A Quiet Dissonance, page 9
“What’s happened to you, Anu? You were never this hostile before. Sometimes I don’t recognise you.”
* * *
❖
To Annie’s credit, she had been quick to forgive Anu, but was still clipped in her responses. Ravi had taken them all out for lunch, hoping to thaw the lingering frostiness between the cousins.
Walking around Bath, Anu tried once again to start a conversation.
“Annie, do you miss India?”
“Yes, I do, but we try to go back at least twice a year, so it’s not all bad.” She glanced over to Anu. “Do you?”
“Sometimes yes, and other times no. Every time I return, I find it changing at a dizzying pace, and I can’t keep up.”
“I know what you mean,” Annie’s tone softened. “The India we grew up in was very different. I think there was a gentler pace of life back then and the people were simpler too.”
“Do you think it’s because of the economic boom?”
“I’m sure Richard could tell you more about it, but the world really has shrunk in the last thirty-odd years. Information is at our fingertips, everything is online. All those foreign goods we coveted growing up are available in India if you have the money to buy them.”
“I look at some of Ravi’s friends and think that they actually pity us our lifestyle. One wife said to me the last time, ‘you have to do all your cooking and cleaning yourself’ as if that’s a bad thing.”
“Don’t forget Anu, we grew up with servants too. It’s only living in this country that’s made us more self-sufficient. Although, I do miss having house help.”
“I thought I did, but then one of my friends, Julie, got a Polish cleaner, and she actually cleans the house before the cleaner comes. I can’t be dealing with that kind of stress!”
They both laughed together, all tension dissipating.
“Anu, why did you withdraw yourself from me? When you moved to this country, I thought we’d be close. But you barely call, and only after multiple invitations have you made it to Bath.”
“I... I’m sorry, Annie. I don’t have a reason, except that maybe I felt we’ve become very different people as we’ve grown up.”
“Blood is thicker than water Anu. Don’t ever forget that.”
* * *
Driving back home, Anu looked at Ravi’s profile as he manoeuvred the car towards the motorway.
“Ravi, have you ever questioned your relationship with Anil bhaiyya?”
“In what way?”
“I mean, like there are times you couldn’t stand him, and at other times, you know that he’s a part of you and that you love him.”
“I don’t think men think like that Anu. Anil bhaiyya and I know that we’re there for each other, no matter what. We don’t speak for months at a time, but when we do, it’s like nothing has changed. For women it’s different.”
“How so?”
“Well, you need each other in a way that can’t be defined. I’ve seen women being each other's biggest supporters and champions, but I’ve also seen women pull each other down, backbite, and be insanely jealous. The dynamics are very different among you lot.”
“And Annie? Which camp do you think she belongs to?”
“For all her faults, I don’t think she’s a bad person. You are both very different from each other, but I also see quite a few similarities.”
“Such as?”
“Ever heard yourself speak? If I close my eyes, I can't distinguish between your voices. The tones, the inflection - all exactly the same.”
“Huh.”
Neha, who had been quietly playing on the Nintendo gifted to her by Annie and Richard, suddenly spoke up.
“I like Auntie Annie now. She’s kind.”
Anu turned around and laughed at her.
“Is that because you got all these toys from her, you little minx?”
Neha just shrugged, her eyes still glued to the Nintendo screen.
* * *
❖
“Mama, it’s Anu. How are you?”
Her mother coughed a bit before speaking.
“I’m fine. Just have this chesty cough I can’t get rid of.”
“Have you quit smoking yet?”
“Please stop. I don’t need a lecture from another one of my children.”
When Kriti, her half-sister, had contacted her out of the blue to tell her that Mama hadn’t been keeping well, Anu had felt a sudden dizziness.
No matter that her mother had flitted in and out of her life, she had still been the fulcrum on which all their lives had rotated for the longest time. She couldn’t imagine a world without her mother, glamorous and unapproachable, but blindingly incandescent like the sun.
“We’re worried about you.”
“So I keep hearing. But nobody wants to visit me.”
And because she had no response to that, she asked, “How is Abhishek?”
“Who knows? He hasn’t been around the last few weeks.”
“But Mama, who's taking care of you then?”
“The maid, who else?”
“Why isn’t he with you?”
“Well, rumour has it he’s met some other woman.”
“Have you two broken up?”
“Not officially. But...” Here she went into another coughing fit. “But if this new bird ensnares him, I guess it’s over. If not, he’ll be back here, begging forgiveness. Seen it all before.”
“He’s done this before?” She was more shocked by her mother’s cavalier attitude towards it all than anything Abhishek got up to.
“Anu, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself, so you can stop the Mother Teresa act. I’ll be fine. If I die, then I’ve left instructions on what to do with my lawyer in Delhi. As it is, with all of you so far away, it’ll probably be Abhishek who’ll end up cremating me.”
“Mama! Don’t talk like that...”
“What? About dying, or all my stuff? I don’t have much, my own parents cheated me out of my inheritance. This house in Nainital has been willed to your brothers. My jewellery and saris will be divided between you three sisters. Bas! Khatam2.”
* * *
Long after she had finished talking to her mother, her words reverberated in Anu’s mind. What events had conspired to create a woman like Mama? Her grandparents had been hardworking, unassuming, and unremarkable people, middle-class in their living and thinking. Into that house, a wilful bird of paradise had arrived. They had done everything they could to tame her, but she had lived her life exactly how she had wanted, not caring about the trail of destruction she left in her wake. Yet, something about her still inspired awe and a strange love in those who were attached to her.
Troubled, she picked up her phone to dial the one person who she thought might be sympathetic to her dilemma.
“Jemima, sorry to bother you, but do you have time to meet for a coffee?”
* * *
They sat at their local coffee shop, talking in hushed tones. The tables were set so close together it was easy to eavesdrop on any conversation nearby.
“It worried me to hear her talk in this way. It’s unusually morbid of her. Normally, she’s always so fierce in her attitude toward life. Now, it’s like she’s preparing for death, almost.”
“Do you want to go visit her?”
“I feel I should, but it’s tough in the middle of the school year. Ravi is so busy at work, I can’t expect him to be taking care of Neha as well.”
“You could have Neha come and stay with us. Libby would be so excited to have her over.”
“Oh no, that’s too much to ask.”
“You didn’t ask, I offered! Discuss it with Ravi if it makes you feel better. But honestly, it’s no trouble at all. Taking care of one more child, especially one as well behaved as Neha, will make no difference to me. Maybe her manners will rub off on my two monkeys too!”
“Jemima, that is so kind of you. I may be making a mountain out of a molehill, but if something were to happen to her tomorrow, at least I’d know that I’d gotten to see her one last time.”
“Absolutely Anoo, I completely understand.”
Anu reached forward and squeezed Jemima’s hand, too overwhelmed by her kindness to say any more.
* * *
That night they scrolled through all the travel sites to get her a reasonably priced ticket for India. Having booked one for Saturday, Ravi turned to her.
“I’m not comfortable with Neha staying over at anyone else’s house.”
“It’s not just anyone, it’s Jemima. Libby and Neha are good friends too. Why are you being so difficult, Ravi?”
“Hear me out. I’ll go in later to work and drop Neha off at school in the mornings. If Jemima can keep her at hers till 6 p.m. then I’ll pick her up from there every evening until you’re back. This way Neha’s routine is disrupted as little as possible.”
She had to admit that sounded fair.
“Will you be okay without me?”
“You’re only going for a week. I think we’ll survive, even if it’s on beans and toast.”
“Thank you, Ravi.” She went and put her arms around his waist, hugging him tight.
“Don’t be silly, Anu. This is your mum, no matter that she is the way she is. You still have to go and see her.”
Packing for her trip to Nainital, Anu wondered what it would be like seeing her mother after all these years. For nearly twenty-five years of her life, her mother had been a celestial body her satellite orbited around, whether near or far. Now, as a mother herself, Anu sought to understand why Mama had never given herself fully to any of her children, choosing instead to seek other kinds of love. The kinds that took her far, far away from all her responsibilities.
CHAPTER SIX
Mama’s two-bedroom villa in Nainital had been an impulse purchase by her last husband. It was a modest little home, perched on a hillside with a breathtaking view of the Naini lake. Even in the busy month of June, one could wake up to clouds of mist surrounding the house in the morning.
The valley was green but groaning under all the modern, haphazard construction of homes in the last few decades. Yet, its beauty could not be denied. Chilly mornings transformed into bright sunny afternoons only to fade into orange sunsets, home-lit wood fires smoking in the distance.
Little had been done to the house to modernise it, except for the installation of a washing machine and a television. The upholstery on the sofa was a faded red-and-cream design from the ‘80s, and the mismatched yellow curtains were thick with dust. At some point, Mama had envisioned redecorating the home, but a brushstroke of paint in the corner of the living room was the only legacy of that attempt. Now, accustomed to her surroundings, it was clear that Mama had neither the energy nor the wherewithal to continue that effort.
* * *
When Anu had first arrived two days ago, she’d been shocked at her mother’s appearance. Where had that beautiful, vibrant woman gone? The one who took care to paint her nails and dye her hair, apply her makeup and look nothing less than polished?
Instead, she found an old lady in her place.
Mama had let herself go. She’d put on weight, given up on her slinky turtleneck and trouser ensembles, and chose instead to lounge around in oversized kaftans and sweatpants.
Perhaps she had detected Anu’s shock, because her retort had been acerbic.
“I’ve been ill, Anu. Don’t look at me like that.”
“It’s okay, Mama, but maybe we could go to the beauty parlour one of these days?”
“What for? Whom do I need to beautify myself for?”
And for the first time Anu realised that this supremely confident woman’s self-esteem had always hinged on what men thought of her.
* * *
A week to get to know a mother that she hadn’t fathomed in years seemed much too little. But slowly, Anu tried to fit into the rhythm of her life in Nainital.
Mama had put her in the smaller bedroom, which only had a bed, an armoire which housed all of Mama’s winter coats, and a dressing table. Every morning the maid woke them both up with tea and biscuits in bed. Then Mama would sit out on the balcony with her cigarettes and the newspaper, not inviting conversation until she’d had a minimum of three cups of tea.
Anu sat with her, going through her own emails and messages. The dial-up internet was slow and patchy, and kept dropping, but Anu persisted, eager to receive news from home. There were several emails from Ravi, keeping her updated on Neha’s and his daily routines. There were also emails from her friends asking how she was. Jemima sent a few pictures of Neha, Libby and Emily, her other daughter, playing together after school. Julie sent her a photo attachment of three gin and tonics, captioned ‘missing our fourth friend’. Anu sent them all several pictures of the valley, the lake, and the tiny houses nestled in the hillside. She sent none of Mama.
* * *
“Has Abhishek been in touch?”
Her mother looked up from her newspaper, the half-moon glasses giving her an owlish appearance.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just saw that some of his clothes are still in the armoire in my room and wondered if he was planning to retrieve them...”
“He’ll come when that latest floozy drops him. They always do once they discover he doesn’t have a rupee to his name.”
“Why do you take him back, Mama?”
“What am I supposed to do? Live here alone? I need love and companionship too!”
Anu stayed quiet, wondering how her mother couldn’t see the irony of searching for love from a man who had none to give.
* * *
The parlour was only a twenty-minute walk down the hill, in the more mercantile area of the town, but Mama insisted on taking the car, parking at an odd angle behind the other stationary vehicles.
Little shops with leather goods, scarves, wooden necklaces and more jostled for space in the narrow areas assigned to them. In their midst was a glass door captioned ‘Rita’s beuty parlour’. The girls inside greeted Mama enthusiastically, exclaiming falsely over how slim she looked and asking why she hadn’t come before. They ushered them both into a room at the back with the two narrow beds on which they were to receive their treatments.
“This is my daughter Anu from London.” Mama introduced her with not-a-little pride.
Immediately they fawned over her, offering her Fanta or chai, and showing her the most expensive treatments on their list.
She let Mama pick, knowing that the bill would still only be a fraction of what she would have paid for this kind of pampering in the UK.
* * *
The girl who waxed her legs would not stop asking her questions or commenting upon her appearance.
“How long have you lived in London?”
“How did you settle there?”
“You really don’t look much like madam. Taken after your father, have you?”
“Don’t you wax your legs abroad? Your hair is too thick from all that shaving.”
“Can I get a job in London?”
Anu felt irritated by the interrogation, but was too polite to say so and answered in brief sentences, not inviting any more conversation and not correcting the girl’s belief that all of England comprised just London.
She strained to hear her mother’s conversation from behind the thin curtain drawn between the two beds.
Mama was laughing, asking the girl applying her face mask about all the news in Nainital, being her delightful self that always led people to fall so easily in love with her. It was a persona she donned for the public, and one that she rapidly shed in the privacy of her home.
* * *
❖
With just a day remaining on her trip, Anu was no closer to understanding her mother, although she had observed some behavioural patterns that helped her understand herself a bit better.
Mama’s flightiness had led to her own search for relationships that were grounded and real. Mama’s vanity and excessive glamour had led to her wanting something beyond the artifice of clothes and makeup. Mama’s lack of female friendships had created in her a yearning for a sisterhood that supported and upheld one another.
But for all that, she realised now that she loved her mother deeply. Anu had wanted to restore her mother to her former self, and even though this plumper, more lackadaisical person was not the mother she had known all her life, at least they had groomed her the way she remembered.
On their last evening together, her mother poured them both a rum and coke, and ordered food from the local dhaba1.
“So, what time are you leaving tomorrow?”
“Not until the afternoon. The train is at 3:35 p.m. but I’ll double-check the ticket.”
“I’ll drop you off.”
“That’s okay Mama, I’ll take a taxi.”
“I know you are very independent in London, but here we still like to do things the old-fashioned way.”
Not sure how to respond, Anu stayed silent.
The doorbell rang, and Mama opened the door to the dhaba’s delivery boy.
“Hand me my purse, Anu.”
“Mama, let me get this...”
“Nonsense! I’m paying.” Anu watched her count out the notes carefully, before adding ten rupees as a tip.
She shut the door and turned around.
“I’m glad you came, Anu,” she said, handing the maid the food to serve to them. “I know I haven’t been much of a mother to any of you. But this week has meant a lot to me.”
Anu digested this silently, knowing this was a rare admission from a woman who had hitherto displayed no remorse over her failings. Could this be the opening she’d been looking for?
