Sunset Limited

The office looked cheerful, if places could be said to have an expression - not what Hari was expecting at all. He expected a clinical looking place with serious or angry looking people. This one could have been a set for a painting ad on TV. As he was entering the door of the inner office - painted a bright orange - he saw the gorgeous long legged woman in a red dress step out from an office room nearby. She looked and walked like a model. If he could whistle, he would have done so that moment. She had her sun-glasses on, which would have seemed funny on a few vain women he knew, but seemed perfect on her. How he wished he could have seen the colour of her eyes! As he watched, she walked away without even barely glancing at him.

He was dragged out of his thoughts when the voice inside the room he was supposed to enter, said a little more loudly, "I said, please come in!",

"Please take your seat - Mr. Hari Subramanian?", said the pleasant looking lady inside, turning the statement into a question.

"Yes, thank you."

"I trust your journey was comfortable. I am sorry that you had to go through the trouble, but we are a secure facility. We need to take certain precautions. I trust you understand that!" she said, in a tone that meant she wasn't expecting an answer.

"Err.. yeah, I do. So, am I eligible? Did I pass the test?" said Hari.

"Eager, aren't we? I can understand that!" she said, gleefully. "I would have liked to make a more formal and sombre announcement, but what the heck! Yooohooo! You are in!!"

"Wow!! Thank you!! I can finally sleep tonight! Thank you so much!" said Hari, with his eyes glistening.

He had been waiting for these words for almost three months now. His friends had told him that it was not an easy process and that the rejection rates were high.

'Sunset Limited' took its business and clientele seriously. The background check done on prospective clients was more thorough than that of the world's topmost intelligence agency. The rates they charged were very high, but the results were guaranteed.

"You do realize that getting accepted as a client is only the first step? We may still reject your service request.", she said, trying to be gentle and failing.

"But why would you do such a thing? I mean, under what circumstances, would you reject a 'service request'?", asked Hari, sounding perplexed.

"Well, conflict of interest is often a reason. Also the risk-perception associated with the service request." said the woman, still looking composed.

"What risk perception are you talking about? You have already done a detailed background check on me. What more do you need?", said Hari, secretly wondering if he should have just done it himself or gone with that 'Feelings Gaja' - that guy one of his friends had mentioned.

"Sir, the background check helped us confirm if it was safe to deal with you and also to check your financial stability. We need to be paid in advance, as you are probably aware, irrespective of whether or not we accept your request. The service requests will be assessed by our team of experts that includes law-enforcement personnel and legal experts. You will be given a service request number for your request and will receive an SMS on the acceptance status on the day of service fulfillment".

"So you may reject my request, but still need the money in advance?" asked Hari.

"In the rare case of a rejection, you will receive a full refund minus operating expenses via bank transfer to an unnamed offshore account" said the lady. "One more thing, you will not speak of us or try to contact us once you leave the premises".

"Can I ask you one thing? How do you recruit your employees? How do I know I can trust you?" asked Hari.

"We have a vigorous screening process for our employees. We call them artists here. None of them are here for the money. Most of them would do it for free. We believe that when an employee enjoys what he or she does, the results are better. Our employees are carefully picked for their interest in this job. The clients need discretion and a clean way to deal with their problems, our artists need a safe outlet for their creativity. All we do is provide a solution for both of them", she said.

"And get paid a bomb", he said. "Oops!! My bad!"

"Yeah, it is a win-win-win, as they say these days", she said. "And about the question of trust, what choice do you have Mr. Subramaniam?"

Hari silently handed over the folder to the lady, who keyed in something on her MacBook.

After a minute, she turned to him and said, "Your service request number is S023. Memorize it, because you won't get a paper or electronic copy of anything. You will receive a text from an unknown number between the 12th and 20th of this month confirming the acceptance status of your request. If accepted, the request will be fulfilled the same day. No confirmation will be sent to you. If rejected, the balance, after operating expenses, will be refunded to you. We have a 99% success rate. No refund will be provided for failed services when the reason for failure is beyond our control or is an act of God. Partial refunds may be provided for failed services based on Sunset Limited's discretion".

"Whew!! Is that the speech version of the fine print on agreements? Impressive!", said Hari.

On his way out, once again, he was blindfolded and taken into an aircraft.

"How was your trip? Did your meeting with your board go well?", asked Priya, as soon as Hari entered his house.

"It was good! It was great!! Hey, let me take a shower. Let's go for a movie", he said.

"Why, what's special? My birthday is on 15th, not today", said Priya.

"Sorry dear. I have to be in Mumbai on 12th and will be back by 21st. The customer is coming down from the States", he said.

"But that is tomorrow! And you just came home! I had plans for us on 15th. Not fair!", she said in a hurt voice.

"I will make it up to you! I promise. Now, let me just take a shower. Let's have dinner and then a movie. Deal?", said Hari. He was whistling on his way to the bathroom. The meeting had gone better than he expected.

He couldn't stop grinning on the flight to Mumbai. It was finally going to happen!

"Goodbye Priya. It was nice knowing you!", he said to himself.

Any day now, he was going to get a confirmation from Sunset Limited. That message was going to be the first chapter of his new life - a life he intended to spend with Rachel, the love of his life. He had considered divorce first. But Priya's father and her brothers were policemen. "And in this country, if there is someone you fear as much or sometimes more than a thug, it is a policeman", reasoned Hari.

And thus started his search for a way out. Local contract killers weren't professional enough. Help finally came from the underground internet, which he had taken to frequent in the last few years.

"There are organizations, that help people such as you. It may cost you serious money. But these guys are very good. They are discreet. I heard from someone that they recruit only people who are genuinely interested in killing - those who think of it as an art. Their after-service is to die-for, pardon the pun. It is the best you can do for the ones you love to hate!", said one guy on an online forum.

It took Hari a few months to zero-in on Sunset Limited. It took them longer to accept him as a client. And then the interview happened, and here he was close to the D-day.

It was going to be on 15th - he could feel it in his gut. He had to act normal till then - go to work, meet with his clients, call Priya every day at 7 pm, to say good night. He had ceased all contact with Rachel ever since he got this idea. He could always pick up where he left off, after a year or two after Priya's untimely demise, he thought.

"For now, a drink at the bar. Who knows! I may get lucky tonight", he thought to himself. The only customer other than him was a lone woman who seemed vaguely familiar.

"Buy you a drink?", said Hari, as he slid into the bar-stool next to her.

"What's your room number?" she asked.

"Wow! That was direct!! Have we met before?" asked Hari, completely taken aback.

"Save the pickup lines for someone else. It is getting late. I have to be out of here early in the morning. Are you going to give me your room number?" she said, looking at him directly with her large eyes.

"Hmm.. 502.. Didn't I see you the other day at.." he stuttered.

"Let me change into something more comfortable. I will see you in 5?" she said as she slid out of her chair.

It was more like 10 minutes, when the knock on the door finally came.  Hari didn't want to seem too eager and got up from his seat trying to look cool and went towards the door.

"Hey, come on in! What do you have in that?" he said as he opened the door to find the gorgeous woman tugging a large suitcase behind her.

Lonely.. I am so lonely.. I have nobody... wailed the phone.

"One sec, I need to check this message", he said. "Service Request S023 rejected. Reason - Conflict of Interest".

"Hey honey! Priya says Hi!" said the gorgeous woman, as she stabbed him once with a fine knife that went through him like he was made of butter.

"What the..!! It's you.. you.. Your eyes are grayish blue!", he said as he fell.

The Misunderstood

It was love at first sight - for both of us.

People may say a lot of things now - don't believe them. It was love and it was mutual - no matter what others tell you.

I think it is sheer cruelty to treat people who aren't demonstrative insensitively - like they don't have feelings at all. Some of us are expressive, some aren't. And just because someone does not show his/ her feelings, doesn't mean he/ she does not have them? Wouldn't you agree?

When Kiran walked in that day - my heart stopped beating for a minute. I knew it then, that I had fallen head-over-heels in love. I felt everything around me vividly - the colours around me seemed more pronounced, my sense of hearing had sharpened. I remember the smell of cookies on the table, the perfume I had worn and the indescribable fragrance that wafted from Kiran.

I tried hard to ignore my feelings, but then, when has love ever been rational? Kiran did not look up once, but I knew. I just did! I knew that Kiran had fallen for me too, but would not be the first person to admit it. When have the meek ones ever done so? It fell upon me then - this pleasurable step of the mating dance.

Did I never feel any guilt? Of course! I was married - with two children and that complicated things a little. I was a loyal husband, well mostly. More importantly I was a loving father. If this came out, my family would be shattered. I knew it was dangerous. But Kiran's pull was too strong. I had given strict instructions to others on workplace romance. I had had minor dalliances before - but this, I knew, was the real deal.

Kiran was hesitant at first. This was a place of work for me, but it was Kiran's home in every sense of the word. We had to be careful about others finding out, otherwise it would end everything - not just our romance - maybe even our lives.

Those were wonderful times. Covert meetings in deserted rooms, stolen kisses, with us getting to know everything, and I mean everything, about each other - thinking of them makes me yearn for those days even now. Kiran wasn't much of a talker. After every such rendezvous, I would be in tears, thanking Kiran for everything. I only got silence as as a response. If Kiran had refused strongly, I would have stopped. It would have hurt, but I would have tried. You have to believe me on that one!

I had imagined many different ways that this would end - I thought we would eventually tire of each other or that Kiran would find someone else after a few years or that Kiran would be moved to a different place. Every scenario I had imagined, had us parting in tears - sad, but not bitter - because Kiran was too gentle for that.

What I had not imagined, was betrayal! If Raja had asked me, had confronted me, I would have explained. He, of all people, would have understood. He knows me more than anybody else. I had loved him more than anyone. I still loved him, but he decided to turn turncoat.

And that traitor, that turncoat! He could made an internal complaint - I would have lost my job and lost my face in front of the smug pot-bellied Mr. Kurien and Mrs. Das! But he had to go to the police! My own son, complained to the police! That made even Mr.Kurien and Mrs.Das angry! Our home's reputation was at stake and before you could say 'What!', they disowned me! Said I was a black sheep, an aberration, nothing more! I, Jayakumar - the most loved man at the 'Pure Hearts Orphanage' - the man who coaxed millions of dollars from white donors! I was apparently an aberration!

My family looked at me like I was something they stepped on, by mistake, on the road. My wife, refused to let me in the house and forbid me from seeing Renu and Raja. That young traitor, hid behind his mother, refusing to show his spineless self! It was good that he didn't though. I could have killed him with my bare hands!

But you know when my heart truly broke? When Kiran took the stand and said I had been abusing him for the last 2 years. He was in tears - his lovely big eyes filling with tears and filling me with yearning to reach out and caress his satin-soft cheeks - and the people in the court looked at me with so much hatred! Who made Kiran lie? What did they threaten him with? That word 'abuse'!! Surely he didn't mean that! Someone must have put him up to it! Was it Raja, who felt I had betrayed him? But I still love him - he is my son after all. Maybe not like I used to, till a couple of years ago, but I do love him!

Your Honour, I know this may not seem true to you. But surely, you have heard of May-December romances? What is age, if not just a number? Oh, I know what you will say - that Kiran was just a hapless child - all of seven years old. But you have not seen him the way I have seen him sir. Children aren't all innocent. At least this one wasn't. He knew the power he had over me! You should have seen him claim benefits that the other children in the orphanage did not get - like extra sweets, an additional pair of clothing etc. What haven't I done for him? I don't blame Kiran, your honour. He is a sweet little thing, easily led and corrupted.

I heard the lawyer here use the term 'abuse of trust and position'. He is wrong, your honour. I never abused my position. Ask the other kids in the home. Ask them if I have treated them with anything other than kindness. I know what some of the older ones like Daniel said. But it is not completely true your honour.

I am a broken man, your honour. My heart has been broken into a million pieces. My own true love testified against me. I don't ask to be acquitted your honour. I only wish to be understood. Everything I have done, I have done for love. And if I am going to be punished for it, then I am happy to accept it. But please your honour, do not put me in the prison along with murderers and rapists. They may not understand me,your honour. I don't want to live in fear for my life, your honour.

All I ask for, is a little understanding, your honour. Please!

Silence

“The only way to reach the temple on the hill is by a cable car”, said the guide. “The expenses have been included in your overall price”.

The crowd looked thrilled. They were a motley bunch of tourists of varying age-groups and backgrounds. For most of them, this was their first such trip. Most had researched the route and the places to be visited on the internet before setting off. Now all they needed was someone to listen to their exposition.

The Home-Maker-from-Chennai (HMC), thought the Office-Goer-Woman (OGW) looked too full of herself. Wearing jeans and leaving her hair loose, did not make her smarter, she thought. She had to put her in her place by telling her stuff that the latter had no idea about. A few lines of poetry, maybe?

The student thought the guide looked cute and was wondering if he would be accompanying them on the trip. The adolescent boy looked at the guide with envy. “Why does he have to come with us everywhere we go?”, he thought. If only he could get the student alone, he could impress her with his knowledge of Hindi film songs.

“Only 6 people per car” said the guide. The student tried to look nonchalent and asked “Aap aa rahe ho?” (“Are you coming with us?”). She thought her diction sounded perfect. Surely the guide was going to ask her about it! The guide didn’t seem to have noticed. He hesitated for a moment and said “Chalo” (“Let’s go”). The student quickly tousled her hair a little to get that perfect unkempt look and got on. “Never sit too close and make your interest obvious”, she told herself.

“This woman looks like the talkative kind. And she has been giving me strange looks. Must be one of those bored housewife-types, who watches afternoon soaps”, thought the OGW. “I should just take my smartphone out and check my emails to avoid any conversation. She looks like the perfect Maami, with readymade advice on everything”.

“One more person will fit here. Arrey Uncle, please get in”. The 65+ year old man, who had gone to great lengths to appear younger, looked crestfallen as he got in. He looked around the cabin, found at least two promising candidates who could maybe be impressed with his knowledge of old romantic songs and cool demeanor.

“Chunnu, wear this monkey-cap” said the OGW to the adolescent boy.

“It’s a balaclava, mom! And I am not cold!”, he said, his face burning with shame.

“Shut up and do what I say!” said the OGW.

“And call me Shravan in public, not Chunnu”, he muttered under his breath.

“How cute you look when angry!” said the OGW, planting a large wet kiss on his cheek.

From the corner of his eye, he checked to see if the student noticed it. She was busy trying to appear cool, but not cold.

“The trip will last about 10 minutes”, said the guide.

As the cable car started, there was some shuffling as people settled down.

“If you don’t have space to sit, you can sit on Reshmi’s lap”, said the HMC, feeling noble for making such a suggestion.

“Go on Chunnu, sit on Akka’s lap”, added OGW.

“I am fine. Will you just stop it?”, he answered angrily. Akka, indeed!!.

“Look at all the green cover. It is like seeing the Goddess Parvathi!”, said HMC, feeling pious and at the same time proud for feeling that way.

“And the serenity! So quiet! You can never experience such quietude in the city”, said OGW, with an exaggerated sigh.

Finding an opening finally, the student started humming a popular Hindi song. She tried to hide the tremor in her voice. “Damn, it is difficult to be fashionable on a hilltop!”, she thought. The guide seemed to be lost in thought.

“Look down, there are two people walking in the valley”, said the student, hoping the guide would look up and give her some explanation.

“They must be locals”, said OGW.

“They must be leading healthy lives – what with all the pure water, the walks and the herbs-infused air they breathe in everyday”, said HMC, in the tone of one delivering an important life lesson to those around her.

“I go on walks everyday on Marina Beach and have wheatgrass juice. You are right, these things do help in staying youthful”, said Uncle, tired of waiting for the women to tell him about his youthful looks.

The adolescent meanwhile, had been thinking of face-saving measures. “You could just close your eyes, and feel the breeze on your face and experience the silence”, he said. It definitely sounded poetic to him.

“He is so right! We can never get kind of silence anywhere else. We should just cherish it!”, said HMC. She could talk about the beauty of silence too!

Uncle seemed desperate to be noticed and started singing an old song.

“I wonder what the locals eat and where they shop for food”, said the student, looking at the guide.

“I am sure they eat the tubers available in the forest. And fresh herbs!”, said HMC, with a confidence she did not feel.

“There are groceries in the valley. People eat regular food here, just like you do”, said the guide.

OGW meanwhile was attempting to meditate. She tried the lotus pose. The bloody tummy was in the way, so she sat in half-lotus, and kept her eyes closed. She could feel HMC’s eyes on her. “That should teach the arrogant bitch – trying to act all pious and holy!”, she thought.

She had to open her eyes a little on hearing some kind of buzzing. HMC had her prayer beads out and was chanting “Om”.

There was a screeching noise as the cable car came to a slow and grinding halt. The others from the group, who had reached before them, came to receive them.

“Didi, please come back soon after darshan. My son is sick and I need to take him to the doctor. I can do it only after I take you all back down”, said the guide, looking at the student, who gave him a look of pure disgust.

“It was a sublime experience”, said Uncle to another equally old man. “You could almost feel the silence like a living thing”.

The Argument..

This morning, I woke up and once again, you weren't next to me. Your side of the bed stayed untouched, unruffled and cold. And with my eyes closed, my arm kept searching for you, till my brain finally told me you weren't there. It took a few more minutes to remember you hadn't been there for a while now - two months and twelve days to be exact.

You were always the patient one and you used to call me the 'Angry young Turk', when you were in a good mood. Those were the times when you found my anger cute or even funny. I would grow angrier and keep ranting about the ills in the society while you tried to calm me down with an ice-cream or chocolate. You would put your hand on my head and say "120 degrees". I would finally succumb to the ice-cream and your joke and start smiling.

When you were angry though, it was a different matter. You knew exactly what to say to cause maximum hurt. The anger wasn't always rational though. Something trivial could make you furious and you would say something so disproportionately mean, that I would feel like I was punched in the gut. And later you would apologize profusely and we would be smiling again. But those words would make me wary for at least a few more months.

Once it was about me not wanting to watch Star Trek. I was showing enough enthusiasm when you were narrating the story hoping I would watch it with you. Someone that became proof of my closed-mindedness. And you said I could never be a good mother, because I was too narrow-minded. The connection between Star Trek and the qualities required to be a good mother, existed in your mind. I think I stared at you looking shocked, wondering what had just happened and walked to the kitchen sink with tears in my eyes. It took you some minutes to see me there, to see my tears, realize what had caused those tears and then apologize. We watched some episodes of Star Trek that day.

That fateful day, the argument was about something stupid. Really! So so so so so stupid. You were planning to make idlis for breakfast and asked me to make chutney. I was in a playful mood and said I wasn't taking orders from you. I was thinking of surprising you with not one, but two kinds of chutney when you returned from your daily run. After some back and forth, you said "You know what? You put the happiest man on earth with you for some time and you can make him miserable". And then you stormed out of the house for jogging. 

But this time it was different. You didn't apologize. You didn't come back. I waited for over two hours - but there was no sign of you. I panicked after that. I called your number and didn't get an answer. I didn't know what to do. I called some of your friends - the few you had introduced, but they hadn't heard from you either. You don't know what it means to the one waiting at home. I went through panic, worry and then even guilt when your number wasn't answered. 

You were the most progressive person I had met. You hated traditions. You didn't believe in marriage - you told me that for you to live with someone you liked, you didn't need society's approval. Not everyone has the same ideas though. When I went to the police station to file a missing persons complaint, the lady constable there did not understand the word "Partner". She asked me if I was your wife and then if I was your sister. She didn't have "partner" in the list of female relatives. So she had to settle for "friend".

And finally Muthu - the peon from your office called me with the news, I rushed to the hospital. Your mother was there and she was as hostile as she was the last time I had met with her. She yelled at me and said I had caused this, I had ruined her son's life and that I had caused his death. 

If I had known that I was never going to see your face again, would I have been less playful and simply agreed to make that stupid chutney? Would that have delayed you a little? Is it possible that had you gone out a little later than you actually did, you would have avoided being run-over by that car?

I know this sounds cruel, but why couldn't you have died that day, when you said you were the luckiest guy on the earth ? That was the third anniversary of the day we had moved in together. We were so happy, we spent the whole day together. Why not then? I could have lived with those memories.
If you had known that it was the last time you were speaking to me, would you have said something nicer? Something I could have cherished in the days that followed? Would you have said what you said, if you knew you were never going to be able to apologize for them, leave alone take them back? Because amidst the pain of losing you, and the humiliation of being shooed away, the last words you uttered to my face keep coming back. I go into a loop of ifs and buts and many nights I have to stand under the shower as if that will wash away the thoughts. 
I don't think I have loved any man as much as I have loved you. And I don't hate anyone as much as I hate you now. You were a selfish and cruel man and I can't live without you....

The Wise Ones.

“Thatha, you can’t be a student in our school. You are too old!”, said Vikky.

“You let Paatti be a student? Why can’t Thatha join?” said Charu.

“It’s ok Charu, I can just watch” I said.

Once again, I sat wondering how much life had changed with Vikky and Anu. Who would have thought that a boring old man like me, would find life interesting again at this age?

I remember my mother telling me, when Chandru was born, that only those who had committed some big sin in the past life would have girl children. I don’t know if she meant for Charu to hear it. Charu – who had grown up with two sisters, and who had to endure my mother’s acid-tongue and my complicity with my silence – never supporting, but then, never protesting either. That is how I was brought up – to never talk back to elders. I guess, that’s how Charu was brought up too. She protested weakly sometimes within the confines of our room, but then gave up after a while.

Charu wanted to name our son ‘Trivikraman’. She never got to even suggest it to my mother, who had already decided upon Chandramouli, after the deity in Kanchipuram. Apparently she wanted to name me that, but her mother-in-law chose my name – Sankaran. I guess the term ‘irony’ wasn’t very popular then.

I wasn’t a great husband – I was too busy being a good son, to my mother who had single-handedly brought me up after her husband left her for another woman, when she was barely 17. And Charu’s upbringing was different from mine, but she managed. Towards the end, my mother had grown totally dependent on her. Charu, to her credit, never brought up the small cruelties my mother had inflicted on her. Women!!

I don’t think I was a great father either. It just wasn’t usual in our times for the fathers to spend so much time with the children. It was considered abnormal. I was supposed to be the provider in the family and that was what I did. In my 40 years of service in the bank, I never took a day of sick leave. I took two days off each for Chandru’s wedding and then for Sarvesh’s wedding.

In our household, we didn’t have conversations. The children spoke to their mother sometimes, on politics or movies. If there was something important to be conveyed, it usually came through Charu. But once Nandini joined our household, it was like something had changed. Nandini spoke to Charu about everything. Apparently Charu was very well read – I heard Nandu remarking about it once. Everyday she would make Charu sit down and tell her everything about her day at work. I had to pretend to be watching the news, or reading the newspaper while eavesdropping.

I got to know about Corporates and the work-culture from Nandini. I got to know that pasta and pizza are tasty too and can be made at home – I had never ventured beyond ‘Onion Rava dosa’ at Sangeetha. And apparently, there was something called ‘Slim Fit’ in shirts and it seems pale blue suits me more than boring white. There was a whole world that I had no idea about! And thanks to Nandini, I got to know some part of it. Nandu even tried to make me read some books. I had read my share of Sidney Sheldon and Harold Robbins, but these new generation writers were excellent!

And Charu! It was like she was a flower who had been waiting to bloom. Nandu used to take her shopping and make her wear some sort of flowing shirt – it was a kurti apparently. I had heard only of kurtas. Who would have thought even clothes had a gender! I started seeing my wife in a new light. She was such an intelligent woman and after all these years I felt guilty for refusing to let her work, because my mother did not like it. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, but I couldn’t. I simply wasn’t brought up that way. But I think Charu understood. She had understood my helplessness then and she understood my silent apology later.

These days I am very busy. My role as a grandfather is something I cherish. I didn’t know children could be so much fun. And the intensity of love I feel for them, is frightening sometimes. For someone who was told to keep his emotions to himself all the time, the swelling in my heart when the little ones hugged me or made me a birthday card, was something I had never experienced before!

Vikky, when he was young was quite a handful. He used to crawl into the most unlikely places and taunt all of us. Since feeding them their evening snacks was a duty Nandu had assigned to me, I was forced to strain my creaky joints begging him to crawl out so that I could feed him. He used to play with my glasses and my newspaper would often be in shreds before I could even get to them. But I loved every minute of it.

I wanted to tell Chandru to not make the same mistakes I had made when I was younger. The children – they matter, and the time spent with them – it matters, more than anything else. We still spoke in grunts and monosyllables and I couldn’t convey everything I wanted with them. The day I saw him changing Vikky’s diapers without complaining, I realized I didn’t have anything to tell him.

If I thought Vikky was a handful, Anu was another matter altogether. From the time she could crawl, she had every one of us wrapped around her tiny little finger. If Vikky played with my glasses, Anu liked to play with my moustache. Every waking moment she wanted attention. Even tireless Nandu, couldn’t handle hurricane-Anu and put her in a daycare, amidst loud protests from Charu and me.

“Amma, Appa, both of you need some sleep and rest. This kid is a monster. We need some time off. Besides she will learn something useful in playschool”.

The days of watching news were long gone and all of us had to be sitting around her while she bossed over us. And Charu and I now sang “Wheels on the bus” and “I am a little teapot” when we were immersed in our work.

And our most recent game was Teacher Teacher. Charu told me this was a popular game that was going to last the next 3 to 4 years. Charu was always the student and Anu was always the strict teacher. Vikky was given some honorary position like the art teacher or something, but I was allowed only to watch.

Nandu had to finally intervene that day.

“You have to include Thatha in your game Anu”, she said. “He gets you icecream and chocolates, doesn’t he? Be nice to him”.

“This is a girls school. Boys can’t be students”, she countered.

“Vikky is playing with you?” said Nandu.

“He is only the art teacher”, said Anu.

Vikky tried too. “Can we make him the principal? He can then do nothing and sit in the corner?”

“But why can’t you make him a student?” said Nandu.

“Amma, Thatha doesn’t know anything! How can he be the student? He can be a principal if he wants to. But he has to listen to me”.

So that’s how I became the principal of the school. And yeah, there was one thing everybody in the household agreed with -“Thatha knows nothing”. And my mother was wrong about one thing – only the lucky ones have daughters!

The Good One..

The joke wasn't even particularly funny, but I was laughing my head off. And Chandru was laughing too. He knew it wasn't so funny either. But something about being stuck in the office at 7 pm, after getting a heavy lashing from my manager, and the rain pouring outside and not letting me leave, made the joke funnier than it actually was.
That, and the expectant look on Chandru's face after delivering punch line, his eyes twinkling, but also full of hope.
Chandru wasn't the most handsome looking guy in the office. He wasn't even the smartest, but he was the most gentlemanly of all. It wasn't that I had a crush on him. But when the other older guys acted like entitled male chauvinists, Chandru's diffidence made me take notice of him. His self-depracating sense-of-humour was like a breath of fresh air.
And that evening, in the office, waiting for the rain to stop, there was something in the air. Most of the others had left. I realized that Chandru was cracking these jokes to make me feel less conscious of the almost empty office. I knew he had looked at me often when he thought I wasn't looking, but when the chance to say something childish and supposedly romantic to me came up, he did not take it, and somehow that made me respect him further. He walked me to the auto-stand and waited up till it turned the corner.
I was all of 22 then and Chandru, I came to know later, was just 20. But we got to talking often - usually in lunch groups. We ended up talking only to each other even then, but going in a group helped in maintaining the facade that this was nothing more than casual friendship.
After a month, I knew I really didn't care about what people thought and asked him out for lunch. I could see that he was elated. If I had left it all to him, he could have gone on in the same manner for the next 10 years and pining inside. I was the one who declared my love to him. He simply said 'Me too', the first time.
The heady feeling of being in love affected him more than me. He was forever giving me gifts and cheesy cards. He thanked me many times when I agreed to let him hold my hand - he had asked for my permission. I found it cute, when he summoned up courage to ask me out for a movie. It was the noon-show of some romantic Hindi movie. He held my hand and when the hall was dark enough, slowly lifted it. I was trying to suppress my giggle. This guy was really cute! The screen lit up with some song and the hand went down. In another 10 minutes, the screen went dark and this time Chandru quickly lifted my hand and planted a kiss. I was looking at him and he kept looking at the screen. It was more funny than romantic. But that kiss had increased his courage - he lifted his hand to my lips and held it there. I bit into it and the poor guy looked wounded (and was actually wounded, because I had bitten hard).
Those days seem straight out of a romantic film. We were making excuses at home to stay back longer at work. At the office excursion to Mahabalipuram, we hung back to enjoy each others' company and even took solitary walks to get away from the other boring people. When others tried to join us during lunch, we gave out subtle and sometimes not so subtle hints, to leave us alone.
I introduced him to my parents, who treated him like they would treat any of my friends. And he introduced me to his parents, during their housewarming ceremony - it was a tiny house, compared to mine. Only, he introduced me along with the others from office. I think his mother suspected something, but I wasn't completely sure.  After marriage, if things didn't work out with her, we could always move out, I thought.
A few months later, my mother broached the subject of marriage. There were some good proposals they had received, she said. I didn't answer immediately.
"I like someone else ma. You know him too." I said.
"Who?"
"Chandru. Remember? I introduced him to you the other day."
"But he is younger than you, isn't he? You told me so yourself. He looks younger than you too! He will look like your younger brother! Besides isn't he shorter than you?"
"How does it matter ma? We love each other!"
"But he is not from our community either! If there was just one problem I can fight for it. But here everything seems to be a problem! Is he rich at least? That can cover a lot of things."
"No, he is from a middle class family - just like me, in case you forgot".
"Lakshmi, you are not a child anymore. I may sound like a villain to you now. But a parent wants only the best for her child and will always look out for her. You will know when you have children. This marriage is not happening"
"But why? Because he is not rich? Or because he is from another community? Or is it the age?"
"It is all the above, but most importantly the age. You don't know about men. They tire of their wives' looks very soon. Add to it the fact that women age faster than men and you know what kind of foolishness you are talking about".
"Ever heard of love ma?"
"Love can happen after marriage my dear. It is a safer time to fall in love - fewer chances of heartbreak and lesser risk of the a commitment-phobic partner"
"What would you know about love ma?"
"You don't need to know what I know. So no, I am not letting this happen".
I fought, argued, begged, but Ma remained firm.
I made a decision. The next day, I walked up to Chandru's desk and told him I had something to tell him.
"My parents are looking for an alliance. I told them about you. But they refused flat out. Let's get married at the registrar's office. Are you ready?"
"But we are too young for marriage", he said.
"You weren't young for love? My parents think I am at the right age. What should I tell them?"
"Why did they refuse?" he asked, trying to buy some time.
"They say you are younger than me - that you aren't rich enough - that you aren't from our community".
"They are right though. You have lived the life of a princess. I have just started working. I wouldn't want you to suffer for my sake."
"What? So when were you planning to say all this Chandru? Whenever I raised the question of marriage? If it is about the size of your house, I will ask my father to give us his Adyar flat. You and I can move there."
"It's not like that Lakshmi. You know I love you dearly. I am only thinking of your good".
"Why is it that everybody is thinking of my good, but not my happiness?"
He stood there in the cafeteria, with tears in his eyes.
"What were you thinking Chandru? Why didn't you think of all this in the beginning - when I proposed to you? What would you rather have me do?"
And yet, he said nothing. And I walked away, with my heart broken, by well-meaning people who were only looking out for me.
My wedding was like that of many Indian girls- NRI groom, dating on skype, photographs before the actual ceremony to apply for a green card etc. etc. I didn't invite Chandru.
Raghu turned out to be everything Chandru wasn't - tall, striking, well-read and rich. I was lucky that he was also a good person. Love didn't happen immediately. I can't remember the exact moment it happened - maybe it was when 10 days after marriage, Raghu sat me down next to him and said "Lakshmi, all of us have a past. I am not going to ask you about it, nor am I going to tell you anything about mine. The human mind is untrustworthy and so I don't know what my mind would do with that kind of knowledge about you. But here, this moment, we are together. We can be good friends, and good companions. No matter how we were before this, we will be honest with each other from this minute, and respect each other as equals" - it sounded better than the mantras the priest recited during our marriage.
Maybe it was when he insisted that I should continue my education and enrolled me for graduate school. Or when he cooked a dinner with all my favourite dishes on the last day of my exams - maybe it was when he had tears in his eyes when I was crying out in labour pains - or when one morning I found him asleep on his rocking chair next to the crib, with Sanju on his shoulder. I can't remember the exact moment - but somewhere it looks like love did happen.
That day, we were in Lifestyle. We had come on our annual trip to Chennai and I was looking at some t-shirts, when I felt someone watching me. It was good old Chandru - with a tiny paunch and a little less hair on his head - but otherwise pretty much the same as he looked before. And from the looks of it, he was trying to hide from me. It was really funny. I was inquiring into his well-being when Sanju and the younger one Sia walked in arguing over something. Soon a gorgeous looking woman walked out of the dressing room. She introduced herself to me but seemed to have sensed something. Looks like Chandru had done well for himself! An older woman - Chandru's mother! - walked right behind them. She seemed to have recognized me almost immediately. Her expression changed from surprise to worry to fake-happiness in a matter of seconds and she quickly averted her gaze and turned to the kids.
I quickly took leave from there to save them all further embarrassment. I hoped to feel something after the sudden meeting - some kind of nostalgia or sadness. But it felt like everything that had happened with Chandru, had happened to someone else - a young, foolish and headstrong girl. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I had even thought of him.

"Sia, you are not getting that gun. It is dangerous." I yelled at Sia.
"You always do that! You hate me!!" said a wailing Sia.
It's true - what Ma said then - parents have to look out for the kids.

The Evil one..

“It was a very intense relationship. We were very much in love, but fate was against us. We could not get married. So now you know. I will be a loyal husband. I can promise a peaceful life, where you will never want anything material. I can’t promise my heart. That was taken many years back”,  I told Nandini, the girl my parents had chosen for me, when we met for the first time in a coffee shop. She just gave me her enigmatic smile, which to this day, I have not been able to decide whether was mocking me or was simply one of amusement. It never struck me to ask her if she had any past love. It didn’t matter. Young girls have crushes all the time. I didn’t care for them.

It wasn’t as though I cared about what Nandini thought about me. But I wanted to lay my cards on the table right at the start. I didn’t want her coming in with expectations of finding love in marriage etc. The marriage was mostly for the sake of my parents, but also because I was a practical guy. Everybody gets married and settles down. So I did too. I don’t know what made her agree, but agree she did.

I had promised myself that I would never love anyone like I had loved Lakshmi. Of course I had had flings with other women afterwards – smart and sassy women I had met at work – but only before marriage. Marriage was never in my mind when I flirted with them of course. I was aware it was flirting. In my opinion, love happens only once in a man’s life. And mine was over.

Nandini was a good girl though. She was intelligent, witty, pretty (I think) and most importantly she got along famously with my parents, especially with my mother. In fact, on seeing her photo, Amma declared that there was no way someone so beautiful would agree to marry someone average looking like me – so much for parental love being blind to faults.

Amma, who was getting tired of being around only men after her marriage – with my father, my brother and me, welcomed Nandu with open arms. I was relieved in many ways that they got along more like friends than anything. In fact, sometimes the problem was that they got along too well. Since they never fought with each other, they ganged up against my father and me most of the time. And within a month, my father surrendered unconditionally. So it was now just me against the rest of the family (my brother was studying in the US).

If not love, some kind of camaraderie developed with time – especially after I accepted that she was way above me.  I was an average guy who watched Big Boss on TV, read gossip columns on film websites, watched every sports program on TV, had an opinion on the gutter politics of India, which I freely gave to my mother (who royally ignored it). In short, I was becoming a younger version of my father. Nandu was well-read and smart, but totally without any pretensions. She asked for very little and spoke very little. I had overheard her discussing some books with Amma, but she was mostly silent around me. There was nothing uncomfortable about the silence though – just the knowledge that there weren’t that many things in common to discuss.

In my philosophical moods, I used to tell her about Lakshmi. About how we fell for each other, that precise moment when both of us realized we wanted to be together, the walks on beaches, the opposition from her parents, my hesitation to fight with them, my insecurity about my ability to be a good husband etc. I left out Lakshmi’s name and the bits about the stolen kisses, the weekend getaways to Mahabalipuram etc., for though Nandu was a mature woman, she was still a woman married to me. I never told her Lakshmi’s name. Sometimes I even told her about my various other crushes, before and after Lakshmi – they felt like my achievements in my otherwise dull life. Nandu never said anything, just listened with that half smile on her lips.

Once when we were alone, we were discussing children. And a sudden wave of nostalgia came over me and I told her “Nandu, if we have a girl, can I pick the name?”.

“What name did you have in mind?”

“Reshmi or Sia or Savitha or Lakshmi?” I said.

“Sure. If it is a boy, can I pick the name?” she said smilingly.

“Uhh… What names did you have in mind?”

“Suresh or Vikram or Raghu or Rohit?”, now she was definitely laughing.

“Ok, I give up. When the time comes – girl or boy – we can pick a name that is not any of the above ” I surrendered.

A month or so later, I was browsing the shirts section at Lifestyle, while Nandu and Amma were trying out some kurtis – matching ones, if you can imagine that – when I saw her. Something about her – the way she stood with her left hip thrust out and her right hand on her right hip or the way her neck was tilted slightly to the right – seemed familiar. And then I heard her voice and I knew it was Lakshmi. Before I could hide behind one of the racks, she seemed to have sensed me watching her and turned. It was Lakshmi all right. She had put on some weight, but still looked beautiful. My heart was in my mouth and I was praying to the Almighty that my nervousness did not show on my face.

“Chandru! It has been so long since I saw you! How are you these days? Where are you? Are you on FB? Give me your mobile number. I will WhatsApp you! So much to talk. Are you married? How many children? You should come home with your kids sometime.”

How could she act so normal? Had she forgotten everything? How could she smile at me like I was an old friend? She didn’t seem to be faking her happiness either! There was nothing wistful about her looks or smile!

And just like the Santoor ad, a cute looking toddler – about 3 years old-  came running “Amma, Sanju won’t give me the gun!”

A 5-or-so years old boy came running behind her – “But she already has the car!”

And the beautiful mom looked at them, asked them to share their toys and turned back to me. There was no guilt, no sense of loss, nothing in the eyes that looked at me. We could have met at kindergarten for all the lack of romance there.

“Chandru, this one or this one? Amma likes this, but I like the blue one better” said Nandu, stepping out of the dressing room. She looked at me and looked at Lakshmi.

“Are you Chandru’s wife? I am Lakshmi! We used to work together. I got married and moved out of Chennai. It is such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Hi Lakshmi! I am Nandini. Yeah, I remember Chandru mentioning  you. You should definitely come home some time”.

And they exchanged numbers, ignoring me completely. Amma, meanwhile had walked out and had recognized Lakshmi.

“How are you Lakshmi? Are these your children? So adorable!”

“My husband is in the electronics section and is probably looking for me. Nandini, Aunty, I am really happy to have met you all after such a long time. You too Chandru! We should all meet up again. Nandini, I will call you soon. I have a lot of stories about Chandru” she winked at Nandini and left.

“You too Chandru” she had said. That’s it? You too? Here I was, a modern day Devdas- ok, a married one – but my heart was still hers, or so I had thought! How can women be so cruel? How can they forget and move on so easily? For this heartless woman, I had sacrificed my entire life. Ok, maybe sacrifice is overstating it. But surely she could see the pain and love in my eyes!

Nandu had sensed something, but had the sense to not say anything. I went through the motions of paying for the clothes, unable to think. I don’t even remember having my favourite chaat – Samosa chana , at the neighbourhood chaat shop. I was dying inside – at least it felt like it. And if I had kulfi afterwards, it was only because Amma and Nandu needed company!

My heart was broken for the second time – it had broken every time one of my crushes had handed me their wedding invitations – but those were minor cracks, compared to what I was going through now.

“Chandru seems upset” I overheard Nandu telling Amma. “When do men ever grow up ma?”

What???

From the kitchen, Amma looked at my dad for a minute and said “Definitely not till they are 63 at least”.

“Ladies!! What are you two talking about?” I yelled. I couldn’t let them know I had been eavesdropping.

“Oh nothing. You watch Big Boss”, Amma said.

That night, when I entered our room, Nandu was in her usual pose – slouching on the sofa, with her feet on the bed and a book on her hand. She didn’t look up.

I sat on the bed, put her feet on my lap and started massaging them. Such soft feet!

Nandu was looking at me with a strange smile on her face, and her eyes full of mischief.

“Are you ok? Should I call for your mother? Ammaaaaa”

“Stop yelling! What are you doing? Can’t a husband massage his wife’s feet? I am just being nice” I said.

“So she’s the one then”, she said.

“Who’s the one? What one?” I said, trying to look innocent.

“You do realize that I am clever? Smarter than you, in fact?”.

“Oh, you mean Lakshmi? She is what?”

Nandu was still looking at me, that smile not changing at all.

“Nandu, can I ask you something?”

“Tell me my dear husband, whose heart can never be mine!”

“Suresh – isn’t he your sister’s brother-in-law?”

“Yeah, so what about him?”

“And Rohit is that guy from the TV show you liked when you were in school”

“Ok, right”

“Who are Vikram and Raghu?”, I said, not daring to look up.

Her laughter told me I wasn’t going to get an answer.

Women – those cruel and evil beings –  you can’t live with them or without them!