Storieo

Author: Annabel George

  • Book Review: A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn

    Book Review: A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn

    A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn

    “I feel most romantic relationships end, not because two people can’t make it work anymore, but most of the time we keep pinning over the initial thrill and excitement that falling in love provides…”
    Siddharth, one of the characters from Sood’s debut novel, quotes the lines above, in one of his letters to Gautam. Although there are innumerable lines spread across the pages of the book which have stolen a piece of my heart, as I read the last few pages of the novel, these were the lines which really hit me. There is a painful truth breathing in the above lines; a truth about why some relationships annihilate.
    Sahil Sood conjures an unconventional love story. The novel moves back and forth in time. Through this entangled movement of the plot, Sood presents to us a romantic relationship between two men which begins with immense intensity and through the course, begins to fizzle out. Saaransh who is head over heels in love with Akshay, towards the end of the novel the reader witnesses the wounds caused by the withering away of their relationship, consuming Saaransh wholly. During this period of suffering, Saaransh spends the night with a stranger. This encounter with the stranger ignites a part of his past. The manner in which the narrator describes the deteriorating state of Saaransh, personally, it reminded me of a scene from the 2012 movie The Perks of being a wallflower. But what I admire about Saaransh is that, he did not choose to continue suffering in a relationship which had begun to wilt away, but chose to bring himself out of the suffering.
    But their love story isn’t the central part of the novel. The novel speaks about how the written word can bring solace in the lives of some people. It can bring meaning to their lives and give them a reason to exist.
    The writing for me, is one of the reasons which made me want to read Sood’s debut novel. It made the novel a worthwhile read. The manner in which he writes about the classics through his characters, speaks volumes about the abundance of knowledge living within the writer. The name of each of the chapters, gives a hint of what the chapter is all about. This is a book everyone must indulge in.

  • Book Review – Sensual Attractions by A.J. Karan

    Book Review – Sensual Attractions by A.J. Karan

    “…my attention was drawn to a facet of our lives which we tend to protect, shield, guard and feel uneasy to discuss, though it is an integral part of our lives” says, writer A.J. Karan in a post titled Author’s Perspective on Sensual Attractions by A.J. Karan. His debut book, which is a collection of short stories, lays bare a subject which has led a veiled existence in our society. A day and age when we consider ourselves to be “advanced in so many fields”, as A.J. Karan puts it, people shy away from talking about sex. It is a topic which is more often than not, spoken about in whispers.

    sensual attractions final
           Sensual Attractions is a collection of about ten short stories. Two of these short stories which include, The Hotel and Friendship Pact, have been divided into two parts. Each of these short stories are distinct from each other and they revolve around families, marriages, friendships. Politics, as well, occupies a significant place within these plots. It is politics, which not only affects the personal relationships between characters, but makes an appearance at the workplace of these characters, as well. A.J. Karan’s characters are interesting. They share deeply twisted relationships amongst themselves. For example, Tara and Sonali, from Friendship Pact, have remained in each other’s lives for countless number of years and have been sharing everything with each other. This sharing extends itself to their marriage as well, when they decide to share their husbands. There are some male characters who are presented as villainous; however, what I wasn’t quite pleased was how most of the female characters are presented as conniving.

    As the title suggests, “sex” becomes a character of its own in this short story collection. It is what the writer uses to break the relationship between characters in the various short stories. Sexual encounters between the characters are spoken about explicitly and in a much nuanced fashion. . While reading Sensual Attractions, what came to my mind was that, the explicit tone in which A.J. Karan speaks to his readers about sex, reminded me a lot of Khushwant Singh’s The Company of Women. The manner in which the parts of the bodies of women and men are described by the both of these writers, are similar in nature.  They do not show even the slightest of inhibitions when speaking about sex, through their stories and characters. They become naked to their readers, when speaking about sex.

           The Hotel was my favorite read. Having formerly worked in the hotel industry, A.J. Karan very skillfully amalgamates office politics, sex, friendships and crime and presents to the readers, in this particular short story which is divided into two parts. The crime aspect of this, two part short story, was what kept me going and did not allow me to put down the book, even for one second.

    Sensual Attractions is a compilation of gripping stories, set in a not so fabricated world consisting of real characters. Its unique storylines makes your reading experience truly worth it!

    Storieo Rating: ★★★★☆

  • The Homemaker’s Book Club (Part II)

    The Homemaker’s Book Club (Part II)

    The second part deals with how the book club came to come about and how the the protagonists take the book club to another level.

     

    The living room was painted in semi-darkness. A. R. Rahman was singing on the radio, in the background. We were sitting on the mattress with our palms wrapped around our cup of ginger tea. The Thai curry and rice only left enough room for the ginger tea, in our stomachs. During the many brunches or lunches that we have had together, Anjali showed off her praiseworthy cooking skills. She hated having anyone around her while she cooked. So I would just sit and watch her prepare the food. Anjali used to work in a restaurant before she became a mother. She wanted to give her entire attention to her daughter. She was doing extremely well in her job but she chose to give it up for her daughter.

    Do you miss working at the restaurant?

    Umm, I don’t know. There are times when I do. I mean I’ve worked there for so many years. That place has given me much more than I had asked for. But I don’t regret leaving. My daughter is much bigger than my job. I would’ve missed so much if I hadn’t made the decision. I wouldn’t have been able to do what she did. I found it hard to understand why she left something she absolutely loved. Maybe, if I did have a child, I would’ve understood.

    So, what did you think about The Second Time Around?

    It’s a good read. In fact, it reminded me of that Catherine Zeta Jones movie.

    Which one is that, now?

    The one in which she falls in love with a man who is much younger than she is. The male nanny who takes care of her son. Remember?

    Oh, oh! I know which one you’re talking about but I cannot remember the name of the movie.

    The Rebound?

    Ah, yes! That one.

    We looked at each other at the same moment and smiled. Suddenly, I sat up straight on my seat, wearing a serious expression on my face. Anjali looked a little worried when she saw me.

    What happened?

    There’s something I’ve been thinking about and I’ve been meaning to tell you.

    Yeah, tell me.

    These discussions that we have every week with each other, on the books we assign ourselves to read,

    Yes?

    We could start a book club.

    I’m liking the sound of that.

    We could ask our friends who love reading, to become members. We could assign a book to read for the week and meet on a particular day to review these books.

    Okay, I’m already excited!

    Me too!

    We remained silent for a few minutes, both our eyes fixed on each other. We were relishing this moment, in all its intensity. After a few minutes, Anjali spoke.

    We should ask our homemakers, more specifically. The book club would be a good way to keep us busy.

    Where will we have these discussions?

    Either in my house or yours.

    Perfect! Which day?

    A weekday…how about Wednesdays?

    Perfect! If the book club remains successful, we can alternate between the houses of the other members, as well!

    Yeah! Should we have like a potluck or something?

    No, no. Let’s focus on what our club stands for and not give all our attention to the food. That’s secondary.

    I know. But the food also holds some importance, right?

     

    It does. Wherever we have our meeting, that member will handle the food.

    We could sense the excitement in our voices. We were, very much. Our excitement was beyond comprehension. In the next couple of weeks, Anjali and I would have informed a number of our friends who we knew loved reading, about the book club. I remember those initial few weeks. There were only around four or five people including us, who turned up for our discussions, among the countless who said that they were interested and wanted to come. It wasn’t disheartening for us to see the small number of people who had shown up because deep down we knew that the few who did show up, really wanted to be there. An amalgamation of people who were passionate about literature conjured up our profound discussions, making the book club engaging. The numbers had begun to increase as the weeks passed by. We discussed everything from Jane Eyre to Lolita to Agatha Christie. We would take a vote regarding the book everyone wanted to read for the week. It was in every which way a very democratic set up. In all of this, I would forget about the problems which were clinging onto my marriage.

    The Book club was my happy place and nobody, not even my marriage entered this happy place.

    This was how it all started. As I alternated between my wine and cigarette, I walked down memory lane, reminiscing those early months of our book club. We grew closer because of the book club. We didn’t always agree with each other but our disagreements didn’t stop us from building bridges in our relationship, as a group. Slowly and gradually, it wasn’t just about the book club. We shared our individual stories with each other. We got to know our struggles, our dreams and aspirations. These women in a way gave me the strength and support that I needed. Once again, we were sitting in Anjali’s house, on the mattress in her living room. And once again, an idea came to me while we were at her house.
    Anjali, why don’t we create a blog for our book club?

    And what would we write about?

    We’d write about the books we chose for our discussions.

    Hmm…

    What?

    Anjali smiled. It is a brilliant idea!

    About a month after we spoke about creating a blog, we created one. The blog was called The Homemaker’s Book Club. Many women who read our blog posts regularly, emailed us to ask us if they could join the book club. Our discussions extended from our usual weekly meetings to discussions in the ‘comments’ section of our blog posts. Eventually, as the months passed by, our followers increased. During the course of all these happenings, my marriage had crawled to the bottom. Ziaan and I decided to separate. We went for counseling and we tried to sort out our differences just between the two of us. But nothing was working. We thought that maybe this separation might help us in some way, to figure things out.

  • Mother’s Love (Part II)

    Mother’s Love (Part II)

    The second part deals with how the mother and daughter are re-united.

     

    Becca was standing in front of the mirror, in their room. She tucked the pillow underneath her top, to see how she would look when her tummy would begin swelling up. She turned herself and stood sideways. She slowly rubbed her palm on the imaginary baby bump and suddenly her lips broke into a smile. The door of their room suddenly opened and Stanley entered in. He paused and looked at her. She looked at him, in the mirror and chuckled. Bec, what are you doing? She removed the pillow from underneath her top and turned herself to face him. Stan, we’re going to be parents! He walked toward her and put his arms around her. Smiling he said, say that again…She came closer and whispered in his ear, You and I are going to be parents. He pulled her closer. Their lips met and embraced each other. He pulled himself from their kiss and looked deep into her eyes. Slowly putting back her bangs, he kissed her on her forehead, you have given me the best news in a very long time. I love you. She raised herself up on her toes and kissed him on his forehead and whispered I love you, too in his ear.

    Becca moved out of her mother’s house about three years ago. Aretha and she decided to live together in one of the two apartments Aretha’s parents owned. Becca did not say anything to her mother but packed her bags and left one morning. A few days after she had moved out, Becca called up her mother to tell her that she was doing alright. To her surprise, Becca’s mother didn’t seem too worried. It seemed like her mother hadn’t noticed that she was gone for almost a week. Becca never telephoned her mother after that or contacted her in any other way.

         Bec, you should call your mother and give her the news. Becca was sitting on the couch with her legs on Stanley, who was sitting on the other end of the couch. Becca was glancing through the newspaper and from behind the newspaper she said, Why would I do that?
    She is your mother.
    She’s dead to me.     Stanley removed her legs which were placed on his thigh and got up to sit closer to her. He pulled the newspaper from her hands and said, she should know that she is going to be a grandmother.
    Why should she know? It’s not like cared enough to know how I’m doing.
    I know that. But you need to be the bigger person, here.
    I’m choosing not to.
    Okay, alright. I won’t force you. Just give it some thought that is all I’m asking you to do.
    I’ll think about it.
    Thank you.

    For three whole years Becca had no idea where her mother was or how she was doing. Every time thought of calling her ran across her mind, she immediately brushed it away. The last conversation they had would replay in her mind, settling feelings of anger within her that she would stop herself. She had around fifty emails pending in her drafts folder, to be sent to her mother. She never got the courage to actually send the emails to her mother. She loved her mother very much but she had lost her mother the day her father left them. She wanted her mother to be a part of her existence but how could she force her to be a part when she herself didn’t seem interested.

    Becca was standing in front of the gas stove, cooking herself some pasta for lunch. Becca had taken an off from work. She wanted to be by herself and relax after having a busy few weeks at the office. While she was cooking, the cordless phone started ringing. She hated the sound of the ringtone but she promised Stanley that she wouldn’t change it. Not at least for another week because he loved it. She picked up the phone to see who was calling and she saw Aretha’s name flash on the screen. She answered the call. Before Aretha’s voice was heard, Becca heard the honk of vehicles.

    Hey, Becca!
    Hey! What’s up? How did you know that I am at home, today?
    I called up at the office but there was no answer. I called on your cell phone and you weren’t picking up that either. So I thought that I’d try your house and voila!
    Becca smiled. So what’s up?
    I’m on my way to your house, okay?
    Oh, good! I’m making pasta for lunch, so we can have lunch together.
    Oh, yay! That sounds more than perfect.

    They hung up the phone after saying goodbye.
    About an hour later, the doorbell rings. Becca walks out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around her hair. When she opens the door, she sees Aretha standing in front of her. When their eyes meet, a smile lights up on their faces. She opens the safety door and turns to walk inside. She asks Aretha whether she would like a glass of water but Aretha doesn’t say anything. Becca turns to ask her the same question. She sees Aretha still standing at the door.

    Why are you still standing there? Come in, come.
    Bec, there’s someone I’ve gotten along with me. But before getting her in, I just want to tell you that I love you and that I am only doing this because I care about you.
    What’s wrong Becca, you’re scaring me now.
    Nothing’s wrong. Just don’t be mad at me.
    I won’t, I promise.

    Okay. Suddenly after a few seconds, a woman dressed in a short kurta and cotton pants enters from behind Aretha. Streaks of grey are visible on her hair. Her eyes look tired. But in a way, she does look a lot better than three years ago. As soon as her eyes fall on Becca, her face lights up.
    Mama. She walks toward Becca and puts her hands on Becca’s arms. She suddenly notices Becca’s slightly swollen belly and looks at her. Her face lights up even more than before. Becca removes herself from her mother’s hold. What are you doing here? Before her mother could answer, Aretha replied to her question, A few days ago, your mom had ringed me and she told me that she wanted to meet you. So, I arranged this.
    Why didn’t you say anything?
    Because Bec, if I would’ve told you, you wouldn’t have let this happen.     Becca remained silent. Finally, her mother spoke, Listen Becca. Her mother always called her Becca. I wanted to see you.
    After three whole years, you suddenly thought about me?
    I know, I have a lot to apologize for.
    Yeah, you do. You know what, forget it. I don’t need your sorry.     Aretha suddenly spoke, I’m going to leave you two alone. I need to be at the parlor. Becca didn’t say anything. She just looked at her. Aretha walked out of the house and closed the door behind her. Becca and her mother stared at each other. Becca–
    No mother. Don’t say anything.
    No Becca, I need to. I want to. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I abandoned you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t part of your life. I lost myself after your father left. I hadn’t realized what I was doing to you and to myself.
    What made you realize all of a sudden?
    You!
    What a load of crap!
    When you called me the last time, I thought that you’d return. I thought you’d come back. And when you didn’t show up, that’s what scared me. Becca, can I please be your mother again?
    I don’t know. I miss you so much.
    I miss you too, my love. I miss you too!

    I was sitting on the couch, holding my son. He looked a lot like Stanley, especially his eyes mirrored his father. My mother entered the living room with a glass of water. As she walked toward ours, we acknowledged each other’s presence with a smile. She placed the glass of water on the table and she took the baby from me, so that I could drink the glass of water.
    Mama, you’re a grandmother!
    And you, a mother!
    After she came to meet to see me, a few months ago, it took me a while to forgive her and to welcome her back into my life. But I did, eventually. We found a way to come back to each other. I got the mother who I’d lost.
    Becca, I’m so proud of you. The way you’ve handled yourself and your life. You make me proud. You are going to be an excellent mother. I’m confident about that!
    Really?
    Yes, really.
    I love you mom.
    I love you too, Becca.

  • Mother’s Love (Part I)

    Mother’s Love (Part I)

    The first part deals with the narrator describing the relationship between Ashley and her mother. 

     

    Becca was standing in front of the gas stove, waiting for the milk to boil. The short needle of the round shaped clock sitting on the window in the kitchen, pointed toward six and the long needle pointed toward fifteen. Becca gazed at the way the branches of the tree which stood in front of the kitchen window, swayed from side to side with the breeze. The dark clouds blanketed the sky. The air smelt of wet mud and the road was still wet from the shower which took place sometime ago. Becca immediately switched off the gas when the milk began to rise in the vessel in which it was poured into, for boiling. She used the tongs to remove the vessel from the gas stove and covered the vessel with a lid, leaving it slightly open.

    After having a hot shower, Becca pulled down the sides of glass of her bathroom window and sat on the commode, smoking her first cigarette of the day. She never missed this morning ritual. The ritual calmed her down. Suddenly, she heard the sound of the flush, coming from her mother’s bathroom. She got up instantly from the commode and put away her cigarette in the white bowl on the bathroom window. She got out of the bathroom and ran into her room, with the towel wrapped around her body.

    Her mother was standing at the counter, reading the newspaper while waiting for the water to finish boiling. Becca silently walked into the kitchen, filled a bowl with cornflakes and poured the boiled milk into the cornflakes. She ate her breakfast standing at the counter, gazing at the view in front of her eyes. The tress still swayed in the breeze, the same manner that they were, before she had gone for her bath. The smell of cigarettes, alcohol and her cologne fused together, producing an unpleasant fragrance. She knew that her mother returned home late, last night. She knew that her mother wasn’t at the office. She was some place, else. But she didn’t know where exactly. Becca’s phone started vibrating in her pants pocket. She removed her phone and saw Aretha’s name flash on the screen. Hey, Aretha. I’m almost done with breakfast. Give me 5 minutes. I’ll meet you at the train station. After ending the call, Becca filled her bottle of water. She was about to walk out of the kitchen but she suddenly stopped when she remembered that she had to tell her mother something.

    I’ve boiled an egg for you, for breakfast. There’s bread. You can have the egg with bread or whatever. She said this without turning back to look at her. And next time when you’re late, you need to tell me. I won’t bother worrying about you. Her mother was almost about to say something but Becca walked out as soon as was done telling her mother what she had to.

    Becca was born out of wedlock. Her mother had her when she was twenty three years old. Her parents knew each other from college. It had only been a year into their relationship when Becca’s mother conceived her. Her parents ran away to Bombay when they got to know that her mother was pregnant with her. They knew that their respective parents would never accept their relationship and the illegitimate child that they had created. Becca was lucky to have him around for a while. But when she was 12 years old, he left Becca and her mother all alone. He went to work one day and never returned back. Her mother grew bitter after he left them. Her relationship with Becca had also begun to change. Becca reminded her, of him. She reminded her of what he’d done and that is what created a crack in the mother-daughter relationship. The memories which Becca had, of her parents together, were only happy memories. They were in love with each other. Becca never understood why he left. He never tried contacting them, to find out if they were doing okay. They couldn’t contact him either. They didn’t have a number to contact him on.
    Aretha was waiting below Becca’s building with Stanley. When Becca’s eyes fell on Stanley, everything around him was a blur, including Aretha. Becca, Aretha and Stanley were friends since they were in primary school. Aretha had moved out of Bombay to shift with her parents to the States before she could complete her school. But she came to Bombay every few years because most of her family and all of her friends were in Bombay. The three of them managed to remain the best of friends even after Aretha moved away. Becca had shared with Aretha about her feeling for Stanley.

    Her romantic feelings toward Stanley came into existence about a year ago. But she never got the courage to express how she really felt for him, for fear of losing her best friend.

    What Becca didn’t know however, was that Stanley had been harboring the very same romantic feelings for Becca for about the same time as her. Stanley never expressed his feelings as well, for fear of losing his best friend. But finally about a month ago when they were together, all to themselves, Stanley confessed how he really felt for Becca and she did the same.
    After college got over that day, Stanley and Becca decided to hang out together at her place. Aretha couldn’t make it because she had to be somewhere else, with her parents. Stanley and Becca went to the same college but had enrolled in different courses. Stanley was doing his Bachelors’ in Science while Becca was doing her Bachelors’ in Arts. Becca detested sunlight entering her room because lots of it rested in her room. So she shut the curtains of her room. They were sitting on her bed watching a movie and eating whatever little they could find in the kitchen. After watching the movie they laid on her bed. She rested her legs on his. They were face to face and close enough that she could his breath on her face.
    I’ve been buying a carton of cigarettes every week, for the past one and half year and my mother has no idea. And they are lying in the shelf in my bathroom. I bet she knows and probably steals from me, occasionally.
    Possibly. Or maybe, she is so consumed with her own life that she doesn’t really care about you.
    That was painful but could very easily be the truth.
    Exactly!
    Does she have even the slightest clue that I’ve been taking tuition classes for a year now, to earn some pocket money?     He remained silent. It is crazy isn’t it? We live under the same roof but we do not know what is happening in each other’s lives. Not even a little. Unlike her, I do want to know what is happening in her life. It has been six years since my father left us. I’ve been more a mother than she has.
    Do you miss her?
    I don’t know. I know that I used to. But I’m not sure whether I do anymore.
    Why is it that?
    You know, when Aretha told us that she was leaving for America, I was extremely sad. At the time, I knew you were feeling the same, so I didn’t know whether it was fair to come burden you with whatever I was going through. I used to share a lot with my mother and in that moment, I wanted to share what I was going through, with her. But she was never around. Especially, when I needed her. In these six years, I’ve done so much by myself that it almost feels like I don’t have parents.     He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to because there’s nothing that he would say that could change what I was feeling.

  • To love and then to have lost (Part II)

    To love and then to have lost (Part II)

    After Ashley and Mark lose their baby, the second part of the short story deals with how they adjust to this loss.

     

    Ashley was sitting on the brown velvety chair in her bedroom, reading Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera. About a month ago, while flipping through channels on the television, she came across the movie adaptation of the book. Her immense love for the movie pushed her into buying the book to read. She was just about to reach the end of one particular chapter when the doorbell interrupted her. She lifted herself up from the chair on which she was sitting and walked toward the door. When she opened the door she saw Mark standing in front of her. He looked like someone whose energy had been completely sucked out of him. Fatigue had consumed him, wholly. Even when he said hi, it felt like he said it with a lot of effort.

    Busy day at work?

    That would be an understatement. He uttered these words as he stepped into the house.

    Why don’t you go have a warm bath and I’ll keep dinner for you on the table.

    I’m completely beat. I just want to sleep.

    Oh, alright.

    I’m so sorry. I know you’ve been waiting for me.

    No no, it’s completely alright. He smiled at me and planted a kiss on my lips. Good night, honey.

    Good night!
    She watched him as he walked toward their bedroom and disappeared in the darkness. It had been almost twelve months since they lost the baby. They very rarely spoke about it. Even now, it was too painful to talk about. The baby was a part of them. A part of them they didn’t want to spend their time reminiscing about.

    It had been over a year since Ashley had gone back to school. During the initial few months after they lost the baby, she spent her days drowning herself in sadness. She barely spoke. All her words came out in the form of tears, which came cascading down, every time she thought about the baby. Ashley felt like she had disappointed Mark. That it was her fault that the baby did not live. Mark felt like the baby had taken away Ashley as well. What remained was only her body but deep inside, the sadness had overpowered the person that she was. Ashley was someone who hated depending on anyone. But in those few months, she had transformed into this person who needed someone for by her side, always.

    Her life had come to a standstill. She’d spend hours sitting by the window looking outside.

    One night, about two weeks ago, after brushing her teeth and changing into her night clothes, she went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water before sleeping. When she was almost about to enter into the kitchen, she could see Mark sitting on the couch, in the dim light coming from the table lamp of the side table. He hadn’t noticed her. She walked a little closer toward him, trying not to make a sound. She noticed him silently weeping. She didn’t have to ask him the reason as to why he was crying. She knew. She knew that she had hurt him, not because they had lost the baby but because of what she had become. She knew that what was hurting him the most at that moment was that she chose to remain in the ruins of herself. She took a step back and walked to their bedroom. She want to interrupt him and just let him be. She was laid out on the bed when Mark entered the room. She closed her eyes pretending that she had fallen asleep. She could feel him crawl onto the bed. He came closer toward her. He kissed her on her cheek and whispered a good night in her ear.

     

              Good morning, husband! Ashley was sitting at the dining table sipping her cup of tea while reading Love in the Time of Cholera. She heard the sound of tea being poured into a cup from the flask in which she had put the tea in. She understood that it was Mark. Good morning, wife! After he poured tea into the cup, he walked into the dining area where Ashley was sitting. He kissed her on her cheek and sat on the chair which was on the opposite side where Ashley was sitting, at the dining table. It was around 8 in the morning on a Saturday afternoon. Mark didn’t work on Saturdays.

    Did you sleep okay?

    I slept well!

    I’m glad.

    Mark

    Yes, honey?

    There’s something I want to talk to you about?

    What is it? Tell me.

    I had gone for an interview a few days ago. The interview was for a teaching position in an International School.

    Wow, that’s amazing!

    I got the job. Mark put down his cup of tea and smiled from ear to ear at Ashley. She could see how proud and happy he was for her.

    Congratulation! But why didn’t you say anything?

    I wanted to surprise you. He couldn’t stop smiling. He got up from his seat and went to sit next to Ashley. He hugged her and did not let her go for a few seconds. That particular night when she found him crying, it shook her and made her realize what she was doing to herself and to their relationship. A part of him had also died inside when they lost the baby. But he decided to try moving on from it. Ashley realized that night, how much she needed to do that.

    She removed herself from their embrace and said, Also, one more thing Mark.

    Yeah, tell me.

    I want to have a child with you, again.

    Come, let’s!

    Ashley chuckled a little. No, no. Let’s adopt a child. Mark did not say anything. He was taken aback.

    Are you sure about this?

    Yes, I absolutely am!

    Are you ready for this?

    I am, very much. Are you ready for this?

    I’ve been ready forever, now. I was waiting for you. I have been waiting for you to be absolutely ready.

    They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. They were beaming.

    You know, when we lost the baby, I realized how much I wanted one. For most part of my life, I was afraid of being a mother. I didn’t think I would turn out to be a good enough mother because my mother wasn’t one. Not at least when I was growing up. I didn’t want to turn out like her and ruin our child’s life. But I’m ready now. I’ve got the best partner who I know will be by my side always. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not afraid anymore, at all.

     

    Mark, thank you for giving me the strength to do this.

    Thank you, for finding the strength to do this. Two years and 10 months later, they were playing with their 9 month old daughter. They called her Ariel. After their first child Ashley didn’t think that she had the strength to have another child. Mark was also on the same page. But today, they had something they never imagined that they’d have. They were not only blissful because they had a child but also because they were bringing happiness in the life of a being whose birth parents abandoned her.

  • To love and then to have lost

    To love and then to have lost

    Ashley never wanted to be a mother. But what happens when she finally learns to love motherhood?

     

    I carefully positioned myself on the pillow which was placed on the window sill. I always sat with a pillow on the window sill. It was extremely uncomfortable to sit without a pillow on the window sill. I picked up the bowl of maggi which I had placed on the window sill, a little away from where I was sitting. I wrapped my hands around the bowl of noodles. I liked the way the warmth of the bowl kissed my hands. I disentangled the fork from the strands of noodles which was mixed in tomato ketchup. I put the fork back into the bowl again, trying to wrap as many strands of noodles around the fork. The honk of the school bus which was approaching, interrupted me while I involved myself in performing this task. As the school bus drove closer toward my building, the squeaky voices of the children the bus contained, could be heard more vividly. They were talking collectively on high decibels. The school bus halted under my building. One by one, the children walked down the steps of the bus. Even after a long day at school, their enthusiasm hadn’t died down. They were as energetic now, as they were in the morning when they were leaving for school. They ran towards their mothers, who were waiting for them eagerly, below my building. Their happiness and enthusiasm was contagious. As soon as they clutched their little arms around their mothers, they infected their mothers with the same feelings of happiness and enthusiasm which they had brought with them.

    My eyes suddenly fell on my swollen belly. For a few seconds, I jumped four years into the future, when the being living inside me would have grown up. I imagined waiting for my baby girl or baby boy below my building, much like the mothers of those children. My baby would run toward me, wrapping his or her chubby arms around me. I smiled looking at the belly when this particular scene played in my mind. I never wanted to be a mother. At least not seven months ago. But these seven months somehow changed my thoughts about motherhood. I had begun to attach myself and love the human being who had made a home inside me.

    In the middle of my day dreaming, I was interrupted by Mark, who was calling out my name, Ashley! I shivered a little when I heard his voice. After a few seconds, I shouted back to him, saying, I’m coming! I got up from the window sill, carefully and then slowly I walked out of the room. I first went to our room. He wasn’t there. Then I walked toward the kitchen, assuming he’d be there. Whenever he was home from work, he would give the cook an off and would be in charge of the food. As I walked toward the kitchen the smell of dal grew stronger. He loved cooking. It was his way of de-stressing.

    When I entered the kitchen, I saw him cutting an apple. He took care of me in ways I did not take care of myself. He always made sure I was eating healthy food. This was our first child. He always wanted to have a child of his own. I never did.

    When I got to know that I was pregnant with the baby, he was more thrilled and blissful than I was. I walked into the kitchen and stood next to him.

    I observed the manner in which he sliced the apple into various pieces. After he was done cutting the apple, he handed over the plate to me. He turned to go back to what he was doing, when I caught hold of his hand and pulled him closer. He put the strand of hair which was hanging loose, behind my ear and kissed me gently on my forehead.

    I love you husband!
    I love you too, wife!

     

    We looked into each other’s eyes. We could see how much we loved each other. How much we cared for each other. He slowly rubbed his palm on my belly and then gazed at me, again. I could see it in his eyes how much he had already fallen in love with the little baby we had created. He was already a father and through these seven months, he taught me to be a mother. To embrace the motherhood that I didn’t want to embrace. I took the plate of apples. I quietly sat at the dining table, consuming the pieces one by one and Mark resumed cooking.

    What’s for lunch, Mark?

    There’s dal-rice and I’m going to fry the chicken which I’d marinated last night.

    Ah, that sounds perfect! I’m actually also craving for some rajma.

    I’m so sorry, Ash! There’s no rajma at home.

    Ah, it’s alright. What you’re making is perfect enough. That’ll do!

    It did not take me much time to consume all the apples. I put aside the empty plate and folded the newspaper which was left open on the dining table. I had stopped going to teach a few months after I got to know that I was pregnant with our baby. Teaching was something that I wanted to pursue ever since I was a kid, myself. I knew from a very young age that teaching was what I wanted to do, when I would grow up. Mark knew how much I loved my career. I gave my entire self to it. Temporarily putting it aside, was not something I was ready to do. But I had to, for the baby. Mark knew that I wasn’t very enthused when I got to know that I was pregnant. He did not force me into falling in love with the baby. It was something that just happened. I remember when we went for the baby’s first sonography, I saw the baby on the monitor. I suddenly found myself welling up. That was the moment I realized that I actually had a human being living inside me. That I was going to be a mother.

    As I was walking toward the sofa, to sit and read my book, I saw a trail of droplets of blood on the floor. I called out to Mark and he came rushing into the living room. All I remember is him running toward me to hold me, when he saw me almost on the verge of fainting. After that, everything was went blank.

    I lost the baby. That was the news Mark and my mother gave me a few minutes after I woke up. It didn’t ask what happened. I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to speak with anybody. I wish the baby hadn’t died. I wish the baby had lived to see this world. I wish the baby were at least alive to be with Mark. I couldn’t meet Mark’s eyes. It felt like I had disappointed him. Like I had hurt him in the worst way possible. It didn’t seem fair to him. And it didn’t seem fair to me. We had planned so many things for the baby, with the baby. We had dreamed so many dreams. Did the baby have to be taken away?

  • The Runaway Bride

    The Runaway Bride

    Veera was going to marry the love of her life. But her quest to liberate herself from the small town she belonged to and to make something of her life, overpowered her love.

     

    The sky was still blanketed in darkness. Veera was standing in front of the gas stove, making herself a cup of sulemani tea. Bubbles began to rise in the water which was put to boil, for the tea. She added a teaspoon of sugar and tea powder in the boiling water. The color of the tea powder had slowly begun to spread, resulting in the water graduating to a brown color from being transparent. The manner in which this color transformation happened, created this soothing feeling, in Veera. She squeezed a little of the lime juice into the tea and put a few leaves of mint. Her mother had taught her how to make sulemani tea. Her mother used to always make her sulemani tea in the evening. When she was about 12 years old her mother had gone out of station on work, for about a week. She missed her evening cup of tea for those seven days. No one at home made it as well as she did. So when her mother returned from her office trip, Veera had asked her to teach her how to make the tea. She never could reach her mother’s excellence. She never would and in actuality, she never wanted to. She wanted to leave her mother’s uniqueness with her.
    It had been over a year since Veera had left home. She had left behind her ammi and abbu, Sakina and Jaden. They were her entire life. They were her entire home. A home she never imagined she would leave, one day. Every morning when she woke up to a new day she would ask herself whether she did the right thing by leaving and every night before she closed her eyes, the same question would haunt her. She missed them more than she could describe in words. But she knew in her heart that she had to do this, for herself.
    Veera found a certain thrill in the chaos of the city of Mumbai. The manner in which life moved so fast that there was no time to just pause and breathe. She needed this non-paused life. She needed it to forget what she had done. Her teaching and her life in Bombay allowed her to escape the regret which had made a permanent residence in her.

    Good morning, Veer!

    She shivered a little when she heard Charmin’s voice. She picked up her cup of tea and turned to walk toward the set of chairs and table kept in the kitchen. Veera and Charmin studied together in school, back home. But after they got done with school Charmin moved to Delhi and finally to Bombay. They managed to stay in touch through a mix of letters, emails, text messages and phone calls. They grew closer through this constant touch, in all these years. Good morning, Char! Veera sat herself on the chair which was placed opposite Charmin, at the table. Veera couldn’t see Charmin’s face because the newspaper which she was reading covered her entire self which was visible above the table.

    Ah, the tea smells good! Can I have some? Charmin said, slightly removing part of the newspaper cover.

    I just made tea for me. I didn’t know you wanted. Should I make one cup for you?

    Yes, please! Charmin said this and went back to reading the paper. I’ll just have a bath. Keep the tea ready, I’ll come and have.

    Charmin glanced the paper for a few seconds and then, got up from her seat to head to the bathroom and Veera went back to the gas stove to make tea. Charmin knew a friend who was a professor in the college where Veera is a professor. Charmin got to know that there was an opening in the History department of the college and immediately informed Veera about it. Through their years of communication, Charmin got to know how much Veera wanted to be move out of her home and be free. Charmin knew how claustrophobic she felt and was positive that this opportunity would only give her what she wanted. After Charmin finished having a bath, she came into the kitchen and found her cup of tea sitting on the table. Veera was sitting on the chair reading the newspaper.

    Do you have an off today?

    No, I have decided to take an off. I’ve been busy with classes and correcting assignments the past couple of weeks. I really just need a break.

    That’s good. What do you plan on doing?

    I’ve been wanting to go to that cafe…The Place.

    Oh yeah, The Place! You haven’t been there?

    No! So many people have told me about it. You’d really like it.

    Really?

    Yes!

    So I’m going to watch a movie on my I-pad while I’m there and enjoy my time alone.

    That’s a good enough plan!

    Veera smiled and said, yes it is!

     

           The Place was painted in white with pictures of vintage Bombay in black frames. It was a small cafe. Veera decided to sit at the corner most table. It was a table for two. She ordered a cup of espresso with one of their breakfast dish. She switched on her laptop and started watching one of the movies she had decided to watch. During the course of the movie, the waiter arrived with her coffee and food. When the waiter was placing her espresso and food on the table, her eyes suddenly fell on the door of the cafe. A man entered wearing a pair of blue denims and a white Polo t-shirt. It was Jaden. After a year of not seeing him, he was in front of her eyes. When his eyes began to scan the entire cafe, they fell on Veera.

    When his eyes met hers, her heart began to unusually beat fast. She removed the ear phones from her ears and got up from her seat, to walk toward him.

    He started walking toward her as well. When they were finally face to face, words failed them. Hi. Veera finally said. He did not say anything. How are you? He still did not say anything. He wore an expression which was an amalgamation of various feelings. I’m sitting there, she turned to point out toward her seat, come and sit with. He did not say anything and followed her to her table. They occupied the two chairs, now sitting facing each other. What are you doing here?

     

    I’ve…I’ve come to see Christina’s baby.

    She’s a mom?! Wow!

    Yeah. A lot has changed since you ran away from our wedding. Veera did not say anything. The words felt like someone dragged a knife down her throat. Veera and Jaden had known each other since their graduate college days. They were in the same college, studying the same course. They were in the same class. They fell into love with each other, very naturally. They were first friends. In the process of getting to know each other and spending time with each other, they didn’t realize that they were actually falling in love with each other. The both of them wanted to pursue their Masters and then work. After three years of being with each other, they were separated due to distance. Veera was in Delhi and Jaden was in Pune. Somehow, the distance did not break the thread which tied them together. It brought them closer and they continued their relationship.
    Jaden’s cold coffee arrived. Twenty minutes had passed, Jaden did not utter much, except the answers to the questions which Veera asked him. As Veera carefully observed the manner in which he drank his cold coffee alternately it by biting into his meat burger. It reminded Veera of the many dates they had. She loved watching him, the same manner in which he’d alternate between his food and the cold coffee he’d order wherever they’d go. Veera loved Jaden and still does. One evening when they were on a date, Jaden asked Veera to marry him. She said yes without hesitating. But something in her kept telling her that this wasn’t the right path to take. They were too young to be married and start a family. They were only 23. They had just moved out of the college atmosphere and taken a step into the ‘real world’ which everyone spoke about. Jaden’s parents never approved of them, initially. They believed that them getting married was a mistake because it was too early for them. Even after they’d approved Veera knew that it was a halfhearted approval. One they had done on account of having some peace in the house after a lot of arguments and fights. Jaden loved his parents and they were right. Only he did not see that. And at the time even Veera did not see it.

    How are you?

    I’m doing well. How about you?

    Me too.

    What are you up to?

    I’m one of the photographers for a magazine back home.

    Which magazine is this?

    The Traveler.

    Wow, that’s nice.

    Yeah. How about you? What are you doing?

    I’m a professor in one of the colleges here. I teach history.

     

    That’s nice. You always wanted to do one. I’m glad you’re doing what you always wanted to do.

    Likewise!

    We remained silent until I suddenly said, I’m sorry. He half smiled.

     

    One of us had to bring it up, right?

     

    Yeah. But, you don’t have to be.

     

    But I am.

     

    I know.

     

    Can I ask you, why did you leave?

     

    Because we weren’t doing the right thing.

     

    What makes you say that?

     

    You know, when I said yes, there was a part of me which hesitated. I tried to ignore the hesitation because I thought maybe I’m just nervous or something like that. But it wasn’t nervousness. It was me wanting to do so many things before I settled down with you. You know how much I wanted to escape that place and I knew for sure that your parents would’ve wanted us to stay with them. I know you would’ve done something for us to move out but I couldn’t let you do that. I know how much you equally love them.

     

    Why didn’t you say anything?

     

    Would you have understood?

     

    He remained silent. When I moved to Bombay, I tried contacting him through various means, but he never reverted back. And I understood. I gave him the space that he needed.

    I’m sorry Jaden.

    I know you’re. But do not expect me to forgive you so soon. I cannot do that.

    I understand.

    We spoke for a little while. There were moments when we fell silent. There were moments we just looked into each other’s eyes, trying to find the people we fell in love with. That was the last time I saw Jaden.

  • Even after all these years

    Even after all these years

    Tara wants to re-unite with her father, after all these. This short story is about second chances and trying to put your trust on someone, after the dark past you’ve had with them.

     

    The first Friday of every month were usually reserved for our sleepovers. Meghna and I had made this pact when we were about thirteen years old and since then, have never broken the pact. It was about 7:30 in the evening. Meghna, her father and myself, were sitting at the dinner table having our supper. Her mother wasn’t able to make it for dinner because she had to stay back at the office to complete some work. Her family always had their meals early. While there are many people who might find this unusual, I found this habit admirable. Meghna was the only child her parents possessed. While she shared a very loving and close relationship with both her parents, she was closer to her father. As we sat eating our dinner, I watched the way Meghna and her father spoke with each other. I often found myself observing the way they were with each other, when I was in their midst. Feelings of admiration and jealousy collided during these moments of observation. I was about 6 years old when ma and pa decided to separate. I have very few memories with him. Ma didn’t want him to be a part of my existence, mostly because he was an alcoholic. He had come home drunk one night, his entire being drowned in alcohol. He had tried to become violent with my mother and me, that night. That particular incident had pushed her to separate from him.
    Tara, don’t you want to meet your father? We were sitting in Meghna’s room, after supper. We were sitting on the carpet, on the floor, fidgeting with our phones, when Meghna suddenly shot this question at me. For a few seconds I did not say anything and simply stared at her.
    I…I…I don’t know. She kept her phone aside. She came closer toward me and snatched my phone, keeping it next to hers.
    The thing is, you do know. You know that you want to meet your father. I looked deep into her eyes. She gave voice to the very words stuck deep within my heart. I’m right, aren’t I? I nodded my head, indicating a yes. Go meet him!
    I’m not sure how to do that.
    We’ll figure out a way, don’t worry.
    But ma won’t allow this to happen.
    You know, I love and respect aunty a lot but he is your father Tara. You deserve to give him a chance. You never know after all these years, he might’ve changed.
    It’s a very far-fetched possibility.
    Maybe it is. You’ll never know unless you give him a chance, will you?
    No, I won’t.
    So first, go speak with aunty and then we can figure out what to do.
    Yeah.

    It has been 10 years since pa moved out of our lives. In these 10 years there have been a few times when I did ask ma about him. But these conversations would only end with her changing the topic or simply remaining silent. After a while I’d just stop asking her anything regarding pa. I figured it was based not knowing. I figured that maybe she had a reason for not telling me anything about him because she knew him more than I did.
    It was around 8 in the evening. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner. Hindi music was playing in the background. This was her method of relaxing after a long day at work. I slowly walked toward the laptop which was sitting on the dining table and turned down the music.
    Tara! She called out to me. Yes, ma?
    What happened to the music?
    I turned it down.
    Why?
    I want to speak with you.     She walked out of the kitchen and came into the living room, where I was sitting. She came and sat with me on the couch. My heart was pounding hard. My hands were shivering.
    Tell me. I’m all ears.
    Ma, I want to meet pa.     She remained silent and looked at me. It felt like she was framing what and how she wanted to tell me what she was about to say, in her head. Ma, he’s my father. He’s half of me and I deserve to know him, talk to him, so does he. I know I shouldn’t be asking this of you, but—She cut me off before I could finish the speech which I’d mentally prepared to convince her.
    Okay.
    What?!
    I’m allowing you to go meet him, is what I’m saying.
    Are you sure?
    If I don’t, I know you’d find a way to meet him behind my back. So to stop that from happening, I might just allow you to do this.     I smiled. Words were substituted by the tight hug which I gave her.
    After speaking with her, I immediately called up Meghna. Meg, ma allowed me to meet with him. I could hear the excitement in her voice. Really?!
    Yes, really!
    She will speak with him tomorrow morning and fix a date, depending on when he is free.
    Wait, they’ve been in touch with each other through all these years?
    Yes, they have. He keeps asking her about me.
    She never told you about this?
    No, not at all. She had her reasons and honestly, I respect that.
    Hmm…
    Anyway, let’s see what happens.
    Yes.

    I put on my favorite pair of light blue jeans and the short white kurta, which I wore for the many important occasions, like this one. Along with the feeling of excitement, there was this feeling of apprehension which clutched on it as well. It was around 11, on a Saturday morning. Ma was sitting in the living room reading a fashion magazine. She looked up and put down the magazine when she heard my footsteps enter the living room. Our eyes met and we simply smiled at each other.
    Ma, am I doing the right thing?
    You mean meeting by meeting him?
    Yes. Why do you ask?
    I’m a little scared.
    Don’t be. Whatever it is, you’ll have to figure it out.
    Yes. Ma?
    Yes, Tara?
    Did he sound excited, when you told him that I wanted to meet him?
    Yes, he did. He’d been waiting for this for a very long time.     I smiled, in response. I said my goodbye and walked out of the house.

    We had decided to meet in a small Chinese restaurant near my house. I was sitting at the table which was placed in the center of the restaurant. The walls of the restaurant were painted in off-white. The décor was simple and nothing to jazzy. I was the first one to reach. I was early, about 10 minutes early. It was all these feelings dancing within me, which brought me to the restaurant early.

    I kept sipping glasses of water and my eyes were fixed toward the entrance. About half an hour had passed and still there was no sign of him.

    I ordered for a plate of dumplings. I hated sitting in a restaurant and not ordering anything. I kept making up reasons in my head as to why he was late. I kept giving him the benefit of the doubt. I kept calling him on the number which ma had forwarded to me.
    I waited for nearly two hours, he did not turn up. I paid the bill and left.

    Tears rolled down my eyes, as soon as I got out of the restaurant. I put on my ear phones and walked briskly toward my house. I continuously rang the bell till my mother finally opened the door. I ran into the house and then into my room. I jumped onto my bed and cried my eyes out. Ma entered the room and lay on the bed beside me, holding me tight.
    He didn’t show up, did he? Through my tears, I uttered a soft “no”.
    Tara, it is okay, don’t be hard on yourself.  I slowly turned my entire self to face her. It isn’t. It really isn’t. I started crying again. I buried my face in her and began crying again. She slowly moved her hand on my head. Cry all you want. I won’t stop you. After a few minutes and lifted myself and wiped the tears off, of my face.
    You knew that he wouldn’t show up?
    Part of me did and the other part was hoping that he would show up and not disappoint.
    Why did you not stop me from meeting him after all these years?
    Honestly, I wanted you to see for yourself what kind of a person he is. You deserved to figure that out for yourself and I wanted you to.
    He hasn’t changed at all, even after all these years.
    You know, when you were in the first year of kindergarten, you were part of the fancy dress competition. That year, your father had begun his heavy drinking. He just seemed so far away from the both of us. I was trying to do everything I could, to keep him with us. To not let my marriage and our little family fall apart. I asked him to come for the fancy dress competition, to support you, but he never showed up. Finally when we reached home, we found him on the floor with an empty bottle of rum. I remember how you hid behind the curtain of our room, while I picked him up and put him on the bed. I’ve forgiven him a million times, in all the years that we’ve been together. But these are the certain incidents I will never forgive him for. There came a point when it didn’t matter if he hurt me but I couldn’t stand him hurting you. I know that I have been stopping you from meeting with him, all these years. But when you told me that you wanted to meet him, a few days ago, I realized that you were ready for this. Ready to not only meet him but make a decision of how you feel about him. And I’m glad I let you and you went.
    Thank you, ma.     She kissed me on my forehead and hugged me. Tara, even if he does meet you some day, give him that chance. Maybe he has his reasons as why he decided to not show up today. And even if you decide not to, I’m here for you.
    Yes.

    It has been six months since the incident. Every time I pass by the Chinese restaurant, I see the girl sitting at the table placed in the center of the restaurant, waiting for her father to show up. I’d imagine him showing, creating imaginary conversations and instances of how it would be. The tears would almost come tumbling down, but I’d immediately brush away these thoughts and walk away. The next day, he did try calling me up to apologize. He left a few text messages on my phone and on Facebook, but I never reverted back. Not even now after six months have passed. It is hard, to forgive him, for leaving me waiting for him like that. Maybe ma is right. He might have his reasons for abandoning me like that. But for now I wasn’t ready to understand or to forgive him. Maybe someday I will. Someday I will listen to his side of the story and give him a chance. But for now, I’ve decided to do otherwise and not give him the opportunity to hurt me again.

  • The Homemaker’s Book Club

    The Homemaker’s Book Club

    In this first part to the two-part short story, our narrator Ira, tells us how her Book Club for housewives which she co-created with Anjali, came into being.

     

                       She is one of the most real characters I have come across, among the many books I have read. I enjoyed the parts which included her narration and which spoke about her, the most. Also, digging deep into the person that she is was quite an adventure. As a plate of butter cookies was being passed around, Divya made this comment. She managed to grab the attention of all the ten women, including herself, who were sitting there, even though we engaged in eating and alternatively sipping coffee or tea. The book in focus for today’s discussion, was Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Lowland. With a small bite of the cookie in her mouth Vidya said, I agree with Divya. I love how lost and entangled Gauri is. Even toward the end of the novel, I don’t think she ever found herself. Even after submerging herself in the pages of her books, she kept holding onto to it so much that, which she went back to not really figuring out who she truly is. I quietly listened, as I consumed the mint chutney sandwiches which were cut in the shape of a triangle. Our mugs of coffee and tea were standing haphazardly on the coffee table, with an abandoned plate of vanilla cake. I somehow couldn’t connect with Gauri wholly. Especially when she completely distanced herself from Subhash and Bela. In fact I felt angry when she removed herself from the responsibilities of being a wife and a mother. I understand that she wanted to make a life for herself. But it shouldn’t have been done at the cost of her husband and daughter who only craved for her love. And Subhash literally gave her the life she wanted to escape to. It just wasn’t fair! As Anjali made this comment, I could sense the anger in her tone. It was almost as if Gauri was doing all those things to her. Anjali usually got overly excited during our discussions. All of us loved these discussions, but she was among the few whose excitement and enthusiasm was vividly visible. After remaining silent for most part of the session, I finally said something. I found Gauri very different from Ashima in Lahiri’s previous novel. I found more depth in her than in Ashima. And Gauri was different. I like how different and unique she is. And it’s not only her, but Subhash and Udayan who keep me surprised throughout the novel because as a reader the most nuanced details keep unfolding, for me. 
    Our discussion went on for nearly two hours, much like the usual time we take. People had begun to leave as soon as the discussion was over. I stayed back, as always, to help Anjali with putting away the dishes and cleaning up, after everyone had left. We were standing in the kitchen and washing the dishes. Anjali was continuously saying something, while doing the dishes and I quietly stood there and listened to her.
    Hey Ira, are you okay?
    Yeah, yeah. I am.
    Are you sure? Because you seemed so lost in your own little world. You barely participated in our discussion.
    I know. I’ve just been very distracted.
    With what?
    I don’t know, exactly.     At this point, we both stopped doing the dishes and occupied the two chairs which were kept facing toward the kitchen counter. We closed the tap and wiped our soapy hands on a towel which Anjali picked up from the counter.
    Hey, you can tell me anything. What’s going on?
    I know that I can. I need some time to figure things out.
    Figure what out?
    My marriage.     She remained silent and did not say anything. She stared at me. I don’t think she knew what to say exactly. My marriage had not exactly been smooth sailing since the past one year and she knew about it. The Book Club usually provided an escape from my otherwise unhappy life but today, it did not help. Without giving her a chance to speak, I continued talking.
    You know how unhappy Ziaan has been for a year, now. And now it’s getting worse. Every second day he ends up picking a fight. There are nights when he doesn’t come home, even. I don’t know what to do.
    Talk to him about this. Have you tried doing that?
    Of course I have! But he conveniently changes the topic and doesn’t allow any discussion to happen between us, about us.
    That isn’t fair.
    I know that it isn’t, but what can I do? He’s always been like this. I don’t know what to do.     I suddenly found tears rolling down my eyes. Anjali came a little closer and wiped the tears off, of my face.
    About a year ago, Anjali and I started the book club, when my marriage slowly had begun to crack. Anjali and I became acquainted with each other because of our husbands. Our husbands knew each other from their college days and managed to remain the best of friends even after they graduated with their Bachelors’ degree. They had created this tradition of having dinner together every month, either in their homes or somewhere outside. Life had gotten the best of them and they barely got the time to spend with each other, like they used to, when they were in college. When Anjali and I started dating them, this tradition got extended to include us as well. It took a couple of months for Anjali and me to become more comfortable with each other and eventually, we did. We started learning a lot about each other and our relationships during these dinner dates. We discovered that the both of us shared a profound love for literature. As time passed by, we started meeting outside our little traditional dinner dates. We’d meet for brunch or for a snack in either of our homes or we’d go out to a new restaurant or a cafe. We’d assign each other a new book to read every week and during our meetings, we’d discuss about these books.

    Do you have to be home anytime soon? I checked the time on my watch. It was 5:20 pm.
    No, not really.
    Why?
    I want you to relax, sit down and just give voice to all those doubts and fears dancing within you.     I didn’t say anything but just looked down.

    Hey, she lifted my face. I’m going to open a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes and you’re going to tell me all about it, whatever it is that is bothering you and upsetting you and pushing you to not give your entire attention to this book club.

     

    The book club had been our baby. We were the ones who created this baby who we call The Homemaker’s Book Club. Neither Anjali nor I were working women. Our book club, allowed us to focus on something we absolutely loved and were passionate about. It took away our minds from the otherwise monotonous lives we lead as housewives. The two or so hours that we did spend time discussing the books we had assigned each other for the week, was something we longed for through the entire week. We relished every bit of it with our entire selves, when we read the books and discussed them. These discussion took me back to the English Literature classes of my college days. I had begun to realize that I was distancing myself from something that I not only helped create, but something that was completely close to my heart. I didn’t want to lose it because in all honesty, it was something that kept me going through all the difficult time in my marriage and with Ziaan.
    Ira, you must speak with Ziaan about this, mostly because it is eating you up. I can see that. I am not telling you this because of how lost you were today, but because of how lost you have been since the past couple of times our group has met. Many have pointed out that you seem uninterested and lost and do not contribute enough, like you usually would.
    I know. I need some time.
    Take it. But can I just tell you one more thing? Why don’t you put all your energies into reading and enjoying the sessions, like you otherwise do? It’ll do you good and it will make you feel better. Trust me on that.
    Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to try doing that.