Soon enough, he was chattering away, apparently intent on sharing every detail of his life from birth to the present.
'I'm in first grade at Good Shepherd School, and when I graduate, in just three weeks, I'll be in second grade – well, I mean, first comes the summer. But you get to say you're in second grade as soon as first grade is over'.
'I get almost straight A's. 'Cept for math.' He wrinkled his nose and shuddered, granting Maan a sample of the reaction he reserved for unpleasant subjects – things like math and drinking milk and keeping his room clean. He sighed. 'Sometimes I get Bs in math. I have three best friends – Ahaan Sharma, Sameeth Shetty, and Mathew Sebastian. But Ahaan is my very best friend, if you want to know the truth. Just don't tell Sameeth and Mathew, that might hurt their feelings and I like them a lot, too. My favorite color is blue – like, duh, no kidding, huh? And red. I like green, too.'
'I was a very cute little baby, ask Maa. I was hardly ever sick. We have lots of pictures of me, and you can look at them later. Oh. My teacher is Mrs. Patrick. Mrs. Patrick likes Garfield. You know, the cartoon cat? We have Garfield posters all over our room at school.
'And PinkyDi usually takes care of me every day after school. She lives next street and she is working for maa. But today Pinkydi had to go shopping or something, so she couldn't watch me. My maa had to come home from the botique to get me.
'And you know what?' Daksh stuck out his legs and jumped to a standing position. 'I think you should see my room now. It's mostly blue. Remember? One of my favorite colors. But don't worry. There is some green, too. Maa and me put up a border with red in it. And there's black & white in the curtains. I think you'll like it. Will you come see?'
Maan was already on his feet. 'I'd like that very much.'
Daksh grabbed Maan's index finger and began tugging him toward the hall. Maan cast Geet a last bemused glance. Geet gave back an half encouraging smile and remained in the family room, perched on the fat ottoman in front of the big easy chair, listening to her son's chatter fading off as he led his newly found father down the hall.
'I am going to show you my whole Building Set collection. I have fifteen of them, with all different colours and shapes… And remote control car, maa bought me for my last birthday. And my books. Wait till you see my Books…'
They stayed in Daksh's room for about twenty minutes. When they emerged, Daksh dragged Maan outside, ostensibly to show him his tricycle. They stayed out there for a lot longer than a look at a tricycle should have taken. Geet finally got impatient to see what they were up to.
When she went out to the backyard, though, she found them sitting on the iron bench beneath the flowered jarul tree, with Mr. Pickles, Daksh's gray tabby cat, stretched out between them.
Daksh petted the lounging cat and chattered on. 'I also play soccer. Did I tell you that? I play goalie, and it is not an easy job. You have to keep the other team from scoring, and if you don't, everyone on your own team gets mad at you. But I'm fast, Daddy. I'm pretty good…'
Maan made an admiring, agreeable noise.
Daksh looked up and saw his mother on the patio. 'We'll be in a few minutes, Maa. But right now, we're talking'. The second sentence was spoken with definite attitude.
Geet opened her mouth to remind her son of his manners – and shut it without uttering the rebuke. This was a special situation. Daksh was trying to tell his father everything about himself, about his life, about his world. Maybe he had a right to show a little attitude when his mother had the bad judgment to interrupt.
Geet ducked back inside. By the time Daksh and Maan finally joined her a half hour later, it was four-thirty, and Geet had realized she needed to make a quick trip to the grocery store. Both Maan and Daksh urged her to go ahead. They'd be fine on their own. Since they seemed to be doing so well together, Geet took them at their word. But as soon as she came out of the home, took an auto to a near by store, she became absolutely certain that she'd just made a giant-size error in judgment.
What could she have been thinking? For heaven's sake, she hardly knew Maan anymore.
She went to the supermarket and raced up and down the busy aisles, grabbing what she needed off the shelves and out of the cold storage, agonizing the whole time over how she could possibly have been so foolish as to leave a virtual stranger alone with her child. The store was busy. It seemed she waited forever in the checkout line.
Finally, she paid the clerk and wheeled her groceries out to get an auto. She tossed the bags in to the vehicle, showing a complete lack of concern for bruise-able produce items, and shoved the empty cart in the general direction of the cart rack. She almost hit two other persons getting out of the store. But at last she was back on her way, headed for home.
When she got there, she jumped from the auto, taking her pick-ups and ran in through the entryway, anticipating hideous disasters that were no less dire for their vagueness. She found Maan and Daksh sitting on the nubby green area rug at the big square coffee table in the family room. They were playing with building blocks. They glanced her way in unison.
Maan smiled and Daksh said, 'We're making a multi-storey building, Maa'.
Oh no… again on his father's path… Geet's heart felt too big for her chest. She could see the resemblance between them so clearly right then – not only the dark, thick hair and almost-identical dark eyes, but also the tilt of the head, the sharply defined bow shape of the upper lip, the obstinate jut of the jaw.
They went back to their game – in unison, as they had turned toward her in the first place. Geet stared at their two dark heads, bent at matching angles, and felt that silly urge to cry again.
Maan glanced up for the second time. 'Need some help with those groceries?'
'Oh. Oh, no. I can manage.'
'You're sure?'
She ordered her mouth to stretch into a bright smile. 'Positive.'
'Dad' Daksh complained, 'you have to concentrate.'
'Sorry.' He focused on the job at hand.
Geet brought in the groceries, put them away, got herself busy fixing the dinner, and other house chores.
Then it was time for Daksh to take care of his homework. Maan, who showed no inclination to leave, helped him with his math and listened, rapt, as he read him the book report he had gotten back from Mrs. Patrick just yesterday – the one with A-plus written on it in red ink.
They sat down to dine at eight O' clock – the three of them.
It had seemed only right to ask Maan to stay. After they ate, Daksh cleared the table and put the dishes in the sink, with Maan's help.
At eight forty-five, Geet reminded Daksh that it was time for him to take his shower and get ready for bed.
Daksh immediately turned to Maan. 'You won't go anywhere, will you? You'll be here? To tuck me in?'
'Absolutely.'
Daksh ran to his room, grabbed his bath towel and disappeared into the hall bathroom, leaving Geet and Maan alone to face a sudden awkwardness with each other. Now that it was just the two of them, Geet had no idea what to say to him – and he seemed to be pretty much at a loss himself. Not that they didn't have plenty to talk about.
But right then, was not the time. Daksh could come flying out the bathroom any minute, smelling of body shower and toothpaste, eager for the thrilling first-time experience of having his father tuck him into bed.
'He is a great kid, Geet,' Maan said softly. 'You've done a hell of a job with him.' There was respect and perhaps even admiration in his voice...
A voice in her head reproached, Daksh is his Son, too…
Geet suddenly remembered the load of laundry she'd been meaning to get into the washer that night. Tomorrow is weekend and she is too busy with Daksh to complete the house chores. 'Umm, Listen, I have a few chores to take care of. The TV's in the front room, if you—'
'It's okay. I can amuse myself.'
She stared at him, thinking how much he really had changed. He spoke like a man from a corporate world now. His words had hard edges. And he carried himself differently. He held his head high. Not that, he was not like that before… still… The boy she had known had been sweet, tender, and so very gentle – at least, with her.
Maan – narrowed his eyes at her. 'What are you staring at?'
'Huh…. I … umm… nothing. Just…. thinking.'
'About what?' The question was pure challenge.
She wanted to lie – and to edge around him, get out from under the piercing regard of those eyes. But she held her ground and she told the truth. 'About you. About how much you've changed.'
Maan met her gaze…. looked through her eyes, and tilted his head very lightly….
'How much is that?'
His voice was very soft and slow and husky…. The husky tone of his voice and the intent look in his eyes … made her weak. She looked away from him for a second, to regain her composure, a healthy blush creeping through her… and met his gaze…
'Well, I would have to say, a lot.'
'And that's bad, right? I'm not the boy you knew.'
'I didn't say it was bad.'
'No. But you thought it.'
She backed up a step. Why, they were practically arguing. How had they gone from what a great job she was doing with Daksh – to this?
Stress, she thought. We're both under a lot of stress. This is not any easier for him than it is for me.
She strove for an even tone. 'Maan, look. Let's not … push each other. Having you here, it''s … well, I'm sure it's not easy for you. And it's hard for me, too.'
Those dark eyes regarded her. Right then they were a long way from the tender eyes she remembered. Right then they were hard as black rock.
He said coldly, 'We have a lot to talk about…. A lot.' Still, an air of sadness and the sense of loss hung over his words...
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Cricket
Current Affairs
Arjun
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