Aman
What am I not seeing here?
‘When did you get in last night?’ I asked Gagan as Avani left the table with Ma.
‘Late,’ he said. ‘When did you get here?’
‘Late evening … 8ish.’
‘I was planning on flying out immediately after the party today, but if you’re staying on for a day, I’ll stay too.’ He looked at me and flashed his usual half-smile.
I responded with a thumbs-up.
It felt good to be back home with everyone there.
It had been a while.
Gagan was three years older than me, but he was like a secondary parent figure in my life, and his general demeanour had always been authoritative and reserved.
I’d grown up going to him for life advice on everything—parents, career, friends, love. He was the pragmatic one, annoyingly practical, and I’d needed that outlook more times than I could count.
We finished our breakfast chatting about work and life in general, and left the table to walk into the house.
The sun was getting hotter, and some of our relatives and family friends had slowly started coming in.
We followed Papa into the living room, where we saw Sheryl bustling around, welcoming Arvind Uncle, Papa’s oldest friend from school, and his family.
Gagan and I followed Papa to greet them and then moved to the tea room annexe.
Ramesh, our housekeeper, arrived, asking us if he could get us something, and Gagan and I agreed on tea.
‘How’s office?’ Gagan asked as we settled on the couch.
‘Office is great. Learning a lot from doing things myself, though Papa’s very much there when I need him, of course. And it’s been good to have Sheryl around. She ensures I don’t mess up,’ I replied, grinning, and he nodded in agreement.
‘How have you been, though?’ I asked. ‘We haven’t caught up properly in over a year.’
‘Busy with work. Global marketing head now, so …’ The glint in his eyes reappeared and he sounded almost sheepish.
‘What the hell? And you’re telling me this now?’ I punched his arm. ‘Do Ma and Papa know?’
‘Not yet. I don’t want them making a big deal out of it.’
‘Dude! It is a huge deal! We all know how hard you’ve worked for it.’
‘Yeah, but everything doesn’t need to be celebrated with catering and a tent in the backyard,’ he replied. ‘If I tell them, Ma will throw another one of her parties, and I’m maxed out on small talk, honestly.’
‘They’re proud of you, Gagan.’ I grinned widely and thumped him on the shoulder. ‘So am I.’
He nodded, his lips stretching to one side in a semblance of a smile. ‘But tell me about you. I see a lot has changed from the last time we caught up. You have someone in your life now.’
‘Life’s good … great, actually. Avani makes it better in every way.’ I was about to tell him how we met when I noticed the expression on his face change. I knew this look only too well.
‘Something going on?’ I asked.
‘Nothing. Just that … I worry about you. You’re quite stupid when it comes to matters of the heart.’ He turned away to pick up one of the two cups of tea Ramesh had left on the coffee table.
I reached across and picked the other up for myself. Settling back, I said, ‘Tell me what this is about?’
‘You seem to have set all these levels of commitment in your mind. That bringing a girl home makes everything serious. Or telling Ma about your feelings changes things. When are you going to get a little practical in life and see things as they are … and not as they could be?’
‘Okay, I’ve got a bone to pick with that tattletale we have for a mother, but, hey, it’s not like that. I’ve been with Avani for a few months now and I’m feeling good about this.’
‘Isn’t that what you said about the last one? What was her name … Aanchal?’ He looked up from his cup.
Aanchal and I had been together for a few months before I spoke to Gagan about her. She wasn’t my brightest decision, I have to admit, but Avani was nothing like her. Gagan’s words weren’t any harsher than they would be if this were a discussion about anything else, but something about his refusal to give Avani, or anyone else, a chance didn’t sit well with me.
‘You’ve barely spoken to her, Gagan. I think you should give her more than one tiny conversation before you make up your mind about her,’ I said, a little more curtly than I would have liked. I knew Gagan was looking out for me, but this time I decided I wouldn’t back down. Avani deserved more.
Avani
Comfortably numb.
‘This one is a red cross tulip. And that one is a lady tulip, Anil’s favourite. My favourite, however, is the Yokohama tulip. It’s right ahead … here.’ ’s mother and I were walking through never-ending rows of gorgeous flowers. When she had mentioned a ‘tulip garden’, I’d imagined a few tulip bushes scattered aesthetically across a lawn. Instead, I was now walking through what looked like the tulip fields of The Hague.
‘Our company did a lot of work with the Japanese government in the early days. We still do. The consulate general gifted me a bouquet when I visited Japan in 1997. I knew immediately that I had to have these in my garden. It was also easier to fly back with seeds then. It wasn’t as strict as it is now.’ She proudly caressed the gorgeous yellow bulbs.
‘They’re stunning, Aunty, just beautiful.’ They really were.
‘Here, love.’ She bent down, plucked a few stems and handed them to me. ‘For your bedside table. They’ll bloom some more tomorrow.’ She smiled at the flowers and then at me.
‘Thank you.’ I brought the bunch to my nose to take a sniff.
‘Oh, tulips don’t really have a scent,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t expect that, would you, from the way they look?’
I nodded, and we walked on, me in her footsteps, till we reached a glass house in the centre of the garden. She opened the door and let me in. It was beautifully lit by the sun streaming in. A long dinner table, neatly laid, took up most of the space inside it, with at least twenty intricately carved vintage-looking chairs arranged around it. Cozy but still very stately.
‘We like to eat our brunches here in the winters. The sun keeps us warm and I love listening to the chatter of a big group of family and friends over food and mimosas.’ She took the seat at the head of the gigantic table. I placed the bunch of tulips on it and took the seat next to her, around the immediate corner.
‘ tells me you work at a bookstore. That must be magical. Tell me about it.’ She rested her chin on the palm of her right hand and leaned forward, looking at me intently.
‘Oh, it’s the best! It’s called Bombay Bound.’
‘What a lovely name!’ she exclaimed.
‘Yeah, it’s a beautiful space. My best friend Rhea’s family owns it. I work there part-time. In the mornings, usually.’
‘How I would love to spend my mornings surrounded by the smell of books.’ She sighed.
‘That’s my favourite part too!’ I laughed. ‘Her family is sweet and I get to earn while getting through classes. I love it.’
‘I can imagine. Living in Mumbai as a student is criminal! Everything is so expensive. And I’m sure your big fat law books must cost a limb!’
‘You have no clue,’ I said, glad that someone understood.
‘Actually, I studied law too. I wish I had been smart like you and taken up a part-time job alongside my studies. By the end of every month, I was scraping leftovers.’ She laughed. ‘Until I married Anil. Then we scraped leftovers together.’
I couldn’t help laughing. I remembered telling me about his parents starting the company in his uncle’s garage and building it up from there.
We spent close to an hour in the glass house, chatting about everything from law to our hobbies to . She told me funny stories from his childhood that I carefully filed away in the must-tease--about-this cabinet in my head. I told her about my childhood and growing up with Aaji in Pune, and she shared how she’d always thought of Pune as a lovely place to live in.
‘I never really got to meet my grandparents, you know,’ she said. ‘I wish I had. They passed away when my mother was still a teenager, but she had the most beautiful memories of them that she would tell me about as bedtime stories.’
‘I’m sorry. That must’ve been rough.’ I reached across and gently placed my hand over hers on the table.
‘Not at all. I only have the most amazing stories as memories of them. And their pictures.’ She paused. ‘Oh, I must show you the family albums. You have to see how gorgeous my grandma’s dimples were,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
‘So that’s where gets his from!’ I said.
‘Ha ha! Yes, he does! Come!’ She got up and extended her hand to me again.
Our minds are such weird little places, I thought as we made our way back through the rows of gorgeous flowers. It stores our insecurities and issues so close to our joys and laughter, like rooms sharing walls. Sometimes a loud noise on one side echoes in the other and sometimes the wall is so thick that you forget there is a room on the other side at all.
As we walked back to the house, I let my mind wander to a place where there were no walls, only postcard photos of Yokohama tulips and people sharing a laugh in the warmth of the sun.
It was 11.30 a.m. by the time we got back to the house. A lot had happened already. Gagan’s brusqueness this morning notwithstanding, spending time with ’s parents, especially his mother, had made me feel a lot more confident about my decision to have taken this trip with him. For a large part of my life, well into my late teenage years, my biggest achievement had been making more than one friend whose family I was comfortable around, so this was new to me, and being able to enjoy it made my heart sing.
As soon as we stepped into the living room, pulled away from an intense discussion that he was having with Gagan and his father, and Aunty left us together to join them, cupping ’s face in her hands with extra affection as they passed each other.
‘Had fun?’ he asked, taking my hand in his.
‘Yeah. She’s so sweet.’
‘That’s where I get all my sweetness from,’ he said with a smirk.
‘You really think highly of yourself, don’t you?’
‘Might I jog your memory to a time not too long ago when you took my name very “highly”
yourself?’ he said with mischief in his voice. That earned him a slap on his chest as I shushed him and glanced quickly towards his family, who were standing quite close to us, to see if they had overheard.
He laughed, then squeezed my hand and said, ‘Okay listen, I’ve got to go meet some of Ma and Papa’s friends. Something tells me you’d prefer reading a book in the room while I am away.’
‘You know me so well.’
‘I’ll see you upstairs in a bit?’ He gave me a quick peck on the cheek before walking towards a big group of people greeting each other raucously at the far end of the living room as I made my way upstairs.
Thirty minutes later, I was in our bed, staring up at the ceiling, my book resting upside down on my tummy.
I hadn’t got beyond two paragraphs since I’d started as my mind kept wandering to imaginary (mostly disastrous) scenarios from the party later that evening.
Me standing alone in a corner while folded over laughing at an inside joke with his family.
Me spilling wine on the expensive ivory dress Maya had lent me to wear that evening.
Me drinking too much too quickly to get over my nervousness and then waking up tomorrow regretting doing some shit like getting everyone to form a human pyramid for a group photo.
The last one had the most potential to come true … I closed my eyes in dread.
I threw my book down on the bed and got up to make some coffee.
I’d slept like a baby, but that breakfast binge was making me sleepy again, or maybe it was just my overthinking brain.
I’d settled on the balcony couch with my cup when I heard a knock on the door.
‘Come in, no!’ I yelled, sure that was going to walk in.
Nobody entered. Instead, there were two more knocks. I walked over to the door and pulled it open, expecting him to give me one of those ‘Ma’am, your order for a hot man is here’ dialogues.
It was Gagan.
‘Hey,’ I said, trying to hide my shock in an awkward smile. ‘Are you looking for ? He’s …’
‘Hi. No, I was just with him. I was actually looking to have a word with you,’ he replied. ‘Can I come in?’
‘You MAY come in,’ I said, deliberately correcting him as I stepped away from the door. The sour expression on his face was starting to get to me. All that expensive Ivy League education, and still this.
He strode in and sat down on the couch. I left the door slightly ajar and walked to the bed, but didn’t sit down. Leaning against one of the poster frames, I said, ‘I’ve heard so much about you—’
‘We can cut the small talk, Ananya.’
WOW.
‘Umm … Avani.’
‘Avani. Sorry. That was rude. Avani … I knew that.’
‘That’s okay. So, since you obviously haven’t come here for friendly banter, what’s up?’
‘Yeah …’ he said, and then fell silent. I waited for him to voice whatever it was that was important enough for him to seek me out and call me by a wrong name.
‘I don’t want you taking this the wrong way …’ he started.
I nodded, indicating I wouldn’t, and waited for him to continue.
‘But is …’ Long pause again.
I wasn’t sure if this was just his style or if he sucked at putting words together in general. You never know, staying away from home with such an unsociable personality—maybe that made one lose basic communication skills.
‘ is …’ he said again, ‘… naive.’
He looked at me. His gaze was empty—not warm, not ice-cold like it was this morning at the breakfast table, but indifferent.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, confused.
‘I mean, between the two of us, he’s the emotional one. And sometimes he tends to make decisions that don’t quite stand the test of time. You know what I mean?’ His right eyebrow flicked up. I could hear my heart beating in my ears.
‘I don’t … sorry,’ I said awkwardly.
‘I mean, don’t read too much into this.’ He made sweeping gestures at the room.
‘Into what?’
‘You being here, with my family.’
‘Uhh …’
‘We’re very protective of each other. We try to ensure that we prevent each other from making bad decisions … mistakes.’
‘I’m not sure I understand … I …’
‘Didn’t think you would.’ He slapped his thighs and sprung to his feet. He took two very slow steps towards me. ‘Have fun this weekend. Walk through the property, enjoy the party, get your selfies and then let things run their course. As they must.’ He smiled tightly and walked to the door.
‘Gagan,’ I called out. ‘Are you asking me to leave ?’
‘I’m asking you to not get your hopes up. Usually that only brings disappointment,’ he said, half turning around. Then he walked out and shut the door behind him.
I froze, my eyes fixed on the door. What the fuck was that?
I could feel chills running up my limbs to the centre of my chest.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to bring my brain back from the very unpleasant direction in which it was heading.
I told myself that this—whatever it was—had to be a misunderstanding.
That maybe Gagan had misjudged something I had said or done, and assumed the worst.
Maybe he was tired. What could be the intention of being so square with me? Had he just called me a ‘bad decision’ and a ‘mistake’? Had I not met him warmly enough this morning?
No, Avani.
No. This isn’t the time to doubt yourself.
was right next to you at that breakfast table.
If you were in any way rude or disrespectful, he would’ve told you. You know that.
I took another deep breath.
His mother apologized for Gagan’s behaviour too. This isn’t on you.
I sat down on the bed and drew the duvet around me. Nobody had ever spoken to me like that before. I had been in my fair share of uncomfortable rooms, but I had never been made to feel so unwanted or undeserving. And that is what Gagan’s words had made me feel.
Unwanted …
I pulled my phone out to call Aaji or Maya or anyone I could talk to, but the door opened again and walked in, a spring in his step. He had a basketful of fruits and breads in one hand and what looked like a box of sweets in the other.
‘I almost expected you to be napping,’ he said breezily as he placed the basket on the console table. He walked over with the box of sweets and sat next to me on the bed.
‘These are Mussoorie’s best gulab jamuns,’ he said excitedly. He took one out and brought it close to my mouth. ‘I had Ramesh order them fresh this morning.’
I took a bite and let the sugar rush calm my nerves down to some semblance of normalcy.
‘You like?’ he asked as he took a bite too.
‘I love.’ I smiled, wiping the syrup trickling down my chin with the back of my hand.
You should say something. He should know. Maybe he knows?
How? He wouldn’t know . He would never let Gagan talk to me like that. I trusted him. I had no idea what Gagan had meant, but for the sake of sanity I was willing to consider that it was all a big, ugly misunderstanding. Would it be right to make a big deal of it by discussing it with on the morning of his parents’ anniversary dinner?
Yeah, maybe not.
was saying something, oblivious to the storm raging inside me.
‘Sorry? Didn’t hear that …’ I said.
‘I was saying, baby, that I have more things to show you that you’ll love. Come on, we’ve got to go!’ Before I could respond, he got up excitedly and strode out of the room.
How do I slow down time?
‘Dress warm and meet me downstairs,’ I called out to Avani as I took the stairs down. I called Ramesh to have the car readied for us, and as I made my way out, I passed my parents conversing animatedly with another lot of friends who had just arrived. I made a mental note to chat with Ma about her ‘small gathering of close family and friends’ way of going about this party—any party, really—and waved politely at them as I walked by.
My dad’s vintage red Hindustan Contessa was waiting for me in the driveway, glistening in the sun.
Papa never tired of telling us the story of how he had bought this beauty after their company had closed its first big client deal.
We must have heard it at least five times a year since we were old enough to listen to stories, and at every family Diwali card party after his third drink of whisky.
The high point of the story for Papa was when he had told Ma he’d won it in a lottery so she wouldn’t throw a fit.
He guffawed loudly every time he narrated that bit, and then went over to Ma to hug her while she sat shaking her head.
Ma always joked that she’d raised two kids, but Papa had raised three: the Contessa was his firstborn child.
It was the first thing he had got transported to Mussoorie when they decided to move from Mumbai and not a day passed without Papa polishing it squeaky-clean before his morning runs every day.
It took me many, many years to gain Papa’s trust enough to take her for a spin. Gagan still didn’t have that privilege because he banged up the first car he got when he joined college.
But the Contessa was ethereal, and as much as I loved driving her around the town now, as a child I would simply take my book and sit inside her while she was parked in the garage. She felt like a friend, a place of comfort. So when I decided to show Avani around town, I knew I had to take the Contessa.
Ramesh handed me the keys from across the hood and I walked around to get into the driver’s seat.
‘Oh my God, who is this? Introduce us, please.’ I looked through the window on the passenger side to see Avani, her eyes wide in awe, walking around the car, her hand stroking the side. I laughed and stretched my left arm over to open the door as she came around the back. ‘Meet my dad’s firstborn child,’ I said.
‘She’s beautiful!’ Avani got in and pulled the door gently shut, like it was a precious, fragile object that needed to be handled with care.
I beamed, put the car into gear and drove out.
Every trip I’d ever made to Mussoorie included one afternoon of driving through the lanes of the town, getting a coffee and cake at my favourite café, and then driving uphill to catch the most magnificent sunset. My date was usually Ma or our caretaker’s twin toddlers. But today I had with me the one person with whom I wanted to share all of my favourite things to do.
We drove through the gorgeous hills as the radio shuffled between songs and presenters.
‘Where are we going?’ Avani asked as she turned to face me. She’d rolled down her side of the window a few inches to breathe in the fresh mountain air without freezing her button nose off, but before that she’d reached over and zipped my jacket all the way up to my neck and planted a quick kiss on my cheek.
‘To get some coffee or hot chocolate to warm you up.’
‘Okay.’ She signalled a yes with a beaming smile and went back to watching the trees rush by. She’d been quieter after breakfast with the family this morning. I’d decided against asking her what she was feeling. She was probably just overwhelmed. Together, we Rainas could get a little too much sometimes. In any case, Avani liked to take time to process things by herself and would figure if she wanted to talk about anything. It could equally be that I was reading too much into things …
I slowed down as we made our way to the Hathipaon area and pulled into the parking space next to Ballu Coffee House.
‘Who’s Ballu?’ Avani asked, reading the old wooden signage above the entrance to the quaint café.
‘Nobody knows,’ I replied. ‘The owner was apparently drunk when he got this board made. Every time I come here, his grandson makes up a new story about the cafe’s name. I strongly recommend you ask him about it. Maybe you’ll hear a version no one’s heard before.’
She threw her head back, laughing. ‘The coffee and shakes here are the best, though,’ I added.
We walked in and took a corner table overlooking the gorgeous valley, and I raised my hand to summon the waiter.
We spent the next hour alternating between laughter, conversation and comfortable silence as we took in the views of the beautiful town and sipped on the excellent coffee (mine) and hot chocolate (Avani’s). Avani clicked pictures to send Aaji, Maya, Martin and Rhea. I clicked pictures of her for myself.
‘Where to now?’ she asked.
‘You’ll see,’ I said, reaching over and wiping the chocolate-milk moustache off her upper lip.
I got up and held her coat for her. She slid her arms through and turned to face me with the cutest smile.
‘What?’ I smiled back.
‘It’s just strange when you’re putting clothes on me,’ she said, grinning.
I draped her scarf around her waist, spun her around and pulled her closer. She squealed as she looked up at me and I placed a soft kiss on her lips.
‘I can’t wait to be back in the room with you,’ I whispered. ‘You’re too far when you’re not cuddling with me in bed.’
‘Not even now?’
‘Nope. Not close enough.’ I kissed her again and turned her towards the door.
‘Oh, wait!’ she said and moved towards the billing desk, where the owner’s grandson was sitting at his usual place behind the counter. ‘Hi!’ she said to him. ‘Why is the coffee house named Ballu Coffee House?’
‘They say there is a secret tunnel under the coffee house that leads to the grave of a man named Ballu and that he comes here at night to have coffee with the love of his life, who used to work here 200 years ago,’ he said, unblinking and impassive.
‘Wow,’ she said, turning to me with eyes wide.
I laughed and thanked the man as I led Avani towards the exit.
Outside, she stood by the car, tapping her feet to stay warm as she waited for me to unlock it. I stopped a few steps away and pulled my phone out to take a picture of the girl I’d got to call mine, looking stunning in the early afternoon sun against the backdrop of this gorgeous town.
When had life become so fucking perfect? What could I do to slow down time?