Love, Unrequited [Thread 2 : Pg 140] - Page 45

35. Call Me By My Name

‘What happened to the auditor guy alliance, aunty?’ Sandy Verghese asked Karuna, blowing over the cup. Kirti had prepared the tea exactly to Sandy’s taste. A dash of cream, extra sugar and with a faint scent of cardamom.

‘They turned us down saying our girl was taller than the guy,’ Karuna replied, chopping spinach for breakfast. ‘This girl towers like a palm tree. Taken after her mother,’ she whispered to Sandy, ‘Tall as a pole that woman was!’

‘I think this is the part where you can blame your Baba or curse those lauki meals, Dadi,’ Kirti was combing the tangles of her waist long, luscious hair. ‘And aren’t you happy that I inherited only the tall genes? Suppose I had inherited her senility?’ She had often heard stories of her mother being loose in the head. She would never be happy, her grandmother would say. Your father’s life had become miserable. He took her to all kinds of doctors but her madness had no cure. For hours, she would sit looking at your brother and then start wailing all of a sudden. Then, one day, in a fit of madness or was it pre planned, she took off with a traveling drama company.

‘No need to mention that woman,’ Karuna said reprovingly, picking away the stray grass or leaves from the spinach.

‘I wasn’t the one who started it!’ She gave a violent pull at the comb which had got stuck in her hair. The comb came off and along with it came a handful of hair attached to it.

‘Be gentle, Kirti,’ Sandy advised. She couldn’t bear someone disrespecting their gift like this.

‘I don’t feel like being gentle. I am fed up with this hair, aunty!’ In tenth standard, when Kirti had been inconsolable after her father’s death and had felt the absence of her mother ever more than before, she had reached out to Sandy aunty. ‘How could she leave us, aunty?’ ‘Which mother is like that?’ That day, Sandy aunty had wiped her tears away, and let her rest in her lap but a few months later she had gifted her a copy of To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf. Kirti had read the book, re-read it over the years. She had been reading a few highlighted prose of it recently as well, after her brother had mentioned their mother. It did nothing to alleviate her hurt or improve her opinion about her mother.

‘Then get a cut. I have this really trendy style in my head that would really – really suit you. Let me cut your hair Kirti,’ Shruti said. She was going through the facebook profiles of all the potential suitors of Kirti.

‘No. I’m good,’ said Kirti and began braiding her hair.

‘What a lame excuse, aunty! What’s the problem in the girl being taller?’ Sandy said sharply.

‘Along with height, the boy is lacking self esteem as well, it seems,’ Kirti jibed. What was wrong in being tall? She knew people who were taller than her, over 6 feet and had admirers hovering over them like bees!

‘It seems all the Complan and Bournvita went into fattening his male ego,’ Shruti mocked. ‘Hey, Kundan Pratap says, I hev a smyl dat izz kiler, but babyzz Im nt a drug dealar!!!’ She read out his About Myself. ‘Oh and he’s a superrmann but not Sallu’s *insert an image of whirring fan*.’

‘Kirti, marry this guy!! For evil girls, he's a devil but since you’re sweet, he will treat you like his queen.’

Kirti grunted in response.

‘Ajit writes, Handsome hona bhi bahut khatarnak hota, ladkiyan ye sochkar bhav nahi deti ki kitni girlfriends hongi…Don’t try to read me, you’ll not graduate.’ It’s dangerous to be handsome for the girls think you must have so many girlfriends.

‘Chetan writes Hum Rajput hai shakal, akal ke sath shakti aur akad bhi rakhte hai. Oh and there’s a picture too captioned, Girls high be your BP when you see this DP. Kirti, come no, see his picture.’ We are Rajputs not only by looks, knowledge but also by strength and attitude.

‘No, thank you,’ Kirti replied, securing her braid in a scrunchie.

‘Please, Kirti, come no.’ Kirti walked half heartedly to peek into the phone. A bare torso with nipples and all, stared back at her. ‘Eww…I could have lived without this visual. You spoiled my morning, Shruti!’ Then turning to her grandmother, she lashed out, ‘These creeps you’ve found for me?’ Shruti and Biplab were laughing in the background.

‘Show me the picture,’ Sandy asked.

‘No, Mama. Cannot risk shooting your BP,’ quipped Shruti.

‘It’s an ultimatum for girls and not for women who are past their prime, now show me.’

‘You all are enjoying this exercise, aren’t you?’ Kirti hissed out, her eyes now two narrow slits.

‘Just joking, yaar. There are decent ones too. Kranti Adhikari. He’s a decent chap. Good looking and has a few pictures on FB. Shares funny videos and also about Blood Donation camps. Then there’s Praveen Gautam who has his account private. There’s Shivam Singh but I spotted an AngelPriya in his friend list.’

‘Han beta, this Adhikari boy. Sandy, I was talking about this guy. Shruti beta, show your mother his picture.’

‘Hmm, aunty.'

'He’s very good looking.’ Sandy zoomed on the picture, in and out, for better understanding.

‘He has approved of Kirti’s picture. His family is nice too. I will be sending Biplab with Ojhaji to his house soon.’ Karuna informed.

‘Good, good…’

Kirti slammed open and closed the door of almirah, looking for her cheque book. She had been burning midnight oils these days and could do without such discussions right in the morning. Her Dadi was determined to send her off this marriage season.

‘What did you do to my son, Biplab?!!’ Shruti’s sharp remonstrate reached Kirti’s ears.

Packing her bag, she stepped out of the room to see Sibin’s spiked hair, the ends of which were poking in every direction. His eyes had been emphasized with a line of kohl, that curled outwards. Around his neck was a chain, one that had been gifted by Karuna to Biplab on his eighteenth birthday. The collar of Sibin’s shirt was upturned.

‘Boss, sing to your mother, our song.’

‘Aur bantai…aur bantai kya bolti tu...’ Sibin only remembered the bantai lines and ate away the rest of the lyrics.

‘Biplab, I will kill you!’ The mother charged towards the culprit,

‘Boss Sibin, help me!!!’ Biplab roared, tucking himself behind the tiny figure of the mafia boss, Diminutive Don.

‘HANDS UP!!’ The boss did not think twice to point a gun at his mother. Never mind it was imaginary.

‘Hah? This is how you return my ‘dudh ka karz’? You wicked Biplab, you’ve estranged my son from me. Hurting a mother, you’ll have to bear the consequences.’ She made a huge show of wiping her tears and snot.

The small boy guffawed at the histrionics.

‘And you, Bittu, why are you laughing?’ She crossed the distance between them and picked him up in her arms, the boy shrieking in protest as she bounced him up and down in the air. ‘Ah, the boss is too heavy. What do you eat for breakfast, Baby Boss? Eggs?’

‘No! Bananananas’

‘I am leaving Dadi,’ Kirti announced picking up her scooter’s keys.

‘Today, you’ve taken an off no?’ With her job test in two days, Kirti had taken a study leave.

‘But I have some work in the bank.’

‘Then take along my passbook and cheque as well. Withdraw some cash and also get my passbook updated. My FD due date was two weeks ago. Check that and get it rolled over.’

‘I’ll have to go to the main branch then. Tell Biplab to do that.’

‘The bank staff knows you. With Biplab, they will bring all sorts of technicalities and formalities asking for my presence.’

XxxX

It took some ten minutes to recognize the old woman.

Kirti had been standing in a queue, waiting for her to get her grandmother’s passbook updated when a woman whose turn had arrived, put her book into the kiosk but the machine would keep rejecting. It had happened for three times now and the two customers behind the elderly lady had begun to fidget, beginning to educate her about the whole technique, drop casual remarks like, ‘Bring your grandson or daughter in law from next time.’

The one in front of Kirti said, ‘See, how her hand trembles. How has her family allowed her out alone?’

Unmindful of the impatient gestures of others around her, the lady dressed in a dim purple plain Lucknawi chikankari suit, continued to try. It was only in the fifth try that the machine swallowed up her book, beginning to tattle as it started scribbling the banking details on it.

‘Namaste Dadimaa,’ Kirti greeted her later on as she waited for the woman on Counter No.2, who had gone on a washroom break, return. Kirti hadn’t been sure but then the name on the Cheque slip, Mrinalini Aggarwal, had killed her doubts.

Two small eyes peered back at her from behind brown rimmed, thick spectacles.

‘I am Kirti, Dadimaa. Nishit’s friend. I used to visit your home. You used to bring us Litchis.’ When no sign of recognition flashed through the woman’s face, Kirti added, ‘I had come to the hospital.’

‘Oh ho…Chiku’s friend. Chinki?’ Kirti coloured at the reminder of the cringey name. Despite having corrected Nishit’s grandmother so many times in the past, Mrinalini had stuck to calling her Chinki. It seemd she had fondness for such names Chika Chiki names.

‘Kirti, Dadimaa.’

‘Yes, yes. Chiku’s friend, Chinki. You had come to the hospital and had brought apples. Now, I remember.’

‘Ji Dadimaa. How have you been?’

‘I am good. I am good.’ Mrinalini nodded her head. She had bags of vegetables and fruits around her and looked like she had made a trip to the market before coming to the bank.

‘You are here alone, Dadimaa?’

‘Why does everyone ask the same question?’ Mrinalini asked sharply. ‘I am not so old that I need others to supervise my actions.’

‘Pardon me, Dadimaa.’

‘I started living separate for the exact same reason. My daughter in law, she would poke her nose in every matter. Don’t do this…don’t eat that…don’t go out…My son the zoru ka gulam that he is, he would keep nodding to his wife’s words…Arrey Bhai I say, Your father is dying old, he got a heart attack, I did not, I am not old. I am very fit. I do anlom vilom every morning. I do all my chores on my own. I need no one to dictate my actions. After all these years at least now I should be allowed to live my life on my own terms! I said and left the house. My Chiku, he tried to persuade me, but I stood my ground. I said, beta you go to your work and I am left alone, staring out of the windows like an old jobless owl, I sit. I need to continue working. I need to be with my people. So, I shifted to my NGO. I live there. Look after the girls. The girls sit and talk with me at least. At home, there was no one who would spare a word to this old hag. Chiku used to sit with me when he was young, but then he began growing up…the bird has to fly off from the nest one day.’ Mrinalini sighed.

Nishit’s grandmother used to be strict and a few word woman. But old age had changed her, it seemed, Kirti thought, noticing the ravages of time on Mrinalini’s face.

‘What are you doing, Chinki? Did you get married? Doesn’t look like it. Chiku has also not married. Rati, remember our old maid, she lives with me , she tells me he has a girlfriend. Nowadays, it is very different. Earlier, we saw our partners on wedding nights. Had to do with whoever was chosen by our parents. My Chiku, he works in a very big company. Moved countries. What do you do? Chiku came back to India a few months ago. I wish he would spend some more time with me. How long since he has visited me! The girls are always happy when he comes. He would get them gifts from foreign countries and they would simper and giggle as he distributed them the presents. Young girls! Gives them something to dream and fantasize about. Your brother, how is he? My Chiku…’

Kirti did not get enough space to slip in words for Dadimaa spoke enough for the entire room. She nodded as she listened to Mrinalini sing praises of her Chiku and all his achievements in full swing.

Later when she was done with her work, she waited for Mrinalini to finish too.

‘Should I drop you, Dadimaa?’

‘Arrey no, no. I will call my driver.’ Mrinalini began punching numbers in an outdated phone model. ‘How long will it take?’ She asked the man over the phone. ‘Ok, don’t come. I met an acquaintance in the bank. She will drop me.’

‘Let’s go, Chinki. I will show you my institute and will introduce you to my girls. You’d love them.’

XxxX

Rimjhim tapped her pen on the desk as she worked on the latest additions to the guest list of Diwali function. The save the date cards had already been sent out three weeks ago.

Her daughter who sat with a thick novel in her lap, the pages of it flipping wildly with the wind, was actually wool gathering. There was a distant look in her eyes as she stared out of French doors, looking into the lawn.

Something was up with the girl, Rimjhim thought. She would have to talk with her. She’d do that. One of these days. Now, she needed to take care of the invitations.

Her son had added a few new names. Her husband had also handed her a list of names he had forgotten to add earlier. Then, she had been debating whether to include a few names herself. Her dilemma had been specifically about a certain Ahilya Lokhande. The notoriously popular Ahilya Lokhande. In a very small frame of time, she had become a hit in their community. Like her or hate her, you couldn’t ignore her. Nothing like her to spice up a party.

But her brother in law and his wife would be arriving too. It could become awkward.

To invite or not to invite.

‘Mom,’ Prasanna suddenly turned. ‘You’re adding new names to the list right? Can you add two of my friends too?’

‘Who would they be?’

‘Kirti and Biplab’

XxxX

The lift door was going to shut close when a woman’s loud and clear, ‘WAIT! STOP!!’ caused him to put his foot between the sliding doors.

The woman rushed in, her smile beaming and appreciative. She wore a pink fitting tank top and high waist dark leggings, her hair tied up in a high ponytail.

‘Thanks!’ She said with an accent. He acknowledged with a nod before returning to his phone.

‘Nishit Aggawal, finally we meet,’ she said with a soft drawl, her voice warm and deep.

He turned finally, giving her full attention. She had an imposing height, still reaching only his chin. Blemish free olive skin, sharp features and a small dot on her cheek just below the left eye.

‘Do I know you?’ He asked with a slight tilt of his head.

‘We have come across each other but have never been formally introduced. I have met your parents though.’

He nodded in response.

‘I am your neighbor. Apartment 303. I shifted a week ago.'

‘Cool’

‘You won’t ask my name? How ungentlemanly of you Nishit!’

‘My bad. Apologies, Ma’am.’ He said with a boyish charm. Then sticking his hand out, he said, ‘Nishit Aggarwal’

She took her hands in a firm handshake. ‘Ahilya Lokhande.’

‘Nice to meet you, Ms.Lokhande.’

‘Oh please drop the formalities will you? Call me by my name.’

‘Ahilya then, nice to make your acquaintance.’

She flicked her hair and he felt a familiar pulse in his stomach. ‘Urmii. I prefer Urmii.’