Category: Chapters

Chapter Five: Appetence

~ mirabell ~ 94 Comments

When I look around me and find myself alone, I sigh for you again; little sigh, and vain sigh, which will not bring you home.

–Emily Dickinson

 

Humans seem to have a strange relationship with time, almost adversarial. It seemed like it was a tyranny of the moment; when in joy, time flies and when in sorrow, time lingers. So what of people like me, thought Khushi, who seemed to be caught in a past that seems to be more alive than the present?

Holding NK’s picture frame in her hands, she realized that time was marching on, but he seemed frozen in the frame that bound him in more ways than one. In a few months it would be two years since he died and left her behind, she thought. Her penchant for remembering the exact number of days insisted it was one year, seven months and ten days since he died. The clock ticked in her head, an incessant tick-tock and her feeble walls of restrain did the arithmetic.  Perhaps this is what survivors did, count the days and minutes of their own survival. Khushi wasn’t entirely sure when she began, perhaps when her parents died? She remembered those seconds turning into minutes, which slowly turned into hours which morphed into days leaving her in a fugue that was at once familiar and strange. It still felt like all it took was just one second for everything to change. All it took was also a few seconds at different intervals for her to lose her friend, her lover…. She shook herself vigorously out of that memory, forcing herself to close her eyes and breathe, counting every breath.

 

While the inevitable clock ticked, he would stay frozen in his thirty two-year-old dimpled smile. She had taken that picture of him when he was walking towards her, forcing her to walk backwards. He wanted her to stop taking his pictures, complaining that they didn’t have enough of hers. He was going to grab the camera from her. Her shot captured his eyes, intent with his wicked smile, throwing his dimples for the entire world to see as he reached for her camera. Her lean fingers traced her Naren’s cheeks, his dimples and slowly moved to his lips.

 

She missed his kisses, those toe-curling, knee-buckling kisses that used to stop time for both of them. She missed his fingers in her hair, holding her head while he kissed her, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. She missed how his body would catch hers when she leaned into him as her knees gave way. She closed her eyes, willing her mind to recall the sensations as she brought her lips to the cold glass that trapped his image, beyond her reach. There was no warmth there as her lips felt the lifeless glass. The shock of cold glass forced her eyes open only to realize the harsh reality of his absence.  This gut wrenching frustration is what death leaves behind, she had come to realize. There was no negotiation with death, no warranty or no guarantee and no return policy; when he was gone, he was gone. That was that.

 

The ring of her cell phone brought her back to the present. Yet she was loathe to leave her past, these few elusive moments when she could travel back in her mind to be with him. The insistence of the rings compelled her to return to her present. It was Lavanya calling her.

 

“Hey! Are you guys coming soon? I need my troops to rally for me and the twins are asking for Mira!” It took Khushi a few seconds to gather herself. Lavanya was quick to pick up on it. “You okay babe?” concern in her voice. For some reason that concern irked her at that moment. It was the weight of it, the untold pressure that she felt to allay Lavanya’s worry, while scrambling to hold her own pieces of broken self together for Mira and Amma.

 

“Khushi?” Lavanya’s voice rang through insistently.

 

“Yes. We are leaving in a few minutes” reassured Khushi, placing the photo back on her bedside table gently before walking out of her room towards the living room.

 

“Er.. Khushi,.. are you still there? Thought I should let you know, Akash and Pallavi will be there too. Okay?”

 

“Of course.” Why was Lavanya worried about Pallavi and Akash being there? That seemed strange to Khushi as the three of them, Akash, Lavanya and Khushi met every sunday, almost every week. When NK was alive, all four of them met often, but this once a week get together became a ritual for the three of them after NK died. Khushi knew that Lavanya and Akash missed NK as much as she did or perhaps more. They had been buddies and friends since their undergrad days in Delhi. The three of them welcomed Khushi into their fold in Delhi then, and now the two of them became Khushi’s axis for strength and support.

 

This lunch was going to be at Lavanya’s place. André Mendez, Lavanya’s husband had known Khushi and Akash for as long as he had known Lavanya. In fact, André and NK were grad-school buddies and it was NK who was instrumental in Lavanya and André getting together. This every-sunday- lunch, which often turned into dinner, was a highlight not only for Khushi, but for Mira as well as she got to play big sister to Lavanya’s and André’s twins.

 

“Are we leaving soon Mommy?” Mira’s curls bounced as she pushed her glasses up her slim nose.

 

“Yes. We are waiting for Paatti. Can you go check on her darling?” asked Khushi.

 

Soon they were driving down the interstate with Mira in the back seat on her booster and Manorama, belted in the front seat. It took some convincing, but Manorama finally gave in to Khushi’s arguments about wearing salwar-kameez rather than her usual saris. Khushi could predict with ease that Manorama’s crisply starched and ironed cotton sari would meet its crumpled end within the first few minutes of her visit with the twins. The ensuing image of Manorama with Lavanya’s twins brought a smile to her lips as she drove the near empty roads on Sunday morning.

 

Her mother-in-law was a woman of confirmed customs.  And wearing anything other than a sari while going visiting was something close to sacrilege for her. Since her husband’s demise, Manorama abided by this self imposed strict code of widowhood upon herself. She gave up her usual adornments, including her diamond nose ring, denied herself all color in her attire. It took NK and Khushi months to convince her otherwise. She did slowly acquiesce to wearing her nose pin and eased color into her wardrobe, but she still refused to wear a bindi on her forehead. However none of these codes were applicable to Khushi, Manorama declared vehemently. She was from another generation and all the codes held relevance to her and her generation alone. Most definitely not for Khushi.

 

It wasn’t about adherence to these cultural codes for Khushi. It was that she didn’t desire adornment. It held no appeal, it was as if bereavement and sorrow left no room for anything else. The emptiness she felt echoed in every aspect of her life. It filled her entire being and soul.

 

Widowhood was not about the denial of material things, it was about the absence of desire for such adornment.

 

It was as if there was no room for any more joy or happiness in life. For Khushi, the only exception was Mira, her only source of happiness and joy. Her hand slowly reached for NK’s wedding ring that she wore on her neck as a pendant. Her eyes caught her thin wedding band that she continued to wear on her own left hand.

 

“Mommy, are we bringing my swimsuit?” Mira’s question forced her out of her thoughts. Nodding her head to indicate that they indeed were, Khushi slowly pulled into Lavanya’s driveway.

 

As she predicted, it was a rambunctious meeting between Manorama and the twins. Lavanya’s identical twins, Gagan and Neron, pounced on her as if in a race to see who would slobber her with their kisses first. Khushi could see that Gagan was now sitting on her lap with Neron hanging on to her back, as they took turns showing her their new toys and finding reasons to climb into her lap. It was her mother-in-law’s ability to morph herself to suit the children and play with them accordingly. It always brought a smile and warmth to Khushi’s heart to witness this grown up play like the children she was with. She saw this in NK first, and realized that he was like his mother through and through.

 

The boys’ names were the equivalent of Akash’s and Naren’s names, one in Hindi that Lavanya chose and the other in Spanish that André picked. It was a testament of Lavanya’s and even André’s love for both Akash and NK. It pinched Khushi’s heart that Lavanya’s boys will never know NK as they were just about a year old when he passed away.

 

Khushi sighed at the sight in Lavanya’s backyard. Lavanya had turned the sprinklers on so that the children could cool off in the summer’s heat. All three kids were now running through the sprinklers, squealing with delight and laughter. Akash, André and Pallavi were sitting under the big umbrella, with Manorama watching over the children as they ran around the manicured lawn. Pallavi had her legs stretched on to Akash’s lap, her last trimester fatigue clearly visible on her face. She had four weeks before her due date.

 

Pallavi was the latest addition to their circle of friendship. Pallavi and Akash Myer were going to be parents for the first time. Their marriage was one that was arranged by their parents. It worked for both of them very well. Khushi and Lavanya knew that it wasn’t easy for Pallavi to enter this tight knit friendship circle. But Khushi was grateful for Pallavi’s generosity when it came to Akash’s friends. She stood by him when Akash dealt with NK’s death, not only emotionally, but also in terms of organizing his death ceremonies, hospital bills and other logistics of NK’s passing. Even though Pallavi was the newest member of this coterie, she was no less significant than the rest. Khushi could see Akash’s tenderness towards his wife as he massaged her swollen feet.

 

Back in the kitchen, Lavanya was preparing lemonades for all, specially spiked ones with beer and vodka for adults and with crushed ice for the kids, Pallavi and Manorama.

 

“All well with you babe?” Lavanya asked as she reached for the glasses behind Khushi.

 

“Huh Uh” murmured Khushi, stealing a piece of sliced watermelon from the bowl that Lavanya had arranged.

 

“How was lunch?”

 

“Lunch?” Khushi knew what Lavanya was referring to, but wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. She leaned over to pick another sliced piece of watermelon. Lavanya was quick to move the bowl from Khushi’s reach and looked at her pointedly without saying another word. If Lavanya’s eyebrows rose any further, they would be lost in her hair.

 

“Lunch with Arn…er… ASR?” asked Khushi.

 

“Unless you had a rocking date with someone else hot that I don’t know of.” Pat came response from Lavanya.

 

With a sheepish look, Khushi conceded with a smile. “It was nice Lav” she shrugged, turning to look out of her big kitchen window. André was carrying Mira piggyback with his twin boys clutching his legs, one kid on each of his legs. He looked like he was being attacked by the three kids with loud squeals.

 

“Nice? That’s it?” Brevity was Lavanya’s tactic to get Khushi to talk.

 

Khushi turned away from the window to face Lavanya. “What do you want me to say Lav?” she asked. “It was … awkward, very awkward initially, strange and surreal after that. Weird for the rest of the time until we started talking about his son, Mohan.” She had a small smile on her face at that thought. Shaking her head, she said, “It was nice.”

 

“What did he want?”

 

“Huh? Nothing, he didn’t want anything.” Khushi was puzzled by Lavanya’s question. “He wanted to talk…He wanted to know what I do, work wise I mean.” Khushi could feel her face warm up. “He wanted to know what happened to NK.” She stopped. “He is a cardiologist, I guess he was curious.”

 

She looked out of the window again. Some one needed to rescue André from these three kids, she thought. All three had climbed on to him now, and André was lying on the blanket being tickled and pummeled. It looked like he was having way more fun than the children.

 

“And?” Tenacity, thy name is Lavanya thought Khushi.

 

“That’s it. I told him. I cried. He held my hands. He left.” Khushi extended her palms out to herself and looked at them anew, as if they held all the answers to Lavanya’s questions. She could see the thin ring on her finger, but that was all. She shrugged her shoulders in silence. Lavanya was puttering something.

 

Khushi looked outside the window without paying any attention anymore. Her mind went back to that moment of sheer distress she felt when she had explained how NK had died within a matter of hours. How her life had rocked and splintered to pieces in those very hours. She kept going back to that moment when Arnav held her hands within his and when words were dispensed with and solace was exchanged with compassion and fellowship. She looked quickly at Lavanya and looked away unsure of all that happened at that lunch.

 

“And?” Lavanya’s dogged questioning continued.

 

Before Khushi could form any answer, Akash walked into the kitchen. “I have been sent to fetch reinforcements of the cold kind and return ASAP” he announced with great drama. But within a moment, his drama took a back seat when he exchanged pointed looks with Lavanya. “Hey Khush” he said with a smile, dropping a kiss on her head and enveloping Khushi into a big hug. “So, how did the lunch go with ASR?”

 

“It was fine” replied Khushi looking away from Lavanya and Akash.

 

“Oh, so it has moved up a notch from nice to fine?” asked Lavanya with a raised perfectly arched eyebrow.

 

“I am sorry Khushi, I didn’t know that he was going to knock on your door.” There was contrition in Akash’s tone.

 

“Geez guys, will you two just chill?” Exasperation poured out of Khushi. “It was a lunch in a restaurant, and it was fine. It was awkward for a while, but he was just..” she paused trying to find words that felt appropriate.

 

“Kind and sympathetic. That’s all. Nothing else happened. He wanted to convey his condolences to me. He wanted to know what happened.. And.. Nothing else.” Khushi’s eyes flashed at both of them and her cheeks were pink with exertion. Was this an attempt at convincing herself Khushi wondered. Her protest seemed just a tad louder than warranted.

 

“Okay then.” Akash raised his eyebrows and his hands as if to say that he was backing off. “Kind and sympathetic is good.” He reiterated. “No, Lav?” He turned to Lavanya and Lavanya nodded her head emphatically in agreement. Both of them high-fived each other with identical smirks on their faces.

 

“Arggggg!” Khushi rolled her eyes at Lavanya and Akash and was about to stalk out of the kitchen when Akash caught her wrist and pulled her back into an apology-hug. Soon Lavanya joined the group hug and all three of them stayed together. This was what helped Khushi many a times, to stay afloat when all semblance of sanity fled and her entire world crashed. And her world did crash periodically and frequently after NK died. This silent and very tangible connection with Lavanya and Akash was her stronghold. It may have helped all three of them.

 

An exaggerated clearing of throat soon followed by, “Err.. I can come back later, if this orgy is still in session” André announced with a grin. This was a sight André had come to expect whenever Khushi and Akash were at home with Lavanya. It was also a testament to the tight friendship that was also a kinship that formed amongst all their friends after NK’s passing. André had seen what NK’s death had done to his wife. Her despair often evident only to him, when she sobbed quietly into her pillow first and then in his arms.

 

“The drinks are on the counter, and don’t forget to take the watermelon as well.” André picked up the tray with the drinks and the fruit and bent down to kiss Khushi on top of her head and walked out calling, “Whoever is the last to get the drinks is a jackfruit!” Shrieks and giggles erupted in the backyard with pandemonium being the theme of the moment.

 

While the backyard was rowdy with both kids and adults alike, the kitchen turned silent with the three friends in their hug. Akash was the first to speak, as he moved to make space to face Khushi. “KK, I am glad it was fine and nice as you put it. If you are okay with it, we both are happy.” KK was Akash’s term of endearment for Khushi, a shortened version of Khushi Kumari Gupta. It was also a name that yielded the most ribbing and teasing, especially the kumari part, and especially after her wedding.

 

Akash and Lavanya were two sides of a coin, thought Khushi. While Akash was the softer, kinder one, Lavanya was often the one with strength that complemented Akash’s gentleness. Slowly moving out of the group hug, she nodded to no one in particular. She needed to breathe and sort her chaotic thoughts. She walked out to the backyard to join the tired but boisterous crowd. Akash and Lavanya exchanged looks and followed her. They needed to organize lunch.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

Post lunch somnolence saw the twins fast asleep in their room and Manorama taking a reluctant nap in the guest bedroom. Akash and Pallavi opted to sleep on the chaise lounge. Pallavi refused Lavanya’s offer of her bed, claiming symptoms of heartburn. She preferred to sleep upright, she said. André found himself on the picnic blanket, giving in to his need for a nap.

 

Adrian Mendez, André’s twin brother, showed up at lunch time and was now playing angry birds with Mira and losing by a mile if Mira’s periodic grunts and cries of victories were any indication. Another engineer and single, Adrian was a frequent visitor at André’s, and particularly on those days when Khushi made her visits. He was a kind and a gentle soul, less boisterous than his twin, but adored Mira and the twins. Lavanya and André were aware of Adrian’s interest in Khushi. It was impossible to ignore Adrian’s insistent eyes following Khushi from afar. Initially Khushi was completely unaware of Adrian’s attention, but lately there was a determination to his interest that Khushi had begun to notice. And having noticed that Khushi was finally aware his intentions, Adrian’s pursuit assumed a persistence that put Khushi on alert.

 

As soon as André fell asleep, Khushi pulled Lavanya to her feet and demanded, “Let’s go inside. It’s getting too hot here for me.”

 

“Does the hotness have anything to do with a certain twin’s unrelenting and may I add, unfulfilling regard for a certain happiness?” Lavanya giggled at her own clever verbosity, flicking a glance at Adrian who had his gaze locked on Khushi.

 

“Will you please stop?” Khushi pleaded softly “And get us going from here?” She continued “Please?”

 

Keenly aware of Adrian’s stare burning her back, Khushi walked swiftly into the house with Lavanya. She should have worn her jeans and kurti she thought. Instead here she was in shorts and a tank top, dressed for a hot afternoon in the sun.

 

“Is this what you were referring to, when you said, Akash and Pallavi were going to be here? Is that code for Adrian now?” Khushi demanded as they walked into Lavanya’s bedroom.

 

“Err.. sort of, huh.. maybe.” Lavanya said with nonchalance. “But what’s wrong with him Khushi? He is a nice guy, a good looking guy, if I may say so myself, given that he is my husband’s identical twin.” Lavanya smirked. The only difference between Adrian and André was the color of their eyes. While Adrian had light brown eyes, André had grey eyes. Both men were tall and had statuesque features.

 

“This is not for me. I don’t think I will be ready for this. Ever. Lav.” Khushi said softly, fingering NK’s ring that was held in the chain she wore around her neck.

 

All laughter fled from Lavanya’s face. Sadness settled like a shroud around the two friends. Lavanya slowly brought her own fingers to NK’s ring and caressed it. “I miss him so much, it hurts my stomach. There is pain in my jaw, in my neck and right here in my heart” she said softly, continuing to gently stroke his ring. “That bastard! He was supposed to be here, flaunting those damned dimples. I miss him.” Tears rolled down Lavanya’s cheeks and found fellowship with ones flowing down Khushi’s.

 

Arms circled each other and Khushi laid her head on Lavanya’s shoulder, breathing in her perfume. Two hearts bereaved for what they both lost. But hearts mended and sought life again. Lavanya knew that. She pulled back slowly to look into Khushi’s face. It was more a study, a contemplative look that she had.

 

“Do you think you’d want NK to live like how you are living if the roles were reversed, Khush?” Lavanya had a knack of stating harsh truths with such economy of words, thought Khushi.

 

Lavanya’s king size bed was covered with a quilt which had an intricate repeating geometric pattern. Khushi traced the squares absentmindedly, pointedly avoiding Lavanya’s question. How could she answer that question? How could anyone? Lifting her gaze to meet Lavanya’s she said, “I don’t know how to answer that question.” Honesty was the best policy.

 

“Alright, how about this one then? Do you think NK would like you to live like this, without making any attempts at seeking happiness for the rest of your life?” Another one from Lavanya’s quiver with an aim to die for.

 

“I don’t know Lav. I don’t know.” Khushi shook her head emphatically. This question was not the one she wanted to hear, nor contemplate or consider. There was too much risk involved in even acknowledging the question.

 

“Well, I know.” Lavanya was soft, but within her softness was a firmness that Khushi couldn’t overlook. “If I died first, I would want André to find love. I would never want him to be alone, never feel lonely, ever.” Lavanya was unequivocal in her words and in her opinions. Khushi knew of another person who did not mince words. No prevarications with Arnav Singh Raizada.

 

“Promise me that you will think about it, please?” Lavanya asked. Khushi nodded, more to conclude this line of thought, this conversation, than to concede. There was too much at stake here.

 

“So, now spill your beans about your lunch with ASR. I am neither happy nor am I satisfied with nice and fine.” Lavanya sat straighter, pulling Khushi towards herself. Both friends leaned against the tall upholstered headboard and stretched out their legs.

 

“What do you want to know?” A question reminiscent of her conversation with ASR.

 

“What did he say? What did he ask? What did he want? What does he do? Is he married? What do you know about him? What did you eat? What did he eat? Everything.”

 

“Woah.. hold on.. hold on..” Khushi smiled.

 

“Well, he didn’t want anything Lav. He didn’t know that I was a speech pathologist. He is a cardiologist, so I guess he was curious about NK’s cardiac arrest. He wanted to know the details of what happened.” Khushi traced the squares on the quilt with a precise rhythm that it was almost hypnotic. She shook her head and looked at Lavanya.

 

“He is divorced but is on good terms with his ex-wife, Maya. And she remarried right after their divorce.” Khushi waited for Lavanya’s reaction. Lavanya stayed silent, urging her to continue. Khushi took a deep breath and said, “He has a six year old son, Mohan Singh Raizada.” A smile crept on Khushi’s face. “He is beautiful, he has Arnav’s eyes” she said softly. “I got a distinct impression that that little boy rules Arnav’s life completely.” Her smile widened to extend to her eyes now. “Oh and Mohan stays with Arnav, not with his mom.” She finished with a flourish. “There is something about him.”

 

“Arnav Singh?” Lavanya interrupted.

 

Khushi shook her head, “No. Mohan. I mean, Mohan. There is something about that boy, I am not able to put my finger on.” She furrowed her brow recalling that anxious face in her mind’s eye as he reached for his father in the poolside photograph. “Anyway, he is cute.” Khushi looked at Lavanya and said, “Mohan, not Arnav, ok?”

 

“Hmmm” Lavanya murmured having noticed that it was Arnav, not ASR now. She looked at Khushi waiting for her to continue.

 

“That’s it Lav. Oh, we went to Medfest and I ordered combination platters for both of us. We both had water to drink.” Khushi straightened in her seat to mark the end of her presentation.

 

“Is he still in town?” Lavanya persisted.

 

“No, he left that night. He texted me from the airport. I think Akash dropped him. He stayed with Akash during his trip here.”

 

Akash called Khushi every Wednesday afternoon to check on her. It was their new routine. ASR was Akash’s first cousin and both men claimed a close relationship, as close as siblings. But that’s all she knew about their relationship. Khushi knew that both Akash and Lavanya were aware that she had a past with ASR, that something happened between the two of them. But they were not privy to the details of what happened.

 

“He, Arnav, that is,.. sent me a text after he reached Delhi.” Khushi felt compelled to offer this piece of information.

 

Had a good flight and am home now safe and sound. As promised here is my text – A.

 

Her phone had pinged in the middle of her session with a client and her heart soared silently. She had not responded to that text, unsure if she was expected to, while a part of her wanted to.

 

“So? Did you text him back?” Lavanya asked gently.

 

Khushi shook her head and looked down.

 

“What happened Khush? Why don’t you text him back?”

 

“What about NK?” Khushi asked. Tears pooled in her throat and she didn’t want Lavanya to see more of them today. They cried enough already.

 

“What about NK?” Lavanya repeated as if the question had no bearing on this conversation.

 

Khushi shook her head. There was so much she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to ask or even acknowledge. There was too much at risk here. “What if I ..” Khushi stopped for a breath. “What about NK?” Memories were fickle. She, of all, should know that. Her fear slipped out into the open and now it sat between the two women.

 

“Oh Khush!” Lavanya enveloped Khushi into a tight hug and rocked her back and forth as she would her twins. “Is that even possible Khush? Is it possible for you to not have NK in your heart? Your soul?” Lavanya shook Khushi gently. “ Isn’t Mira a part of you and NK? And more importantly, if you forget something, we will find it together Khush.” Lavanya’s reassurance was the last straw. Tears turned into sobs. I am okay, I will be okay. The mantra and deep breaths helped Khushi regain her calm.

 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about lunch.” Khushi exclaimed.

 

“This is exactly why I wanted you to talk about lunch.” Lavanya retorted with a smile and a gentle squeeze. “Text him back Khush. It’s the polite thing to do after all.” Lavanya teased. She waited for Khushi to regain her breath.

 

“What happened between you two Khush? All those years ago? You didn’t tell me anything then. And I didn’t want to push. Will you tell me what happened between you and Arnav Singh Raizada?”

 

Of all things, Khushi did not expect Lavanya to ask her this question directly. She looked at her friend with eyes that held a torment that she had pushed into the dark recesses of her mind and soul. Was she ready to unleash them now?

 

Chapter Four: Retrospective

~ mirabell ~ 107 Comments

Life is a movie. Death is a photograph
—Susan Santog

Photographs economize the truth; there are always moments more or less illusorily abducted from time’s continuum.
—Sally Mann

 

It was late in the day. Technically it was night, but there was still light and it was raining. Summer rains were something to reckon with. There was somewhat of a reckless abandon about them, like a deliberate attempt at flouting rules, thumbing their noses at nature’s policy and procedure manual.

 

Khushi never liked rain, hated thunder and was downright petrified of lightning. But these sentiments changed after NK died. She became indifferent to the water that seemed to pour and couldn’t care less about thunder. Lightning wasn’t as scary anymore, she thought. What could be more scary than this abyss of silence and loneliness in her head?

 

The darkening sky turned her window into a mirror. She could see her reflection, a crouched figure rocking back and forth, sitting at her dining table with her knees pulled up and her arms around them to anchor herself. Every time she rocked, she could see the twinkle of her nose pin, a small diamond stud that Amma gave her on the day of her marriage. The day after her wedding she got her nose pierced. It was a secret jaunt to the jeweller’s store, just the two of them, Amma and herself. Little did she know at that time that Khushi had won her mother-in-law’s heart for ever.

 

NK loved her nose pin. Actually he thought it was sexy! A small smile crept silently on her face to pay homage to that memory. Of all the things, her nose turned him on. She remembered how outraged she was that it was her nose he chose, not her legs, her breasts, none of the usual sexy stuff. It wasn’t right, she informed him with great indignation. She also remembered how he laughed at her outrage and how quickly that laugh turned into the very subject they were arguing about, like it always did with NK.

 

Naren.. she whispered his name. Her eyes burned and her throat clogged tight. She took a deep sobbing breath and then another and waited for that control to surface. Two deep breaths always did the trick. I am okay. I will be okay. The two short and pithy sentences were her new mantra for survival, moving from one moment to another.

 

It was time to check on Mira, she thought, her eyes finding the clock on the kitchen wall. It was the wall of photographs that Mira had pointed Arnav to. She had taken every single photograph there. But it was NK who had designed and framed them. It was NK who had gifted her the camera on their second wedding anniversary. They barely had money as graduate students and she was flabbergasted that he would lavish her the way he did.

 

“But what is yours is also mine, isn’t it?” He pulled her into his lap as he whispered his question into her neck, the camera pack forgotten. His lips traced the curve of her neck as his breath left tickles in their wake. His lips seemed to follow their own path down her shoulder. He had managed to pull her offending blouse down the shoulder.

 

“I always thought that what was yours was mine and I got to keep mine as well?” she giggled, sliding her fingers into his curls and pulling gently so she could see his face.

 

“When I am yours, how does anything matter Khush? If you take pictures, you will take of me and Mira. It all comes back to me, doesn’t it? I give you the camera and you make me memories? Fair exchange?” The earnestness in his gaze sliced right through to her soul. All she could do was pull on his curls towards herself and kiss him.

 

There was nothing fair in the exchange he had dealt her. She sniffed and looked mournfully at the photographs that he had hung on her kitchen wall. All that was left for her were memories that he had created, memories weighed down by deep sadness and what-ifs. Khushi shook herself out of her melancholy and looked at the clock again.

 

The little one went to bed by herself today.  She insisted on sleeping in her own room and bed. “ I am going to be a big girl,” she announced to her Paatti and her mommy. Walking lightly on her feet, Khushi peeked into Mira’s bedroom which was adjacent to her own. The night light was on, which meant that Amma must have turned the study light off after Mira went to sleep. It was a big step for Mira today that she went to sleep without Khushi or Amma next to her. Especially so, considering that Mira couldn’t fall asleep, nor stay asleep for many months after NK’s passing. With tenderness, she ran her fingers along her curly hair and down her back. She slept on her stomach with her mouth open, just like NK. Tucking her forefinger under Mira’s jaw, she slowly brought her lower jaw up to close her mouth. Perhaps it was the touch, perhaps it was the sense that it was her mother, Mira drew a deep breath, almost a sigh and went back to her rhythmic breath of deep sleep.

 

Khushi would have never guessed that sleep would be one of the many things that left with the person who died. Along with NK’s companionship, she lost her companionship with sleep as well. Insomnia became a reluctant friend on those long dreary nights along with that shrill silence. When she did sleep, it was roiled with dreams, visions that left her feeling empty and dissatisfied when she awoke. That was when she found herself gravitating towards their collection of home videos that she had begun recording after Mira was born. Slowly she walked towards the discs that she had made, slid one into the player and sat on the couch. When she was about to push the play button, she heard feet shuffle and a gentle hand on her head.

 

“Can’t sleep?” Amma’s whisper made her look up. Manorama stood next to her couch, looking at Khushi as if she understood her insomnia.

 

“Yes” she nodded. She patted the seat next to her, inviting her to join.

 

Manorama sat slowly. It looked like her arthritis was bothering her; the rain certainly will do that, thought Khushi. But she was not yet sixty years old. Manorama was life’s foot soldier, trudging across the ups and downs that her life threw at her. She carried through them all with such strength and grace. But today, she looked tired, all of her fifty eight years and then some.

 

Khushi sat back to gaze at her mother-in-law with new eyes. This was an unusual relationship she shared with her. Manorama was more of a mother than a  mother-in-law these days. When NK introduced Khushi to his parents for the first time as the girl he was going to marry, Manorama opened her arms and her heart to Khushi almost instantaneously. She insisted that Khushi call her Amma instead of Aunty. Khushi was not just her daughter-in-law, she was her daughter too, she declared. NK’s father, on the other hand, was more reticent. But there was a polite distance that Khushi and Manorama maintained for a long time. She was an affectionate mother-in-law, but it was Khushi herself, she realized, who maintained that distance between them. However, when NK passed away, everything changed between them. The cordiality shifted to a need and a shared friendship. It seemed to Khushi that Manorama needed them as much as Mira and Khushi needed Manorama in their lives.

 

Leaning back, Manorama looked at the television and asked with a questioning look, “movie?”

 

“No” Khushi shook her head. “Videos of Mira and NK.”

 

There was a look of utter despondency in Manorama as she raised her head to look at Khushi. “Isn’t it strange that things outlast people? And all we are left with are memories.” She shook her head sadly as tears gathered in her eyes. Manorama lost her husband five years ago and her only child in the last two years. Khushi knew what that was like – to be alone, truly alone. Having lost her own parents at the age of twelve, she knew what it was to not only bear losses, but also to be left behind.

 

“Will it ever go away? This pain and how much I miss him?” It was more of a question to herself.

 

“No, it won’t. It will never go away” Manorama replied. “But the pain will lessen. It won’t hurt your heart every time you think of him.” She sighed. “You will be able to smile without tears when a memory shows up.” She slowly ran her hand on Khushi’s head and then down her back. The touch soothed and Khushi leaned into Manorama and laid her head in Manorama’s lap. It worked for both of them, to seek and receive this exchange. Manorama resumed running her hand on Khushi’s head.

 

“Is that what happened to you when NK’s Appa passed away?” Khushi wanted to know.

 

Manorama’s hand stilled for a moment, but it resumed soon after. “It wasn’t the same. He was not my best friend, like Naren is to you” Manorama said softly. “We were not like you two. He was my husband, you know, that’s all. But you and Naren are more than that.” Khushi noticed her mother-in-law’s usage of present tense when she referred to NK. It heartened her.

 

“I was so young when we got married. I was not quite twenty and Naren’s Appa was twenty eight years old. In fact, I turned twenty after a few months of our marriage.”  Manorama seemed to be lost in her own thought. “We were not friends. We were married, he was my husband and I was his wife, you know? I didn’t know that your husband could be your friend!” Manorama turned to look at Khushi with puzzlement in her eyes. “I think I truly understood that when I saw you and Naren together. Is that strange to you?”

 

Khushi smiled and said nothing. Perhaps it was her silence, perhaps it was her smile, Manorama continued as if she were asked to. “He was my husband, I was supposed to do things for him – cook for him, remind him of things that were needed in the house, give him coffee when he came back from work, that sort of thing. We didn’t talk about anything else. His parents used to stay with us. There were these unwritten rules about everything, when I could talk, who I could talk to and things that were my business and things I couldn’t talk about.” Manorama’s fingers were now running circles in Khushi scalp. A scrap on the carpet seemed to have her focus as she resumed.

 

“I didn’t talk to my in-laws much. I used to help Naren’s Paatti in the kitchen, but I never spoke to his Taatha. It was very hard, everything was new. I didn’t have anyone to talk to, to ask if this was how life was supposed to be. I was alone most of the day. I felt very lonely.” Manorama stopped. Her fingers stilled on Khushi’s head. The heaviness in Manorama’s breath traveled to Khushi.  “Then I had Naren.” Now Manorama’s eyes held a soft, tender look. “He brought so much happiness into my life. He was my life, my own special toy; he filled my day and my night. I felt like God sent him to me so that I wasn’t lonely any more. I had him for myself, you know?” Khushi could tell that these remembrances were Amma’s treasure. Joy poured out of her eyes as she traveled back into her past.

 

Khushi knew that NK was very close to his mother, closer to his mother than his father. There was a small sliver of envy in Khushi whenever NK spoke of his home, especially his mother. Initially she was intimidated by their tight knit relationship, but neither NK nor Manorama ever did anything to keep her out of that circle. When Khushi had Mira, it was Manorama who came to help the young couple with their new baby. Those three months of Manorama’s visit helped cement their relationship to what it was when NK passed away.

 

“So, to get back to your question about NK’s Appa, I don’t know if what I felt for him is what you feel for Naren. I think after living with him for so long, I miss his companionship, his presence. He was almost like a habit for me.” Manorama sighed deeply.

 

Khushi lifted her head from Manorama’s lap and threw her arms around her. “I am sorry Amma, for everything and everyone you lost.” She gave her a tight hug. They stayed in that hug for long moments. The disc in the player forgotten as images from stories shared took precedence. Just then Khushi’s cell phone whirred indicating that there was a new text message. It must be Lav she thought, checking up on her. Manorama looked at her inquiringly. “It is probably Lavanya, I will text her back later” Khushi said. Manorama nodded as she walked slowly towards her bedroom.

 

“You know, I see you in Mira” Khushi smiled at Manorama as she gently touched Manorama’s dimple. She leaned and gave her mother-in-law a kiss on her cheek. They neared Manorama’s room.

 

“And I see you in her sometimes.” She returned her a smile and gently pinched Khushi’s cheek in open affection. “Good night Chellam, sleep well.” Manorama reserved her endearment in Tamil for very special occasions and Khushi knew that this moment was no different.

 

“Good night Amma.” Khushi walked towards her room. She knew it was going to be a long night with insomnia as bedfellow. Looking down at her cell phone, she noticed that it was Lavanya that had texted her.

 

All well babe? How was lunch?

 

Disappointment sliced through her and caught her by surprise. Who was she expecting to text this late? Ignoring her wayward thinking she responded to Lavanya.

 

Yep, all well. Lunch was fine too. And before you ask, am okay Lav.. ☺ .

 

She sent the message and got ready for her night with her book.

 

Propped up against her pillows, she feigned attention to the lines in her book that she tried reading. After her third attempt at trying to read the same sentence, she sighed in disgust and gave up her pretense. Yes, he is probably on his way to the airport. Why should that matter to me? It doesn’t.

 

The light on her cell phone brightened with another whirr. Another text from Lav, this late?

 

On my way to the airport. It was good to see you today. Thanks for meeting me. Her heart quickened at the message. It was from ASR.

 

It was good to see you too. Have a safe flight. Bye. She typed her response but her fingers stalled. Should she respond immediately? Should she wait? Dammit! She sent the message. That’s it, she told herself. He is being polite. Like he was at lunch. Nothing more to it.

 

Khushi had broken down completely at the restaurant, letting free rein to her tears. He held her hands through it all and she could see concern in his eyes. He was worried for her. They left the restaurant soon thereafter, but not before they argued over who was going to pay for lunch. It brought a smile to Khushi’s face. He won this time and paid for lunch. But she wrangled a promise from him that she would pay next time. And he agreed without a demur. Wait, she thought, next time? Of course that explained his smirk! Another whirr of her phone caught her eye.

 

Don’t be a stranger anymore. Can’t wait another ten more years for lunch.

 

Humph! Fingers flew over her cell phone. It takes two to tango. Ha! Now his turn.

 

Looks like someone has an axe to grind! ☺  That was quick, not even ten seconds..

Let sleeping dogs lie. She knew she was being juvenile, but he started it!

 

When pigs fly and You started it.

 

Actions speak louder than words.

 

Drastic times call for drastic measures.

 

What is this? A war of idioms? She had to call him on it and where was he going with this?

 

Touché! But don’t be a stranger anymore please? Can I expect to hear from you when you are in Delhi?

 

Why?

 

What possessed her to ask that question even though the question plagued her mind since he showed up at her door. Seconds ticked by, she tried not to look at her phone for a response. Seconds turned into minutes. Berating her impulsive self, she picked her book up to try reading it again. She caught herself rereading the same paragraph again and again while her eyes surreptitiously peeked at her cell phone. Giving up on both the book and the cell phone, Khushi walked to the kitchen to get a cup of water. This was ridiculous, it was time she went to sleep. She returned to her bedroom and finally got under the covers when her phone whirred again.

 

Why for the stranger part or why for contacting me in Delhi? Ps: Had to clear security and immigration.

 

Khushi held her phone in her hands, her eyes reading his message again and again. Prudence demanded that she cop out of this conversation pleading sleep. Why does he want to have this conversation now? Well, you started it her conscience reminded her. She knew that he was leaving soon. Was she ready to have this conversation?

 

How long before you have to board your flight? She needed to prevaricate; she hoped he would follow along. She waited.

 

In an hour. Not going to answer my question?

 

No. And I asked first. What is it with a phone that makes impossible conversations possible?

 

Alright then, how about we pick this up when you take me out to lunch or dinner when you are in Delhi? This way you get to pay? ☺

 

Good move Raizada! Khushi couldn’t help but smile at his message this time. He was going to allow her to get away with her question this time.

 

You have yourself a deal! And yes, I will call you when I reach Delhi. I believe there is a certain promise you made to an eight year old.

 

No, haven’t forgotten that. It’s probably late and you should probably be asleep? Bye for now Khushi.

 

Bye ASR. Have a safe flight. Ps: Will you send me a text when you reach home? Just to let me know that you are safe and okay? Only if it’s not a bother.

 

Yes, I will. It’s a promise.

 

Khushi’s hand reached for the ring on the chain. It was going to be a long night thought Khushi, looking at her phone.

 

It was going to be a long flight, sighed Arnav Singh Raizada.

*********

Dear Friends
feel like chatting some more – more than the chapter posted? There is a Chatter’s corner now… find the link to it on top… 🙂 Stories are like magpies – they like forming sisterhood and sisterhood needs a corner for a good chat. 🙂

 

Chapter Three: Refrain

~ mirabell ~ 169 Comments

You have to begin to lose your memory, if only in bits and pieces, to realize that memory is what makes our lives. Life without memory is no life at all… Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action. Without it, we are nothing.
—– Oliver Sacks

“I should have taken the metro, I should have” she muttered, irritated with the sheer volume of traffic on the street. Pushing her dark glasses up her nose with impatience, she turned her head slightly, searching to find a parking spot for her small SUV. To her surprise there was a spot on her right. Smiling at her fortunes she quickly parallel parked in just three moves. Yes! She mentally high-fived herself at this no mean feat. NK would have conceded here, she nodded to herself. They both knew that she was better than him when it came to parallel parking. It was their silent battle for supremacy.

 

Her Naren.

 

She raised her hand to slowly finger the thin gold chain on her neck that held a ring. It was his wedding ring. She caressed it as if it was on his finger, drawing strength from it to live through these moments of memories cascading on her. This is what it means to be left behind, these memories that seem to be a bane and boon at the same time.

 

With a deep sigh, she switched off the engine and sat with her fingers twisted in her lap. Out of habit, she pulled the visor down to check her reflection. A face adorned by sadness looked back at her. The face of a widow; if loss had a face, it would be this face.

 

Enough! She closed her eyes to rein in her thoughts and sat up as if to prepare for a battle.

 

It was a small restaurant, a favorite of Mira’s, she thought with a smile. Medfest was a Mediterranean bistro that Khushi and Mira frequented often these days. It was something that they discovered together one day when they set out for a walk in the business part of their suburb last winter, without him.  She recalled that it had been a big step for both of them, to do new things without Naren, her Appa. A series of firsts for both of them. But they prevailed through tears and smiles, returning to the restaurant again and again. The feel of her phone buzzing brought her back to his ring that she now wore on herself. She had set a reminder about the lunch with Arnav.

 

Khushi had texted the name and address of the restaurant to Arnav late last night but didn’t think of asking if he needed help with directions. He had texted back with a short, See you there at noon. She arrived a few minutes early and was grateful for these extra moments to garner her thoughts.

 

Looking out of her window, she caught sight of him standing in front of the bistro, talking into his phone. His back was to her, but she recognized him almost immediately today. He was dressed casually in a white polo shirt, tucked into his jeans. He was a tall man she noted, those jeans showcased his lean long legs. Quickly getting out of her car, Khushi walked towards Arnav, pushing her dark glasses up her nose. As if he felt her presence or perhaps he heard her footsteps, he turned and smiled warmly at her.

 

“I’ll call you later when I reach home, and Maya, I don’t need to be picked up at the airport. Chalo, bye.”

 

Maya? Wasn’t that his ex-wife?

 

“Hi, have you been waiting long?” Khushi asked.

 

“No, not long.”

 

Noon time saw these sidewalks busy with people bustling in and out of restaurants. Arnav watched as Khushi dodged a couple of pedestrians busy on their cell phones who were on a collision course with her. Motioning him to follow her inside the restaurant, she walked to the hostess who seated them at a table near the window. Khushi turned to Arnav to check if the seating was okay with him and he nodded in agreement. She greeted a middle aged man who looked like he was the owner by name. She looked like she knew her way around this place he thought.

 

“Nice place” commented Arnav. “Do you come here often?”

 

“Yes, it is one of Mira’s favorites” replied Khushi, removing her blazer and hanging it over the back of her chair. She looked different today, Arnav thought, noticing her black blouse and tan skirt. Silence fell on both of them after their initial pleasantries. Gazes met briefly to break away momentarily only to return to each other.

 

“Hi” said Arnav, as if they needed to reacquaint with each other again. Surprised, Khushi responded with a softer “Hi” accompanied by a brief smile that touched her lips.

 

“How are you Khushi?” There was an urgency and tenderness in his query. It wasn’t a pleasantry any more.  His eyes moved over her face as if to corroborate what he was about to hear with her expressions.

 

“I am fine, good in fact” she reassured, looking at her fingers that she curled into her palm on the table. Awkwardness fell on her like a wet blanket. She pulled her hands down to her lap and willed them to stay still. She nodded slowly, “I am okay” and looked up to meet Arnav’s gaze replete with concern and warmth. “Really,” she assured him with a smile, this time reaching her eyes. He noticed that familiar lopsided pull of her right cheek as she smiled and returned one of his own.

 

“And you?” Khushi asked, “you said you were here for a conference and reunion?”

 

“Yes, Cardiovascular conference and I combined it with a reunion of few of my friends from med-school.” Arnav paused to let the waitress offer them menus and waters. And he watched Khushi share a quick exchange with the young waitress with dark hair and complexion. “The usual for you Khushi?” asked Adila.

 

“Yes please” and looking at Arnav, Khushi said, “I recommend any of those combination platters here.”

 

“Why don’t you order for me?” countered Arnav. Khushi quickly scanned the menu and ordered another combination platter for Arnav. “Water for me and..” she said and paused for Arnav to make his choice. “Water for me too. Thank you.” He looked at Adila and offered a polite smile.

 

As the waitress left, they both found themselves with silence again. It felt like a first date with a stranger. They weren’t strangers, far from it in fact, he knew. But there was a decade’s worth of silence between them making them two strangers who shared intimacy. Both knew too much about each other, yet nothing at all. The familiarity felt alien.

 

“So,” he began, “what do you want to know?” he asked. Shocked at the pertinence of his question, Khushi gaped at Arnav. With a chuckle, he leaned forward in his seat and slowly tucked his forefinger under her chin to gently closed her mouth. “Well, you do realize that we know very little about each other. It’s been a while, hasn’t it Khushi?”

 

“Ten years”reeled off Khushi, partly in her head.

 

“Ergo! Actually it is more than ten years.” There was a furrow between his brows, she could tell he was calculating, but seemed to have given up. “What do you want to know? Ask away.” The twinkle in his eyes eased Khushi’s discomfort and enticed a small memory to slip out of the far recesses of her heart. He knew how to get to the point; no prevarications with Arnav Singh Raizada. But that was such a long time ago. Some things were better locked up, such as recalcitrant memories of a buried past.

 

But he did offer to answer. Ask anything? Really? She had so many questions, like, why are you here? Why now? She couldn’t ask that, could she? How does one begin a conversation like this anyway?

 

“Well, I do know that you are a physician, a cardiologist in fact. You have a six year old” she paused. “Why don’t you ask first? What do you want to know?” May be agreeing to meet him wasn’t such a good idea after all. She should have said no. What good was going to come out of this?

 

They sat by the window, a small table for two. It was a bright afternoon but the fluttering awning that framed the window kept the sun away from her face. Her hair was gathered back into a ponytail low on her neck, but there were a few errant locks that she absentmindedly tucked behind her ears. He could read her discomfort in the way she rearranged her spoon and fork, in the way she twisted and untwisted the fingers on the table first and then on her lap, in the way her fingers returned to the ring that she wore on her necklace. But she was here, he thought and he was glad.

 

“Alright then, here goes. Remember you asked for it,” he warned with a smile. “What and where do you work? Whatever happened to that lab-rat course you were taking when you were at IIT? When did you move here? How often do you visit India? Is this where you intend to stay? Do you still collect beer caps? Is it still Godfather-2?” He was ticking off each question with his fingers. Eight questions.

 

Emotions cascaded in quick succession on her face – shock, surprise followed by a smile that stretched into a grin, transformed into a chuckle that burst into a full fledged laugh. He grinned in return. He could make her laugh, he did then and he could now, even after all these years he thought.

 

Taking a deep breath, she began, “Speech pathologist. University clinic. Aced it. Be specific, where? Once in two years. Don’t know. Nope it’s wine corks now. Of course and always, capishe.”

 

With a brief flick of her fingers pointing at him, she sat back straight, with a flourish, still sporting a grin that crinkled the corner of her eyes. There was a sense of satisfaction in her response. Her heartbeat seemed to echo her breath and her smile refused to compromise. An unselfconscious smirk settled on her as she looked at Arnav across the table. A leap across all those years? 

 

“Capishe” he countered with a laugh. He remembered those endless arguments about the one movie that was their favorite. He thought the first one was a better movie and she always argued for the second. They both agreed that the third was the worst.

 

“Speech pathologist” he murmured. There was a strange flicker in his eyes she thought, but it was gone before she could confirm. Their lunch platters arrived along with Adila and the next few minutes were spent in brief exchanges about cutleries and drinks.

 

“So, you did get into the health care after all” he said in between his bites. “Any particular preference within the field?”

 

“Love working with kids. I work with the local school district most of the time, but my specialty is children with ASD.” She loved her work, he could tell. There was an ease in her demeanor now that was absent when they met this afternoon. And she loved her food too. He watched her as she focused her attention on her platter, the quick dip of her pita bread into hummus followed by moan of appreciation as she chewed it. Did she know that she was making those noises as she ate? Completely unselfconscious about her eating, he remembered.

 

“ASD is Autism Spectrum Disorder” she explained.

 

“Yes, I know” he nodded. Again, his eyes seemed to want to continue the thought even when his words refused.

 

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you now?” Leaning back in her chair she asked him with her lopsided smile.

 

“Shoot” he said.

 

There seemed to be many false starts; she opened her mouth about to say something, but stopped herself and finally said, “Can I see a picture of your son?” There was a tentativeness in her request. He blinked at her question. It was surprising but not unexpected.

“Of course.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly flipped through a few pictures and extended the phone to her.

 

Taking the phone from him she stopped and looked at the picture of a face that was solemn, framed with thick black hair. Those eyes were Arnav’s she thought, the same caramel colored eyes with honey tones, framed with thick lashes. A little boy filled the screen of the phone she was holding, no older than four or five, in swimming shorts. He was holding a Lego plane in one of his hands and the other seemed to stretch in front of him, as if wanting to hold the person’s hand who was taking the picture.

 

“We were getting ready for his swimming lesson” said Arnav. “He loves Legos. It’s almost impossible to part that plane from him. He can build those so quickly.” Pride and tenderness shone through his eyes as he shared these details about his son. Khushi’s heart warmed and melted at this open display of affection by a father for his son.

 

A decade, or even longer was long enough to bring big changes in a person, she thought. There were things that she thought she knew about him – he drank his coffee black with no sugar, yes she remembered that. She knew that he was a diabetic and was very diligent about his diet and exercise. She knew that he wanted to become a physician. But there was so much she didn’t know about him or his life. He was a father now to his six year old son. It was bitter sweet. She found herself caressing the ring on her necklace. NK taught Mira how to swim. The memory rushed to the forefront of her thought and her throat tightened. She quickly bit back that familiar sensation of her eyes burning; she didn’t want to have tears now.

 

“He is beautiful. He has your eyes” she said softly, slowly bringing her hand down from her necklace to caress the face on the phone. “So solemn here.” She looked up at Arnav to find him watching her closely.

 

“Khushi?” he asked as if her name translated his question. He placed his hand on hers.

 

“NK taught Mira how to swim. In fact, NK taught Mira how to read, write, hold a pencil, sing…” she blurted in a rush. Tears that she commandeered earlier gathered at the corner of her eyelids without restraint. She didn’t want to blink, lest they fell on her face. Why was she talking about NK now? And why was she telling him all these things? She felt her hand being gently squeezed. She looked up into Arnav’s face and found his gaze on their hands.

 

“Sorry, I don’t know why..” she began, slowly removing her hand from under his. “Do you have any more of his pictures?” she asked, stretching her hand with his phone to return it. She tried to wipe her tears as unobtrusively as she could. But he missed nothing.

 

“Yes. Just swipe through, you should be able to see them” he said, leaning forward to show her more. It looked like there were hundreds of pictures of Mohan, in different settings, and times. And he was the focus of all the pictures. Pictures with Legos abounded more than any other. There was something that stood out to Khushi, in these pictures. She couldn’t place her finger on it at that time. She kept moving through and stopped when she found a photograph of Mohan with two other adults, a man and a woman. Mohan was standing between them and the woman had her hands resting on Mohan’s shoulders. They looked like they were a family, a unit.

 

“Who is this?” She asked Arnav, pointing to a woman with the biggest smile she had ever seen on a person.

 

“That is Maya, Mohan’s mom. The man next to her is her husband, Kailash. Maya remarried soon after our divorce” Arnav replied with equanimity. Khushi looked at Arnav now, searching his face for any clues. There was no hint of acrimony in his face or his voice. She was puzzled. It was his ex-wife with her husband standing with their son and Arnav has their picture on his phone? He didn’t seem to have any problem with it.

 

“We share custody of Mohan, Maya and I” he explained. “Mohan stays with me and Maya takes him for visits whenever she can.” As if he had read her mind, he continued, “Maya and I have remained friends and that helps a lot.”

 

She continued to look at his face, her eyes trying to unlock the puzzle that Arnav had just thrown at her. Why? But what about you? She wanted to ask him so many questions that were swirling in her. Her eyes traveled along his eyes unsure of … unsure of what?

 

He looked up and locked his gaze with hers. Seconds, minutes or was it eons that passed by before she tore her gaze away from him. She leaned back creating space between them so she could begin breathing again.

 

“I am sorry” she said unsure of her own apology. Language felt inadequate at that moment. “That must be difficult – to share custody” she tried to explain.

 

“Sometimes, yes. But Maya and I are lucky to have our friendship. It helps a lot.” He seemed to be lost in thought.

 

Silence ensued. This time the silence offered comfort to both of them. A companionable respite from exchanges which weren’t intended to pain. But pain they did.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, concern for him surfacing amidst all the turmoil she felt.

 

Arnav nodded, a slow smile reappearing on his face. “And you?”

 

“Yeah” she began with a nod. But soon found herself shaking her head as tears clogged her throat. Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat and said, “Some days not really, but most of the time, I am trying.” Honesty reared its imperative head and made its presence felt. Really? Imperative head Khushi? What are you now? A damned poet? With a noisy sigh she sat up straight and offered a self-deprecating smile.

 

As if coming to a decision, Arnav squared his shoulders and asked, “Can you tell me what happened to your husband? Akash mentioned very briefly that it was cardiac arrest. But NK was not quite thirty five years. How? What happened?”

 

“Is it the cardiologist asking or a friend?”

 

“Both.”

 

Looking outside the window she noticed the busy street, purposeful strides of people trying to get to places they needed to be. If they looked at her, would they know how her world changed two years ago? Would they know how long it took her to sleep a few hours at night? Would they know her battles with fear and loneliness?

 

“They called it sudden cardiac arrest. He had it three times in one night. Once at home and twice in the hospital. There were no symptoms, he didn’t have any other problem. The first two times, they restarted his heart. But the third time, they couldn’t. He didn’t respond, he died.” And left me behind. She was reciting mechanically, continuing to look outside the window. Turning, she fixed her gaze on his eyes, and said, “So, there you go my cardiologist friend, that’s what happened.” Tears leaked down her chin and dripped on to the table cloth. She made no signs of wiping them off.

 

It broke his heart to stand witness to her tears, her grief. Without a second thought, he reached out with his two hands and held both of hers in his as if her hands represented her being and his, his own. “I am sorry Khushi, so very sorry.” Remorse wrapped itself around him as he spoke. Her hands were cold to his touch. He squeezed them hard as if to wake them up to his warmth.

 

Awareness of her surroundings permeated through her grief. Khushi closed her eyes to rein in her runaway emotions and took a deep breath. She nodded as if to restrain herself to the present, this moment. I am okay, I will be okay. A mantra that will carry her through these excruciating moments of grief and desolation.

 

“Yes, you will, and you have,” he reiterated in faith as he watched her garner control over her tears.

 

Chapter Two: A Sojourn

~ mirabell ~ 102 Comments

May you never forget what is worth remembering, nor ever remember what is best forgotten – Old Irish saying

 

Lunch turned out to be a friendly affair with conversation flowing easily thanks to Mira’s and  Manorama’s banter.

 

“Khushi mentioned that you leave tomorrow? Where is home?” asked Manorama.

 

“Delhi” Arnav responded with a small smile. “Yes, I leave tomorrow, late night.”

 

“ASR,” started Mira shyly, “Are you an engineer like my Appa?”

 

“No, I am a cardiologist. Do you know what a cardiologist does?” Her cheerful smile dissolving from her face, Mira nodded slowly. “Yes, my Appa died of cardiac arrest, so I know what a cardiologist does” she said softly.

 

Arnav knew that NK had died due to complications of heart problems but didn’t know specifics about his death. Akash had told him very little. As a cardiac surgeon he was all too familiar with his role of informing his patient’s family of their death. Truth and compassion, he was taught, were the cornerstones of those conversations. No prevarications – come straight to the point and inform with kindness. But those very words of death coming from Mira’s mouth squeezed his heart. He reached out and placed his palm over her small hand to offer sympathy and support and was stunned when Mira slowly leaned into his arms. Gently grasping her small frame, he let her nestle into his embrace while he softly ran his hand over her back offering comfort. “I am sorry” he whispered to her softly. She’s not that much different from Mohan in age, especially in her slight frame, he thought as she snuggled deeper into his arms.

 

The sight of her little girl in his arms, seeking and accepting solace was too much for Khushi to take. Quickly swallowing a lump in her throat that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, Khushi reached across to Mira, “It’s okay honey. We are okay now, aren’t we?”  Tears ran down Manorama’s eyes and she quickly looked down at her plate.

 

Mira straightened slowly, nodding and pushing herself away from Arnav. He let her go, watching as her shoulders slumped down with the weight of sorrow that seemed too heavy for one so little. She looked at her mother, drawing strength from her smile, slowly smiled back and repeated, “Yes, we are okay now mommy.”

 

It was obvious to Arnav that this family had gone through hell and was a tight-knit unit. Perhaps it was that hell that bound them together. He could see Manorama’s gentleness extend to both her girls. All three of them seemed to have borne their losses together.

 

It also seemed that every conversation Arnav had was a step on a mine, albeit unintentional. His presence was not only awkward, it was painful for this family. He bit back a sigh that was trying to work its way out of his chest.

 

Conversation slowly picked up at the dining table once again with Manorama’s next query directed at Arnav. “So, what about you Arnav? Your family?” Leaving her question unfinished, waiting for his response.

 

“Yes, they live in Delhi with me.”

 

“Oh you are married then? Children?”

 

Khushi’s hands stilled over her plate but she did not give in to the urge to look up at Arnav. She was sure that she did not wait for his answer.

 

“Yes, and no.” Shifting his eyes between Khushi and Manorama, Arnav said, “I was married, but I am divorced now. Maya, my ex-wife, and I have a six year old boy, Mohan. He lives with me in Delhi with my Naani.”

 

Divorced, an eight letter word with great import, a label that closed doors on a relationship that was meant to be forever. Not unlike widowed, a seven letter word with the same import she thought.

 

Khushi started breathing again not realizing that she had stopped while waiting for his answer. Quickly rising from her seat she walked into the kitchen to compose herself. Why should his answer make any difference to her? It doesn’t, she reassured herself.

 

“I am sorry to hear that Arnav. That must have been difficult with a small child.” Manorama offered kindly.

 

Arnav shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not bad.” He looked across the table and saw something akin to sympathy in Manorama’s eyes. It felt easier to tell her everything, but at the same time, he felt compelled to make it easy for her. She was suffering so much already.

 

“Mohan is an easy child and Naani is great with him. Maya lives in Delhi as well. So, I am not a single struggling parent.”

 

Arnav stood up to help Khushi with clearing the table. All four worked easily as if they had done this many times. Moving between the dining table and kitchen, Arnav looked comfortable helping around. All this feels very domestic, the thought flashed through Arnav.

 

Manorama looked at the quiet giant in her daughter-in-law’s kitchen moving and helping. She recognized that her usually mild Khushi wasn’t unmoved by his presence. She looked rattled and it showed on her face; a pink glow seemed to rest on her high cheekbones. She looked alive after so long, thought Manorama. After her Naren’s passing, it seemed that Khushi lost the sparkle that defined her eyes. In fact, Manorama knew that Khushi didn’t allow herself to experience anything close to happiness or joy with the exception of Mira. It seemed to her that Arnav was able to get past a few of the walls that Khushi had built around herself and for some inexplicable reason, Manorama didn’t want Arnav to leave just yet.

 

“Do you know we leave for Delhi in a couple of weeks, all three of us? Khushi and Mira are coming with me to spend some time in India. It is Mira’s summer break, isn’t it my dear?” Mira’s bright curls bobbed in agreement.

 

“ASR, you live in Delhi, can I say hi to you when we are in Delhi?” asked Mira with total lack of guile.

 

“Of course! I would love that” said Arnav smiling softly at Mira. “In fact you should stay with us while you are in Delhi. Give me your flight details, I will meet you at the airport.”

 

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. We normally stay with Buaji” Khushi interjected quickly. Things were moving too fast for her comfort. “Thank you for offering to pick us up, but we’ll be fine on our own.”

 

She knew that she dismissed him. She thought she saw something flash in Arnav’s eyes but it was gone now. His face gave nothing away. She didn’t want to hurt him, that wasn’t her intention. But her dismissal was apparent for all in the room. Mira’s eyes switched between the three adults in the room. Trying to made amends she offered, “Can I email you my phone number in Delhi? We can stop by sometime?”

 

Arnav nodded, “Sure.” He then pulled his cell phone out to exchange numbers and addresses. It was obvious to him that there was reticence in her demeanor. He felt dismissed and for some strange reason it hurt, just a little bit. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. Arnav took a quick glance at this watch and said, “I think I should leave now. Thank you for lunch.” Looking at Khushi, “Again, I am sorry for barging in unannounced like this. Do let me know when you are in Delhi.”

 

Khushi nodded and walked towards the foyer and Arnav followed her. Feeling a tug at his wrist, Arnav looked to find Mira at his side, motioning him to come down to her height.  When he did, she threw herself at him, winding her thin arms around his neck in a tight hug. Almost instinctively Arnav enfolded her into himself, resting his cheek on her head and whispered into her curls, “Bye for now, Mira.”

 

“Bye for now ASR” echoed Mira as if the word now held new hope for her young heart. Reluctantly she unwound her arms from his neck and gave him a smile and said, “But I will miss you.”  

 

Strange! Khushi exclaimed quietly in her head. How can she miss him when she just barely knew him? She just met him. Khushi knew that Mira was an extrovert, like NK, always ready to meet a new face and make a new friendship. But she had never seen her daughter open her heart and arms this quickly.

 

Khushi walked towards Mira and pressing against her shoulders said reassuringly, “You’ll see him when we get to Delhi, perhaps?” She knew exactly the thing that would distract her young daughter. “And you have a playdate with Sydney tomorrow afternoon. Why don’t you call Sydney and tell her you’ll be there?” She gestured towards the phone with her head.

 

Looking at Arnav over Mira’s head, Khushi said brightly, “Ok, then, it’s a date. Once we are in Delhi, we will call you and figure out how we can meet?”

 

Obviously happy with this arrangement, Mira gave another quick squeeze to Arnav’s hand and said, “A play date tomorrow and a play date with you in Delhi.” Bobbing her curls with much happiness she bounded inside the house.

 

“Nice to have met you Arnav.” Manorama smiled and followed Mira inside, leaving Arnav and Khushi alone at last.

 

It seemed that the whole afternoon had passed without the two of them exchange a word with each other. They looked at each other taking stock of each other’s presence.

 

“Thank you for …”

 

“Khushi…”

 

Both began at the same time.

 

“Can you meet me for lunch tomorrow?” Arnav asked, his voice insistent. “Please?”

 

“Er.. Mira has a playdate tomorrow at that time. We can’t make it at that time and I don’t know if Amma is free to join us.”

 

Shaking his head, “Just you,” said Arnav, not moving his eyes away from hers.

 

Khushi couldn’t look away.  Why, that one question, one word, whirling in her mind since he walked into her house this morning. Why show up at her doorstep now? Why after all these years? Why now?

 

“Just me?”

 

“Yes, Khushi, just you. Just lunch, in a restaurant.” A small smirk appeared at the corner of his smile, as if the emphasis held all the answers for her. “Since I don’t know of any good ones here, why don’t you pick one and I will meet you there?”

 

“But why?”

 

“Don’t you want to catch up with an old friend?”

 

She caught the teasing twinkle in his eyes and found a reciprocal smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Something old and familiar stirred in her, like a hint of a perfume long forgotten.

 

“For the sake of an old friend, I guess I must then!” She gave a sigh of resignation, gently teasing him back.

 

A smile bloomed into a grin. He was happy to see her smile. A whiff of a memory reawakened in him. Her smile always began as a lopsided one – the pull of her right cheek and lip.  It was only when she grinned that the other end of her lips pulled back. Shaking his head in acknowledgement, he heard her say softly, “Bye.”

 

“Text me then. Bye for now Khushi” he reiterated and stepped out of her house.

 

Her heart and her steps felt lighter but she was loathe to seek their reasons. Her face kept the remnant of the smile as she walked back into her house.

 

oOoOoOoOo

 

Later that evening Khushi walked into her room balancing her laundry basket on her hip. It was the end of her weekend and she knew that she needed to get her chores completed before the start of her work week. She was one of three speech pathologists that managed a clinic associated with the University of Virginia’s Speech Pathology department. When NK was offered a faculty position with the engineering college, she too found a position as a speech therapist in the clinic. It worked well for them especially when Mira was younger. They both managed to work with each other’s flexible schedules in order to stay home with Mira before she began school. Even after NK’s passing, working with the clinic suited Khushi’s needs, she thought; she had the freedom to schedule her hours and travel to other nearby clinics and schools to work with the local community and students. It also helped with working with Mira’s schedule during the school year, especially in the last two years when she suddenly became a single parent.

 

Single parent.

 

Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes as she sought him in her room. Their room became her room now. Slow tears soon turned into quiet sobs that slipped out of her gritted teeth as she clutched the picture of her dead husband. She missed her NK, her Naren, her friend, her shadow. She missed him like she missed breathing. Two years had gone by since his death, yet the pain seemed to stay. Taking a deep breath she looked at him, her eyes traveling to his dimples. The depth of those dimples was indicative of the degree of his mirth, she recollected. Sighing deeply she slowly brought his face to her lips and murmured softly, “You promised me old age with you, but you left me behind.”

 

A short whirr of her cell phone told her of the arrival of a new text message. She didn’t realize how long she held his picture against her face. The glass was a messy smudge of tears, tears against his dimpled smile. Like an automaton she picked up her phone to see Lavanya’s name. Are you home? I am coming over. Twins with me. Ok? Lavanya’s messages were just like her, succinct and to the point. Khushi responded, Yes, ok, and definitely ok.

 

OoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Sitting with cups of tea in their hands, the two friends watched while their children played on the carpet. Lavanya’s three year old twins were trying to balance two Lego towers they were building with Mira’s supervision.

 

“Anything you want to tell me?” Khushi asked Lavanya. That furrowed brow on Lavanya’s face was an indicator that something was on her mind.

 

“Did Akash call you?” asked Lavanya in return.

 

“Akash? No, why? He normally calls me during the week. What’s up Lav?”

 

Lavanya stood and slowly walked towards the kitchen and Khushi followed. “Where’s Aunty?” Looking around the kitchen Lavanya’s question piqued Khushi’s curiosity further.

 

“She’s out walking.”

 

“Again?”

 

Raising her eyebrows Khushi said, “Out with it Lavi, what’s going on? You are making me nervous.”

 

“ASR is in town” Lavanya said without ceremony. Not taking her eyes off of Khushi’s, she continued, “He asked Akash for your address; I am not sure but he might show up here.”

 

Looking away Khushi replied, “Yes, I know. He was here this morning.” Taking another breath, “He left after lunch.”

 

Surprise, followed by concern deepened Lavanya’s furrow. Holding Khushi’s arm to still her, Lavanya asked worriedly, “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, I am fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”

 

“What did he want? What did he say?”

 

“He came to offer condolences for NK’s….” Khushi left the sentence unfinished. The dishwasher needed to be unloaded she thought and mechanically began putting the cups away.

 

“Khush, stop! Look at me.” Quick strides brought Lavanya to Khushi. “Just stop and look at me” she repeated, holding Khushi’s arms.

 

Schooling her face to remain calm, Khushi demanded, “What?” Softening her tone a little more, “I am fine Lav, it was fine. He was very polite and nice to Mira” she smiled.

 

“Mira met him?”

 

“Yes, so did Amma as well.”

 

Leaning her head on to Lavanya’s shoulder a little, Khushi whispered, “It was a long time ago, Lavi, a very long time ago.” Another lifetime ago, she added in her head. The two friends stayed in their hug and in their thoughts for what seemed like forever.

 

“So, that’s it? He’s gone now?” Pulling back a little, Lavanya looked pointedly at Khushi.

 

“He wants to meet for lunch tomorrow, just me.”

 

“And” Lavanya prodded Khushi gently to continue. “Do you want to go?”

 

Khushi looked away, shaking her head, “No…” Looking back at Lavanya, she said, “I don’t know Lav. Should I?”

 

Is there a guidebook for these sorts of things? Why doesn’t life come with a manual?

 

NK loved reading manuals she remembered.

 

All roads lead to NK.

 

“Which restaurant?” Lavanya’s insistent voice brought Khushi back.

 

“Why does that matter? Will it help me decide if I should go?” she retorted. When Lavanya refrained from breaking the silence that ensued, Khushi sighed and said, “He asked me to choose and text him.”

 

“So, now what?” Tenacious, another name for Lavanya, thought Khushi with a resigned shake of her head. Lavanya would not let things go, let things slide. But Khushi was grateful for Lavanya’s tenacity and strength. She had to dip into that spring many a times after NK’s death.

 

With a determined set of her shoulders, Khushi looked at Lavanya and said, “I will meet him. I have to meet him. I have to know. I have to know why he showed up after all these years.”

 

Chapter One: Overture

~ mirabell ~ 121 Comments

For Ruchi whose faith in me and my writing never waned, in whose font I dipped many many times when my own fled. Thank you! 

June 10, 2014

With his palm fisted, Arnav Singh Raizada found himself poised to knock on the door while his eyes looked for a doorbell.

 

Should he knock or ring the bell?

 

Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door and rang the bell.

 

How could he explain his presence? What was he doing in front of her door?

 

He looked over his shoulder and found his cab driving away, a bit of a yellow blur at the end of the road. His fingers curled into his fist.  

 

Leave?

 

He couldn’t leave, he told himself. He rang the bell, didn’t he? And he knocked. So he waited at the door.

 

Perhaps no one is home. What was it he felt? Relief? Regret?

 

Shifting on his feet, he looked around the townhouse. Row houses, lined one after another, not that different from each other on the first look, but full of color. The different colors gave each town home a distinction of its own, he thought. Big bay windows on each side of the front door framed the houses. If he leaned a little, he could look into the house.

 

Should he look inside? There were big windows that he could peek through.

 

Before he could answer, he heard quick footsteps towards the door and a feminine voice saying, “I’m coming”… “I’m coming”.

 

The door opened to a pair of hazel eyes. Yes, those hazel eyes, with grey flecks, he remembered those grey flecks. He tried counting them once.  Now they were looking at him, blankly with curiosity, with no speck of recognition. “Yes?”

 

“Khushi Kumari Gupta” he found himself saying locking her eyes with his.

 

“Arnav Singh Raizada.” She whispered back as if in auto response. He could see a slow recognition in her widened eyes. Shock draining all color from her face, blinking rapidly and taking quick breaths, she repeated, “Arnav? Arnav Singh Raizada?”  

 

“Hello Khushi, it has been a while.” he said, with a small smile.

 

They stood there in that moment, looking at each other. He waited for her to ask him in and when she showed no signs of doing so, he raised his eyebrows and pointedly looked at her and at the door.

 

“Oh, please do come in” she responded moving away from the door, allowing him to step inside.

 

A few quick steps inside, he found himself squarely in front of books and bookshelves, lined on every wall of the living room. A worn tan couch with a reading chair placed adjacent to the bay window framed one end of the cozy living room. A rocking chair with a throw was another seating option, positioned conveniently next to the book shelves. It looked like a home, Khushi’s home. Cozy and comfortable seemed to be the dominant themes here.  

 

He slowly walked around the low rectangle coffee table towards the couch to find Khushi standing next to the reading chair, her gaze assessing him, her eyes still holding remnants of shock at finding him, Arnav Singh Raizada, in her living room. As they found their places to settle into, they began to really look at each other, to take note of all that was familiar and to make notes of time’s travel on their selves.

 

Their eyes traveled with deliberate strokes. How long had it been since they saw each other? She was barely twenty when they first met. Mature curves marked the passage of time adding grace and beauty to her stature. Her waist length hair was shortened to her shoulders and her nose ring glinted when she moved. Age seemed to settle on her with muted elegance. His eyes noticed a thin gold band on her left hand; there were no other adornments on her.

 

Was it  two years since NK… Halting his racing thoughts and questions, he forced his gaze to swing back to her face.

 

“What brings you here?” She was looking at him with guarded eyes, unsure of her own reactions to his unexpected presence in her house.

 

Why are you here? How did you find me? Why now?  It took me a long time to..

 

She couldn’t voice them, but the questions were falling over each other like a domino set in motion. Throwing furtive glances towards him, quickly picking up books from the floor at the same time, she regarded him.

 

He was a beautiful man, strong jaw, a straight nose, a perfect profile.

 

Thick wavy hair framed his face, an errant lock finding its way on to his forehead, which he pushed away constantly. His face was leaner, harder perhaps, with greying temples. He looked older.

 

Older than what?

 

She forced herself to look away from him, not wanting to be caught staring. Now that she could think, she realized that she had no idea how old he was supposed to be. Age was the last thing on their mind when they were together.

 

When they were together.

 

Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed dryly quickly squashing that thought. She was not going down that particular memory lane. She had left it behind, locked it and threw away the key. She had forgotten about it.  But there he was, sitting in her living room, looking at her. His face was one of those that was perfectly proportioned, symmetrical.

 

I remember measuring it. A small slip of a memory bubbled out of her. Shaking her head to rid of it, she waited for his answer.

 

“A conference actually, I am here on work. I am staying with Akash” he said. Quickly looking away, stopping to take a breath he continued, “And he told me about your husband… huh, Naren.” he said, finally looking up. “I am sorry Khushi, I didn’t know…” trailing off, letting his eyes convey his message.

 

Sorry – a five lettered word weighed down by the enormity of expectation rolled onto itself. A big job for a little word, thought Khushi.

 

What was she supposed to say? Follow the scripted exchange, say thank you? Thank you for what? For using a five letter word to express regret? Remorse? Sadness?  

 

Khushi looked at the pile of magazines and books that lay next to the rocking chair, as if the chaos and order that those books sat on held answers to the questions blazing in her mind.

 

Raising her eyes finally to meet Arnav’s, about to offer a perfunctory “thank you” when both of them were assailed by a series of staccato rings, in quick succession as if they were Morse code to have the door opened.

 

“That must be Mira” saying softly, Khushi opened the door when a whirlwind of a small form hurtled itself towards Khushi in a hug.

 

“Mommy!! Masila asked me to tell you that you were supposed to call her ASAP. She has something really important to tell you. Sydney’s mom wants to know if you can please call her to get a play day for me, tomorrow, please, pretty please? Is there something to eat? I am starving…Mommy, did you know that platypus is only one of two mammals that lays eggs? Patti is still on her way home walking…oh..” trailing off as she caught sight of a silent stranger sitting on the sofa.

 

Darting her eyes from the stranger to her mother, “Who is that mommy?” she whispered loudly. Before Khushi could respond, the little whirlwind walked towards Arnav beaming at him, seeming to have gotten over her shyness very quickly.

 

A shock of thick black curls framed a face replete with sinfully deep dimples on both cheeks that formed deep creases on each side of her face. Arnav’s gaze was arrested at her bright curious hazel eyes, that he found himself rising from the couch and extending his hand to shake hers.

 

“Hi, I am Arnav Singh Raizada.”

 

Looking from behind her spectacles Mira’s smile slowly transforming to a grin, she shook his hand, saying, “Cool name!” Pumping his hand with all the energy an eight year old could muster, she said, “I am Mira Gupta Krishnan. You can call me Mira,  and I shall call you, Arnav Singh Raizada.”

 

Finally finding her voice, Khushi exclaimed, “Mira.” Khushi pulled Mira back to herself,

 

“Huh Arnav, this is my daughter, Mira.”  Looking down at, she addressed Mira gently, “Honey, you should call him Mr. Raizada.”

 

“ASR is fine Khushi. Mr. Raizada is so …. officially old” said Arnav with a grimace, looking at Mira.

 

Silence fell awkwardly upon the three assembled like a wet blanket on a rainy day. Seconds ticked loudly while the two adults stood stiffly. It hadn’t escaped Arnav’s notice that Khushi was avoiding looking at him. He wondered what was going through her mind.

 

A decade’s distance stood between them. He thought he knew her well, even though it was for a brief time. But they could as well be two strangers in a room, meeting for the first time.

 

How does one contend with intimate knowledge about a stranger?

 

Quickly moving her gaze between her mother and the stranger in the house, Mira asked loudly, “I am hungry. Is there anything to eat Mommy?”

 

Breaking from her stillness, Khushi looked at Arnav and motioned him to join them in the kitchen.

 

“Toast fine Mira?” asked Khushi while sliding slices of bread into a toaster.

 

Lemon-buttery-yellow thought Arnav as he stepped into their kitchen. Two bay windows anchored the room with a square shaped dining table in the middle. A low chandelier hung on top of the dining table while the other walls were filled with black and white pictures. He walked towards the pictures to take a closer look at the faces, when he felt a tug on his wrist.

 

“That’s me and my Appa, when I was a baby” smiled Mira, looking at the pictures. “And that’s me and my Appa again, he was teaching me how to swim” this time, pointing to the picture frame. “My favorite is this one. I was trying to make a ponytail on his hair. He looks silly” Mira continued with giggles. “Mommy took all the pictures.”

 

Arnav felt like an intruder, trespassing on private memories and moments. With a wistful look he gazed at the array of photo-frames that anchored one side of the kitchen’s wall. He could immediately see NK’s dimples reflected in Mira’s. They shared not only their dimpled smile, but also thick curls that framed their faces. They were a unit, a family. He never gave that word too much thought, as much as he did, looking at those pictures. But then, he never realized that he never had one, with the exception of Mohan.

 

“Mira, where is your Patti? Didn’t she come back with you?” asked Khushi sliding the plate with toasted bread slices towards Mira.

 

“Masila dropped her off near the park, she’s walking back home” replied Mira, biting into her toast.

 

Turning to Arnav, “Patti means grandma in Tamil. Manorama Patti is my grandma, she is my Appa’s mother. My mommy doesn’t have a mommy, or an Appa. Do you have a mommy and Appa?” asked Mira.

 

Shaking his head to say he didn’t, Arnav was grateful for Mira’s chatter filling the silence between him and Khushi. “I don’t have parents living either” he replied, his eyes following Khushi as she moved around the kitchen. She was avoiding his direct gaze, he noted.

 

“That’s enough questions for the day Mira.” Directing her attention to Arnav, “Can I offer you something to drink or eat?”

 

“Coffee will be great, thank you. No su..”

 

“Yes, I know. No sugar. No milk. Just black.” Khushi said quietly.

 

“You still remember?”

 

Khushi looked up to find Arnav’s inscrutable gaze at her.

 

“It’s nothing” shrugged Khushi, turning away to reach for a mug. Yes, she did remember. Why did she remember after all this time? She had kept him at bay. In fact she was sure that she had locked him away in the far recesses of her soul that the distance of time erased those memories.  But one look at him and the gates she built seemed to crash with memories gushing through the cracks.

 

“No, it’s nothing, it means nothing” she muttered to herself. Quickly filling the mug with the dark coffee from the carafe, Khushi handed it to Arnav.

 

“Am sorry for barging in unannounced like this, Khushi. I just wanted to see you before I left” said Arnav softly as if trying to get past another awkward moment between them.

 

Taking a sip of coffee from the mug, he could see her struggle.

 

But then he always could.

 

He could read her every expression, her every move.   

 

“Leave for where and when?” asked Khushi turning towards him, all her attention now directed at Arnav.

 

“Leave for Delhi, where I live. I am visiting here for a few days. I told you earlier, I am here for a conference and reunion. I am staying with Akash and I leave tomorrow night.”

 

“Tomorrow night” she whispered, more to herself than for others. So soon?

 

“I didn’t know that” she said speaking softly.

 

“But then I know nothing, nothing about you” she said, looking up. Why did her stomach drop at the idea of him leaving? Why should she care if he stayed or left? He wasn’t a part of her life until this morning when he showed up at her doorstep unannounced. He wasn’t a part of her life, period, she thought. Her fists were clenched along with her stomach and she quickly realized that she didn’t want to be in the situation she was in right now.

 

“Why are you here ASR?”

 

“I told you, I wanted to see you.”

 

“Why? Why now? Why today?” Khushi demanded in a tone that took her by surprise. She didn’t realize that her voice had risen and now Mira was looking at both of them. Her eight year old’s face devoid of all smiles and dimples, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 

What was going on between her normally mild mother and this stranger?

 

“I am here because I wanted to see you, Khushi. I just found out about NK and wanted to ….” Arnav left the sentence unfinished as he shifted his glance from Khushi to Mira only to find the little hazel eyes behind her spectacles lose their sparkle. With a quick step, Arnav walked to Mira’s side, placed his palm over her left hand resting on the counter.

 

“I am sorry about your father.. your Appa” he said softly to Mira.

 

“Thank you” she nodded her head, looking away from him. In that moment, he was struck at how much she looked like Khushi.

 

“Did you know him? Were you friends?” Mira turned and asked with watery eyes.

 

His heart squeezed at the sight of her teary glance. I am a heel, he thought to himself. “I knew him a little, I am not sure if I would call myself his friend” he said. Fixing his gaze on Khushi he added, “I used to be your mom’s friend, a very long time ago.”

 

“You guys haven’t met in a long time? Is that why you are surprised Mommy?”

 

“Yes. That’s it. I mean, that’s right” Khushi exhaled with relief. Smiling at Mira, she asked, “Will you please check if Patti is here yet?”

 

“Sure Mommy” Mira said and walked out of the kitchen leaving Arnav and Khushi alone.

 

Slowly walking towards Khushi, Arnav said softly “I am sorry Khushi.”

 

“Yes, you’ve already said that twice. Thank you”.

 

“I mean, I am sorry not just about your loss”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“For showing up like this, for making you uncomfortable” he extended his hand towards her.

 

Was he going to touch her? His eyes held a warmth that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

 

Why now?

 

Nervously she said, “I am fine, just fine.”

 

Quickly walking away to create distance, she was about to unload the dishwasher when the phone rang. Looking at the relief written on her face, Arnav took his steps back to the other side of the kitchen, giving her room to answer the phone call. He should leave, he thought. He had no right to stay any longer than he did already.

 

He did what he came for, expressed his condolences.  He could see the visible signs of stress on Khushi’s face, tightness around her lips revealing the strain that his presence was creating for her. She was speaking softly into the phone, pushing her thick hair behind her ears. It sounded like a confirmation of a playdate for Mira.

 

Arnav began, “I think..”

 

“Would you..” Khushi, speaking at the same time, stopped, motioning him to continue.

 

“I think I should leave now Khushi. Thank you for the coffee” Arnav began walking out of the kitchen.

 

Khushi followed him, her heart racing.

 

No, don’t leave yet.

 

Quickly she quelled her thoughts and nodded in agreement. “Thank you for coming.”

 

Standing facing each other Khushi allowed herself to finally look at Arnav. He was a tall man, an easy six feet of frame that reminded her of steel that his pale blue polo shirt and khaki pants couldn’t hide. That errant lock of hair settled on his forehead again. He was a beautiful man she couldn’t stop herself from thinking that. His eyes could speak a language of their own. Warm caramel to molten honey, she remembered how they changed hues based on his emotions and moods. Right now they were two pools of warm honey, that seemed to offer warmth. She refused to read anything more in them.

 

A raised eyebrow brought her back to the living and Khushi realized that she had been caught staring at Arnav. A slow warmth rose from her neck to her face.

 

What was the matter with her?

 

She wasn’t the blushing kind, but he always did shift her axes.

 

Feeling flustered she raised her eyes to find Arnav giving her an amused look as if he knew what was going through her mind.

 

Yes, he did that too. He could read her easily.

 

Neither had noticed the arrival of Manorama Patti who now stood transfixed near the doorway, watching her daughter-in-law look alive with color in her cheeks. Her attention moved to the man who seemed to have something to do with Khushi looking animated… like she did a few years ago.

 

Clearing her throat to announce her arrival, Manorama said, “That was a good walk.”

 

Bounding in right behind her was Mira who announced loudly to Manorama, “Patti, this is Arnav Singh Raizada” pointing to Arnav and continued, “He is Mommy’s friend from a long time ago. He’s here to say hi to us. Doesn’t he have a cool name Patti?” Clearly happy with her introductions, Mira beamed a grin at Manorama, revealing those dimples again.

 

“Hello.” She smiled at Arnav setting free those now familiar dimples in her cheeks. Three generations of dimples, he thought.

 

“Namaste,” responded Arnav with folded hands, surprising Manorama with his greeting. “I was on my way out.”

 

“Oh, if you are Khushi’s friend then you have to stay for lunch. No?” Manorama turned to Khushi as if to have her reiterate the invitation.

 

“Thank you, but no, I cannot stay.” Moving towards the foyer Arnav bent to put his shoes on. “I just wanted to…”

 

“Say hello. Yes, you did mention that many times now.” Three sets of eyes, two expressing shock and the third looking confused.

 

This is ridiculous. Why am I reacting like this? He has been nothing but polite and certainly doesn’t deserve any rudeness.

 

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Khushi gave a quick smile to no one in particular to make light of her tone.

 

“But you should stay for lunch if you can. It isn’t anything fancy though, I have to warn you.” Pleading with her eyes, she offered a silent apology to Arnav. “Please stay” she said softly.

 

He nodded quietly with an inscrutable look. “Thank you, I will.”