There's Something About You Page 4

  She waited with bated breath for her mother to say one thing, just one thing, to contradict this statement. Come on, just one remark on how I’m actually jobless and have nothing to do all day, bring it on, Ma. But her mother stayed quiet. The nurse’s teeth shone, but her grin was more uncertain this time. ‘I will call Doctor-sir,’ she repeated and then turned on her heel and trotted away.

  ‘Gone?’ Trish repeated, not sure she had heard the doctor right.

  He was a friendly, humorous, good-natured fellow, this Dr Behl, and he was doing a lot to cheer her up with his

  hmm-ing and tch-tch-ing as he examined her. He was one of those doctors with innate natural charm. He looked about fifty-five years old and was treating Trish as if she were an errant, well-meaning teenager. Trish was a tough nut to crack, but he had won her over when he exuberantly congratulated her on her daring escapade, and so she had cooperated with the physical examination that he had promised would take only five minutes ‘tops’.

  ‘Oh, yes, the chappie has gone. Vanished without a trace. Vamoosed. Disappeared into thin air.’ He removed his stethoscope from Trish’s back, appearing satisfied. ‘And now, so may you. You’re absolutely fine, young lady. Just eat the piping hot nutritious meal we’re providing you and then go home.’

  ‘Er, but doc …’ Trish hesitated ‘How did he … disappear like that? Wasn’t he under police observation or something?’

  ‘Gave them the slip,’ Dr Jolly said breezily. ‘Evaded them. Gone in the blink of an eye, while the hardworking fellow on duty took a well deserved nap on the stool outside the room.’ He paused, gazing over the top of his glasses at Trish, and said, in a gentler manner, ‘I suppose you wanted to see him?’

  ‘See him?’ Trish repeated blankly. ‘No. Well, yes. I mean. I just wanted to know if he was okay, that’s all.’ She couldn’t fully hide her disappointment. Maybe she had wanted to see the guy after all. Just to talk to him. And find out what the hell he was thinking when he decided to end it all in a watery grave that had almost taken her in with him. Fool. And now he had disappeared.

  ‘Anyway.’ She looked up at the doctor. ‘Thank you, Dr Behl.’

  ‘Oh! You’re welcome, young lady. You did a wonderful thing. Keep it up. Are you a lifeguard by profession?’

  ‘Me?’ Trish said automatically before she realized he was joking. He had a dreamy expression on his face as he said to himself, ‘I used to love Baywatch.’

  Her mother was staring at the two of them, unsure as to what was going on. She wasn’t used to large, friendly doctors, Trish realized. She had only gone to that one slimy, small family physician neighbour of theirs, who was now approximately a hundred years old, but still practising back in Indore. Trish couldn’t help but grin at her puzzled expression. She turned back to the doctor. ‘Bye, doc.’

  The doctor smiled at her and said, ‘Farewell, young Trish.’ And with a slight bow towards her mother, he swept out of the room, the young nurse scurrying to keep up with him and get him to sign the release papers.

  He had convinced Trish that it was in her best interest to eat the meal that had been placed in the room for her. She picked reluctantly at the tray. She then slowly peeled back the silver foil covering the largest dish. Aah. Khichdi and dahi. How annoyingly healthy. Still, it was warm and she realized only after she started eating how famished she really was. Shovelling down a few bites, she finished in a matter of minutes. Another small cup contained some cut melons. She gulped them down too and then sipped from the small juice box that had come with the tray. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, wishing her mother would stop watching her. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her even without looking up.

  Aware that her mother wouldn’t think of doing anything about the formalities required to actually get out of there, Trish ran her fingers through her curly hair once, gave up trying to look presentable, and stalked out of the hospital room in her newly acquired bunny slippers.

  They were accosted at the reception by two grim-looking policemen who claimed to have questions about the incident. Trish was loud and insistent that she knew nothing about the fellow, but had simply gone in when she saw he was in trouble. She told them she needed to leave right away and that they could interview her at her home address if they wished. They hovered. Finally, the mustachioed one, who looked more senior, nodded, and they let Trish and her mother walk out of the hospital. Trish trotted ahead of her mother and didn’t glance back once, realizing it had been a lot easier to get away from them than she’d thought it would be. She wasn’t about to hang around, in case they changed their minds.

  They took a taxi from the hospital to Marine Drive. Trish worried that her car would have been stolen by now because she had left it unlocked, but there it was, right where she had parked it on the side of the road. The bhutta-waala grinned in recognition when she got out of the taxi. She approached her car with some trepidation, but it looked fine even though the back window was open. Even her purse still lay in the backseat, untouched. The bhutta-waala called out that he had watched it the whole day, awaiting her return. He exclaimed with admiration, ‘Aap to ekdum hero hai, madam!’ He proceeded to offer her a free bhutta. She refused the bhutta, but thanked him for his vigilance. She opened the car door and got in, reaching for her purse. Yes. The key was right where she had automatically popped it, front pocket. Thank god for the bhutta-waala. Ma also got a friendly yellow-toothed grin and an offer of a free bhutta, which she shrank back from suspiciously, and she gingerly made her way around to the passenger seat. Trish revved the car up and took off almost before her mother had closed the door. They drove home in complete silence, her mother only occasionally gasping at Trish’s fast turns and tendency to brake hard at the

  last minute.

  The white bunny slippers were dirty by the time Trish and her mother reached home an hour and a half later. She took them off as soon as she entered the house and pushed them to one corner of the hall. It was really late now, but the light in Ba’s room was still on. Dropping her keys on the side table and the purse to the floor, she headed straight down the long narrow hall to her parents’ bedroom.

  ‘Trish.’

  Akanksha stood up rather dramatically and she reached up to envelop her friend in a tight embrace. When she didn’t let go, Trish said in embarrassment, ‘I’m fine, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of it.’ She looked over Akanksha’s shoulder. ‘Not in front of Ba.’

  Akanksha’s grip loosened and she looked at Trish’s face searchingly, concern on her pretty face. Trish gently patted her on the shoulder as she slipped away to go to her father.

  ‘Ba?’

  ‘You’ve come, finally.’ Her father addressed her without turning his head away from the window. He was staring out at the ocean. Trish had given up her bedroom to her parents when they moved in. She knew that her father loved the sea view. He spent most of his day staring at the movement of the waves, watching the sunset and the ebb and flow of the tide like most people watched TV. He didn’t remark on the view. Ba rarely talked these days, and even more rarely about his feelings. But Trish instinctively knew what he felt about it.

  Trish sat down on the bed next to him. She felt a little guilty and ashamed for having neglected him over the last several weeks. She had been so preoccupied with herself ever since she had lost her job that she hadn’t felt up to spending time with him. In the past, even though she was out for work the whole day, she had always made sure to have breakfast and evening tea with Ba. He spoke more to her than to Ma, even though it was usually to complain about his condition, about how nobody was telling him anything and how he couldn’t remember the simplest things any more. She would patiently explain to him that Alzheimer’s was that kind of disease and they were doing their best to manage it and that was why it was important for him to take his medicines on time without a fuss, even if it was only Ma who was around to give it to him most times. Sometimes, she would also try and tell him about whatever she had read about the latest research
on the disease, although she wasn’t ever sure he was really listening. It had been too long since she had last sat with him like this.

  She was silent for a few moments and then answered him, ‘Yes, Ba. I’ve come. Just had a really … busy day.’

  He didn’t exactly say ‘Humph!’ but the angle at which he kept his chin stubbornly turned away from her indicated that he was still petulant and would be for a while.

  ‘Have you had something to eat?’ Trish asked gently. ‘Tea?’

  ‘That girl.’ He turned his head away from the window to indicate Akanksha with a most accusatory and indignant expression. ‘Every three minutes, she tries to give me something to eat! Every three minutes!’

  ‘Uncle,’ Akanksha protested. ‘It was only twice, and I was trying to give you dinner.’

  Ba ignored her, addressing Trish in a louder voice. ‘I told you before that I don’t need a nurse, I don’t want a nurse.’

  Akanksha was clearly hurt by this. ‘Uncle, you’ve known me for years, I’m Akanksha.’ Trish turned to her with a beseeching expression. Akanksha swallowed and then got up. ‘Listen, honey,’ she told Trish, ‘I’ve got to go, Lisa has been calling nonstop since the afternoon. I really should get home.’

  ‘Of course.’ Trish smiled at her friend gratefully. Akanksha had been away from her small daughter the entire day to help out with Ba. ‘Thanks, Akku.’

  Akanksha gave the whole room a small wave and left, leaving behind a faint trace of the delicate, expensive perfume that she was wearing. Trish’s mother followed her to the door. To exchange notes, no doubt, thought Trish, still irritated with her mother.

  She was now alone with her father and he had turned his attention back to the waves. She sensed that he had thawed a little and was feeling better now that the other two ladies had left the room.

  ‘Ba,’ she said softly.

  ‘Hmm?’ Without looking at her.

  ‘I … saved a man today, I saved him from drowning.’ Trish’s words came rushing together. She edged closer to Ba’s pillow to make sure he could hear her. ‘It was on Marine Drive and I saw his arm, I thought it was a stick but then went to check and … I went in and saved him, Ba.’ She was surprised to find that her eyes felt like they had tears in them. That wasn’t like her at all. She blinked the feeling away.

  Her father was looking into her face now. Their eyes met, after what felt like years, and he reached out slowly and patted her hand. She felt a little thrill to see that she was getting through to him. He was actually registering what she was saying. This could be some sort of a breakthrough!

  ‘But you couldn’t save him. Don’t feel bad,’ Ba said in a low voice, his manner comforting, still patting her hand.

  ‘Huh?’ Trish said blankly even as her heart went cold. His eyes had clouded over. She had lost him again. ‘Ba. Listen to me.’ She took hold of his thin, trembling hand in a bid to calm him down. ‘I did save him. He’s okay, at least they said he’s okay, I couldn’t see him, he wasn’t around when I woke up at the hospital.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ he said, his tone every bit as earnest as hers. ‘Gone! What can you do about it? Nothing!’

  Trish frowned at her father. She wondered what her mother had said to him before leaving for the hospital. She was about to ask him when Ma’s voice floated in from behind her. ‘He’s getting upset, Trish.’ It sounded like a warning.

  ‘What’s he talking about, Ma?’ Trish demanded, turning her head to look at her mother. Ma stood in the doorway, tight-lipped and rigid. ‘He’s saying …’

  ‘I heard him,’ Ma snapped. ‘He’s talking nonsense. You’re upsetting him.’

  Ba, who had been studying Trish’s face, their hands still clasped together, stiffened at his wife’s words. The trembling of his hands worsened and the frustration on his face forced Trish to ignore her mother. She quickly said to her father, ‘Shhh, Ba, look, you’ll miss the sunset.’

  It was true. The golden sun was setting over the ocean, one brilliant beam of light stretching out over the water. Her father was distracted by this and, in a minute, he was staring out the window meditatively again.

  Trish waited for her mother to leave the room, but Ma stood obstinately by the door. Finally, Trish released her father’s hand – he didn’t seem to notice – and she brushed past Ma, to escape that small room which was always far too crowded when the three of them were in it.

  5

  The Assignment

  ‘Trish, try this laddoo. Is the sugar okay?’

  Trish looked up from the classifieds section of the paper to see the moist, freshly prepared laddoo her mother was holding out to her on a plate about two inches from her face. Her nostrils had already been assailed by the achingly tempting smell wafting in from the kitchen. Who on earth made besan laddoos first thing in the morning anyway? Ma really knew how to make driving-Trish-up-the-wall an

  art form.

  She said coldly, ‘I’m having coffee right now, Ma. And you’re the one always saying I should cut back on sweets.’

  ‘Then why do you take two spoons of sugar in that coffee?’

  Trish’s hands tightened around the newspaper, crumpling the edges slightly, but she didn’t say anything until her mother got tired of waiting and went back into the kitchen, clutching her laddoo and grumbling to herself.

  Trish exhaled and tried to relax her shoulders. She felt so suffocated in here these days. The house hadn’t felt quite this stifling when she had a job to escape to; but now, there were small clashes on a daily basis with her mother. They were constantly bumping into each other in this too-small flat with its tiny square rooms and narrow hallway. She tried to focus on the ads again. She was so desperate now she was ready to try anything. Her resumé was already up on all the major job portals, and she was sick of the emails they continued to send her: ‘Exciting content writer jobs, 3-4 years, salary 3 lakhs per annum!’ She scanned the classifieds listlessly.

  ‘Didi.’

  Munni, her fifty-something-year-old, small, efficient maid was standing before her. Trish looked up. ‘Yes, Munni?’ She realized the lady looked upset. Oh no. What had Ma

  done now?

  ‘Didi. Please settle my balance today. I can’t take it any more.’

  ‘Munni, what happened?’

  ‘She said …’ Munni’s words came out in a hiss. Her prematurely wrinkled face was even more puckered up now. ‘She said I don’t know how to make besan laddoos or anything apart from roti-sabzi-dal. I told her that I know how to make everything and she just taunted me saying that people like me were born liars. People like me! Means what? She has insulted me enough times. Two days ago also she got after me, did you wash the gobi properly? Ten times she asked me, did you wash the gobi properly? And when I told her that I bathed the gobi in Ganga-jal and did aarti of it also – I also get upset sometimes, didi – then she got angry and said I had better understand who was the madam of the house. I said I know who is madam of the house, it is Trish-didi, and then she says and I am Trish’s mother so you need to show even more respect to me. And I said …’

  ‘Munni, Munni,’ Trish pleaded. ‘Look, we’ve talked about this before, she’s an old lady, and old people are like this only.’ Not that Ma was that much older than Munni, but still. ‘And she’s not going to change. You also shouldn’t talk back, na, you weren’t being polite either.’ She tried not to smile when she thought about what Ma’s face would have been like at the Ganga-jal remark. She went on quickly. ‘This is why I increased your salary when they moved in, remember?’

  ‘But how much will I have to bear, Trish-didi?’ Munni wrung her hands. She was not the dramatic sort, so Trish knew she was really overwrought right now. ‘I’ve managed this house for you for years without complaint.’ She looked challengingly at Trish. ‘Did you have any complaint?’

  ‘Er, no,’ said Trish hastily. ‘No complaint. And I want you to be around and happy and continue to manage the house.’

  ‘Not possible now, didi,’
Munni said obstinately. ‘Please settle my dues today. I mean no disrespect to your mother. A mother is like bhagwan.’ She raised her voice and Trish could see it was deliberate now because she also turned her head toward the kitchen as she bellowed, ‘But I am NOT a LIAR and I CAN make besan laddoos and EVERYTHING else.’

  ‘Is she cribbing about me again, that woman of yours?’ Her mother’s voice floated in from the kitchen. ‘Rude, disrespectful, arrogant thing. Don’t know why you’ve kept her around so long.’

  Trish sighed and closed her eyes as they talked over each other for another few minutes. Finally, she looked up at Munni. ‘Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Come tomorrow.’ Munni hovered uncertainly. ‘I’ll talk to her,

  I promise.’

  She must have looked really defeated. Munni’s demeanor changed and she transformed back to her regular stoic self. She nodded once in grateful acknowledgement of her employer’s support, adjusted the pallu on her loud, orange sari and left the room. A moment later, Trish heard the click of the front door. She was gone.

  There was still lunch and dinner to be prepared. No matter, Trish would do it when she finished this morning’s scan of job opportunities. She did have a lot of emails to write, she was still trying hard to get her resumé noticed. And a couple of people were coming to see her car later today,

  she remembered.

  It would probably fetch at least two lakhs, or so she hoped. She had bought it for close to four lakhs a couple of years ago. It was hurtful, having to sell her car, but she had to be practical. She needed the money to tide her over for the next couple of months.

  She wondered when Ma was going to offer to pay for something. Surely her parents had some savings piled up. There had been no discussion about it till now, of course, but Trish found it strange that even when she was clearly under monetary pressure, Ma hadn’t figured out it was probably time to dip into their coffers so that they could make ends meet. But Trish herself wasn’t going to bring it up, it was too uncomfortable a conversation, and there was no telling what kind of tangent Ma would go off on if Trish initiated it. Best to figure it out herself for now.