Ma : Listen beta, there is that wedding of Mrs. Bhatt’s daughter next…
Arjun : Nope.
Ma, taken aback.
Ma : Atleast hear me out…
Arjun : Nope.
Ma : But all the kittie….
Arjun : Nope.
Ma, pauses.
Her brain on overdrive, rejecting words, creating and dismantling strings of words that might invoke any other response. Even an additional word after “Nope”.
Of late Arjun had become very direct. He had never been direct. He had always lived in the gray. Even when she knew he wasn’t going to do something and he knew he wasn’t, he never used the word “No”.
He would skirt and flirt and then end with a “let’s see” or a “maybe”. Leaving his Ma with hope.
She had started noticing this change in him, his reluctant “maybes” turning into staunch “No’s” ever since he started seeing that therapist…what was his name…. Ankur or Ankit or whatever.
Did they teach insubordination in the name of therapy these days? Who knew…
She saw Arjun wipe off the last drop of that delicious tea she had made with extra ginger and her hand ground Chai masala this morning to convince him. That tea had fought many a battles for her with Arjun’s dad and Arjun.
She realized she had just a moment before he folded that God-forsaken paper of his and left for the day. That would leave her high and dry, unable to deliver a promise to her Kittie friends.
Ma (trying to pull the ever-green emotional blackmail of sacrifices of the past) : You see beta, I could also have as easily said “Nope” to…
Arjun cut her off once again, said “Nope”, folded the paper decisively and got up. Ma’s expression was a mix of having swallowed something very spicy and being hit by a bus.
Arjun smiled to himself seeing his mom out of words once again, bent down to kiss her on the forehead and left for office, hastily adding a Bye Ma as he shut the door behind him, not leaving any room for more words.
Ma sat there staring at her cup of now lukewarm tea. She could not accept defeat. She would not accept defeat. Not now. Not after four decades of having formed an invincible strategy to get what she wanted from the two men in her life. It was not that she demanded a lot. Just this and that. After all, after all her years of having sacrificed her degree and job for them, her life, one could say, what was wrong in guilting them into doing this and that once in a while?
She had already committed to Mrs. Patel that she would deliver her son for the match making she had asked Mrs. Patel for. After having screened many many photographs and many many bios, Mrs. Bhatt had liked a girl that met her passing criteria for a prospective daughter-in-law.
She knew Arjun was seeing someone. She knew because she had found that perfume bottle and the extra brush and pair of pajamas tucked away at the back of Arjun’s cupboard one day. She hadn’t been snooping. She wouldn’t do that now, would she?
No, she had just been doing her regular round of cleaning. It shocked her. The idea that a girl could come in her house while she was away. Not that a girl could come but that Arjun would bring one. God Oh God! She must have left some gap in her upbringing of Arjun. But the damage was not all done. Not yet. Or atleast she hoped it wasn’t.
Ma hadn’t bothered to find out who the girl was, hadn’t asked Arjun once. She had just assumed that any girl who could sneak into a single man’s room and leave a pair of clothes was characterless and not worthy of being her daughter-in-law. And that had set her out on a war footing to find someone she could likely respect.
That was six months back. And finally now that one such girl had passed her very high bar, though barely, her son refused to go for the one event where Ma could pretend they discovered each other organically.
Ma put her head between her hands and cursed her life. Like she did a hundred times a day. When things didn’t go her way she always used the same beating she gave herself.
She should not have married Mr. Bhatt so young. With her degree and her charm, she would have gotten a job anywhere she wanted. But insubordination wasn’t allowed in their day and age and so here she was. Cursed.
——————————
That afternoon, Mrs. Bhatt sent a selfie of her with Arjun to Arjun, from their vacation last year to Paris – where Arjun had taken her to gift her her sixty fifth birthday. They were smiling with the background of the Eiffel tower and a cake in front that said Happy Birthday to World’s best Ma.
In the text she wrote – look what Google Photos propped up today. It was a lovely trip beta. Thank you once again. You do love your Ma.
She saw the two blue ticks within seconds. But no reply. She stared at the phone screen, willing those three dots to appear, but they didn’t. He never did this. He always replied. If nothing else, he would respond with a heart or a hug smiley. She didn’t know who to blame, the cursed therapist or the characterless pajama girl. Black magic. That is what the therapist must be practicing. Or that girl.
Undoing years of programming that she had done with her dear Arjun couldn’t be easy. Must be Black Magic.
In the evening, Mrs Bhatt tried once more.
She sent a voice note. “Listen beta Arjun, you remember Prem, Prem Patel? You and he were chuddy-buddies till class 4! Well guess what? He is coming for Mrs. Bhatt’s daughter’s Sangeet. He is here from New York after half a decade and Mrs. Patel might have mentioned to him that you’re going too. So get yourself some dinner clothes, we should be there by 8 pm tomorrow.”
This time there did come a prompt response. Another “Nope”. With a full stop. Nothing else. Just that.
That night Arjun came home to a meal of Khichdi and Lauki – his two most hated foods ever. He found Ma watching some India TV anchor spew hate about Muslims and glorifying Modi for no apparent reason at full volume.
He got in, bent down to kiss his mom’s head as she refused to turn it to say “Hi”, washed his hands, put on his headphones and finished the meal. The message was loud and clear now. War. His insubordination had been acknowledged. What was left to see was what came next.
Arjun smiled as the words of the therapist coming from the headphones covered the art of manipulation and how to address it with dignity. His guilt lessened. This change in attitude, walking over from the gray to the black-white had not been easy. He had been taught to be an adarsh-putr all his life and being non-adarsh came at a price.
The price of Guilt.
The next morning, Ma played her last card.
Ma : Beta, you know the wedding is tonight. Now Prem is coming so I made sure you have company. Why don’t you wear what you wore to Priya’s wedding? No need to get anything new.
Arjun looked up from the paper at Ma. He was fascinated by her gritty persistence and her shamelessness.
Arjun : Ma, I told you, I don’t want to go to the wedding.
Ma : Is that what you told me Beta? All I heard was “Nope”.
Arjun looked down at the tea. The words of his therapist repeating in his head, calming the rising volume of frustration in his brain.
Arjun : Sorry. I should have been clearer Ma. I am not going to the wedding. I don’t want to go to the wedding and I will not go to the wedding at any cost.
Ma, did not need therapy to keep her going. She had a tear ready in one eye and the usual tremor in the hand.
Ma : No need to be so rude. I get it. Your generation does what they want. I wish our generation had that freedom..then I would never have married your father….I would also have had a job, a life, a…
Arjun got up, wrapped his hands round her as she sat and kissed her forehead again.
Arjun : I know Ma. You gave up a lot in life. But that was your choice right? This is mine.
Ma’s back stiffened. The hard work of having conjured up a tear seemed wasted.
Ma : Fine. Do what you want. Don’t come. But tell me, how will I go alone so far with this knee pain at that time of the night?
Arjun smiled and sat back across from her. Arjun : You want me to drive you there and pick you up? Is it?
Ma : Well, if you are driving and picking me up, why not stay for a while? We can get out early.
Ma’s face went red in excitement.
Arjun : No Ma, that was a question. Do you?
Ma : Yes.
Arjun : Well, I can do that. Or I can book you a cab. In fact we can do one of those Chauffeur driven things that is sleek and black. Remember how jealous you were when Mrs. Patel came in one?
In fact, you can offer three of your Kittie friends. I’ll make sure you get a Mercedes.
And Ma, why don’t you wear that diamond pendant we got from Paris.
Mrs Bhatt was left speechless.
Twice in two days.
While she really wanted her son to meet the match-maker’s find, she could always invite them home later. After all, six more days would not matter in a six month search.
But going to Mrs. Bhatt’s daughter’s wedding in a Chauffeur driven Mercedes and offering her Kitties a ride sounded epic – a once in a lifetime kind of event.
Ma smiled as Arjun looked on hopeful that the battle was won.
Ma : You’re sure you would do that for me?
Her eyes now sparkling.
Arjun : Oh Ma, you’ll be getting a call in a few minutes from the company I booked. And yes, by the way I booked it last week. These things are not available last minute.
Arjun smoothly gulped the last of the tea and watched his first victory with Ma in three decades where no one else lost.
He thanked God for therapy. And for the brand value of Mercedes.
Ma excitedly started putting her attire together and browsing the list of Kitties to strategies on which three would get the esteemed invite. Forgetting everything about the “Nopes” and reclaiming her upbringing to be the best in class out there.
Dreams Unlimited 