Sorting Out Sid (18 page)

‘Excuse me, sir, your fish.’ The waiter smoothly avoided Kippy’s attempt to upset the tray he was carrying, and proceeded to place a large plate on the table.

Sid looked approvingly at the fish. It was cut into five slices, thin strips they were and you might say rather insubstantial for the whopping price, but Sid had tasted the preparation before and he knew it was well worth the money. He remembered his blooper with the wine and politely served Neha a slice first and then took one for himself. Kippy watched them curiously and then suddenly pointed towards the fish and made a strange sound that sounded to Sid like the plaintive cry of a deceived seal.

‘What happened, Kippy?’ Neha’s tone was soothing. ‘Here, try a piece from my plate. I don’t think you’ll like it.’ She popped a small piece of the fish into Kippy’s open mouth and she swallowed it. She looked at Neha, opened her mouth again and made the same strange sound. Neha looked surprised. ‘More? I thought you’d be full from your dinner and all the pickled cucumbers.’ Neha popped another bite of the fish into Kippy’s mouth.

Within about five seconds the same seal cry permeated their little corner of the restaurant. Sid watched indulgently as Kippy decided to take matters into her own little hands, picking up another slice from the plate and chomping upon it. She went through it rather speedily. Sid’s indulgent smile
changed to one of panic as he realized that Kippy was already going for a third slice.

‘Waiter! Waiter!’ he called out in panic. Thankfully, the fellow had been hovering nearby and materialized almost immediately at the table. Sid said in an urgent tone, ‘Can you please get us some more pickled cucumbers? She’s eating all our fish! She’s practically inhaling it! Pickled cucumbers … quick …’ He then stopped and cast a guilty, embarrassed glance towards Neha. He hadn’t meant to sound like a cheapo, but the dish was bloody expensive and Kippy seemed about as happy with the pickled cucumbers as with…

Sid’s thought trailed off. Neha seemed to see the humour in the situation. He watched fascinated as she shook silently. And then the laugh began to emanate from her in slow peals
–
it was as if it was slowly unfolding, and blooming. Little Kippy couldn’t possibly have got the joke, but her mother’s laugh was enough to set her off. Her higher-pitched baby laugh added to Neha’s made for an interesting duet and Sid couldn’t help grinning at the two of them. He had no doubt that all the diners in the restaurant were probably staring at them again given how loud they were.

But for once Sid didn’t care about the other people in the room.

5

The Invasion

S
id sat with his back ramrod straight on the edge of his bed, staring unseeingly at the TV. He usually enjoyed lolling about on the bed in the evenings, flipping channels on his LCD TV. It was his favourite place in the whole world
–
his room; his haven from the madness of the outside world. The mindless activity of switching channels in the privacy and comfort of his bedroom always helped him to shut out any thinking. Always a good thing as far as he was concerned.

But tonight, he just sat there, stiff and uncomfortable. He didn’t feel the respite that usually came from being here, all by himself … because he wasn’t.

‘Give me the remote now, your nonsense program is over,’ his father barked into his left ear. His mother, sitting on his other side, obliged by passing the remote to Sid, who immediately passed it to his father as if it were a hot potato. It reminded him of torturous games of ‘Pass the Parcel’ played at torturous kiddie parties back in the old Lucknow days. He never used to win any of those games, and even for that, his father would give him grief.

Papa took the remote and, still muttering grumpily, switched to the news channel. Some inane story about a politician having been caught having sex on tape through a spy camera planted by his driver. Oh God! Sid now felt even more uncomfortable, sandwiched between his parents, being forced to watch the grainy video being played in a repetitive loop on the screen. His mother gasped and averted her eyes and his father fumbled to switch to a safe news channel. But every channel was flashing the same story with a scroll of Breaking News and all were proclaiming that same damned video as ‘Exclusive’. Thankfully, after much frantic flipping of channels, IndiaTV came to the rescue. Their breaking news was a story about a rooster brave enough to fight a dog. They all relaxed as the bearded anchor shouted in a hoarse voice, ‘Ek sahasi murge ki kahani’. Sid felt newfound respect for the channel and sighed with relief. In about five seconds, though, he was back in a dark, foul mood. Thirty years later and nothing ever changed with his family.

Here he was, his privacy invaded in such a blatant manner. His parents had arrived yesterday, and he strongly suspected that this was their plan for the whole week
–
to squat in his room day and night, watching television.

Sid tried to hint gently that there were at least two other televisions in the house, one in the guest room where they were to sleep and the other large and very beautiful-resolution-waala TV in the drawing room. But they refused to budge. Though, of course, he could sort of see why.

Initially, they had been puzzled that Mandira was barely around. Last night she had made it a point to arrive so late, they barely had time to say a few words to one another. Even those few words had been very uncomfortable; her sullenness had been easy for them to pick up although they weren’t ever
going to ask directly what was wrong. Sid felt some safety in the knowledge that their operating policy in life, just like his, was to pretend that whatever was making them uncomfortable didn’t exist. But he could tell they were mystified and hurt, and appeared to find solace and safety in his bedroom
–
the one place Mandira never seemed to visit.

Sid pre-empted their question about Mandira sleeping in a separate room by explaining that she worked from home a lot these days
–
sometimes late into the night and she could concentrate better in a separate room. His mother nodded her understanding while his father pretended not to hear or care. Sid felt a twinge about lying, but reassured himself that the right moment for telling them about the divorce would definitely come soon. He was watching out for it. The news channels didn’t seem to interest his father any more and he switched off the television. Now they were all staring at a blank TV, sitting on the edge of the bed. Okayyy … Now what? Sid had to admit, this seemed like an opportunity to talk. He cleared his throat.

‘Ma … Papa …’

‘Haan beta?’ His mother immediately turned towards him, love and affection on her face. His father stiffened his back and stared straight ahead at the blank screen of the TV, so Sid knew he was all ears too.

‘Ma … Papa …’

Sid swallowed once. It was time.

‘Shall we have dinner now?’

His father’s shoulders slackened with relief but his mother just looked confused. ‘Sid, we already ate at seven, and you said you had also eaten before coming home.’

Oh. That was right. Sid had come home while they were having dinner and he had claimed to have eaten in order to avoid sitting with them. He had walked into his room, hopeful
of some time to himself, but within about seven minutes they had also come in and sat down. Now, he was so hungry that his stomach was growling. Well, obviously, he couldn’t tell them life-altering news on an empty stomach, right?

‘Well, I think I’ll order a pizza,’ he announced. ‘Would anyone like some?’

His father grunted, ‘Nonsense food you keep having. Will kill you one day.’

Sid narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to snap that he was in the pink of health and that it was his father who had ruined his system with all the drinking and smoking and that’s why he was a heart patient. However, his mother spoke first in her gentle way, ‘Should I make something for you? Your favourite halwa?’

‘No,
Ma
,’ he snapped, his irritation with his father as usual being transmuted into the safer outlet of expression
–
irritation with his mother. When someone wanted pizza, they didn’t want the damned halwa. It wasn’t his favourite anyway
–
he didn’t even like it much any more. It was just that he had kept forgetting to let her know that over the last many years. ‘I don’t feel like … I mean, you always want to tire yourself out. You’re on holiday now, na? Enjoy yourself, relax, take care of your health.’

‘Haan … haan. You are very concerned about her health when she’s in front of you. When did he last visit us in Lucknow?’ His father took the opportunity to make another jibe at him, reverting to the third person while referring to him, which Sid hated. It was as if he weren’t there. Which was of course, exactly, what he wished right now. He fidgeted uncomfortably. What time was it? Oh crap. Only 9 p.m. At least another hour before his parents went to bed.

‘Let him be,’ his mother chided gently, putting her hand on Sid’s arm. ‘We know how hard he works and everything he has to deal with. We can’t expect him to drop everything and come running to us all the time.’

His father just grunted and started fumbling with the remote again, obviously unable to stand conversation with his family for too long. But Sid was aware of the unexpressed concern in his mother’s words. ‘Everything he has to deal with.’ She could obviously sense that something was wrong between Mandira and him and this was her way of asking. She kept her hand on his arm, exuding understanding and warmth. He knew what she was saying
–
you can tell me anything, son, I’m your mother.

He jumped up abruptly, freeing himself from her touch and stalked off, muttering, ‘Where did I leave my phone? I want a Thin Crust…’

Thirty minutes later he sat alone at the dining table. The smell of the Dominos Pizza in front of him set his mouth watering. Heaven. At least now he could enjoy some time alone. He knew it was only for another few days that he would have to deal with his parents’ presence. It never ceased to amaze him how strained he felt around them. They were his parents, but for crying out loud, why couldn’t they just understand the concept of
space
?

As if on cue, his mother materialized in the room and started hovering over his left shoulder.

‘Sit, Ma.’

What was a guy to do?

‘I’m fine like this. Over here, I have nothing to do but sit all day, anyway.’

Great, another subtle reminder of how neglectful a son he was, always failing in his duties
–
to take them around Delhi, to see the sights while they were here. Well, he had a job, right? Couldn’t they understand? It’s not like they let him decide when they should come so that he could plan his leave accordingly. At the back of his mind he knew he had no particularly pressing projects running. He could take leave from work and spend time with them if he wanted to. But that would mean spending time with them and, hell, he just wasn’t up for that.

She was still hovering and it made him uncomfortable so he shifted around in his chair and looked up again at her. ‘Sit, no … Ma?’ This time the invitation was less brusque.

She acquiesced and lowered herself slowly into the chair next to him. He was struck, as happened every time he met his parents of late, with how much older she looked than the last time. She was gazing at his face through her greyish green, slightly watery eyes with dark circles underneath them. The patience, kindness and sympathy were unmistakable.

Okay, fine, he thought, fighting hard to control his irritation, watch me eat then.

Sitting and watching him eat had always been her favourite pastime when Sid was a child. Might as well indulge her, thought Sid and nonchalantly bit into the pizza. It was hard to enjoy it while being watched so closely. He realized too late, he should have climbed onto Brownie during pizza time. His mother then wouldn’t have been able to sit so close and watch him eat. Well, he was now just going to have to ignore her. Not hard in the least, he had been doing it for years.

Sid chewed resolutely and allowed his mind to drift. He didn’t know at what point his protectiveness about her had turned to resentment. His mother had hovered around him throughout his childhood, shielding him from all the disappointments that she could. She had even stood up for him against his father’s unreasonable demands for excellence. She never expected anything from Sid and had always given her all for him. But this had, in the end, made him feel even more guilty. He could never hope to pay her back. And now he was failing her in the biggest possible way
–
by failing in his marriage. The social stigma and the thoughts of what people back in Lucknow would say…