Tea for Two and a Piece of Cake (27 page)

Then I call Akash.

He calms me down by saying he will be on the next flight to Mumbai. I tell him it is okay and that Mrs B’s sister and family are arriving shortly. Her nephew has already arrived and has taken charge. There is really nothing much for me to do.

Mrs B’s death has really shaken me. Tanya comes home from school to see a crowd of relatives and friends next door. The nephew tells me that the body is in the hospital right now and will be taken to the Dakhma or the Tower of Silence the next day, as soon as Mrs B’s sister and her family arrives.

This is the first time Tanya is seeing death up close. She is very upset to know that we will not see Mrs B anymore. I hug her and comfort her. She asks me a lot of questions about death and I answer her in a way I know best.

That night, after I put the kids to bed, I sit on the balcony and weep. I weep for Mrs B who had become almost a family member for me in a lonely city. I weep for the frailty of human life. I weep for things that have to come to an end. I weep for relationships that cease to be. I weep for things over which I have no control and can do nothing about. I weep and weep. Loud sobs at first which slowly turn into silent ones. I have never wept this much, even when my father died, and I think that the tears I am shedding now are partly for him, the unshed tears that I had kept inside myself for so long, when he had died. And now suddenly, it feels like a dam has burst open.

I hear my phone ringing and it is Akash. I ignore the call and continue to sit on the balcony and weep. He calls about six times and finally gives up.

Most times when I am feeling sad, I console myself after a while by thinking about my two beautiful children.

But tonight, the tears just don’t stop, and I let them flow.

Thorn Within

M
rs B’s death has left a gaping hole in my already broken heart. It is an emptiness which I never thought I could feel. Sadness has become a constant companion now. It follows me around like a faithful shadow. Sometimes it is barely noticeable, while at other times, it assumes mammoth proportions to almost engulf me. But undeniably, it is always there.

In some brief moments when I am with my children, reading them a story or playing board games with them, or when I talk to Akash, it vanishes for a while. But later, it always comes back.

Every single day, when I walk to the bus stop to drop Tanya, I see Mrs B’s closed door, and the stab of pain never lessens. Many a time, Rohit points towards her door, indicating he wants to go in there. Tanya and I manage to distract him.

With Mrs B gone, my main support system in childcare is gone and business takes a real hit. Some of the clients do not mind getting the food picked up from my place. But the ‘pesky puskis’ insist I be there till food is served
and do not understand when I say that I can no longer come to deliver the food and be on site.

‘Can’t you send someone? Any reliable person from your staff?’ they ask.

I don’t have the heart to tell them that the staff, partner, and managing director, are all me.

I feel very alone without Akash and Mrs B.

I could still cope with Akash’s absence because whenever it became too much to bear, I would ring Mrs B’s doorbell, who would in turn always welcome me with open arms. The world indeed looked better after a chat with her over a cup of simmering hot tea. Now her door is permanently shut, and I feel like a part of me has died with her.

Tanya’s birthday is coming up in three weeks. Her school is closed for the half-yearly December break.

‘Mama, my school is always closed for my birthday. Not fair, Mama! Other kids get to celebrate their birthdays in school with their friends!’ she says.

‘But you can call your friends home and we can have a birthday party like we always do. Mama will bake a really nice cake for you and we will go shopping for a new dress for you to wear, okay?’ I console her, but even to my own ears it does not sound too exciting.

‘Oh Mama, I don’t want a party this year. I will be eight years old, Mama. I am a big girl. Parties are for babies like Rohit.’

I laugh and hug her; my little daughter has indeed grown up. I sincerely want to do something nice for her birthday, but Tanya insists that she does not want a party.

I truly am racking my brains over her birthday plans.

Chetana, after that day’s visit, has called just thrice in four months. I did not pick up her call the first time. The second time, I kept the conversation to a polite minimum and hung up hurriedly, making an excuse saying I had to go. The third time she called, she went on and on about her own life, about the holiday she took in Europe, about how well a cousin she stayed with treated her, and what a wonderful vacation they had. She did not once ask about what was going on in my life, whether I was okay, how The Magic Saucepan was doing, or anything else. After she had rattled off about her own life, she suddenly hung up saying she was getting an international incoming call from her brother in the US.

I really want to do something special for Tanya’s birthday now and debate about inviting Chetana over for a small celebration. But the memory of her last visit, the disdainful way she had looked around my flat, and her supremely self-centred behaviour puts me off, and I decide that she being out of my life is a better option.

A few days pass and one day, Akash tells me he is sending me a courier, saying there is a surprise in it for me. I wait eagerly for it. When it arrives, I am touched to see a lovely handmade card by him in which he has splashed yellows and reds and oranges in a thick layer. It looks beautiful. Inside he has written

Our lives have intermingled so much like the colours on the face of this card. They merge, they blend, and they create magic.

I love you Nisha.

You are THE ONE for me. You always will be.

I promise to be there for you always. I will NOT leave.

How much more can I assure you?

I will wait and wait till you say a yes.

All my love and then some more
,

Akash

I am so moved by his card that I sit and stare at it. Then I read it a couple of more times and kiss it. I also realize that this is the first real love letter I have ever got in my life. Samir had never done anything like this for me and before Samir, there had been nobody special. I so love Akash and his little ways of making me feel loved. He is such a sweetheart. But if I do marry him, I will take away from him forever, the chance to father his own children. He is just twenty-seven and I am so much older. No matter what he says, I know his parents too will be happier if he married someone his own age.

It is when I try to put the card back in the envelope that I notice there is something else in there too, something that looks like a piece of neatly folded paper. When I open it, I am so stunned. Akash has sent three plane tickets for the children and me to Chennai. He has scribbled a note saying, ‘I will be waiting for you at Chennai airport and we will cruise down the ECR together to Pondicherry where we will celebrate Tanya’s birthday with aplomb. Waiting EAGERLY’.

I am totally swept away. This guy has style! And he is so thoughtful too.

I call him immediately and he laughs at my surprised reaction.

‘I can’t wait to see you and the kids, Nisha. It has been so long!’ he says.

The truth is I cannot wait to see him too. It has been five whole months since we last met. I am bursting at the seams with excitement.

When Tanya comes from school, I tell her that we are going for a vacation to Pondicherry and we will celebrate her birthday there, perhaps on the beach. She is delighted.

‘Wow, Mama! I am so excited. This is better than celebrating birthday at school!’ she exclaims, clapping her hands in sheer joy.

She asks me every single day how many days are left to go to Pondicherry. We bring out the suitcases and pack our clothes. The last time I had used them was when I was moving out from Samir’s house on that awful night.

‘Rohit, say Pooond-eeee-che-reeee’ says Tanya to Rohit. She has started teaching him to speak and she repeats each word slowly, breaking down all the syllables for him as he struggles to say them. I smile watching their repeated efforts. Tanya never gets tired of this game and Rohit never gets tired of following her around. He can walk very well now and can run too on his podgy little legs, tumbling one after the other like the wheels of a tricycle.

‘Poin-cheee’ repeats Rohit, much to our amusement. He is happy to see that we are laughing and he goes around repeating ‘Poin-chee, Poin-chee’.

I feel as excited as the children about the trip.

The flight from Mumbai is on time and once we arrive in Chennai, I go the washroom at the airport for a quick touch-up. I want to make sure I look good when I meet Akash. I can barely wait.

Finally, our suitcases arrive, and I push the trolley with Rohit sitting on them, riding along on the trolley and Tanya skipping along happily beside me.

As soon as we come out of the arrival hall, we spot Akash.

‘Akaaaaaash,’ shouts Tanya as she runs towards him.

He gathers her in his arms and raises her high above the ground as she squeals in delight. He lowers her and plants a kiss on her cheeks saying, ‘My little doll has grown up so much! You are such a big girl now.’ Tanya revels in all the attention and beams with the compliment and my heart fills with joy seeing how little it takes to make a child happy.

Rohit is now waiting for his turn and Akash carries him as well and gives him the same treatment saying, ‘My brave soldier.’ Rohit responds enthusiastically saying ‘soldeeee’ and we all laugh.

Then Akash looks at me. The emotions that we had suppressed for so long, come rushing back and we embrace in a tight hug. It is bliss. It feels so wonderful.

It feels like we belong together and are meant to be.

Akash takes over the trolley from me and wheels it, this time with both kids sitting on it. And then we all walk towards his car.

I cannot help thinking that anybody who sees us from the outside will never guess that Akash is not the father, and will of course presume we are a happy family.

And then it strikes me.

We truly are!

Sometimes, it is those that we accept as our own that become our family. It does not matter if the bond is not sanctioned by law or society and not given a name like ‘husband and wife’. I feel more connected with Akash than anyone else right then. And with Akash, it is not just about the sex at all. This is not some young, hotblooded passion where I am swept off my feet. This is a mature, deeper kind of love. This
is
the real deal.

The drive to his place from Chennai takes about three hours. The East Coast Road is filled with scenes straight out of a picture postcard. The sealine suddenly emerges out of nowhere and the sand on the coastline blending into it looks straight out of an Edouard Manet painting. I roll down the window and smell in the salty sea air and inhale deeply. I love it.

The children have slept off in the back seat and Akash is playing some really nice music. I feel all the tension and worries of Mumbai slipping away. For the first time, the emptiness which had so engulfed me and settled around me like a well-worn cloak in Mumbai, fades out.

‘Akash, this is heavenly!’ I exclaim.

‘Wait till you see my place,’ he says, grinning from ear to ear.

About ten kilometres before hitting Pondicherry town, Akash takes a left turn to a small, narrow but well-laid-out road. He swerves inside as the road curves and then drives into the quaintest, large, and the most wonderful-looking mansion I have ever set my eyes upon. The driveway is made of cobbled stones and is lined with tall, gigantic trees on either sides. The branches seem to be bending down and ushering us in. The mansion (it just cannot be called a house) is pale white and has yellow pillars lining a large veranda. It is surrounded by a very well-maintained garden and is full of large green trees. The sunlight criss-crosses the veranda and the shadows make pretty patterns on the terracotta tiles. A hammock tied from one pillar to another beckons invitingly. The garden also has a little fountain and there are ducks swimming in a water body. There are many flowers blooming, and right at the end of the garden is a statue of Buddha. There are birds chirping and the one word which sums up the feeling that washes over me as I slowly get out of the car in a daze is pure serenity.

Akash is delighted at how taken in I am.

The children have now woken up and Rohit is already squealing with delight at the ducks. A guy emerges from inside the house.

‘This is Muthu, my man Friday. He looks after the house. He will keep an eye on Rohit and Tanya,’ he says.

‘Wow Akash, You are truly living a king’s life here! This is super-cool!’ I cannot hide my joy.

‘Come inside, Nisha. I want to show you your room,’ he says.

We enter a large drawing room with breathtakingly beautiful architecture. The entire house has high ceilings and wooden roof panels. Even the door knobs are carved and have old wooden bolts running across them horizontally. I have never been inside such a gorgeous-looking house, only reading descriptions of the same in books. It feels marvellous to be inside such an aesthetically done up space.