39. Sona
SONA
I n hindsight, inviting Mihir over that evening wasn’t the most brilliant idea.
When I woke up the next morning, grumpy before my morning tea, Mihir sat at the table, looking smart and fresh, with bright eyes and a big smile. I made sure to give him a stink eye before going to the kitchen to get my tea.
“We’re already done with our breakfast, princess,” Appa teased.
“I’m here on a break. Let me enjoy my life. I don’t get to sleep in during the semester.” I sat down at the other end of the table from Mihir. A few minutes later, our neighbor Aaji walked in, as chirpy and joyful as Mihir.
“Aaji! How are you?” Mihir asked in Marathi, and the teacup almost slipped from my hand.
“When did you learn that?” I cried in Marathi.
“I taught him,” Aaji beamed. “Isn’t he a quick learner?”
I offered her a solemn smile as Mihir stood and pulled a chair out for her so they could continue chatting. It appeared as if everyone in the household had lost their mind, completely beguiled by his charm.
When Aai came out of the kitchen to join us, I asked, “What’s all this bustle about?”
“Oh, didn’t Mihir tell you? The girl’s family is coming over the day after tomorrow for a first meeting.”
I frowned. “Here? In this house?”
“Yes, here. Where else would they meet?”
“Why can’t you all go to their place?”
“It’ll be more casual here. You’re welcome to join us,” Aai said. “Maybe vouch for your friend, tell them how wonderful he is?”
Yes, sure, I was going to sit through the pageantry of him choosing a wife for himself.
“I’m busy. I have meetings.”
“Reschedule them,” Mihir piped in. I tried to gauge if he was joking or teasing, but I found evidence of neither in his voice or on his face.
“Let her be,” Aai said with exasperation. “She’s always busy with meetings.”
“We do need to go get the gift, though,” Mihir said, looking first at Aai, then at Appa.
“Yes, we’ll leave in a bit and be back before lunch,” Aai announced. “The jewelry showroom isn’t too far from here.”
“What gift? What jewelry?” I asked, encountering a strange emotion. I suspected it was jealousy. Could’ve been envy, but I was leaning toward jealousy.
Aai smiled with love. “Mihir has something in mind.”
“This is getting more and more ridiculous, you realize that, right? Who gifts jewelry on their first meeting? It will come across as pompous and aggressive. Pushy,” I said as if I was the sanest person alive.
At that moment, it did feel like I was the sanest person in the room. Everyone else had taken leave of their senses around this outrageously magnetic man with the charming personality.
After a shower, before they could barrage me with questions, I slipped out of the house. I booked a cab instead of taking the car so they wouldn’t know where I was. It felt like I was back in my teenage rebellion phase.
Scavenging around in the public archives for source material for my next project did help distract me—for a while, at least. It was late afternoon when I emerged from the dark library, the sun hitting my eyes even on a cloudy day. I popped into a small café for a sandwich and a cup of strong tea, then disappeared into the library again.
It was late when I got home. Aai was reading in their bedroom and Appa was in his study. I made quick small talk and disappeared into mine. I heard a noise in the guest room and wondered if Mihir was still around. That question was answered soon enough. Having washed the city off my body, I had just changed into fresh clothes when there was a knock.
“It’s me,” Mihir said.
“It’s open.”
He entered with a smile. “I wanted to tell you something. Sharda Aai called me.”
I smiled back. “That’s good news.”
“She wants to meet again. At her home. Will you come with me?”
“Yes.” I smiled and sat on the bed. “She texted and asked me to come.”
He sat with me. “She likes you, just like Mom.”
“Uh, correction, your mom loves me.”
He gave a short laugh.
“Have you told them about Sharda Tai?”
“Yes, I called them last night.”
“Good. Aunty worries about you.”
“Thank you for calling and talking to her, Sona. I know it means a lot to her. And you’re right, she does love you.”
Unlike you, who has already moved on , I thought.
“I want to bring her something,” he said.
“Aunty?”
“No, my Aai. What can I get her? Would a saree be a good gift?”
I nodded. “Saree is often a mark of respect. So it can be personal but not imposing, you know?”
“Will you help me pick one out?”
“Why? What happened to your current shopping partners? Why don’t you take them?” I meant to tease him, but the words that came out were spitefully bitter.
Only, he grinned. “Hey, you are the one who’s been grouchy. I told you I want you back. But if it’s not what you want, I respect that. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try my hand at finding happiness.”
My mouth gaped. He was right. What had I expected when I refused to have him back in my life again? That he would whine and pine for a lifetime?
“So, buckle up, Thomas, and be happy for me.” That rascal!
“After you broke my heart that way? Never. I’ll never give you that satisfaction.”
I grumbled. He grinned. I growled. He smirked. We continued this stalemate until I heaved in resignation.
“Alright, you win. You always win, don’t you?”
He pushed his hands in his pockets with his usual nonchalance and left. Just left.
Resisting the strong urge to curl into a ball and cry, I redirected the angry energies to my work. It was a good thing I’d found out just how little I meant to him. He was ready to move on right before my eyes. Why had I imagined it would be any different?
When I came out of my room the next morning, the home was gently waking up. Appa was in the kitchen, making tea. Aai emerged from inside and picked up the newspaper just as Mihir emerged from the guest room.
I frowned. “Are you still here?”
“Good morning to you too,” he said, walking away smugly.
I went into my room, showered, and came back out in lounging clothes with damp hair.
Aai placed a cup of tea before me. “Can you make coffee for Mihir?” she said.
I scanned my surroundings to make sure neither Aai nor Appa were within earshot. “You’re encroaching on this place like your own. Make your own fricking coffee.”
“Now, now, that’s no language for a good girl.”
“I’m not one,” I growled.
He leaned in. “You were once. My good girl,” he whispered before he pushed off his chair with a smirk and turned on the machine.
I broke into a tiny bit of sweat at his words as my thighs clenched and my nipples puckered.
Then he sat across from me at the table, sipping his coffee, holding a smug grin.
After breakfast, we went to Aai’s favorite saree shop. Apparently, Mihir had invited her to join us, and though I neither wore sarees nor knew much about them, he insisted on dragging me along.
“Have you told her who it’s for?” I whispered as we entered the shop. “I haven’t said a word about the whole adopted-at-birth thing.”
“No,” he whispered back. “I said it was for a friend’s mother.”
Aai handpicked a few and then passed them to us. “Which one will look good on her?”
By the time I finished describing Sharda Tai to Aai, she and Mihir pointed to the same saree, a deep purple with delicate gold zari on a magenta border.
“This is it.” I smiled at Mihir.
That evening, Mihir and I went to meet Sharda Tai with chicken biryani from my favorite street-side stall. This meeting was less tense than their first one. The mother and son both talked and laughed more, which made my heart soar.
“Thank you for the saree. It’s really nice,” she said.
“He picked it out himself. He has really good taste,” I offered when Mihir said nothing.
“Aai, if you ever need anything, you will let me know?”
She gave a wide smile. “By the grace of god, I have everything I need right now. I know this flat is small and the building looks derelict, but this is where I need to be. My work is here. My people are here. This is my community.”
“But you will let me know if you need anything? I am a wealthy man.”
She put a hand on his arm. “I have no right to your wealth, my son.”
“But I’m still your son, yes?”
She nodded as a single tear rolled down her cheek, and Mihir put his hand on hers. “Yes, you’re my son, but I’m not your mother, beta. The doctor’s wife is your mother.”
“She’s my mother, but I’m your son. You can rely on me,” Mihir said softly.
“I’m glad to know that.” She pulled herself upright.
“And the next time we meet, I want to know more about your life, if you don’t mind sharing.”
She smiled softly. “I don’t mind at all. I’m very proud of my life. You know, after I had you, I realized I didn’t want to get pregnant again, so I did underground activism for contraceptives. Then we were hit by AIDS, and the use of condoms became even more important. There was a lot of resistance and backlash from clients and brothel keepers, but we convinced the clients it was for their safety. For their families. It didn’t come easily, of course, but I kept myself updated, talking to doctors and Kamte bhau. He was like an elder brother, a guiding light in my life. ‘I see the leader in you,’ he used to say. ‘These people cannot break your spirit.’ I was lucky in many regards, and I’ll be happy to tell you about it.”
She kept weaving in and out of Marathi and Hindi, waiting patiently with a gentle, happy smile on her face while I translated it to Mihir.
“I’m very proud of you, Aai,” Mihir said with a warm smile.
“That’s something I never thought I’d get to hear, my child saying he’s proud of me.” She paused. “I thought of you often during the early years, you know. But I couldn’t expose how I had given you away. Kamte bhau would bring me your news. He would secretly show me your pictures, but I asked him to stop. It caused me a lot of pain, and there was already enough pain to consume me at work and in life. I knew you were happy and thriving. I never feared that.”
We left with happy smiles and the promise of another meeting.
“Are you alright?” I asked at Mihir’s brooding. “Do you want to come home?”
“No. Tomorrow is a crucial day. I want to talk to my parents. They are excited. They’ve been waiting for me to think about marriage for almost a decade now,” he said with a gentle laugh.
My stomach turned at the sight of his happy face. He was putting way too much hope in the meeting, but maybe he knew something I didn’t. Maybe he’d already decided he could do much better than me.