Twenty-Six
Anika
‘May I talk to you, Anika?’ Vikrant’s mom, Laxmi, asked diffidently a few hours later, standing at the threshold of the room I had shared, reall y shared with Vikrant.
I paused in the act of packing my stuff, spread all over the bed. The sari blouse clenched in an unconscious fist. I made a deliberate effort to relax it. It worked. Kind of.
‘Sure, Aai. Please come in.’ I mustered up a smile from somewhere deep inside me.
It turned puzzling when Vikrant’s Baba, Yogesh, followed Laxmi too. They came in and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. I awkwardly cleared up the lingerie from the side of the bed and waved them over.
They glanced at each other before Laxmi took a seat on the bed. Baba sat on the dressing table pouffe. She wore a silk sari, one that I remembered I’d gifted her for Diwali and her natth (nose ring) was a brand-new piece of jewelry. Baba wore his customary kurta pajama, looking, for all the world, like a more refined, regal version of Vikrant.
They made a handsome couple, with Vikrant inheriting the best of both of their genes. Something that would now not happen with us. Not that I’d actively thought about having children even with him, wanting to focus on my career for now.
The sheer loss of it had tears smarting in my eyes. I blinked them away rapidly.
‘ Aapko kuch chahiye tha ?’ Is there anything you needed ? I asked them politely in Hindi. I still wasn’t fluent in Konkani enough to have a whole conversation in it.
‘ Haan, chahiye tha .’ Yes, there is. Laxmi replied slowly, in Hindi.
It took me a moment to realize the expression on their careworn faces. Desperation.
‘Tell me, Aai. What is it?’ I asked gently.
‘Did Vikrant tell you why we aren’t staying with him?’
‘No.’ I shook my head, confused at the sudden question. ‘He didn’t. He just told me you were still living in your old home.’
‘When he came back, my son looked like a ghost. He had no joy in him,’ Laxmi said the words carefully. As if she’d rehearsed them many times. ‘I thought he’d be happy coming home, back to us, running the local hospital. That had always been his dream. I was even prepared to tolerate having you here with him because he loved you.’
I clenched the stethoscope I was packing in the bag, the rubber hurting my fingers. Controlled my breathing with effort.
‘But when you didn’t come, I was overjoyed. He wasn’t,’ Laxmi said brokenly. ‘My son’s been half-alive, he goes through the motions and his hospital has made a world of difference to this town, to us even if he doesn’t get to be with you... You know he was the one who detected the blockage in Baba’s heart?’
I sat down, squashing the properly folded saris in the process.
‘But he doesn’t care. Not about this hospital. Not about himself.’ Laxmi shot her husband a miserable, tear-filled look. ‘Not about us. When we said we’ll give him time to adjust to living here without our presence, he accepted it. He didn’t even argue. And he’s never once asked us back after that.’ She sounded so broken; my heart went out to her. ‘After Baba’s surgery, he slept on the mat in his room till he recovered but didn’t bring us back here.’
Tears trickled down the woman’s face and I felt each word batter my tender heart to a million pieces. ‘I don’t understand, Aai. Why are you telling me all this now?’
‘Because, Anika, I never understood why my son would suffer the way he’s been suffering till I saw him with you. This house…’ Aai waved a hand around the bedroom, which was so much like the dream bedroom I had once described to Vikrant. ‘It’s yours. My son built it for you. We are guests here. And I’m afraid…’ She shuddered from the weight of her tears.
Baba put a consoling hand on her shoulder.
‘I’m afraid if you leave this time, he will follow you. And he won’t come back to us.’ She folded her hands in a pleading gesture. ‘Please, don’t take my son away from me. I know I deserve it after I took him from you but …’
I moved closer to her and wrapped her in a hug and Vikrant’s mother broke down completely. I looked at Baba’s emotional expression and swallowed all of my tears and misery. There was no point in telling these people they’d won; they had their son back… they’d clearly lost as much as I had.
If not more.
God, what a fucking mess.
‘I’m sorry, Aai,’ I said after she stopped crying. ‘I should have been nicer to you before.’
‘You are from Mumbai.’ Aai said it the old-fashioned way, Bombay . ‘It’s not like you knew anything about our customs and traditions. I could have been nicer to you and taught you too.’
I smiled sadly. ‘It’s okay. It’s in the past. You take care of Baba and Vikrant now, okay? You’re the lady of the house.’
Aai shook her head, tears dripping off her nose ring. ‘No, Anika. You are. I hope you see that.’
***
Laxmi’s words still swirled in my brain as I walked to the bus stop, dressed in the clothes I’d come to Aronda in – khaki shorts, a tank top and a shirt over it.
Vikrant had left for the hospital before anyone was up and so he didn’t drive me…or even say goodbye.
Actually, everything Laxmi had said had been a bloody revelation. One I couldn’t fully process without crying my heart out. Because, if it was true, Vikrant hadn’t picked his parents over me. He’d not abandoned me .
And his points over how my folks treated him were valid too. He was a proud man, come from humble beginnings. So, my father’s taunts would have hurt him extra-hard. Yet, he’d kept silent for a long time before being pushed to the breaking point.
And…this morning, there had been something in his eyes…right before I’d told him I was leaving.
I wanted to think it was hope. Because that meant…that meant he cared. He still loved me like I still loved him and all of the pain we’d been through was not a waste.
I bit my lip, uncertain, hopeful, wanting to believe in us even when there seemed no reason to.
A small dust storm approached the empty bus stop. It was afternoon in Aronda, which meant susegaa d aka siesta time. I expected to be alone for the next two hours till the bus came.
So, it was surprising to see someone out and about. The surprise turned to shock when the dust storm came to a stop in front of me. And it turned out to be Vikrant. On a motorbike.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, bewildered. ‘I thought you had to monitor Neelima and the baby’s condition.’
‘I’ve left Preetika, the nurse, in charge for the moment.’ Vikrant straddled the pavement, quietening the bike to a purr. ‘I have something to say to you.’
‘If it’s goodbye, I don’t want to hear it, Vikrant.’ I turned blindly away from him.
‘Ani, please.’ He touched my wrist. ‘Please. I want to show you my favorite place in this town. And after that, if you want to go, I’ll drive you back to Mumbai myself. I promise.’