Okay okay so no more stories. Stop with the hate mail already! I had no idea so many people in my life were literary critics. To A, all I can say is "sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me." I say this while silently wiping the tears that are swelling up. So sadly my dear trusted reader I bid adieu to the magical world of story telling and move back to familiar grounds of commenting on life and the many (I wanted to type : morons. masti mein yaar. I will use mammals instead) mammals (Insider workplace joke hai. You had to be there.) who grace it.
But as my swan song, here is the last story telling post. Its more on the sublime genre and definitely nuttier than my other posts. So don't say I didn't warn you. I apologise in advance. Not that I really care:)
The story begins.
“Standing alone bare, broken, I longed for a dark crevice to hide my shame, to sink deep in some abyss, maybe a bottom less pit. To disappear from his presence. His wrath or disenchantment : I know not what I fear more. Long after my time has passed I stand there. Acknowledged are the squandered minutes and the unholy hours. The frittered time stung like a bee. The promises made at the onset came back as a long forgotten dream that was always there in my subconscience. Drunk on the necatar of life - the good I could do; how as eager as a child was I to start on my own solitude. And then somehow in the journey that lasted but a second in the temporal plane, I lost sight of you and my own self. Interspersed among fleeting pleasures, golden moments all leading to hell, the darkest days that were but a test; were a few precious seconds spent within my own self. I silently bow my head, naked as I stand. Forgiveness I seek nought as my tongue wont take my side. Shameful and sorrowful at all the oportunities lost, I repent and beg to be sent back – for a chance that I know I wont get. The dice has been cast.”
"Well, poorly said. I think you tried too hard. keep it simple next time. And I don't believe in God still. Please pass me my drink and take your religious mumbo jumbo and judgement day stories elsewhere"
The story ends.
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Aadi- Story 3
Settled finally. Its been 2 years since I last travelled by 3rd A.C. And nothing it seems has changed. I have already lost my temper thrice - the autowala, coolie and the nameless passenger at the door who refused to move - in that order. Yes, you may call me a little hotheaded. I hate paying for some thing than what its actually worth. These coolies and autowals feel they can take me for a ride just because I look the type who travels by air. I know paying Rs. 50 more doesn't make me any poorer but then its the whole dishonesty of the affair that irritates me. And I also hate indecisiveness. Decide what you want to do. Get in the damn compartment or get out. But no! People persist in standing at the door looking for god knows what and coolly ignoring poeple who are trying to get in.
Anyway, now I am here. The luggage is secured and the laptop is out. Three presentations I have to check and also if possible catch up on Taleb's new book which is just out. You know, famous first lines have always fascinated me. Remember that one: of all the ginjoints in all the world she... Yes Casablanca. Thats what I thought when I saw her. That and also she still travels with too much luggage. Now where are we going to fit these 5 bags. Why can't women travel light? I see she is alone. She hasn't looked in my direction yet.
I straighten up. Prop up my legs so that the Coolie can put madam's bags everywhere. She is looking nice. Yellow churidar, white kurti and a duppatta thats covering her head. Big white bag. I see she's still into her pearl earrings. Slim and young. Infact younger than I remember her. Thank you Bhaiyaa she said. And hands over a hundred. Still used english with people who dont understand it. I smile to myself. Some things never change. While she is doing this I try figure where will she be seated. 7 is my seat no. Her's is...aah 11. In the middle. Dont think madam is going to like that.
"Excuse me can I please have the window seat." I chuckle. She still stresses on the please. Some people never grow up. Now what is that poor man going to do. I can see his dilemma. Noone wants to sit in the middle and yet he doesn't want to refuse a pretty lady. Hmm. He is getting up. I think the fact that she does'nt look married did the trick. That and the smile that followed the please. She still hasn't looked at my direction. What should I do? Should I first say hello? Seems like the decent thing to do. I mean I was the one who always told her to keep it normal.
Yeah, thats right. I should say hello first. Not sure when should I say it. She is sitting down. About to look up. Nows the time."Hello Sumi, How are you, fancy seeing you here." Damn the cell had to ring right now. Neha's call. Damn. I caught her reaction though. She looked up surprised. I guess the familarity with which I addressed her caught her unawares. Or was it me? She looked at me and smiled. Not the big smile you give a long lost friend but a rather quiet civil smile you reserve for an acquaintance. Is it my imagination or did the smile not reach her eyes? "hello, yea. Haan paunch gaya. Nahin koi problem nahin hui. Haan theek hai. hmm. Chalo phir phone karta hoon paunch kar. bye "
"Sorry sumi. Ghar se tha" (shit shouldn't have said that. I dont know why I felt guilty talking to my own wife right now.)
"Its okay. I am fine. How are you?"
"Oh good. i am working with HSBC now. (She doesn't look at all interested. So I refrain from giving details.) Where are you working these days? In touch with anyone? " (was about to say missed you at the last reunion but then decided against it.)
"Thats nice. I am with an NGO now. We are into healths services. I dont think I am in touch with anyone. Didn't go for the reunion too."
"Okay" (Shes started to look out the window. So I decide to give the conversation a rest.)
She looks a little sad or is it my imagination. Why does this woman always make me feel so guilty! I mean hundreds of people have broken relationships. But she just didn't take the breakup like a man. I mean leaving her was the hardest thing not because I loved her which I didn't but because she just was so heart broken about it. I never thought it was possible to love me so much and with such a single minded dedication.
Anyway what is done is done. We both have moved on. Or atleast I have. Relocated to a new metro. Have a wife and a family. I try not to compare the two Neha and Sumi. Both are two different people. Different backgrounds. But yes Neha doesn't worship the ground I walk on and that to be honest is how I prefer it.
I remember Sumi and her temper, her passion, her refusal to take no for an answer, the way she always waited for me for lunch, her tantrums, her habit of cupping my face with her hands and calling me baby. I hated that. I remember the times we shared. Good times. But I never held on to them. Did she? Is she happy now? Did she get over her childish childlike refusal to accept the inevitable? Then there were the 6 torturous months post breakup. I don't know why did I hang around for her? 6 months is a long time for counselling. in her defence she didnt call me often. but somehow I felt responsible and hence came the "Are you okay?" phone calls. Just that abandoning her didn't seem like the civil thing to do and also I never knew what she would have done if I wasn't there then.
Still 6 months and then one day I just lost my temper again. "Will you just get over this woman? Its not like we are Romeo and Juliet! I don't love you. I don't want a future together. Its not like this is forced. I want it to be like this." She had looked up from my shoulder where she was resting her head said nothing. Next day I knew I had lost her. Things weren't the same again. And its a testament to how bad things were with me that I liked it that way. We just stopped talking. And then she went away. 6 years back.
Now she sits in front of me pretending I dont exist. No its not even that. She isn't ignoring me. Thrice our eyes have met and shes given me a half smile. Come on Sumi. You couldn't have forgotten all those times. They meant too much to you. Or did you? Or is this reaction the proof that you are still not over the damn relationship? What is it?
At 9 people ate dinner. The train didnot have a pantry car. She was carrying her own tiffin. I hadn't anticipated the no pantry car scenario and so wondered what to do. There were no major stations coming till noon tomorrow. And street food has never gone down well with my stomach. I could share her tifffin. Just like old times. But then I decided to do the next best thing. Got my trusted packet out and went outside to have a smoke. She sat through the next 2 hours in front of me making small conversations with everyone. She didnt give way too much information about herself. Then everyone went to bed. I couldn't sleep well. It was around 4 that I finally managed to doze off. When I woke up at 7 she was gone. Just like that. No good byes. I kept lying down. If you have ever travelled by 3rd ac you would know why. You cant sit up in the bottom berth till the person above you decides to lower his berth. Finally the person in the middle berth decided it was time to wake up. As I got up and stretched I saw a polythene packet on my seat. I opened it. Inside was a tiffin and some tissues and a note that said - Breakfast.
Anyway, now I am here. The luggage is secured and the laptop is out. Three presentations I have to check and also if possible catch up on Taleb's new book which is just out. You know, famous first lines have always fascinated me. Remember that one: of all the ginjoints in all the world she... Yes Casablanca. Thats what I thought when I saw her. That and also she still travels with too much luggage. Now where are we going to fit these 5 bags. Why can't women travel light? I see she is alone. She hasn't looked in my direction yet.
I straighten up. Prop up my legs so that the Coolie can put madam's bags everywhere. She is looking nice. Yellow churidar, white kurti and a duppatta thats covering her head. Big white bag. I see she's still into her pearl earrings. Slim and young. Infact younger than I remember her. Thank you Bhaiyaa she said. And hands over a hundred. Still used english with people who dont understand it. I smile to myself. Some things never change. While she is doing this I try figure where will she be seated. 7 is my seat no. Her's is...aah 11. In the middle. Dont think madam is going to like that.
"Excuse me can I please have the window seat." I chuckle. She still stresses on the please. Some people never grow up. Now what is that poor man going to do. I can see his dilemma. Noone wants to sit in the middle and yet he doesn't want to refuse a pretty lady. Hmm. He is getting up. I think the fact that she does'nt look married did the trick. That and the smile that followed the please. She still hasn't looked at my direction. What should I do? Should I first say hello? Seems like the decent thing to do. I mean I was the one who always told her to keep it normal.
Yeah, thats right. I should say hello first. Not sure when should I say it. She is sitting down. About to look up. Nows the time."Hello Sumi, How are you, fancy seeing you here." Damn the cell had to ring right now. Neha's call. Damn. I caught her reaction though. She looked up surprised. I guess the familarity with which I addressed her caught her unawares. Or was it me? She looked at me and smiled. Not the big smile you give a long lost friend but a rather quiet civil smile you reserve for an acquaintance. Is it my imagination or did the smile not reach her eyes? "hello, yea. Haan paunch gaya. Nahin koi problem nahin hui. Haan theek hai. hmm. Chalo phir phone karta hoon paunch kar. bye "
"Sorry sumi. Ghar se tha" (shit shouldn't have said that. I dont know why I felt guilty talking to my own wife right now.)
"Its okay. I am fine. How are you?"
"Oh good. i am working with HSBC now. (She doesn't look at all interested. So I refrain from giving details.) Where are you working these days? In touch with anyone? " (was about to say missed you at the last reunion but then decided against it.)
"Thats nice. I am with an NGO now. We are into healths services. I dont think I am in touch with anyone. Didn't go for the reunion too."
"Okay" (Shes started to look out the window. So I decide to give the conversation a rest.)
She looks a little sad or is it my imagination. Why does this woman always make me feel so guilty! I mean hundreds of people have broken relationships. But she just didn't take the breakup like a man. I mean leaving her was the hardest thing not because I loved her which I didn't but because she just was so heart broken about it. I never thought it was possible to love me so much and with such a single minded dedication.
Anyway what is done is done. We both have moved on. Or atleast I have. Relocated to a new metro. Have a wife and a family. I try not to compare the two Neha and Sumi. Both are two different people. Different backgrounds. But yes Neha doesn't worship the ground I walk on and that to be honest is how I prefer it.
I remember Sumi and her temper, her passion, her refusal to take no for an answer, the way she always waited for me for lunch, her tantrums, her habit of cupping my face with her hands and calling me baby. I hated that. I remember the times we shared. Good times. But I never held on to them. Did she? Is she happy now? Did she get over her childish childlike refusal to accept the inevitable? Then there were the 6 torturous months post breakup. I don't know why did I hang around for her? 6 months is a long time for counselling. in her defence she didnt call me often. but somehow I felt responsible and hence came the "Are you okay?" phone calls. Just that abandoning her didn't seem like the civil thing to do and also I never knew what she would have done if I wasn't there then.
Still 6 months and then one day I just lost my temper again. "Will you just get over this woman? Its not like we are Romeo and Juliet! I don't love you. I don't want a future together. Its not like this is forced. I want it to be like this." She had looked up from my shoulder where she was resting her head said nothing. Next day I knew I had lost her. Things weren't the same again. And its a testament to how bad things were with me that I liked it that way. We just stopped talking. And then she went away. 6 years back.
Now she sits in front of me pretending I dont exist. No its not even that. She isn't ignoring me. Thrice our eyes have met and shes given me a half smile. Come on Sumi. You couldn't have forgotten all those times. They meant too much to you. Or did you? Or is this reaction the proof that you are still not over the damn relationship? What is it?
At 9 people ate dinner. The train didnot have a pantry car. She was carrying her own tiffin. I hadn't anticipated the no pantry car scenario and so wondered what to do. There were no major stations coming till noon tomorrow. And street food has never gone down well with my stomach. I could share her tifffin. Just like old times. But then I decided to do the next best thing. Got my trusted packet out and went outside to have a smoke. She sat through the next 2 hours in front of me making small conversations with everyone. She didnt give way too much information about herself. Then everyone went to bed. I couldn't sleep well. It was around 4 that I finally managed to doze off. When I woke up at 7 she was gone. Just like that. No good byes. I kept lying down. If you have ever travelled by 3rd ac you would know why. You cant sit up in the bottom berth till the person above you decides to lower his berth. Finally the person in the middle berth decided it was time to wake up. As I got up and stretched I saw a polythene packet on my seat. I opened it. Inside was a tiffin and some tissues and a note that said - Breakfast.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The break up (Story)
Papa bought this cute new Barbie for me. I was thrilled. Delighted. Overjoyed. I didnot expect that doll. He never told me she is coming. And in those days everyone knew Barbie was rare. It meant your papa reallllly loved you. That you were the favourite. Mummy had also been err mum about it. Did she know? I am sure papa must have not told her. Otherwise she would have protested. I hadn't been making my bed or doing my homework or being good. Still he didn't know or more likely he didn't care about those things. He wanted me to be happy and he got me the doll. Sumi I named it. I loved her like how much a fat chick would love a bowl of chocolate icecream on a hot Delhi afternoon. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I was smitten. I never let anyone touch her. She was mine. Mine alone. Sharing her was out of the question. And for weeks I would finish my classes, do the essentials and then play with her. Sumi and I. Quite a couple were we. I was happy. All the time.
Then one day. Suddenly she left. Papa said he gave it to Choti as choti had gotten hurt and was crying and Sumi made her feel better. There was other stuff too that he said but I never listened. I was furious and heart broken and betrayed and confused all at the same time. If you have ever been in love you would know why.
1. How dare you give her away.
2. I miss her. Please come back. Please pretty please. Some how. Please God please.
3. How could you do this to me?
4. Why did this happen? How do I get her back?
I was hysterical. Upset for days. I cried like crazy, refused to eat food, threw tantrums and yes didnot speak to my dad for a month. I was sad for a longer time after that.
Anyway 10 years later Choti the witch (or something that rhymes with that) returned Sumi to me. I looked at Sumi. She looked old but well. Her eyes still had that twinkle. As Choti left, I picked up my cell to call papa. I am sorry for Sumi episode papa. He laughed arrey you were too young. Yes papa but I am sorry and I love you. Bye.
I took Sumi and locked her in the trunk. She had no effect on me now. I was over her.
Then one day. Suddenly she left. Papa said he gave it to Choti as choti had gotten hurt and was crying and Sumi made her feel better. There was other stuff too that he said but I never listened. I was furious and heart broken and betrayed and confused all at the same time. If you have ever been in love you would know why.
1. How dare you give her away.
2. I miss her. Please come back. Please pretty please. Some how. Please God please.
3. How could you do this to me?
4. Why did this happen? How do I get her back?
I was hysterical. Upset for days. I cried like crazy, refused to eat food, threw tantrums and yes didnot speak to my dad for a month. I was sad for a longer time after that.
Anyway 10 years later Choti the witch (or something that rhymes with that) returned Sumi to me. I looked at Sumi. She looked old but well. Her eyes still had that twinkle. As Choti left, I picked up my cell to call papa. I am sorry for Sumi episode papa. He laughed arrey you were too young. Yes papa but I am sorry and I love you. Bye.
I took Sumi and locked her in the trunk. She had no effect on me now. I was over her.
Aadi - Story 2
He saw her for the first time when she was 10 years old. Fat and dull- he thought. The only thing that made him go to her house to play was the fact her mother was an excellent cook and a doting aunty who insisted on feeding him goodies every time he came. Two years later he moved to Kanpur and they expectantly lost touch.
An engineering degree, lots of daru-bazi, plenty of crushes, a short secret fling, and a large circle of friends later he found himself in Mumbai. This time when they met he was 26. He almost didn’t go for the first meeting.
“Hi Aadi, how are you? This is Neha ..neha agarwal..dilli se.. pehchana. I got your number from aunty. I have also just moved to Mumbai. Though it would be nice to meet once. Are you free this weekend?”
Neha Agrawal– arrey woh moti. Sheessh. Saala pehle toh koi ladki phone nahin karti aur agar phone aata hai to iss moti ka! But he realized that his roomie was listening so in his most cocky voice he drawled “Neeeeha. Kaisi ho! Offfcourse yaar I remember you. How is aunty? I still miss her cooking. (he he) Haan Haan lets meet up this weekend. How about Barista near….”
So thanks to Abhi and his habit of listening to every conversation Aadi had, Aadi found himself at Barista at the designated time. When she walked in – his heart skipped a beat. Well it couldn’t really otherwise he would have collapsed but to him it felt like it did. Secretly reading Barbara Cartland and M&B makes you acutely aware of these sensations.
They hit it off from the first moment. Actually she thought he was a okay types (as she later told her friend) and a loud talker. But as for him the first meeting was the sign from above - sign that she was ‘IT’. Bas, lets just say he was hooked from the word ‘Go’. They kept meeting regularly for the next two years and he never once mentioned his feelings to her. She was involved with some one else. And while she was falling out of love with the guy he would never meet, his feelings for her were reaching their crescendo.
To make things bearable he decided to write to her. A letter for every day. All the passion that you would never associate with someone so analytical in his work found its way into those letters. 365 letters later he was told that she had split with her guy. But this didn’t make things any easy for him. For post that tempestuous relationship she was (as she put it) “off men”. All her conversations were now dark and brooding.
One evening he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He confessed. He confessed his love, his feelings for her, the fact that he thought of her before going to sleep and that it was with her thought that he woke up. Of the letters he had written, the future plans he had made. Of how he thought they would be the happiest together and how this was what was the best thing that could happen to both of them. She listened silently to the long speech. A strange mix of emotions were present – he had started with passion and love; briefly he was angry at her silence; then came the pleading and the tears and finally desperation.
Why is it that two people in the same relationship sometimes can never view it with the same lens? She never understood his passion. His next one year was spent in thinking of ways to convince her, to make her realize that she was wrong, that they were meant to be. As firmer her Nos became, the more hopeless in love was he.
He became quiet, sullen and bad tempered. His friends noticed the change. His mother too. To make it worse the rishtas had started coming for the both of them. Both refused but for entirely different reasons. And one day she dropped the bombshell. “Im going2 US. Its 4 the bst. Sorry for all this mess Aadi. Plz b hppy.” read the sms.
He met her the day she was leaving. He gave her the half hug you can give a female friend in India and pressed a parcel into her hand. “Something to read on the flight”, he said. He waited for a month for her to reply.
Those letters. They were his last hope. If she didn’t get them, nothing would ever convince her. A week passed with no word. She must be settling in. Another passed. New job hai, she must be tied up. Another week went by. He grew impatient and finally a month later he called. They had their first international fight. He accused her of being insensitive and escapist, trapped in her past. She countered that he was cruel and hurtful. Many words later, he found out she had never finished reading the letters. His heart finally broke with that realization. And he hung up.
Lets be friends, she said in the end. “un huh” was all he could manage.
The next day he quit his job and a week later moved to Hyderabad, A change of air would do me good was the thought. At 30, he was now no longer the man he was before. She had changed him. But as they say the worst was yet to come. New place, new office, new people. Six months into the city, he met Sumi. She was his apprentice- mentee in the organizational parlance. She was funny and cute. Didn’t make his heart stop as Neha but time did fly by quickly when he was with her. Within an year they decided to marry.
Three years later Mr. and Mrs. Aadi Malhotra found themselves back in Delhi. Three years of marriage make you realise how overrated companionship is. Both of them were getting tired of each other. Sumi felt that Aadi never paid her enough attention. He was aloof at times. Watched way too much football and had loud gross friends. Aadi's defence always was: Its soccer not football first of all. Friends' loudness and grossity werenot for her to judge and will she please learn to cook something atleast.
Their bickering was growing worse day by day. And then one day, she arrived. A simple facebook message : Aadi, Its been a long time. Am in India for a week. Can we meet? Will understand if you say no.
To be accurate Aadi's first response was to say: NO. But as he was typing the 'O' he heard Sumi in the kitchen say: phir TV laga liya. Pata nahin kitna TV dekhte hain. office se aaye nahin ki match shuru. Iss football se toh main tang a agayi hoon. Aadi quickly pressed backspace and wrote: Sure. Am in delhi. Tell me when and where.
They met at the old Barista. Aadi and Neha. It was like she had never left. "I am sorry aadi. I never responded to those letters but I wanted to be sure of my feelings for you. Your love scared me Aadi and I felt I wasn't ready for it. I just wanted to tell you that.And yes also that I love you."
For once Aadi was dumbstuck. He had no idea what to say. She looked stunning and kissable. And after 2 minutes of not so pious thoughts, he remembered he had a wife at home. "I am married now Neha"
"I know Aadi. I know. For the past few months I have been replying to those letters you wrote all 365 of them. I just wanted you to have the replies. Here. Goodbye." She left. Aadi watched her go. His eyes followed her till she sat in the taxi and then he sat looking at the parcel.
He opened it. Her perfume hit him. He sat there for 3 hours going through her work. She wasn't a good writer. (Nobody writes as well as I do. He smiled.) But she did manage to put her point across. And that point was simple: She wanted him back.
He left her letters in the car. On returning home, he ate dinner quietly and then sat staring at his laptoop wondering what to do.
An engineering degree, lots of daru-bazi, plenty of crushes, a short secret fling, and a large circle of friends later he found himself in Mumbai. This time when they met he was 26. He almost didn’t go for the first meeting.
“Hi Aadi, how are you? This is Neha ..neha agarwal..dilli se.. pehchana. I got your number from aunty. I have also just moved to Mumbai. Though it would be nice to meet once. Are you free this weekend?”
Neha Agrawal– arrey woh moti. Sheessh. Saala pehle toh koi ladki phone nahin karti aur agar phone aata hai to iss moti ka! But he realized that his roomie was listening so in his most cocky voice he drawled “Neeeeha. Kaisi ho! Offfcourse yaar I remember you. How is aunty? I still miss her cooking. (he he) Haan Haan lets meet up this weekend. How about Barista near….”
So thanks to Abhi and his habit of listening to every conversation Aadi had, Aadi found himself at Barista at the designated time. When she walked in – his heart skipped a beat. Well it couldn’t really otherwise he would have collapsed but to him it felt like it did. Secretly reading Barbara Cartland and M&B makes you acutely aware of these sensations.
They hit it off from the first moment. Actually she thought he was a okay types (as she later told her friend) and a loud talker. But as for him the first meeting was the sign from above - sign that she was ‘IT’. Bas, lets just say he was hooked from the word ‘Go’. They kept meeting regularly for the next two years and he never once mentioned his feelings to her. She was involved with some one else. And while she was falling out of love with the guy he would never meet, his feelings for her were reaching their crescendo.
To make things bearable he decided to write to her. A letter for every day. All the passion that you would never associate with someone so analytical in his work found its way into those letters. 365 letters later he was told that she had split with her guy. But this didn’t make things any easy for him. For post that tempestuous relationship she was (as she put it) “off men”. All her conversations were now dark and brooding.
One evening he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He confessed. He confessed his love, his feelings for her, the fact that he thought of her before going to sleep and that it was with her thought that he woke up. Of the letters he had written, the future plans he had made. Of how he thought they would be the happiest together and how this was what was the best thing that could happen to both of them. She listened silently to the long speech. A strange mix of emotions were present – he had started with passion and love; briefly he was angry at her silence; then came the pleading and the tears and finally desperation.
Why is it that two people in the same relationship sometimes can never view it with the same lens? She never understood his passion. His next one year was spent in thinking of ways to convince her, to make her realize that she was wrong, that they were meant to be. As firmer her Nos became, the more hopeless in love was he.
He became quiet, sullen and bad tempered. His friends noticed the change. His mother too. To make it worse the rishtas had started coming for the both of them. Both refused but for entirely different reasons. And one day she dropped the bombshell. “Im going2 US. Its 4 the bst. Sorry for all this mess Aadi. Plz b hppy.” read the sms.
He met her the day she was leaving. He gave her the half hug you can give a female friend in India and pressed a parcel into her hand. “Something to read on the flight”, he said. He waited for a month for her to reply.
Those letters. They were his last hope. If she didn’t get them, nothing would ever convince her. A week passed with no word. She must be settling in. Another passed. New job hai, she must be tied up. Another week went by. He grew impatient and finally a month later he called. They had their first international fight. He accused her of being insensitive and escapist, trapped in her past. She countered that he was cruel and hurtful. Many words later, he found out she had never finished reading the letters. His heart finally broke with that realization. And he hung up.
Lets be friends, she said in the end. “un huh” was all he could manage.
The next day he quit his job and a week later moved to Hyderabad, A change of air would do me good was the thought. At 30, he was now no longer the man he was before. She had changed him. But as they say the worst was yet to come. New place, new office, new people. Six months into the city, he met Sumi. She was his apprentice- mentee in the organizational parlance. She was funny and cute. Didn’t make his heart stop as Neha but time did fly by quickly when he was with her. Within an year they decided to marry.
Three years later Mr. and Mrs. Aadi Malhotra found themselves back in Delhi. Three years of marriage make you realise how overrated companionship is. Both of them were getting tired of each other. Sumi felt that Aadi never paid her enough attention. He was aloof at times. Watched way too much football and had loud gross friends. Aadi's defence always was: Its soccer not football first of all. Friends' loudness and grossity werenot for her to judge and will she please learn to cook something atleast.
Their bickering was growing worse day by day. And then one day, she arrived. A simple facebook message : Aadi, Its been a long time. Am in India for a week. Can we meet? Will understand if you say no.
To be accurate Aadi's first response was to say: NO. But as he was typing the 'O' he heard Sumi in the kitchen say: phir TV laga liya. Pata nahin kitna TV dekhte hain. office se aaye nahin ki match shuru. Iss football se toh main tang a agayi hoon. Aadi quickly pressed backspace and wrote: Sure. Am in delhi. Tell me when and where.
They met at the old Barista. Aadi and Neha. It was like she had never left. "I am sorry aadi. I never responded to those letters but I wanted to be sure of my feelings for you. Your love scared me Aadi and I felt I wasn't ready for it. I just wanted to tell you that.And yes also that I love you."
For once Aadi was dumbstuck. He had no idea what to say. She looked stunning and kissable. And after 2 minutes of not so pious thoughts, he remembered he had a wife at home. "I am married now Neha"
"I know Aadi. I know. For the past few months I have been replying to those letters you wrote all 365 of them. I just wanted you to have the replies. Here. Goodbye." She left. Aadi watched her go. His eyes followed her till she sat in the taxi and then he sat looking at the parcel.
He opened it. Her perfume hit him. He sat there for 3 hours going through her work. She wasn't a good writer. (Nobody writes as well as I do. He smiled.) But she did manage to put her point across. And that point was simple: She wanted him back.
He left her letters in the car. On returning home, he ate dinner quietly and then sat staring at his laptoop wondering what to do.
Aadi - Story 1
She stood in the court, head held high. She confessed to her love, their affair, admitted to knowing that he used the company funds to take her for her Egyptian holiday and acknowledged that she knew he was married. Twenty minutes into her speech - his job, reputation and the case was finished. He was as good as divorced.
As she walked out the courtroom, Aadi asked her to stop. "Oh gudia don't look so sad. I know they cornered you. You couldn't help it. No need to apologise. Wait in the car for me. Lets just get home." She said nothing.
On the drive back, both were silent. As they were reaching his home Aadi said "Gudia, it doesn't matter if they fire me. Which I know they will. I don't regret a thing. Four years in that shit marriage I never felt alive even for a moment. Sumi tried to make it work but I just didn't love her. I never loved anyone till I met you. I don't know what is it about you - the things you say, the way you move, your books everything is just so irresistable. I love you Aayesha. I love you so much. And don't you worry everything will be fine. I will make it okay. Did Anwar call? (She nodded.) So you know right? The registration is done. I have transferred the house in your name. Now let's see Sumi try to wriggle that from me now. Bitch has nearly cost me fortune to get rid off."
Aayesha didn't say anything. Just leaned on the right and pressed her body next to his. He kissed her hair and the rest of the drive was spent silently listening to 'November Rain.'
He rang the door bell- twice. Sumi answered it - looking radiant in her chiffons. Aayesha was hesitant for a moment stepping in but Aadi firmly held her hand.
Sumi spoke first. "Please let's not be melodramatic today. I have made drinks for everyone. Let us just have them."
"Aayesha doesn't drink. She has only...."
"Coke with lots of ice ( Sumi interrupted) I know Aadi"
"How do you know that? Let me guess. You hired a dick to track us. Typical of a bitch. And whose bags are these? Are you clearing out of my house?"
Sumi laughed. She always had a mirthful laugh. Unabashed and undulterated. "Oh Aadi, do you remember last year on our anniversary when you told me you rather #$%^ the maid than be with me. You always had a way with words. Anyway, I realised that day this marriage was not worth fighting for. In college, you know, someone was in love with me. Every day I got a little note saying how wonderful I was. When I found out the writer's identity I got scared and nothing ever happened between us. But those notes they made me feel alive then. She knew me so well. So the very next day after you had left for office I went through all my old contacts to find out where Aayesha was. And would you believe it - She was in Delhi all this time. We met the next week. And everyday after that. This was her idea. She was aways the brilliant one. Anyway, we just thought you should know what actually happened. Now please let's not be melodramatic today. I will ask the maid to put your bags in the car. Your shaving kit is in the red suitcase. My lawyer will get in touch with yours tomorrow. "
Aadi gulped down his drink without a word. As he closed the front door behind him his last vision was of the two women tenderly embracing each other. As they broke away from their kiss, his heart broke. He was never quite the same man again.
Inside Aayesha laughed loudly. "You are such a dramebaaz, Sumi."
S: Hey can't I have some fun sometime! (eyes twinkling with glee)
A: I wasn't prepared for the kiss (frowning)
S: Yes, err that was a spur of the moment improvisation. (smilling wickedly)
A:But why all this kahani, bebo?
S: You know Aadi hates to lose. And the one thing that he would hate more than losing is losing to a woman. That too someone like me. He never loved me. You know that. But he never respected me as well. And for months know I have wanted to slap him out of his smugness, out of this feeling of power that he knew had over me just because I loved him. So just getting the house was not enough. He can build one again. Although I would like to see which bank would hire him now? Still. I needed him to lose the thing he most needed. You.
A:Cool. Complicated enough. I think I would use it for my next novel
S:Go ahead. Pay me my loyalties before that. Speaking of payment, the broker said he has found a buyer already. Great price. Anwar called a while back. He is waiting for you at home. Have dinner with me first Aayesha. I hate eating alone.
As she walked out the courtroom, Aadi asked her to stop. "Oh gudia don't look so sad. I know they cornered you. You couldn't help it. No need to apologise. Wait in the car for me. Lets just get home." She said nothing.
On the drive back, both were silent. As they were reaching his home Aadi said "Gudia, it doesn't matter if they fire me. Which I know they will. I don't regret a thing. Four years in that shit marriage I never felt alive even for a moment. Sumi tried to make it work but I just didn't love her. I never loved anyone till I met you. I don't know what is it about you - the things you say, the way you move, your books everything is just so irresistable. I love you Aayesha. I love you so much. And don't you worry everything will be fine. I will make it okay. Did Anwar call? (She nodded.) So you know right? The registration is done. I have transferred the house in your name. Now let's see Sumi try to wriggle that from me now. Bitch has nearly cost me fortune to get rid off."
Aayesha didn't say anything. Just leaned on the right and pressed her body next to his. He kissed her hair and the rest of the drive was spent silently listening to 'November Rain.'
He rang the door bell- twice. Sumi answered it - looking radiant in her chiffons. Aayesha was hesitant for a moment stepping in but Aadi firmly held her hand.
Sumi spoke first. "Please let's not be melodramatic today. I have made drinks for everyone. Let us just have them."
"Aayesha doesn't drink. She has only...."
"Coke with lots of ice ( Sumi interrupted) I know Aadi"
"How do you know that? Let me guess. You hired a dick to track us. Typical of a bitch. And whose bags are these? Are you clearing out of my house?"
Sumi laughed. She always had a mirthful laugh. Unabashed and undulterated. "Oh Aadi, do you remember last year on our anniversary when you told me you rather #$%^ the maid than be with me. You always had a way with words. Anyway, I realised that day this marriage was not worth fighting for. In college, you know, someone was in love with me. Every day I got a little note saying how wonderful I was. When I found out the writer's identity I got scared and nothing ever happened between us. But those notes they made me feel alive then. She knew me so well. So the very next day after you had left for office I went through all my old contacts to find out where Aayesha was. And would you believe it - She was in Delhi all this time. We met the next week. And everyday after that. This was her idea. She was aways the brilliant one. Anyway, we just thought you should know what actually happened. Now please let's not be melodramatic today. I will ask the maid to put your bags in the car. Your shaving kit is in the red suitcase. My lawyer will get in touch with yours tomorrow. "
Aadi gulped down his drink without a word. As he closed the front door behind him his last vision was of the two women tenderly embracing each other. As they broke away from their kiss, his heart broke. He was never quite the same man again.
Inside Aayesha laughed loudly. "You are such a dramebaaz, Sumi."
S: Hey can't I have some fun sometime! (eyes twinkling with glee)
A: I wasn't prepared for the kiss (frowning)
S: Yes, err that was a spur of the moment improvisation. (smilling wickedly)
A:But why all this kahani, bebo?
S: You know Aadi hates to lose. And the one thing that he would hate more than losing is losing to a woman. That too someone like me. He never loved me. You know that. But he never respected me as well. And for months know I have wanted to slap him out of his smugness, out of this feeling of power that he knew had over me just because I loved him. So just getting the house was not enough. He can build one again. Although I would like to see which bank would hire him now? Still. I needed him to lose the thing he most needed. You.
A:Cool. Complicated enough. I think I would use it for my next novel
S:Go ahead. Pay me my loyalties before that. Speaking of payment, the broker said he has found a buyer already. Great price. Anwar called a while back. He is waiting for you at home. Have dinner with me first Aayesha. I hate eating alone.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Faisal - Story 1
The riots had torn the town apart. There was not a street that was not burning - not a family that was not touched. In seven days a petty dispute over a piece of land had evolved into one of the worst communal riots the town had ever witnessed over the last fifty years.
It was 2 am when Faisal heard a thud in the verandah. Sleep had eluded him today as well. Kaun ho sakta hai. The rioters had moved into the far end of the town. And the looters who were now following the rioters’ footprints wouldn't be expected to raid the house of a poor car mechanic.
Usne paas rakhi hockey uthayi aur ek torch bhi (the bulb in the verandah had been broken three days back) "Kaun hai," woh chillaya. "Kaun hai saala wahan pe. Samne aa."
In the silence of the night he heard a whimpering sound. The torch light discovered a silhouette crouching next to the empty oil drum. Ek ladki thi. Bees-baiees saal ki lagti hai.
"Kaun hai tu"
She moved closer to the broken drum as if trying to hide behind it.
"Abey kaun hai tu. Chhup mat. Kya naam hai tera? Yahan kaise aayi? Kyon aayi? Bata."
Still no answer. Zeba ki yaad aayi usse. Woh bhi aise hi chipakti thi darwaze se jab kuch galti karti thi.
"Acha chal idhar aa. Dekh mein hockey rakh raha hoon. Mera naam Faisal hai. Yeh mera ghar hai. Main yahan baju mein jo Sulaiman Motors garage mein kaam karta hoon..tha..shayad. Ab toh na Sulaiman bhai rahe naa unka garage; Allah unhe jannat naseeb kare. Chal ab tu bata kaun hai tu. Tere abbo-ammi kahan hain? Bol naa. Dekh darr mat. Mere ko apna bhai maan. Zeba, meri behen, teri jitni hi hogi. Chal bol ab."
"Main yahan ki nahin hoon."
"Yahan ki matlab - Ahmed Nagar ki nahin hai. Toh kahan rehti hai."
"Saket Housing Society. Main aaj Delhi se aayi thi. Bhaiya aaye the lene station par. Par wahan hamla ho gaya aur main kho gayi. Please mujhe ghar pauncha do."
"Naam kya hai tera."
"Sumi"
Faisal was quiet for the next few minutes. Sirf do khayal the uske paas - ek Zeba ka aur ek ki yeh ladki Hindu hai. Phir usse yaad aayi ammi jaan ki nasihantein. Ammi kehti thi har bar ki Quran sharif mein likha hai ki ek acha insaan har zarooratmand ki madad karta hai. Yeh Faisal teri khushkismati thi ke aaj kisiki madad karne ke layak hai.
“Faisal bhai! Faisal bhai darwaza kholo. Ek ladki aayi hai iss taraf. Hindu saali.”
“Chal andar jaa. Wahan Zeba ka burka rakha hai. Pehen le. Au khuda ke liye chupp rehna. Samjhi. Jaa ab. Bhag!”
He goes and opens the door.
“Kya hai? Kam se kam raat mein toh kuch sukoon mile. Kya hai?”
“Faisal bhai. Ek randi saali aayi hai iss taraf. Feroz ne dekha hai. Tumhari muder par chadi thi. Andar chhupi hogi.”
“Andar koi nahin hai. Main ne dekh liya hai. Feroz ko kuch galat faimi hogi.”
“Nahin Faisal bhai.” This time it was Feroz himself who chipped in. “Maine dekha. Allah tala jhoot na bulwaye. Yahin hai woh.”
“Main aakhri baar bol raha hoon yeh baat. Andar koi nahin hai. Jao tum log. Shaam se aise jaahiloon jaise ghoom rahe ho. Ghar jao. Subah hone wali hai. Fajr ka waqt ho raha hai.”
“Par Faisal bhai.”
“Jao”
Inside Sumi was shivering. She kept praying that the mob outside would listen to Faisal. “Oh God please help me. Please. Just let me go home. Please.”
She heard Faisal close the main door.
“Chale gaye sab”
“Thank you so much. Tumhare paas cell phone hai kya. Mera dead ho gaya hai. Mummy se baat karni hai."
“Nahin woh toh nahi hai. Ek kaam karo. Tum idhar andar so jao. Darwaza band kar lena. Main bahar sota hoon. Subah chod aaonga.”
Yeh keh ke who chala gaya. Sumi didn’t sleep the remaining night. At 5 ‘0 clock she heard Faisal get up. He completed his prayers and sharp at 6 knocked at her door. “Chalein” They left from the back ally. Crossed three mohallas. The damage of the riots was visible everywhere. Sumi covered from head to toe in Zeba’s burkha kept praying the whole time.
“Waise tumhari behen kahan hai.”
“Tum yahan kal hi aayi na Dilli se”
“Haan”
“Jhagda hamare mohalle se hi shuru hua tha. Pehle hi din ek toli aayi thi. Raat mein 3 baje. 2 ghante mein sab khatam kar diya.” Faisal rone laga. “Main nahin tha tab. Dost ke yahan gaya tha. Jab khabar mile tab bhaagte aaya. Kafan bhi nayi naseeb hua usse.”
“I am sorry.”
“Pata nahin kahan hai. Tumhari jaisi hi thi. Shayad tumse thodi moti. Inshallah milegi kabhi. Kahin. Dua karna.”
“Haan zaroor karoongi. Sab theek ho jayega. Tum mere bhaiya jaise hi ho.”
“Shukriya. Acha dekho yahan se tum logo ke ghar shuru hote hain. Zeba ke kapde de do mujhe.”
“Theek hai.”
After 15 minutes of walking, Sumi screams. “Woh raha mera ghar”
“Acha toh main chalta hoon”
“Suno”
“Abey dekho saale wahan jaa raha hai. Pakdo saale ko.”
The mob was upon them in a minute. Sumi screamed. “Main yahin ki hoon. Mera naam Sumi hai. Mera ghar hai samne. Please madd karo meri.”
“Aur tera naam kya hai”
“Faisal”
“Tum jaanti ho isko”
“Nahin”
“Chalo Faisal miyan tumse kuch baatein karni hain.”
Aaj tak Sumi ko nahi pata usne “nahin” kyon bola. Aaj tak Faisal ka bhi pata nain chala.
It was 2 am when Faisal heard a thud in the verandah. Sleep had eluded him today as well. Kaun ho sakta hai. The rioters had moved into the far end of the town. And the looters who were now following the rioters’ footprints wouldn't be expected to raid the house of a poor car mechanic.
Usne paas rakhi hockey uthayi aur ek torch bhi (the bulb in the verandah had been broken three days back) "Kaun hai," woh chillaya. "Kaun hai saala wahan pe. Samne aa."
In the silence of the night he heard a whimpering sound. The torch light discovered a silhouette crouching next to the empty oil drum. Ek ladki thi. Bees-baiees saal ki lagti hai.
"Kaun hai tu"
She moved closer to the broken drum as if trying to hide behind it.
"Abey kaun hai tu. Chhup mat. Kya naam hai tera? Yahan kaise aayi? Kyon aayi? Bata."
Still no answer. Zeba ki yaad aayi usse. Woh bhi aise hi chipakti thi darwaze se jab kuch galti karti thi.
"Acha chal idhar aa. Dekh mein hockey rakh raha hoon. Mera naam Faisal hai. Yeh mera ghar hai. Main yahan baju mein jo Sulaiman Motors garage mein kaam karta hoon..tha..shayad. Ab toh na Sulaiman bhai rahe naa unka garage; Allah unhe jannat naseeb kare. Chal ab tu bata kaun hai tu. Tere abbo-ammi kahan hain? Bol naa. Dekh darr mat. Mere ko apna bhai maan. Zeba, meri behen, teri jitni hi hogi. Chal bol ab."
"Main yahan ki nahin hoon."
"Yahan ki matlab - Ahmed Nagar ki nahin hai. Toh kahan rehti hai."
"Saket Housing Society. Main aaj Delhi se aayi thi. Bhaiya aaye the lene station par. Par wahan hamla ho gaya aur main kho gayi. Please mujhe ghar pauncha do."
"Naam kya hai tera."
"Sumi"
Faisal was quiet for the next few minutes. Sirf do khayal the uske paas - ek Zeba ka aur ek ki yeh ladki Hindu hai. Phir usse yaad aayi ammi jaan ki nasihantein. Ammi kehti thi har bar ki Quran sharif mein likha hai ki ek acha insaan har zarooratmand ki madad karta hai. Yeh Faisal teri khushkismati thi ke aaj kisiki madad karne ke layak hai.
“Faisal bhai! Faisal bhai darwaza kholo. Ek ladki aayi hai iss taraf. Hindu saali.”
“Chal andar jaa. Wahan Zeba ka burka rakha hai. Pehen le. Au khuda ke liye chupp rehna. Samjhi. Jaa ab. Bhag!”
He goes and opens the door.
“Kya hai? Kam se kam raat mein toh kuch sukoon mile. Kya hai?”
“Faisal bhai. Ek randi saali aayi hai iss taraf. Feroz ne dekha hai. Tumhari muder par chadi thi. Andar chhupi hogi.”
“Andar koi nahin hai. Main ne dekh liya hai. Feroz ko kuch galat faimi hogi.”
“Nahin Faisal bhai.” This time it was Feroz himself who chipped in. “Maine dekha. Allah tala jhoot na bulwaye. Yahin hai woh.”
“Main aakhri baar bol raha hoon yeh baat. Andar koi nahin hai. Jao tum log. Shaam se aise jaahiloon jaise ghoom rahe ho. Ghar jao. Subah hone wali hai. Fajr ka waqt ho raha hai.”
“Par Faisal bhai.”
“Jao”
Inside Sumi was shivering. She kept praying that the mob outside would listen to Faisal. “Oh God please help me. Please. Just let me go home. Please.”
She heard Faisal close the main door.
“Chale gaye sab”
“Thank you so much. Tumhare paas cell phone hai kya. Mera dead ho gaya hai. Mummy se baat karni hai."
“Nahin woh toh nahi hai. Ek kaam karo. Tum idhar andar so jao. Darwaza band kar lena. Main bahar sota hoon. Subah chod aaonga.”
Yeh keh ke who chala gaya. Sumi didn’t sleep the remaining night. At 5 ‘0 clock she heard Faisal get up. He completed his prayers and sharp at 6 knocked at her door. “Chalein” They left from the back ally. Crossed three mohallas. The damage of the riots was visible everywhere. Sumi covered from head to toe in Zeba’s burkha kept praying the whole time.
“Waise tumhari behen kahan hai.”
“Tum yahan kal hi aayi na Dilli se”
“Haan”
“Jhagda hamare mohalle se hi shuru hua tha. Pehle hi din ek toli aayi thi. Raat mein 3 baje. 2 ghante mein sab khatam kar diya.” Faisal rone laga. “Main nahin tha tab. Dost ke yahan gaya tha. Jab khabar mile tab bhaagte aaya. Kafan bhi nayi naseeb hua usse.”
“I am sorry.”
“Pata nahin kahan hai. Tumhari jaisi hi thi. Shayad tumse thodi moti. Inshallah milegi kabhi. Kahin. Dua karna.”
“Haan zaroor karoongi. Sab theek ho jayega. Tum mere bhaiya jaise hi ho.”
“Shukriya. Acha dekho yahan se tum logo ke ghar shuru hote hain. Zeba ke kapde de do mujhe.”
“Theek hai.”
After 15 minutes of walking, Sumi screams. “Woh raha mera ghar”
“Acha toh main chalta hoon”
“Suno”
“Abey dekho saale wahan jaa raha hai. Pakdo saale ko.”
The mob was upon them in a minute. Sumi screamed. “Main yahin ki hoon. Mera naam Sumi hai. Mera ghar hai samne. Please madd karo meri.”
“Aur tera naam kya hai”
“Faisal”
“Tum jaanti ho isko”
“Nahin”
“Chalo Faisal miyan tumse kuch baatein karni hain.”
Aaj tak Sumi ko nahi pata usne “nahin” kyon bola. Aaj tak Faisal ka bhi pata nain chala.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Domestic Violence (Story)
Disclaimers:
I don't like giving disclaimers about my blog. It's my own personal space after all. But somehow there are times I can't help feel apologetic about what I write. Maybe because I know it is trivial/lame or maybe because I don't want it to be misconstrued in anyway. Still here goes nothing. This lame ass story that I just wrote came to me because of an article I read sometime back on battered wives. No matter how educated/rich you are domestic violence in its many avtaars in a reality for most women in India. It is tragic I know. But undeniably true.
*********************************************************************************
3 a.m.: He staggered into the house. She couldn’t tell how late it was tough. Living below the poverty lines means you have to do without some luxuries-owning a watch is one of them. He was drunk. As he stood beating at the door she sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He didn’t quite cross the threshold completely and collapsed midway. Usually she would drag him inside and shut the door. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.
7.00a.m.: She came back into the house carrying two empty buckets. The municipal tap didn’t oblige today. He was awake rummaging through her trunk. She threw the buckets down and ran towards him. But she was late. He had found the 200 rupees she had hidden there. In one swift movement the money was in his pocket. She protested loudly, yelling. A slap later she was on the floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.
***
3 a.m.: Doorbell rang in quick succession. Sumi looked at the watch. "3 a.m.!" She sat muttering “Main nahin jaaun toh..phir kya hoga” But years of being a wife make you mechanical. She got up opened the door. He staggered into the house. He was drunk. He sat on the sofa trying to remove his shoes but collapsed midway. Usually she would put him to bed. This time, as if in silent rebellion, she let him be.
6.30 a.m.: She sat working on her presentation. "Aaj toh bas kisi tarah se neepat jaye yeh meeting" she muttered. From the adjoining room she heard him stirring. "Sumi" "Sumi" he called twice. He was awake. She went but tried to say no. "Early morning meeting hai aaj" A slap later she was on the carpeted floor. She knew better than to resist. She closed her eyes bit her lip and waited. It would all get over in 5 minutes. Minutes later as he walked out the door all that remained of the incident was the bruise on her neck. "Phir der ho gayi aaj" she muttered to herself.
****
7.30 a.m.: The door bell rang. She went to open it. She came in.
"Aaj phir late ho gayi tu"
"Kya karoon memsaab mera mard kal raat daru peekar aaya tha"
"Roz tera kuch bahana hota hai"
"Nahin memsaab, kasam se"
"Chal abb baat band kar aur pehle bartan kar"
Both the women went to the kitchen. Silently going over the happenings of the morning. Sumi looked up at Nimmo and her eyes fell on the bruise. Involuntarily her hand went up to her neck.
"Chal bartan baad mein kar lena. Pehle chai bana doo cup. Ek tu lelena. Fridge mein bread bhi rakhi hai."
So saying she turned back to the gas, stirring the vegetable pot. Nimmo surprised looked up and now noticed the mark on her memsaab's neck. Involuntarily her hand went to neck.
"Acha memsaab banati hoon"
They stood there knowing they were sharing more than just tea. Two worlds, two women - married to the same man.
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