keeping my personal feelings aside I said.” How’s she?”
“She is expecting.”
“Great.” I said calmly.
“Not hardly.” He breathed. “Actually my family very disturbed at the present moment. Her marriage will not last long I guess. You know how she was as young while being in school. As the time passes on, her lifestyle, attitude touched the highest level of arrogance. Unfortunately, her sister-in-law is my wife. And almost every day we are having issues over it. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the end.”
His words somehow worried me. I felt that I should say something at this point. But I remained quiet because of my past experience.
“She was asking about you.” He said.
“Asking about me? Why?” I asked with astonishment.
He threw his half finished cigarette and trod it.
Taking a deep breath he said. “I told her everything.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know very well Ishaan what I actually meant. Don’t you?” He said.
“No. I am not getting you.” I said as naturally as possible.
“Fine.” He stated. “Frankly speaking, I told her that I was responsible for the rift between you and her.”
“Why did you say so?” I interrogated. “Are you out of your senses? There’s no need to tell her all those. Besides, it makes no sense after so many years.”
“I know it doesn’t matter anymore but that’s a load off for me.” He said.”
“You must be a stupid fellow.” I affirmed.
“I’ve no hesitation in confessing that I am.” He said.
“As we got separated,...” he went on, “I was feeling very sorry for my deed. Later on many times I thought of apologizing you but after the school final exam there’s no contact between us. Even once I’ve sent you a friend request also on facebook. But you didn’t add me at that time.”
“Good to know that he at least realized his mistake.” I said inwardly.
“Though it doesn’t matter any longer but I still...”
“Prantik please, let’s not discuss about those things anymore.” I said without letting him finish.
“But I want to. I want to apologise for the way I treated you that day.”
“Listen Prantik, what’s done can’t be undone. So let’s forget it.” I stated.
“Forget it.” He repeated my words. “Could you forget all those?”
His question made me stunned for few moments.
The spectacle presented by the setting sun as it sinks beneath the surface of the river has its own mesmerizing beauty. Sitting by the riverside today one can feel that the Mother Nature itself can soothe our soul with her own grace and charm. No wonder the lovers love to spend times at the sunset point.
Even my parents would love the sunset point too. They had a love marriage. But none of the families accepted it in the beginning. Dad however got a job in a private company. He took loan to get a flat. I came into their life after five years. And both the families blessed for the union. But the crisis came after that when my father lost his job. My schooling, upbringings, and home loans all these started making our lives miserable. Everything led us to poverty. Being in the corner, my father took a job at a sweet stall. Since he was a graduate, it would hurt his self-esteem. As a consequence, often he would shout at us, misbehaved with my mother.
Grandpa passed away during this time. And my grandma wanted to bring us back. But my father disagreed. Mom finally got a job as a lab assistant in a school after several trials.
But their problem was with me. If mom would go out then who would look after me? So, Grandma agreed to stay with us.
My mother got some tuition for getting associated with a school. She used to go out for tuitions after the school hours. My grandma would get pensions. She would also contribute in the family. However, the financial situation became a little bit better. But still, a cold war was going on between my parents.
Mum became associated with school whereas dad even after being a graduate had to work in a sweet stall.
He would often air out his despair, frustration on the rest of us.
Dad would often rebuke mum but somehow I too realised that mum is getting attracted to the outer world.
Then one day she left all of us. Though she insisted me but I just refused to go with her.
At first I felt that how could a mother desert her child? But gradually I got used to that. I started believing that it was my destiny. My father’s harsh attitude somehow became pacified. Now, everything has been changed.
While viewing the scenic beauty of the nature a cloud of memories have crowded over my mind and I just engrossed into that so much that I forgot about my companion, sitting next to me.
Suddenly a jerk hurled me back to the reality.
“Are you here or somewhere else?” Asked Prantik.
“I was just.... so sorry. You’re saying something?” I asked.
“Yes I was saying but you’re so much engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t hear anything at all.”
“So sorry dear.” I said.
“I understand. You must be thinking about family, your life partner, some special moments and all...” he said.
“Prantik, you remember, once I told you about my parents?” I asked.
“I knew. You’ve told me earlier.” Said Prantik taking a deep breath.
“And what do you think why did I share all these things with you?” I asked serenely.
“Because I happened to be your friend. Best friend in fact.” He affirmed.
“Exactly. B-E-S-T friend.” I stated emphasising the word BEST. “Because you were my closest friend. There was a time when I loved you the most. Relied on you the most. We would go to school together, took the practical exam together. Even in the class also we would always sit together.”
“You know,” I continued, “I had never celebrated my birthday at home, but every year it’s you who made my birthday special with your gifts like pens, flowers, and cards. After winning a debate competition when you treated me with chocolates and chips that would make success even more special. But what you had done afterwards I had hardly expected that from you.”
“I know. And it’s not a very easy thing to forget.” He said.
“How can I forget that? In front of the entire troop my best friend had insulted me by saying that despite taking so many favours I was sticking to him just because of my growing interest in his cousin rather than our friendship.” I said.
“Ishaan, I am sorry for what I did.” He apologised. “I was totally out of my senses. And when Kunal said that Sneha is blooming special friendship with you then I just couldn’t stand at that. I could seldom imagine my strong headed stubborn smart cousin could be so friendly with you...”
“You know why you had a problem with that,” I said. “Because you just couldn’t see me as your equal.”
Prantik became silent at my statement.
“But you know, if you had told me for once that you’re having a problem with that I would have never talked to your cousin. In fact I was not at all interested in her.” I acclaimed.
“I was such an idiot.” He said looking down.
“At that point of time you knew me better than anybody else. But if you still had doubts you could have tested me at least.”
“I really didn’t want to do that. But Kunal had washed my brain so methodically that... I just...”
“Don’t blame Kunal.” I interrupted. “You did it on your own.”
“Yes. You’re right.” He sighed.
“You know.” I said, “As you started avoiding me I was really feeling bad. I cried every day after the school. I had a feeling that may be I have disheartened you. That’s why you’re avoiding me. But finally when you humiliated me in front of everyone I understood that you just couldn’t stand at me. However I remained silent to all your insults. And just your sake of satisfaction, I stopped talking to your cousin and in return I got another bash of insult. Hence she insulted me referring my family background. She said that I should have been grateful to her since the super smart Sneha is befriending me whose father work in a sweet stall.”
“She said all these to you?” Prantik asked with utter astonishment.
“Even more.” I said.
“Listen Ishaan, I am responsible for whatever happened with you. Please forgive me. And I am apologizing on behalf of Sneha too. I wanted to talk to you long back. But just couldn’t. First of all, I had no contact of you. Secondly, I could not pull up myself in front of you. And I really am sorry.”
“O really? Now what will I do with your sorry?” I asked firmly.
He paused for a moment. “Right. There’s nothing you can about that. And I think I deserved that. That’s why I am having all these with me.”
Suddenly I felt that I was being too rude. May be, I should not behave like that. I felt that I’ve overreacted like a fool. What’s done cannot be undone after all. After so many days we met. He invited me for the reunion and I just reacted like a...
I said sorry however.
“I don’t know about you.” Said Prantik. “But I am glad that we met. Otherwise I would hardly get a chance to apologize to you.”
“No need of it.” I said, “Besides I forgave you long back.”
“Good to know.” Said Prantik with a beaming smile.
We remained silent for few moments.
“I must suggest you one thing.” I said, “Whether it’s a family or office matter or something else, don’t jump down to any conclusion so quickly. Just try to sort out things through discussion first. Then move on.”
“Hm.” He nodded. “You’re right as usual.”
“Can I say something Ishaan?” He asked.
“Go on.” I said.
“Can’t we become friends like before?”
The question however made me silent.
“I don’t know.” I replied after a moment’s pause.
Another winter has come. I am getting ready for school in the morning. Suddenly, a call came from my old friend.
“Yes Prantik.”
“A very good morning. And a very very happy birthday.”
I was however not expecting any call from him. Even I didn’t wish him personally on his birthday; just left a message in the whatssap group.
I thanked him anyway.
“Any plan today?” Asked Prantik.
“Plan? Don’t you think that I am too old to plan for my birthday?”
“Can we meet today? In the evening? After your school? A new cafe has been inaugurated last week; next to the Axis bank beside the G.T. road. I will treat you; if you come.”
“So nice of you.” I said “Thanks. But I can’t. Exhibition is going on in my school. I will have to go there and I will be late also.”
“Ok then. Your treat will be due.” The answer came from the other side.
“Surely we will meet if the destiny permits. Ok gatta go. Bye.” I said wearing my wrist watch.
“Who’s Prantik dad?” The question came from my five years old daughter Paakhi who is also getting ready to get her school bus. Surely she heard the name when I was on phone.
“Who is it dad?” She asked again.
“A class fellow.” I said.
“Means friend?” She asked with her eager eyes.
“Yes my doll.” I replied.
“Wishing you a happy birthday?”
“Yes.”
“And how did he wish you?”
“Continuously you’ll talk and forget to take your water-bottle as usual. Then again I have to run after you.” A mere scolding came from her mother.
“Mum you know dad’s friend called him to wish him.”
“No talking too much while going to school. As you come back I’ll hear everything but not now.” She said while keeping the water bottle in her bag.
I was combing my hair when my father entered the room.
“Ready son? Your wife and your daughter have been waiting so eagerly.”
“What is all these dad? I mean I have never ....”
“It’s your baby girl’s choice dear so I can’t help it. Now stop talking all these nonsense and come to the dining hall quickly.”
“I am ready dad. Just a minute,”
In the mean time I finished combing my hair neatly and put the perfume.
“Anything happened between you and Prantik?” He asked.
His question silenced me with an utter astonishment.
“Don’t hover me like a bat sonny. No one on earth can know you better than I do and I am damn sure that something serious had happened between you two.” He declared.
“Nothing serious dad. Just a mere childhood disputes. And nothing else.” I said.
“Hello, I am the father, not you. I can read your mind from your face, attitude and body language. Several times I have noticed that you were trying to avoid him. Even you are not at all willing to go to your school reunion also. And in the morning when Paakhi was asking you about him you referred him as a class fellow rather than your best friend. Why would someone refer his best friend as a mere class fellow? And most of all, maybe he wanted to meet you but you gave an excuse of school exhibition. There was no such exhibition in your school today but you lied to him. Why Ishaan? He is after all your best friend.” He finished.
I took a deep breath.
“Dad, what exactly do you want to know?” I asked.
“That very particular thing that you have been hiding for a longer span of time.” He continued, “C’mon Ishaan, disputes can happen between friends. It’s so simple as that. Are you a kid? He is after all your best friend. And you have told it yourself that he had always given you the moral support whenever you needed.”
“Dad, trivial disputes among friends can be solved. But what if the friendship is determined by the social status, then? Can you call it a true friendship?” I said.
“Means?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Means that he was somehow under the impression that I was interested in his cousin. That’s why I had been using him or his so-called friendship. In the final year, he in front of everyone of our school group had insulted me. Even his cousin did. They told me a lot of things regarding your then workplace also.” I said.
“O my god. Is that what he said?” He asked surprised.
“Yes it is.” I replied.
“So many things had happened and you remained quiet throughout these years? Why didn’t you share it with me?” Asked my father.
“How could I dad? The entire family’s responsibility was on you. You had lost you job. How bitter you had become at that time you remember? I used to get scared of you. Too scared to discuss or share anything to you candidly.” I stated.
“O I really am sorry son.” He regretted. “Had I known that my behaviour would leave such impact on you”...
“Please dad, don’t be sorry, when my mom left me I got you only. And you did everything for me. So please don’t be sorry.”
“But then...”
“No dad. I don’t want to discuss all those anymore. Let those bitter memories stay in the past only. Let’s go to the dining hall. I am feeling hungry.” I pouted.
“Sure. Let’s enjoy your birthday treat tonight.” He smiled.
And we both headed towards the dining hall.
All’s well that ends well.
Priyadharshini AR, Short Story 2020 Longlist
THECEASE
Iopenedmyheavyeyelidsandslowly coveredmyeyesfromthebindingsun- theevershiningsun.ForasecondI forgotwhyIwasthereinfirstcase. Then,mymemoryhitmeback.Isat backonthedeepshadowofthemaple tree,leaningonitsbark,hearingthe grasshoppersclickinginthedryair.I stareddownatthesmallvillageIlived fromthehillIstood.Foronce,thesmall raggedytownappearedtomeasasmall opportunity,asmallchance.IwishI musthavefallenasleepwhilstdebating whetherIshouldgothroughwithmy plan.
Itsuddenlycametomethatmylittle sisterjeni,usuallywouldhavecometo getmebynow.
Well!!
Istooduprelentlesslyandstartedthe longandtiringwalkbacktomyvillage.
Thestreetsweresilentasusual.Nota soultoseeortohear.Isaunteredupto myhome,preparingformycareless step-mothertoscreamatmeforbeing lateagain.It'snotlikesheevencared eversincemymotherdied.
Iopenedtheheavymetallicdoortosee mystep-momandfatherhugging.Arare occasion,whichoccursonlywhena familymemberdies.Iignoredboth,it's
probablymynanithinkingthedoctors aregoingtokillheragain.Iseithered pastmyparentstosneakupthestairs. Butsomethingstopsmeinmytracks. I'veseenmanyofmydad's"looks", happy,sadandtheoneIseethemost, angry.
Butthis,thislook,thisemptyglareIhad neverseenbefore.Nevereverseen before.Iaskedhimifhewasokaybut asusual,Ididn'tgetananswer.He choosedtolookstraightthroughme instead.Irolledmyeyesremembering whyIchosetoconstantlyrunaway.Run awaytoinfinity.Ifmygruesomeparents won'trespondmyquestion,Idon'tknow whowill!
Iturntothehallwherejeniisusually singingalongtoDoraemon.Thistimeit wasdifferent.Itwasasifourhallhad sunkindepression,adarkdepression.I sawsweetlittleinnocentjenikneeling nexttothesofa.
Iwalkedovertoaskherwhatwas happening.ButthecloserIgottothe sofa,themoreIfeltliketherewassome sortofspiritpresent.Iforcedmynow burdensomebodyovermysister...
AndthatiswhenIsawtheProblem.I becamenumbasIglareddownatthe body.
Mybody......
Istaggeredbackwards,stumblingasthe
memoriescameback,floodingallover mymind.Igrabbedmythroat,realising whatIhaddone!
Istaredovermysisterassheslowly closedhersadeyes.Myknees collapsedunderneathmeasjenisobbed.
Iranovertothewindowandlookedat thehillandthere,thereitwas....
THEROPE...
TheropeIkilledmyselfwith.
Hiya Shah, Short Story 2020 Longlist
Conspired Coincidence
Dressed in a shimmery black gown tucking along my waist lines. I slid my lightly painted toes, softly, into the cold black pencil heels that cost me a fortune at the downtown. I scrutinized my eyelashes in the mirror, although being artificial they felt so real.
My tympanic membrane encountered a slight knock on door and as I twirled to open it, I found him standing right there, his left hand, admirably, in his formal suit's pocket and the other, embracing a bunch of roses within his fingers.
He bowed down to lend it to me and I borrowed it with a swift smile and nudged my fingers around his arms and we walked, ensemble, towards his ultra-luxurious car standing right beside the gates.
Apres years of texting on Social Media he finally managed to ask me out, It probably was a date, it probably was a not one. He had always been a closest amie of mine, so sharing a tasse of coffee and a bundle of laughter during office hours would never seem so awkward but today it was just the deux of us at a fancy 'no label dinner', I choose to not summon it as a date as some emotions were yet unconveyed.
It all occurred a peu months ago, a little scrolling on social media and hours spent before the computer screen, struggling to find a medium to reconnect.
And, so I encountered an old close friend who luckily had his number stored in one of her slam books, if it would not be for my ego and anger leading to burning of a few pages, I would have possessed a lot more than just his number.
I remember nudging my best friend to tidy up her entire armoire to dig a single archaic diary and introspecting every single page of the ones found just to come across a few inches of his handwriting.
Ankush Sanghavi, the page at left hand side proclaimed, a few words scribbled by him next to a photo of his, young yet charmant.
With a deep breath, I typed the digits on my keypad, 98...... The ring resounded in my ear ossicles, yet no voice on the other side. I sat across the arm chair, my phone placed aside as I closed my eyes, and my desk vibrated, it was his number, blinking on my Iphone's screen.
I stood up with an urge, and clasped my hands on the phone cover.
"Hello," Said a deep voice, I felt it closely associated yet miles afar.
"Allo, Could I speak to, An... ankita? Elle est la directrice du firm.... I am currently working in, I got this number from our ......team leader," I blurted out.
"Desolee, I guess you dialled it faux (incorrectly),"
"Oops, So sorry,"
And I hung the line, sorrowfully.
And my phone rang again, I brushed my eyes to read the caller Id and subsequently slide it excitedly.
"Allo Kaira...Koko, la est tu(is it you)," My name on his lips took me through a memory tale, which I long lost track of, the phase of my life I spent admiring the world through a rose tinted glass.
Each syllable of his words was tickling in my ears, and swiftly sliding me through a memory lane, I once abided by. Minute tears of ecstasy swooshed in my eyelids.
"Oui, elle est(Yes),"
"Je m'appelle Ankush"...and he took a pause
"Ohh...Ankush, d'ecole(from school), Ankush Sanghavi,"
"Yupp, So how's life KoKo,"
My lips stretched out into a wide sourire, as I felt my nickname on his breath, it threw me on a path entangled with nostalgia.
"Tedious yet thrilling. What are you pursuing,"
"I am a Software engineer, and currently residing in the IT capital of India,"
"Bengaluru, exotic,"
"Miss.Kashyap, how is your life tuning,"
"I am pursuing Software Engineering dans une IT firm in South Bombae,"
And so the talk was stretched to a time span longer in comparison to what I had anticipated it to be.
So, this simple phone call, which he fathomed to be a coincidence, rather it was a trick conspired by me, led us to sharing social media handles. It all commenced with hours of texting, under the warm blanket of night, dispensing the sunlight of the day to hours being thoughtfully wasted on phone calls.
It did go really smooth, just like the hot piping coffee, we would often share during office hours, and one day he poured in a surprise by summoning that he would be coming down to Mumbai and he was inclined towards meeting me in a casual cafe.
First, I burst with excitement but subsequently, the realization slowly yet steadily drooped onto me. What if he was eager about persuading towards a step beyond, what we currently are and probably complicating everything all over again. It wasn't that I didn't like him, but I was in the phase of my life where I didn't want to add the ingredient of a serious relationship in an already messed up salade du vie(salad of life).
Mais, we did meet, at a Cafe alongside Andheri. And as I encountered him, a protocol graved in my nervous system, which I, like an as**ole, toujours suit(always follow), interrupted in and I became nervous and awkward all over again, blurting out rubbish and abashing him.
For a few minutes it was brutally awkward, with him staring at me and me eyeing a wall brimming with wooden frames, and memorising those quotes..."Who needs a boyfriend...when you have Wi-Fi and pizza." It felt true, whenever I read it but today it didn't
"Is it really this awkward," And he finally broke the ice.
"Umm," I minced.
"C’mon KoKo, we know each other quite well. Okay...do you remember the school days, when we used to tease you with...." He began.
"Yes, even I recall a lot.... associated with golden twigs, I guess you liked golden hair girls a lot, “I grinned
"Finally, Glad at least we did have an exchange, I didn't wish to return displeased," He gobbled.
"Yes...Ankush, you were keen to unravel something?" I enquired.
"Yes, I....,"
My heartbeat paused, and my bouche stood wide open, my fingers crossed, me muttering the line 'Please don't make this complicated,'
"Don't look at me as if I am going to say, I love or something, “He disclosed.
I smiled with a nerve freeze.
"I am moving down to Mumbai,".
My lips froze for a split second, but managed a smile and congratulated him.
"You won't believe how difficult it was pour moi to keep it a secret from you, since the second I found about it,"
"Where are moving in exactly,"
"Actually, I am placed dans your company's team of senior managers,"
"Oh...Wow, toute du luck," I grinned avec a naughty smile.
"So, we will be working ensemble in a few semaines, how does that sound,"
"Intriguing," I replied. "That means I'll have to handle all your mood swings for eight hours in a row that mounts to forty-two in a week,"
"It won't be that bad, I’ll be bearing your inner sloth bear as well, or probably a Koala, you do resemble one,"
"It's not a cup of coffee being in my shoes, I adore my sleep way too much and a normal man requires 9hours of sleep daily for a proper metabolism,"
"Yes, and a sloth bear requires fourteen, no wonder you are one," And we collapsed into a laughter.
And that's how we spent the entire evening sharing all that we had been through in the past five years and laughing our hearts out. This single meet led us to where we are today.
*****************************************
The restaurant was a romantic heap at the sands of Mumbai, expensive yet a sublime one, the entire garden arena seemed to be reserved and hence occupied by only the two of us and a whole lot of red balloons which made the breeze slightly more abashing?
I recall the school days when we used to be the best of friends (We still are, but today it seems to be slightly beyond friendship) and share our tiffin, infinite memories contained in a span of vingt(twenty) minutes, who knew we would share the same salle too.
I recall the jour he confessed himself to a friend of mine, and I was found weeping for hours within the porte de salle de bains(washroom doors), with just my besties around, I couldn't summon the downfall nor could I prevent it. It was just bubbling out of all emotions that kept venting in my heart.
I knew today would be the day, he would make the move or probably negotiate saying he loved someone else and I would occupy my hours with tinder dates. As expected he did direct a teeny tiny box towards me, a ecstatic grin spread over my facial muscles as I opened and my heart broke all over again.
It didn't contain a ring instead a few random friendship bands, Why the heck? Did he really love someone else and just wanted to bury the emotions emerging from our hearts?
He perhaps read the thoughts battling in my brain and pulled himself closer to me, with a grimace.
He translocated a twig of my cheveux (hair) behind my ears, and clasped his fingers on my shoulders, gently yet firm. I felt his breath against my ears, cold yet fragrant as he whispered a few words in the hollow of my ears
"These may seem ordinary, but they are treasures I possessed and preserved all these years. For you they may be a few random friendship bands collected, but for me they are the only memories of you, that clung to my bosom all these years,"
He pulled out the violet one, and a lips stretched out, wide, on my face.
"Remember, you once inquired whom was this bracelet pulled along for, today I am revealing, who does it belong" He said it so silently, forcing me to interpret the mots his lips carved. With an acute pause he continued breathing out the words "It belongs to you."
"Every year, I would bring a friendship band for you, believe me, I would always store the best one. But unfortunately, I could never bid enough courage to tie them on your narrow wrists. And so since the age of twelve till twenty-two. I kept collecting them. With the hope of perhaps meeting you once and sharing these deadly preserved secrets with you. We didn't ever meet after 12th, yet I decided to follow this trend year by year."
I didn't utter a word, but crept an inch closer. I could feel his breath on my temples, as I rose on my toes bursting into a bubble of laughter.
The chaotic laughter may be noise for those around, but it was rhythm grooving in heaven for his ears like a sound from heaven but it slowly drowned to silence, as he bent his knees and trans-located his lips on mine.
He took a step behind and held me by hips mumbling a few words within my ears.
"Did the director of your firm,' Ankita', ever exist,"
"She was the fairy who conspired our tale,"
"And, fairies do not exist,"
"They do, pour moi,"
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