She had been standing for some time when the bell rang. Mechanically she moved to the door and opened it. Rajiv came in, exuberant, fresh, even after his day at the office. By contrast she felt shabby and spent.
“Hi,” he said. “here is Somu? Off with his friends, as usual?” He came inside. “How dark it is here,” he said and started opening the windows, gathering the curtains. “Why don’t you open the windows in the evening?” he complained, as if this was a new occurrence.
“Did you go out somewhere?” he asked, indicating at the sari. She looked at him, then at the sari, still puzzling, the plate of sandwiches clutched at an odd angle in her left hand. Rajiv straightened the plate, took the remaining sandwich. “What’s for dinner?” he asked. “I wriggled out of an invitation tonight,” he went on, oblivious that she was not answering, “birthday party of Chopra’s daughter... what’s for dinner?”
“Noodles,” she replied. This was her domain - breakfast, lunch, tea, dinner. The answer came automatically, normally. Inwardly, she was still not sure why she was wearing a sari, and kept on wondering about it. Rajiv went into the bedroom, saying something she didn’t quite catch.
She straightened a few cushions and went into the kitchen to start the dinner. She was still perplexed about something she didn’t remember now. Onions, tomatoes, eggs, noodles, tea for Rajiv, totally occupied her, as she worked mechanically. Rajiv was working at the a crossword puzzle on the sofa outside, a picture of relaxation, handsome in a white kurta-pajama, tussling his hair every now and then in his intense concentration, occasionally grunting with satisfaction as a word got formed. She felt gratified for the smile he gave her as she put his tea on a nearby table.
Back in the kitchen with her tomatoes and masalas. She talked softly to him; he was again near her, watching her work, his eyes twinkling with mirth, as he told her a joke. He even told her all about his job and his office, what had happened all day, and how irritating was his boss...
“Oy, Mama, we must have fish for dinner one day, soon. It’s ages since we last had fish. Next time you go to the market, please get some,” Rajiv called out. ‘Mama’ was a big joke between Rajiv and Somu. They enjoyed themselves immensely when Rajiv called her “Mama”. She had protested weakly once or twice. Rajiv explained that she had mothered him so much that it was not unfair to call her that. She had slowly gotten used to it. She called back, “Okay” to his demand, recalling the sickening stench of the fish market, and the awful smell of it being cooked. Well, she will most probably get used to it, she argued with herself, knowing at the same time that it was around five years now that she’d been buying fish.
She realized that absent-mindedly, she had been popping tomato slices into her mouth. She washed some more tomatoes and started slicing them. The water was nearly boiling and the vegetables would have to be washed. Had she given Rajiv his tea? she wondered, on the point of going out and asking him. The suddenly Rajiv was calling out, “Look who’s here, Mama! I am glad I am not out for the evening, Mama... Come and see who has come!” Very excited. She wondered who it could be to make Rajiv that excited. Another person to cook for, another place to lay at the table. She started slicing faster, trying to save the cut on her finger from the stinging tomato juice.
“Hello, Mohini, how are you? Busy as always?” she jerked around, almost shaving her finger off. It was Prashant. The voice, cool as usual, with a faint tinge of amusement in it. “Here, here, you’ll hurt yourself like that,” he said, as he took the knife from her, and sliced the rest of the tomatoes. She stood still, and gaped. “Why don’t you do something?” he laughed. “Oh, okay, I’ve come after a long time, but better late than never, eh?” He could speak so effortlessly, she thought.
She should also say something, she felt. “yes, a long time...,” she mumbled. Her mind was in a whirl. She could see Rajiv standing at the kitchen door, enjoying Prashant’s presence. She found it difficult to grasp that Rajiv was actually seeing Prashant and was talking to him.
She excused herself and went inside, quickly combing her hair and washing her face. She liked the touch of water on her face. Rubbing some cream quickly on her hands and arms, she realized that she was wearing a sari, a nice sari, instead of a gown. She came out and busied herself taking ice out of the freezer for their drinks, arranging glasses, frying cashewnuts. They were still in the kitchen, fixing their drinks. Prashant called to her, “Mohini, I’m also staying for dinner... it promises to be good!”
“Arre, yaar, don’t be formal. Of course, you are staying for dinner,” Rajiv said. They went into the drawing room, chatting animatedly and calling her to join them.
She started elaborate preparations for the dessert. She would make kheer; he liked it very much. He had really come after a very long time. He was Rajiv’s partner in a small business concern, which both of them had started. Rajiv’s involvement, of course, was unofficial, and a secret. He was her friend, the only person she knew who called her by her name, Mohini. Not bhabhiji or Mrs Chowdhury or Somu’s mother. or Mama!
Her hands slowed down as she recalled his teasing her about her name. It meant a ghost. A beautiful she-ghost, he had said. Anyway, she enjoyed his teasing; it was friendly and nice. Two or three years back, they had spent a lot of time together - walking, talking, shopping. She liked him a lot. He was tall, handsome and intelligent, slightly dark - and he came so very often, whenever she wanted him to come... Then what was this discrepancy about time? He had said that he’d come after a long time... There was something she could not understand... There he was in the drawing room, talking animatedly with Rajiv, of all the people. And she had thought that Rajiv didn’t know about him, about them. Or was it the other way around - even he didn’t know about them... why had he stopped coming all of a sudden? Or had he? Stopped coming, that is?...
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