ONE NIGHT (17 page)

‘Mom, I didn’t say he isn’t nice or there is a problem. I just need time.

‘You aren’t distracted, are you? Are you still talking to that useless call

center chap, what is his name…Shyam.’

I jumped when I heard my name.

‘No mom. That is over. I have told you so many times I have agreed to

Ganesh right?’

‘So, why can’t you agree for next month—for everyone’s happiness?

Can’t a mother beg her daughter for this?’

There you go: ‘can’t a mother…’ number II for the night.

Priyanka closed her eyes to compose herself. She spoke slowly, ‘Can I

think about it?’

‘Of course. Think about it. But think for all of us. Not just yourself.’

‘Okay. I will. Just… just give me some time.’

Priyanka hung up the phone and kept still. The girls asked her for

details.

She looked around and threw the stress ball at her monitor.

‘Can you believe this? She wants me to get married next month. Next

month!’ Priyanka said and stood up. ‘They brought me up for twenty-five

years, and they can’t wait more than twenty-five days to get rid of me. What

is with these people—am I such a burden?’

Priyanka repeated her conversation to Esha and Radhika. Vroom

checked his computer to see if Bakshi had sent us any emails.

‘It doesn’t matter right? You have to marry him anyway. Why drag it

out?’ Radhika said to Priyanka.

‘Yes, you get to drive the Lexus sooner too,’ Vroom said, without

looking up from his screen. Screw Vroom. I gave him a firm glare out of the

corner of my eye.

‘What will I wear?’ Esha said. Her somber mood had lightened with the

new announcement. Give her a chance to dress up and she will ignore people

dying around her. ‘This is too short a notice,’ she continued, ‘ I need a new

dress for every ceremony.’

‘Get your
designer friends
to lend you a few dresses,’ Vroom said to

Esha, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Esha’s face dropped again. Only I saw it, but her eyes became wet. She

took a tissue from her purse. She pretended to fix her lipstick and casually

wiped her tears.

‘I’m so not ready for this. In one month I’ll be someone’s wife. Gosh,

little kids will call me auntie,’ Priyanka said.

Everyone discussed the pros and cons of Priyanka getting married in

four weeks. Most of them felt getting married so quickly wasn’t such a big

deal once she had chosen the guy. Of course, most people don’t give a damn

about me as well.

In the midst of the discussion the systems guy returned to our desk.

‘What happened here?’ he said from under the table. ‘Looks like

someone ripped these wires apart.’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘See if we can get some traffic again.’

Priyanka’s mother and her words—‘the useless call center boy’—

resounded in my mind. I remembered the time when Priyanka told me her

mother’s views on me. It was not long ago: it was one of our last dates at

Mocha Café.

#18

My Past Dates with

Priyanka—IV

Mocha Café, Greater Kailash I

Five months before this night

We promised to meet on one condition—we would not fight. No brain

games, no sarcastic comments and no judgmental remarks. She was late

again. I fiddled with the menu as I looked around me. Mocha’s décor had a

Middle Eastern twist, with hookahs, velvet cushions and colored glass lamps

everywhere. Many of the tables were occupied by couples, sitting with

intertwined fingers, obviously deeply in love. The girls laughed at whatever

the guys said. The guys ordered the most expensive items on the menu. Every

now and then their eyes needed to be happy was each other. The silly

delusion in the initial stage of a relationship: aren’t they amazing?

My life was nowhere near perfect, of course. For starters, my girlfriend,

if I could still call her that, was late. Plus, I could sense she was itching to

dump me. Priyanka and I had ended eight of our last ten calls with someone

hanging up the phone on the other.

I had not slept the entire day, which is not a big deal for most people,

but considering I work all night, it had no left me feeling too good. My job was

going nowhere, with Bakshi bent on sucking every last drop of my blood.

Maybe he was right—I just did not have the strategic vision or managerial

leadership or whatever crap things you are supposed to have to do well in

life. Maybe Priyanka’s mom was right too—her daughter was stuck with a

loser.

These thoughts enveloped me as she came in. She had just had a

haircut. Her waist-length hair was now just a few inches below her shoulders.

I liked her with long hair, but she never listened to me. I told you, I didn’t

have the leadership skills to influence
anyone
. Anyway, her hair still looked

nice. She wore a white linen top and a flowing lavender skirt with lost of

crinkly edges. She had on a thin silver necklace, with the world’s tiniest

diamond pendant handing from it. I started at my watch as a sign of protest.

‘Sorry, Shyam,’ she said as she put a giant brown bag on the table, ‘that

ass hairdresser took so long. I told him I had to leave early.’

‘No big deal. A haircut has to be more important than me,’ I said,

without any emotion in my voice.

‘I thought we said no sarcasm,’ she said, ‘and I did say sorry.’

‘That’s right. Once sorry for half an hour seems fair, in fact, go get a

two-hour facial done as well. You can come back and say sorry four times.’

‘Shyam, please. I know I’m late. We promised not to fight. Saturday is

the only day I get time for a haircut.’

‘I told you to keep your hair long,’ I said.

‘I did for a long time. But it’s sop hard to maintain it, Shyam. I’m sorry,

but you need to understand sometimes. I had the most boring hair in the

world and I could do nothing with it. And it took one hour to oil the damn

thing. And it feels so hot in the Delhi heat.’

‘Whatever,’ I said in a bored voice, looking at the menu. ‘What do you

want?’

‘I want my Shyam to be in a good moon,’ she said and held my hand. We

didn’t intertwine fingers though.

‘My’ Shyam. I guess I still count, I thought. Girls sure know how to sweet

talk.

‘Hmm…’ I said and let out a big sigh. If she was trying to make peace, I

guess I had to do my bit. ‘We can have their special Maggi noodles.’

‘Maggi? You’ve come all this way to eat Maggi?’ she said, and took the

menu from me. ‘And check this out: ninety bucks for Maggi?’ she said the last

phrase so loudly that the tables and a few waiters next to us heard us.

‘Priyanka, we earn now. We can afford it,’ I said.

‘Order chocolate brownies and ice cream,’ she said. ‘At least something

you don’t get at home.’

‘I thought you said you’ll have whatever I want,’ I said.

‘Yes, but Maggi?’ she said and made a quirky face. Her nostrils

contracted for a second. I had seen that face before, and I could not help but

smile. I saved myself time by ordering the brownie.

The waiter brought the chocolate brownie and placed it in front of

Priyanka. Half a liter of chocolate sauce dripping over a blob of vanilla ice

cream placed precariously over a huge slice of rich chocolate cake. It was a

heart attack served on a plate. Priyanka had two spoons and slid the dish

towards me.

‘Look at me, eating away like a cow,’ she said.

‘Did you have a heart to heart with your mom?’ I said.

Priyanka wiped her chocolate-lined lips with tissue. I felt like kissing her

right then. However, I hesitated. When you hesitate in love, you know

something is wrong.

‘Me and my mom,’ she said, ‘are incapable of having a rational, sane

conversation. I tried to talk to her—about you and my plans to study further.

It sounds like a simple conversation, right?’

‘What happened?’

‘We were crying in seven minutes. Can you believe it?’

‘With your mother, I can. What exactly did she say?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘But I have to know,’ I insisted.

‘She said she has never liked you. Because you are not settled, and

because since the day I started dating you I have changed and become an

unaffectionate and cold person.’

‘Unaffectionate? What the…?’ I shouted, my face turning red. ‘How the

hell have I changed you?

The second comment cut me into thin slices. Sure, I hated the ‘not

settled’ tag too, but there was some truth to that. How could she accuse me

of turning Priyanka into a cold person, though?

She did not say anything. Her face softened and I heard tiny sobs. It was

so unfair, I was the one being insulted: I should be the one getting to cry.

However, I guess only girls look nice crying on dates.

‘Listen Priyanka, your mom is a psycho…’ I said.

‘No she is not. It is not because of you, but I
have
changed. Maybe it is

because of my age—and she confuses it with my being with you. We used to be

so close, and now she doesn’t like anything I do,’ she said and broke down

into full-on-crying. Everyone in the café must have thought I had cheated on

my girlfriend and was dumping her or something. I got some ‘you-horrible-

men’ looks from girls at other tables.

‘Calm down, Priyanka. What does she want? And tell me honestly, what

do you want?’ I said.

Priyanka shook her head and remained silent.

It dives me nuts. The effort it sometimes takes to make women speak up

is harder than interrogating terrorists.

‘Please, talk to me,’ I said, looking at the brownie. The ice cream had

melted to a gooey mess.

She finally spoke. ‘She wants me to show that I love her. She wants me

to make her happy and marry someone she chooses for me.’

‘And what do you want?’ I said.

‘I don’t know,’ she told the tablecloth.

What the hell? I thought. All I get for four years of togetherness is an ‘I

don’t know?

‘You want to dump me, don’t you? I am just not good enough for your

family.’

‘It isn’t like that Shyam. She married my dad who was just a government

employee only because he seemed like a decent human being. But her sisters

waited to marry better-qualified boys and they are richer today. Her concern

for me comes from there. She is my mother. It is not as if she does not know

what is good for me. I want someone doing well in his career as well.’

‘So your mother is not the only cause for the strain in our relationship.

It is you as well.’

‘A relationship never flounders for one reason alone. There are many

issues. You don’t take feedback. You are sarcastic. You don’t understand my

ambitions. Don’t I always tell you to focus on your career?’

‘Just get lost okay,’ I said.

My loud voice attracted the attention of the neighboring tables. All the

girls at Mocha were probably convinced I was the worst possible male

chauvinist pig ever.

Her tears were back. However, she noticed people watching us and

composed herself. A few wipes with a tissue and she was normal again.

‘Shyam, it is this attitude of yours. At home, my mother doesn’t

understand. Over here, you don’t. Why have you become like this? You have

changed Shyam, you are not the same happy person I first met,’ she, her

voice restrained out calm.

‘Nothing has happened to
me
. It is you who finds new faults in me

everyday. I have a bad boss and I am trying to manage as happily as possible.

What has happened to you? You used to eat at truck drivers’ dhabas. Now all

of a sudden you need an NRI cardiac surgeon to make ends meet?’

We started at each other for two seconds.