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Chapter Ten
Past
Two solid hours after Daadi had left, the doorbell rang. Maan jumped up from his wide desk, abandoning his work. He hoped Daadi hadn't returned to harass him again.
Maan pulled the door open to reveal Farah, one of his classmates, at the threshold. "Hey," she greeted. "Sorry I'm late, I was visiting my older sister and her new baby."
Maan blinked. "Uh . . . . That's okay."
"You didn't forget about us studying, did you?" Farah tugged on the strap of her backpack and eyed him suspiciously.
"Uh . . . ." Maan rubbed his temples, chagrined. He couldn't believe that Farah's plan to drop by had slipped his mind. He had even told Daadi just a few hours earlier about their study session.
Farah rolled her eyes good naturedly and swept past him. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"
Maan watched her plop down at his desk. Her dark hair was piled up on her head in a bun, and she donned a plain yellow top and dark jeans. Even in her simplicity, she was beautiful.
Farah was also the sharpest and most talented student in his cohort. The year before, they had randomly been paired together for a group project. Since then, they held periodic study sessions. Even half a year after splitting with Sameera, Maan found it hard to concentrate at times. Studying with Farah helped him focus.
"Well, I'll forgive your forgetfulness," Farah said. "I'm in a good mood. My new nephew is adorable! My sister just adopted him, do you want to see?" Farah reached into her bag and fished out a small, leather-bound photo album.
"Maybe later," Maan replied uneasily. He doubted that he would welcome the sight of any infant at the moment.
"All right." Farah dropped the album on his marble coffee table. "Ready to get to the four problem sets?" she asked, sticking a pencil behind her ear.
"Four? I thought it was three." Maan scratched his neck. He cursed heartache, which appeared to trigger memory loss as a side effect.
"No, it's four."
Maan graced her with a smile that refused to reach his eyes. "Good thing you remembered. Thanks."
Farah ducked her head slightly, hoping that her long lashes hid her eyes. Even Maan's half-hearted smile was enough to set off sparkles in them.
---
"Thanks for coming. Next time, I'll remember our plans." Maan walked his study partner to the door, satisfied that they had been able to complete the problem sets in a reasonable amount of time.
"We'll see about that," Farah teased, shrugging on her backpack and stepping into the hall. She lingered outside for an extra beat. "See you. Take care, okay?"
"You, too. Bye."
As soon as Maan closed the door, Daadi's lecture from earlier that day began to replay in his head. As if her comments were just waiting to infect his mind once he no longer needed it to contemplate engineering concepts.
Maan approached his mini wine-cellar, adjacent to the kitchen, and poured a tall glass of wine. He leaned against the wall, scanning his upscale flat. The day after Sameera had left, he had replaced all his furniture. He couldn't bear looking at the sofa, where they had snuggled under shared blankets. The dining room table, where he had served her over candlelight. The bedroom, where he had physically expressed his devotion and longing.
The kitchen table, where she had destroyed him with her announcement.
"Snap out of it," he muttered. But Maan could feel his hand trembling, could see the wine sloshing around in the glass. *It wasn't supposed to be this way,* he thought fiercely. He wasn't supposed to bear boulders on his conscience because he was responsible for--what had Daadi said?--"continuing the family line." If only Daadi knew that he had been so close to extending the Khurana lineage with Sameera . . . . Well, so he had thought.
Maan slid down the wall, the glass slipping from his hand and tumbling to the floor. Wine pooled at his feet. "I can't do this," he whispered, cradling his head in his hands. When would the pain stop?
Minutes, or perhaps hours, passed. At last, Maan dragged himself from the floor.
Something golden-brown on his coffee table caught his eye. Groaning, Maan realized that Farah had forgotten her photo album. Without thinking, he began flipping through the pictures. The child -- Farah's adopted nephew -- appeared to be a smiling, happy baby. One photo captured a man, presumably Farah's brother-in-law, cradling his son and beaming. Maan snapped the photo album shut. *He* was supposed to be a proud father in a photograph.
*I expect you to fulfill your responsibilities and produce me a great-grandchild, do you hear me?* Daadi had said. *I don't know how much time I have left.*
Maan screwed his eyes shut, tossed the album back on the table, and trudged to the bedroom. Sleep had never been more inviting.
Chapter Eleven
Present
"I'm an excellent babysitter, Professor Khurana," Geet said, balancing her phone between her cheek and shoulder. She hoped she sounded convincing -- especially because she, in fact, had very little experience watching children.
"Well, I appreciate the offer," Maan said, his voice uncertain. "This is, ah, a little unexpected. Is your living space fit for a child? Riya, my daughter, is six."
Panic rose in Geet's chest. Her plan wouldn't work if she had to watch the child in *her* home.
"Actually, Professor, I'd rather attend to her in your house. My flat is pretty small." Geet glanced around her tiny living quarters. At least that was true. "And your daughter, well -- she's probably most comfortable in her own home," she added hastily.
"Indeed," Maan said gruffly. "All right. Please come by my home on Saturday so you can meet Riya. We'll go from there. By the way, so you know in advance, there is no Mrs. Khurana."
---
Seated in the foyer of Maan's house -- mansion was more appropriate -- Geet smoothed her hands over her knee-length cotton dress. She clutched her purse, and traced the outline of the candle she carried.
The week had crawled by. Geet had set aside time every day to mentally prepare herself for being in Maan's home. Although Maan had arranged for a driver to pick up Geet, she had opted to take the bus. She had reached early, and after being ushered inside by one of his staff members, was waiting nervously.
And then there he was, walking down the large staircase toward her, confidence and perhaps cockiness trailing closely behind. Even though it was a Saturday, he wore a tailored suit and a serious expression. Geet's heart stuttered. Although she had seen him mere days ago, it was hard to believe that it was really him.
*Control, Geet,* she willed. *You've prepped yourself all week. Do not ruin this. Follow the plan.*
"Good morning." Maan extended his hand, which Geet shook. "Any trouble getting here?"
"Good morning, Professor. I got here just fine, thank you." Geet shuddered slightly at the touch of his hand. *Control, control . . . .*
"My daughter, Riya, should be here shortly," Maan said. "She -- oh, sweetheart, there you are!" Riya had suddenly appeared behind her father, toting a teddy bear that appeared to be wearing a vest backward.
Geet jumped in surprise, then took a few moments to regain her composure. "Hello," she said, smiling brightly. "I'm Miss Geet. Is your name Riya?"
Maan attempted to nudge Riya forward, but she refused to budge. "Baby, we talked about Miss Geet last night, remember? Because you might need a babysitter for when Daddy has to work late?"
Riya peered at Geet from behind Maan's waist, clutching her toy tightly. Geet marveled at how similar Riya's eyes were to Maan's. Such intense, probing orbs they possessed.
"How about you introduce yourself, sweetie?" Maan urged.
When Riya remained silent, Geet decided to act. "That is a very handsome bear," she said warmly. "Does he have a name?"
"Teddy," Riya said, barely audible.
"I like his vest very much," Geet said.
Hesitantly, Riya took a small step toward Geet. "It's his favorite one," she stated, her voice a bit louder.
"Would you like me to help you turn his vest around for you?" Geet asked.
Riya shook her head vigorously. "Teddy likes to wear it backward." She paused, then covered the stuffed animal's ears with her palms. "He told me he can suck in his tummy better that way," she whispered. "Teddy is on a diet."
Maan smiled at his daughter, then watched as Geet tilted her head back and giggled like chimes tinkling in a breeze.
"I have other toys, too," Riya stated proudly. "Daddy got them all for me. I will bring down more." She sped toward the staircase, then bumped hard into an ornate lamp.
"Riya!" Maan shouted, racing toward her with Geet at his heels.
Riya clutched her knee, tears cascading down her cheeks. "Daddy, the lamp hit me!" she cried. Blood began trickling down her leg.
Maan lifted her into his arms and raced toward one of the first floor bathrooms. Geet followed closely, holding Teddy.
"Does it hurt really bad, my love?" Maan asked anxiously as Riya began to wail. He seated his daughter on the sink counter and pulled out a first aid kit from the medicine cabinet.
As Maan cleaned Riya's wound, Geet brushed the little girl's hair out of her eyes. "Everything will be all right," she reassured soothingly. "Look, Teddy is right here." Geet brought the stuffed bear to Riya's cheek and made a kissing sound.
Riya's cries softened into sniffles. She gathered Teddy into her arms and smiled slightly up at Geet.
As Maan watched the exchange between the two, something -- he couldn't identify what it was -- stirred inside him. He shook away the disconcerting feeling, pressing a large band-aid on Riya's knee and dropping a kiss on top of it. "All better, sweetheart?"
Riya nodded. "Daddy, you are magic."
The two adults laughed, and Geet couldn't resist touching Riya's cheek affectionately.
"How about we all go see your toys?" Maan suggested, pulling Riya off the counter and balancing her on his hip. The three left the bathroom and ascended the staircase, turning down a spacious hall and toward one of Riya's playrooms.
Maan stopped as the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. "Please excuse me, I'll be right back," he said, setting Riya down and walking in the opposite direction -- to the master bedroom, Geet presumed.
Geet thought fast. Maan wasn't with them. Now was the time. "Sweetie," she began carefully. "Does your daddy do all of his work at school?"
"No, sometimes he works in the study." Riya bent down to examine her band-aid.
Geet had figured as such. "Oh, I see. Where is that?"
"I will show you," Riya said importantly. She walked down the hall and pointed to the last door on the left. Geet peeked inside to see a room containing bookshelves, various furniture, a large oak desk, and a heavy chest of drawers lining the wall. *Step one of the plan -- check,* she thought.
---
Although she had taken a bus to the interview, Maan had insisted that one of his drivers escort Geet home. In the backseat, she leaned her head against the window, reflecting on the end of the visit. Maan had told her that although the initial meeting had went well, he wanted to do a full dry-run with her as a babysitter on Monday: He would be at home while Geet watched Riya that evening.
"I don't mean to hover or anything of the sort," he had said. "But even though I have a staff here, I've always managed to raise Riya myself. It's important to me that her babysitter fits the bill."
Geet had agreed at once, hopeful that she hadn't seemed overeager. Back in Maan's home the day after tomorrow? Maybe this would be easier than she thought . . . .
"Right here, please," Geet said to the driver. "Thank you, and please give Professor Khurana my thanks as well." The car stopped in front of a small chapel a few blocks from her flat.
As Geet got out of the car, she double checked that her candle was still tucked safely in her purse. She steeled herself for the umpteenth time that week and walked slowly into the chapel that she knew all too well.
---
Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you thought.
Chapter Ten
Past
Two solid hours after Daadi had left, the doorbell rang. Maan jumped up from his wide desk, abandoning his work. He hoped Daadi hadn't returned to harass him again.
Maan pulled the door open to reveal Farah, one of his classmates, at the threshold. "Hey," she greeted. "Sorry I'm late, I was visiting my older sister and her new baby."
Maan blinked. "Uh . . . . That's okay."
"You didn't forget about us studying, did you?" Farah tugged on the strap of her backpack and eyed him suspiciously.
"Uh . . . ." Maan rubbed his temples, chagrined. He couldn't believe that Farah's plan to drop by had slipped his mind. He had even told Daadi just a few hours earlier about their study session.
Farah rolled her eyes good naturedly and swept past him. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"
Maan watched her plop down at his desk. Her dark hair was piled up on her head in a bun, and she donned a plain yellow top and dark jeans. Even in her simplicity, she was beautiful.
Farah was also the sharpest and most talented student in his cohort. The year before, they had randomly been paired together for a group project. Since then, they held periodic study sessions. Even half a year after splitting with Sameera, Maan found it hard to concentrate at times. Studying with Farah helped him focus.
"Well, I'll forgive your forgetfulness," Farah said. "I'm in a good mood. My new nephew is adorable! My sister just adopted him, do you want to see?" Farah reached into her bag and fished out a small, leather-bound photo album.
"Maybe later," Maan replied uneasily. He doubted that he would welcome the sight of any infant at the moment.
"All right." Farah dropped the album on his marble coffee table. "Ready to get to the four problem sets?" she asked, sticking a pencil behind her ear.
"Four? I thought it was three." Maan scratched his neck. He cursed heartache, which appeared to trigger memory loss as a side effect.
"No, it's four."
Maan graced her with a smile that refused to reach his eyes. "Good thing you remembered. Thanks."
Farah ducked her head slightly, hoping that her long lashes hid her eyes. Even Maan's half-hearted smile was enough to set off sparkles in them.
---
"Thanks for coming. Next time, I'll remember our plans." Maan walked his study partner to the door, satisfied that they had been able to complete the problem sets in a reasonable amount of time.
"We'll see about that," Farah teased, shrugging on her backpack and stepping into the hall. She lingered outside for an extra beat. "See you. Take care, okay?"
"You, too. Bye."
As soon as Maan closed the door, Daadi's lecture from earlier that day began to replay in his head. As if her comments were just waiting to infect his mind once he no longer needed it to contemplate engineering concepts.
Maan approached his mini wine-cellar, adjacent to the kitchen, and poured a tall glass of wine. He leaned against the wall, scanning his upscale flat. The day after Sameera had left, he had replaced all his furniture. He couldn't bear looking at the sofa, where they had snuggled under shared blankets. The dining room table, where he had served her over candlelight. The bedroom, where he had physically expressed his devotion and longing.
The kitchen table, where she had destroyed him with her announcement.
"Snap out of it," he muttered. But Maan could feel his hand trembling, could see the wine sloshing around in the glass. *It wasn't supposed to be this way,* he thought fiercely. He wasn't supposed to bear boulders on his conscience because he was responsible for--what had Daadi said?--"continuing the family line." If only Daadi knew that he had been so close to extending the Khurana lineage with Sameera . . . . Well, so he had thought.
Maan slid down the wall, the glass slipping from his hand and tumbling to the floor. Wine pooled at his feet. "I can't do this," he whispered, cradling his head in his hands. When would the pain stop?
Minutes, or perhaps hours, passed. At last, Maan dragged himself from the floor.
Something golden-brown on his coffee table caught his eye. Groaning, Maan realized that Farah had forgotten her photo album. Without thinking, he began flipping through the pictures. The child -- Farah's adopted nephew -- appeared to be a smiling, happy baby. One photo captured a man, presumably Farah's brother-in-law, cradling his son and beaming. Maan snapped the photo album shut. *He* was supposed to be a proud father in a photograph.
*I expect you to fulfill your responsibilities and produce me a great-grandchild, do you hear me?* Daadi had said. *I don't know how much time I have left.*
Maan screwed his eyes shut, tossed the album back on the table, and trudged to the bedroom. Sleep had never been more inviting.
Chapter Eleven
Present
"I'm an excellent babysitter, Professor Khurana," Geet said, balancing her phone between her cheek and shoulder. She hoped she sounded convincing -- especially because she, in fact, had very little experience watching children.
"Well, I appreciate the offer," Maan said, his voice uncertain. "This is, ah, a little unexpected. Is your living space fit for a child? Riya, my daughter, is six."
Panic rose in Geet's chest. Her plan wouldn't work if she had to watch the child in *her* home.
"Actually, Professor, I'd rather attend to her in your house. My flat is pretty small." Geet glanced around her tiny living quarters. At least that was true. "And your daughter, well -- she's probably most comfortable in her own home," she added hastily.
"Indeed," Maan said gruffly. "All right. Please come by my home on Saturday so you can meet Riya. We'll go from there. By the way, so you know in advance, there is no Mrs. Khurana."
---
Seated in the foyer of Maan's house -- mansion was more appropriate -- Geet smoothed her hands over her knee-length cotton dress. She clutched her purse, and traced the outline of the candle she carried.
The week had crawled by. Geet had set aside time every day to mentally prepare herself for being in Maan's home. Although Maan had arranged for a driver to pick up Geet, she had opted to take the bus. She had reached early, and after being ushered inside by one of his staff members, was waiting nervously.
And then there he was, walking down the large staircase toward her, confidence and perhaps cockiness trailing closely behind. Even though it was a Saturday, he wore a tailored suit and a serious expression. Geet's heart stuttered. Although she had seen him mere days ago, it was hard to believe that it was really him.
*Control, Geet,* she willed. *You've prepped yourself all week. Do not ruin this. Follow the plan.*
"Good morning." Maan extended his hand, which Geet shook. "Any trouble getting here?"
"Good morning, Professor. I got here just fine, thank you." Geet shuddered slightly at the touch of his hand. *Control, control . . . .*
"My daughter, Riya, should be here shortly," Maan said. "She -- oh, sweetheart, there you are!" Riya had suddenly appeared behind her father, toting a teddy bear that appeared to be wearing a vest backward.
Geet jumped in surprise, then took a few moments to regain her composure. "Hello," she said, smiling brightly. "I'm Miss Geet. Is your name Riya?"
Maan attempted to nudge Riya forward, but she refused to budge. "Baby, we talked about Miss Geet last night, remember? Because you might need a babysitter for when Daddy has to work late?"
Riya peered at Geet from behind Maan's waist, clutching her toy tightly. Geet marveled at how similar Riya's eyes were to Maan's. Such intense, probing orbs they possessed.
"How about you introduce yourself, sweetie?" Maan urged.
When Riya remained silent, Geet decided to act. "That is a very handsome bear," she said warmly. "Does he have a name?"
"Teddy," Riya said, barely audible.
"I like his vest very much," Geet said.
Hesitantly, Riya took a small step toward Geet. "It's his favorite one," she stated, her voice a bit louder.
"Would you like me to help you turn his vest around for you?" Geet asked.
Riya shook her head vigorously. "Teddy likes to wear it backward." She paused, then covered the stuffed animal's ears with her palms. "He told me he can suck in his tummy better that way," she whispered. "Teddy is on a diet."
Maan smiled at his daughter, then watched as Geet tilted her head back and giggled like chimes tinkling in a breeze.
"I have other toys, too," Riya stated proudly. "Daddy got them all for me. I will bring down more." She sped toward the staircase, then bumped hard into an ornate lamp.
"Riya!" Maan shouted, racing toward her with Geet at his heels.
Riya clutched her knee, tears cascading down her cheeks. "Daddy, the lamp hit me!" she cried. Blood began trickling down her leg.
Maan lifted her into his arms and raced toward one of the first floor bathrooms. Geet followed closely, holding Teddy.
"Does it hurt really bad, my love?" Maan asked anxiously as Riya began to wail. He seated his daughter on the sink counter and pulled out a first aid kit from the medicine cabinet.
As Maan cleaned Riya's wound, Geet brushed the little girl's hair out of her eyes. "Everything will be all right," she reassured soothingly. "Look, Teddy is right here." Geet brought the stuffed bear to Riya's cheek and made a kissing sound.
Riya's cries softened into sniffles. She gathered Teddy into her arms and smiled slightly up at Geet.
As Maan watched the exchange between the two, something -- he couldn't identify what it was -- stirred inside him. He shook away the disconcerting feeling, pressing a large band-aid on Riya's knee and dropping a kiss on top of it. "All better, sweetheart?"
Riya nodded. "Daddy, you are magic."
The two adults laughed, and Geet couldn't resist touching Riya's cheek affectionately.
"How about we all go see your toys?" Maan suggested, pulling Riya off the counter and balancing her on his hip. The three left the bathroom and ascended the staircase, turning down a spacious hall and toward one of Riya's playrooms.
Maan stopped as the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. "Please excuse me, I'll be right back," he said, setting Riya down and walking in the opposite direction -- to the master bedroom, Geet presumed.
Geet thought fast. Maan wasn't with them. Now was the time. "Sweetie," she began carefully. "Does your daddy do all of his work at school?"
"No, sometimes he works in the study." Riya bent down to examine her band-aid.
Geet had figured as such. "Oh, I see. Where is that?"
"I will show you," Riya said importantly. She walked down the hall and pointed to the last door on the left. Geet peeked inside to see a room containing bookshelves, various furniture, a large oak desk, and a heavy chest of drawers lining the wall. *Step one of the plan -- check,* she thought.
---
Although she had taken a bus to the interview, Maan had insisted that one of his drivers escort Geet home. In the backseat, she leaned her head against the window, reflecting on the end of the visit. Maan had told her that although the initial meeting had went well, he wanted to do a full dry-run with her as a babysitter on Monday: He would be at home while Geet watched Riya that evening.
"I don't mean to hover or anything of the sort," he had said. "But even though I have a staff here, I've always managed to raise Riya myself. It's important to me that her babysitter fits the bill."
Geet had agreed at once, hopeful that she hadn't seemed overeager. Back in Maan's home the day after tomorrow? Maybe this would be easier than she thought . . . .
"Right here, please," Geet said to the driver. "Thank you, and please give Professor Khurana my thanks as well." The car stopped in front of a small chapel a few blocks from her flat.
As Geet got out of the car, she double checked that her candle was still tucked safely in her purse. She steeled herself for the umpteenth time that week and walked slowly into the chapel that she knew all too well.
---
Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you thought.
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Bade Achche Lagte Hain Naya Season
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