The prophecy.

I cannot lie. No, seriously, my life’s biggest problem has always been that, I cannot lie. I could fake a lie. I could look at a red pen and say it’s blue and so on. But given the situations where I needed a sturdy, honest-to-goodness lie, I just couldn’t. One wimpy little real lie and my mouth refused to operate. And you can imagine why I am still single at 29. My mom, who is a suave liar, cannot accept these basic facts of life. She thinks I am probably the only Indian girl who is yet to be married and inching towards her thirties.

“Radhika! Are you really my daughter?! That mouth of yours is a curse, Radhika! We must pray and fight the evil eyes that has resulted in a mouth like yours that cannot be controlled!”
She said it as if it were an unimaginable tragedy that I could only speak the truth.

“Mom, are you trying to tell me I am adopted? It’s ok, tell me. I can take it. I am t-w-e-n-t-y n-i-n-e, remember?”

And she would place her hand on her heart and rush to the temple to say her never-ending list of prayers that would supposedly cure my wicked mouth. Her list has grown over the years with empathizing maamis adding to the collection of hymns that would “cure” me.

My dad is usually a silent witness to my mom’s outpourings.

“So, you have anything to add, pa? Any cures for your daughter’s cursed mouth?!”

“Radhika, it’s not a joke. You are 29 and not married. People have already started talking. I am not saying you should marry just any random guy, but, at least try…here’s a good match for you,” he shows me a circled “Bride wanted” advertisement in the Hindu. “The boy has a Masters degree in telecommunication from Florida and is back to India for good, has his own business…34 years old, older than what we were looking for but…”

But since your daughter has not been able to get married for the past 8 years, we can all compromise, can’t we? I get it.

Dad studies me for a few moments with concern and proceeds to call the boy’s parents. The boy is already taken. Pity!

I head out to the museum where I work as a receptionist. It’s not that I didn’t aspire for more. Like my marriage, my career has been pretty much a non-event in my life. I taught kindergarten kids for a while, worked at a call center for a year, even worked as a jeweler’s assistant for six months. Somehow, I got bored with the job or one of the customers took offense at what I said. Like the time a middle-aged, portly woman came shopping with her daughter to buy a necklace set for her daughter’s wedding.

“How can I help you ma’am? Would you like coke, pepsi, tea?”

She waved me off with her hand. I was after all the invisible help at the store. Our pearl collections seemed to grab her interest and she held a whispered conference with her daughter.

“Here, show this set, and the one next to it, and a few others. We don’t have all day.” She started fanning herself, “Such a hot and miserable day…isn’t your AC working?” She proceeded to produce a bright pink hand kerchief and wipe her large forehead. Her daughter did the same.

“Sorry ma’am. It broke down yesterday. Can I get you some cool drinks?”

Again the hand wave. So I proceeded to show her the necklace sets. She held the pearl necklace on her daughter’s considerably-sized dark neck which was now glistening with sweat and her large face broke into what resembled a smile.

Her daughter just sulked and studied her image which pretty much filled the entire mirror.

“Ahem ma’am. May I suggest our gold sets? Or the navratna necklace? They would look nice on your daughter...”

The fat lady turned slowly in her chair. “We like the pearl necklace. Show us some more.”

“But ma’am, don’t you think the navaratna necklace would look better?” And before I could stop myself, “It wouldn’t be such a heavy contrast against your daughter’s skin. I mean, all you can see now is the glint of her white teeth and the white pearl necklace against her skin. It takes the interest away from her well defined features…”

I heard a sort of roaring in my ears that caused the manager to rush to the fat lady and her daughter. And within a few minutes, I found myself looking for another job. God! Couldn’t I have just shut up, like mom always taught me to? Just shut up and nod. How difficult is that? But how can I explain this? Silence is not in my control. My mouth speaks its mind, whether I like it to or not. And it has always been the case since my fifteenth birthday.

~*~*~

My fifteenth birthday started off pretty normal. My dad called a few of my friends home, bought a cake; mom made pakoras and tea for everyone and then my friends and I planned to go to the beach to hang out for a few hours, of course with my parents. I cut the cake and stuffed some into everyone's mouth. I was thrilled with the novels my dad had purchased for me. My mom gave me a new half sari and blouse; the skirt had a bright yellow pattern with pink flowers all over it and I quite didn't like it but took it all the same. I didn't want to make my mom feel bad on my birthday. So, anyway, we headed off to the beach around 5.30, the sun was setting and the weather was perfect. My friends and I ate sundal and giggled and discussed whatever it is that fifteen year olds discussed. My mom and dad stopped by at an ice cream parlour and were soon deep in conversation. As we wandered farther, an old lady who looked like a gypsy woman came rushing towards us, from nowhere, it seemed. As soon as she came near, I could have sworn the beach turned darker, as if the sun decided to set at that very instant. She stopped right in front of us, finished chewing her pan at leisure and addressed me. I was a bit intimidated by her long ear lobes that were pulled down by the weight of her heavy gold? earrings; they made quite an impact along with her garish clothes and the strings of beads that hung from her neck.

"Come here little one, it's a special day for you, isn't it?", she asked me in Tamil. She smiled to reveal stained and uneven teeth.

I stared back at her open-mouthed. How did she know? My friends meanwhile, giggled and said yes, in chorus.

She held my arm and pulled me towards her. "Show me your palm, let me unlock the mysteries of your life for you, dear one!" I shrank back. I didn't want this strange woman with long earlobes unlocking the mysteries of my life. I glanced back to see that my parents were still at the parlour and did not even notice the old woman's presence.

"Do not fear, little one. Come here", saying that she produced a small earthen pot, again out of thin air, held it close to her heart and mumbled a prayer. She put her fingers in the pot and took out what looked like gooey black paste to me and proceeded to spread it on my palm. I was too shocked to object. My friends watched silently. Suddenly the giggles had died down.

"She stared at my palm for what seemed like an eternity and said, "Oh, they don't look good...oh no, no..."

"What? What doesn't look good? Tell me...", I whispered urgently. I was going to die today. Or worse get a horrible disease or maybe I would kill someone! Oh no, how could this be happening to me?!

"You will lose the love of your dreams because of..." I held my breath and for a moment, could only hear her words echoing in my head. Everything else around had become still.

"Your mouth! Your talk will drive him away! Oh, what a loss...what a loss!" she seemed ready to cry. The whole situation made me suddenly mad.

"You lie, you old woman!", I screamed at her. I was not going to let some gypsy woman snatch my dream prince away from me. "You lie and all you want is money. Get lost and take that wicked mouth with you. You are full of lies", I was crying now and shouting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents running towards us.

The old woman let go of my hand. Her eyes turned red and she stared at me until I looked away and she whispered, "Lie? You say I lie? You foolish little girl, you will realize soon your mistake..." and the next thing I knew, I was on the sand, my head on my mom's lap, all my friends standing around in a circle, looking concerned.

I believe that was the day, I lost my ability to lie. My parents and friends refused to talk about that day. Damn that old woman and her black gooey paste! I hate her. And the really bad deal out of this whole business was that there was no magic cure...no price charming to kiss me and make it all better. I was doomed. 29, unmarried and doomed to speak the truth the rest of my life.

~*~*~

How does this tie in to my being single, you ask? Well, let me just say that men can't handle honesty all that graciously. Let me rewind a little bit here. I was a pretty woman who had just turned 21 - at least my eyebrows didn't resemble overgrown bushes anymore and I had managed to attain the curves that would classify me as being feminine in spite of my somewhat casual and loose-fitting clothes - the right age for any self-respecting Indian woman to be married, my mother claimed. Actually, several events occurred in my life when I turned 21. My parents started looking for a suitable boy for me the day I turned 21. I realized that my dreams of marrying a smart, good-looking boy and settling down to leisurely afternoons of high tea with the other married women in my society were not as easily attainable as I had assumed. I hadn't exactly met my soul mate or anything remotely like that. So, I decided that I would trust my parents and let them pick my husband for me. I also met my best friend that year, Vignesh, who graduated from my Arts college the same year as me. How we met is a funny story. I was walking home from college with Lalitha, my other close friend, who had this crush forever on Viggy.

"Hey Radhika, there he is, don't look now! Behind us, he is walking towards us...", she pulled me towards her and started whispering rapid-fire instructions to me, "Act like you are telling me a joke...", "Don't over do it...I will throw my head back, delicately and laugh...got it? Simple enough. Now go!"

"Umm, Lalitha..I can't think of any impromptu jokes..."

At this, she held her hand delicately over her mouth, tilted her head back a little and laughed an extremely artificial laugh. And as I stood uncomfortably wondering how to laugh naturally with her, Viggy joined us.

"Hey Lallu, what's so funny?"

At this, Lalitha's eyes grew bigger - someone told her she had pretty eyes and she made it a point to make them look nice and big whenever Viggy was around - she sort of fluttered her eye lashes and said, "Oh Viggy, hi, didn't quite notice you. Radhika here was telling me a funny incident...weren't you Radhika?"

I cleared my throat and nodded. "Yes. Quite funny." And then I waited for my usual jumble of embarrassing observations to pour out of my mouth. It always happened within a few minutes of meeting someone new.

Nothing.

I returned Vignesh's pleasant smile, noted that he got an almost imperceptible dimple on his right cheek when he smiled; I took in his sunkissed brown eyes and the slightly dated Dev-Anand lock-falling-over-forehead hair style...and all the while, I remained silent! My confused cacophony of thoughts seemed to have subsided to soothing whispers. Nice. Lalitha has good taste!

And then Lalitha suddenly giggled loudly breaking into my reverie and I said, "Lalitha thinks you are one hot guy, Vignesh!"

Lalitha looked like she was going to cry. Her eyes had reduced to their normal size. Viggy for his part, just stared at me.

Anyway, that happened eight years back. Since then, Lalitha, Viggy and I have laughed over this incident a hundred times. Lalitha, I suspect, never quite grew out of her crush, but she seemed to have settled down to a lazy friendship with him. "Sometimes, you can't fight fate. Perhaps, we were not meant to be together. You know? Maybe he would have died the night of our marriage, like those grotesque old Tamil movies. Or maybe I would have divorced him. You know?"

That's what I liked about Lalitha. Life's little tricks never got her down. She always had a positive explanation for whatever happened in life.

So anyway, a few months before my 22nd birthday, my mom and dad announced at breakfast that a boy would be coming to see me that evening. "His name is Sanjay, we have made enquiries into the family, they are very nice people..." my dad continued listing a bunch of uninteresting details. I felt a little shiver of excitement rush through my spine. I was going to prove that gypsy woman wrong! I was going to meet my prince today! I wish I could see his picture, would he look better than Viggy? Not that it mattered. Just then dad extended a photo towards me.

And that moment, I fell in love. Sanjay was an absolute dream boat. Lush wavy hair, smiling eyes, a good build. I could see it already, Sanjay and I holding hands as we walked lazily along the beach, a smiling Sanjay serving me breakfast in bed. Nandita, Karthik, Sanjay and I planning our first trip to Disneyland! Nandita and Karthik are my little ones. I decided on their names on my 16th birthday. Lalitha knows she will have two daughters - Ramya and Divya. Viggy thinks we are a bit crazy that way but hey, which girl doesn't decide on her kids' names before hand? My dad always said I needed to be planned. He was talking about my career at that point but same difference. Anyway, I almost couldn't wait till evening to meet Sanjay.

"What if he has buck teeth?"

"Viggy, my Sanjay will have the perfect white teeth. Not uneven and crooked like yours!"

We were walking out from College that day and Viggy and Lalitha annoyingly did not seem to share my enthusiasm.

"But Radhika, what if he is really short? Like 3.5 feet tall? What if he had a girl friend before? What..."

"Lallu, stop it! Remember, you told me, everything happens for a reason? Sanjay and I are meant for each other...just wait and see..."

That evening, I dressed in my favorite color. Pink. A pink silk saree with a cream border that had little mango patterns stitched into it. I wore my mother's gold jewellery, taking care not to overdo it.

When the door bell rang, I had to hold myself from taking a quick look outside. I could hear mom and dad from inside the bedroom, "Come, come sit down. Radhika just came back from college..."

I could hear Sanjay's mom and dad and probably his sister but couldn't make out his voice. And then dad called me outside. I pretended to be shy, studying my nicely painted toe nails as I walked outside. And then ever-so-slowly looked up.

Oh thank God. He was not a midget. I had an urge to call Viggy and tell him that. And that he looked smart in a navy blue shirt and khakhi pants. Hey gorgeous!

Sanjay's eyes lit up when he saw me. The pink saree must have worked its charm. I couldn't focus on any of the conversation that floated around me. Soon, my mom looked meaningfully at me and said, "Maybe we give the kids some time alone?" and within a few seconds they were all out in the porch discussing in extra-loud voices about how pretty our porch was.

Sanjay just smiled as if to say, you go first.

"Umm, you have a charming smile, Sanjay." I didn't mean to say that but what the hell, it was an honest compliment.

"Radhika...."

I sat straighter. It seemed like my mother had called me in a strange voice.

"Radhika...I really like you...", he was saying. He was talking! He was saying these really nice things about me just like I imagined he would say to me. But he was talking in a she's voice! Let this all be a bad dream, please. I prayed. But Sanjay continued talking in his he-she voice. And suddenly I was saying, "Sanjay, I thought we would be soul-mates but am afraid I don't feel that way anymore. A deep, full-throated voice has always been my weak point. And I really can't keep you happy if I keep wondering if that's your voice or your mother's!"

There. I was officially a witch. A cruel, cruel woman who had no heart. I immediately said, "I am so sorry Sanjay. I didn't really mean that, I..." but the damage was done. The cursed mouth had spoken. And I would soon realize that that was just the first of many such meetings to find a suitable boy for me.

The first time was the worst. I cried for a week at my broken dreams and the silly predictions that came true. My mom and dad took this as a sign to look for the next boy as soon as possible, if nothing at least to distract me.

"What's the big rush to get you married, anyway?" Viggy and I were at Cafe Coffee day where I was sharing my latest fiasco with him. I had been fired from my job as a kindergarten teacher. One of the moms did not approve of my advice that she learn to care for her kid as a good mother should and focus less on tea parties and shopping sprees. I suspect she lost her head more so because she knew I was saying the truth. Meanwhile my parents had widened their nets, they were now looking for grooms also settled abroad. The next week, I was to meet a Rahul, who had finished his Masters in Computer Science and was now working at a "top" IT firm in Seattle.

"I don't know. I guess I am ready to be married...this guy sounds nice, we exchanged a couple of emails and I am getting good vibes from him...although he doesn't say much in his emails..."

"I don't know Radhika. You are just 23, take time to indulge in your passions, travel, have fun...there's always time to settle down..."

Viggy seemed to searching for something in my eyes and I opened my mouth to inform him that I was done indulging for the past 23 years, I was ready for my knight in shining armour. But strangely, no words escaped my mouth. For once, I felt it was ok to be silent. It was as if the powers were telling me that it was ok for me to just listen and be comfortable in the silence. And so, I did that.

"I mean, you used to love dancing...what happened now? You aren't even going regularly to your classes. Don't you want to study more? Do something interesting and satisfying everyday? What do you really want to do, Radhika?"

"Well, just because you are smart and studying for your MBA doesn't mean that I should study too. Maybe this is what I was destined to do. To marry and be a good house wife, to keep my husband happy..."

"You will, trust me," he placed a hand lightly on my shoulder and I had that strange need to remain silent again, "You will be a really good wife, but all am saying is, experiment a bit, live a bit, just don't...resign to fate, ok? You deserve much better..."

Viggy was the best. He really gave me the best advice at times. So, I smiled and ruffled his hair because he hated that and then told him that coffee was on me. He was such a darling really.

~*~*~

Rahul was a sight for sore eyes! He was tall, bespectacled, extremely good looking and the best thing was, he spoke in that deep-throated voice that made me absolutely melt each time he said my name. Well, he hadn't exactly said my name but I could imagine how it would sound. The initial meeting went without a glitch. His mom and dad seemed to really like me and my parents couldn't stop talking about Rahul. The next evening when Rahul called, mom was more excited than me, she quickly smeared red kumkum on my forehead and chanted a quick prayer before she let me talk to him.

"Hey Radhika, just thought I'd call and tell you that my parents would like to go ahead with the wedding arrangements and we can all go ahead with this process that is if you feel the same way?"

I was a bit disappointed. I mean, I didn't expect him to romance me with roses or anything, but just a "I missed you so much the past 24 hours" would have done. Oh, what the hell! Maybe he is reserving the best for after-marriage! I was finally getting married! To a really handsome chap, perhaps one day I would take him to that beach and find that old gypsy woman and tell her how wrong she was!

That night, I had a long telephone conversation with Lallu.

"Ooh, he sounds fabulous, Radhika! Now, am jealous!"

That made me feel so much better. I have the best friends there ever were!

"But you know what? His mom called me later today and asked if I could meet Rahul for dinner tomorrow night at the Taj...I mean why couldn't he invite me personally? You don't think he is going to be one of those mama boys, do you?" I asked, a sudden concern creeping into my otherwise pleasant thoughts. I hadn't considered this angle.

"Oh, you worry too much Radhika. Go out with him tomorrow, have a blast! Am sure he's not the mama's boy type of guy! They typically have oily hair patted down on their heads and thick, unattractive glasses! Nope, you got the right guy, girl!"

Yes, that made sense. He certainly had on a pair of designer glasses of some sort. I slept like a baby that night and woke up excited to meet Rahul that night. As my mom fed me hot, fluffy idlis that morning, I noticed that my dad seemed distracted. He was on and off the phone whole morning and didn't eat more than 2 idlis, he loved idlis. Mom couldn't stop talking, as usual.

"Remember Radhika. Don't talk too much. If you have an urge to blabber, just eat anything on your plate. Listen. A good wife always listens..."

I was confident I could pull it off. That evening, I decided to dress Western, after all he was from the United States. A short white kurti top and a long flowing skirt that looked quite flattering on me. I wore long earrings that glinted a bit as I turned my head left and right.

"Are you sure you want to dress like this? What if he thinks you are too outgoing?", mom asked worriedly.

"Mom, he has lived in America for several years now, he won't like a village bride now, will he?"

Dad had gone out that evening, on business, he had said mysteriously. But, I didn't have time to mull over that or the fact that Viggy hadn't even had the decency to ask me how I was feeling before my big date! Such a brat!

Rahul looked dashing in casuals. I seemed a bit overdressed compared to his half-sleeved polo tshirt and slacks. He drove to the Taj and I faithfully followed mom's orders. Remain silent. It seemed he was doing the same.

We had good seats reserved, a quiet booth away from the crowd.

"Nice booth...", I said not having thought of anything brighter to say. I was beginning to panic that he wouldn't speak the whole day and then would probably reject me for being so boring!

"Mom reserved the booth", he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh..."

"Ready to eat?"

He ordered wine, an appetizer I did not recognize and pasta for his main course.

"Umm, do you have idlis or uthapam?"

Mom had asked me to eat, like a lady and to eat something non-greasy so I won't have un-lady-like symptoms during the dinner. They had idlis. Whew!

Rahul didn't talk much during dinner. Maybe he was the shy, mysterious kind. So, I took this as a cue to talk to draw him out with my charming words. I could do that and so I talked about my jobs, my dancing, my friends...

"Viggy is so funny, he sometimes says the most random things, you should really meet him and Lallu, I mean Lalitha..."

Rahul just nodded, his eyes wearing a glazed expression after several glasses of wine. He hadn't touched his pasta.

"So, ready to head home?", Rahul signaled the waiter.

"Umm ok..."

What was going on? He hadn't said a word the whole time! How will I get to know my mysterious husband if he just won't talk? My mouth tired of speaking trivial details the whole evening was resisting the temptation to blurt out what it really wanted to. I quickly scanned the table for something to eat. But the waiter had cleaned our plates just then. And so, I ended up saying,

"Gosh! Do you have a problem? Cat got your tongue? Just spill it out man. Talk! You've been a dull dull date so far!"

Yup. That's what I said. It didn't matter though. Because after that, my date was anything but dull.

Her name was Lily, Lily Chang. He had been seeing her for three years now and yes, was still in love with her. She had meanwhile moved on, found another boy friend and my dear Rahul was still trying to woo her back. Meanwhile his mom and dad decided a nice Indian girl would solve all his problems. That nice girl being me. I asked him to drop me off a few minutes from home, so I can clear my head and fix my face before I went home.

As soon as his car left - he hadn't even apologized - tears poured down my cheeks. I sat down on a rickety wooden bench beneath a flickering street light and cried my heart out. Just then, my cell phone rang and I have never been happier to hear Viggy's woozy voice.

"Hey Radhika...achhooo...just wanted to ask you how your date was? Achhoo!"

Oh, the poor dear, must have a terrible cold.

"Viggy...", I sniffled into the phone, "My date was a disaster! He has another Chinese girl-friend, his parents were forcing him to see me!"

I could hear him snicker noisily on the phone. How dare he!

"Ok, so where are you now?"

"Sitting on a bench a few minutes from home. My dress looks crumpled and my high heels hurt...", I started crying again.

"I'm coming, stay put girl."

I wanted to ask him not to come but I really needed to see him now. He would know what went wrong and how to fix it.

He was there in a flash, with "buddy", his motorbike and best friend, after me, that is.

He took off his helmet and his red nose made me giggle. But, I stopped immediately because I noticed he was laughing too!

"Lily Chang, huh? You stood no chance, Radhika!"

My lower lip began to quiver again and before I could cry again, he gave me a quick hug, "You look and are adorable. Rahul is a dumb ass, ok? Trust me."

I felt better already. "You know, he had a funny sort of nose, anyway. Didn't like him quite that much!"

"Way to go! You rock, Radhika, marry me instead!"

I laughed. Viggy knew just what to say to cheer me up! I felt all warm from inside and silently sat behind him on the bike. It was so good to be silent and comfortably so.

When we reached home, dad was standing outside on the porch, looking at his watch. When he saw Viggy and me, he seemed relieved, "Oh good, Radhika you are back! Come Vignesh, come inside!"

Viggy was like a son to dad and mom. My mom said she sometimes wished I had a brother like him. Whatever!

Inside, dad had a story of his own to share even before I could launch into mine. He had asked around for information about Rahul, just basic background check and all that and it seems his friend's friend from US had called him that morning to tell him not to go ahead with the match! He had left that evening to confirm with Rajiv uncle, who had contacted the source in US, that it was indeed true.

"But Shalu maami said...", my mom began. Shaalu maami was her best friend at the temple and this match had come through her.

"Whatever Shaalu maami said, this boy has had American girl friends before and was considering marrying one."

"Chinese, dad...", I corrected him as if that minor detail was of the utmost importance. Viggy was trying hard not to laugh. He can be so frustrating at times!

"So anyway, Rajiv mama's friend in US has a daughter who knew the girl well, was her roommate for a year...it's a long story, but it looks like you have already made a decision, Radhika?"

"Yes dad. No more American grooms for me! And really, am not that much in a rush to get married. I have to focus on my career and...and my dancing, live life a bit, you know?" I stammered and Viggy watched open-mouthed.

Anyway, we all decided we needed to have ice-cream to celebrate the close escape except Viggy, he had my mom's filter coffee. Mom promised it would make his cold vanish within seconds.

~*~*~

That was six years back. A string of similar disasters followed the Rahul incident. For sometime, dad and mom decided not to look for any grooms. Instead, they took me to an astrologer. Besides making vague predictions about dark clouds and looming dangers, he suggested that we should not look too far for an answer. And he also said that we should wait a few years for all the planets to align themselves auspiciously for me to find my dream guy.

But then, I am 29 now and still looking. The only good thing is that I completed my arangetram, the graduation ceremony for my dance and am now studying under my Guru to be a dance teacher. I gave up my job at the museum, it was such a boring affair anyway! So far, it's turned out pretty good. Lalitha meanwhile married the guy who proposed to her a few years back at her company. Apparently, he had been the guy sending her all those secret messages and flowers. She was so flattered when she found out it was him. I mean, which girl doesn't like getting flowers and nice poems? Sigh, just not my turn yet, I guess.

Mom and dad tried their best to cheer me up. They still looked for suitable boys, Shaalu maami still came up with decent suggestions but somehow, it never worked out. I was never comfortable with the guys who came to see me, however hard I tried. Either I said the wrong thing or they did and it was all over too soon. The big news I guess is that I am turning thirty. Mom and dad wanted to celebrate my birthday with a small party and also the fact that I was now a qualified dance teacher at my school. They invited a few relatives, Shaalu maami and her circle of friends, some of my friends and of course Viggy over. Lallu had gone with her guy for her honeymoon to Kerala. Lucky girl!

After the cake cutting and birthday song, the adults started asking my parents the usual set of questions about my marriage. This bored my friends who found quick excuses to leave soon. Only Viggy was left behind.

"You know what? Let's go to the beach! It's so long since I've been there...and I really need to get out of here!"

So, Viggy, buddy and I went to the beach. We had sundal and settled down to talk about our future.

~*~*~
"That's quite an accomplishment, Radhika, you will make a great teacher..."

I smiled. Viggy always had this uncanny way of making me feel that it was ok to be me. I didn't have to pretend, to force myself to be quiet, or to try to impress. He liked me just for the way I was. I sighed happily and listened to him as he talked about how his parents were threatening to come down from Bombay if he didn't get married soon!

"Oh..." And suddenly that clammy sensation came back to my mouth, I needed to speak.

"So, what's the big deal? Get married!"

Viggy looked down, poured sand through his fingers and seemed lost in thought.

"Ok. I guess I need to at least for my parents...", he didn't look up to see me.

I suddenly had an urge to stare into his nice brown eyes, and then I would feel all nice and cozy, like always. But then, what if he gets married and moves away...what about the times when I really really need to be with him? I was losing my best friend to some awful woman who would probably be like Lily Chang. As these thoughts rushed through my head, my eyes started watering. Viggy was still lost in thought. Fortunately, my mouth spoke then,

"Not for your parents, you idiot! For you...and me. Marry me because we are crazy enough to keep each other happy. Forever."

And then there was that moment. Strangely it was like the moment the old gypsy woman made her prophecy. Everything seemed to stand still. Even the sand seemed to stop flowing from his fingers. A strange shadow seemed to fall all around us. I could have sworn I saw the shadow of those long ear lobes from more than a decade back. The shadow seemed to hover over us for a second and then it was gone! Perhaps, my curse was broken too! In any case, I didn't care, when Viggy was around it was like I always said the right things. He was the prince that the astrologer had said was not "too far" away.

"You know Radhika! You are one crazy girl. And I have been in love with you since the day I met you..."

The right words from the right person create the sort of magic that no amount of prophecies and dreams could create. This time, I know I am with the right guy. My mouth tells me I am.

~*~*~

***Excerpt***

Letting go of Ananda Nivas.

The house looks older. The A of Ananda Nivas, embossed on the wall by the side of the imposing, now rusting iron gates, has been scraped off. Nanda Nivas greets me, as an old lady would, having seen too much of life to be interested in it, existing rather than living, crumbling little by little, a pale shadow of a past vivacity, a glint here, a dazzle there, if you look closely, but sallow and spiritless for the most part.

The unctuous watchman, with his beetle-juice stained teeth, smiles ingratiatingly at me and scratches his head. The iron gates screech open grudgingly. I hand him a fifty rupee note to get rid of him. I am sweating already even in a sleeveless white t-shirt, I am still jet-lagged and tired of thinking. I stand for a few moments in front of the house, my house and for a moment, it flashes with life. Rows of meticulously maintained rose bushes, the fragrance of tulsi and jasmine, long corridors echoing the laughter of children, strains of old Urdu ghazals, diyas made of clay that are laid out in a pattern around the rangoli, the cool touch of my mother's silk saree; And suddenly the house settles back and all I see are crumbling walls with dried flakes of paint, overgrown bushes and a hollow feeling, a silence that surrounds it and anyone who enters it.

I take a deep breath and call out for Geeta Bai. Geeta Bai has grown older too, almost taking the eerie quality of the house upon herself - she looks frail and sad? "Sapna beta, you have come!" I step forward and hug her without hesitation. Ten years of American culture and I still find comfort in the smell of her home-made spices and her sweat. She is crying and to my surprise, I realize my eyes are wet too.

"We have missed you beta. My son, his wife and child live an hour away, the servant quarters is too small for a family of four na, beta? Have you met Champa? She is very fair and she takes good care of my son..."

I relax as her continuous stream of conversation replaces some of the emptiness in my heart.

"I try to take care of the house, but ever since memsaab passed away...", she quietly wipes the corner of her eye with her saree pallu. A familiar suffocating feeling threatens to overtake me, even after so many years...I swallow back my tears, now is not the time to grieve. It's five years since my mother passed away, that was the last time I saw my house. It had looked different then - bleak and gloomy.

I break out of my reverie as Geeta Bai unlocks the door for me, I step in and am momentarily blinded, the curtains are all drawn, a musty smell crawls around me, I am suddenly cold, the house is cold, I stop myself before I think of what it reminds me of. I shudder.

"I come once a week inside to clean but I am growing old and I am not doing justice to this house. Beta, are you really going to sell this house?"

"Yes, I am", I look away resolutely. I have made up my mind, after sleepless nights of struggling with guilt, after endless hours of discussing it with Ankit, I don't have the strength to be sentimentally foolish now.

"I should come with you Sapna. It's not easy selling a house. Those village folks are pretty cunning; they will take you for a ride."

"No, I need to do this alone. I want to let go, by myself..."

I open all the curtains, sunlight streams in to waken sleeping nooks and corners of the house. I turn to Geeta Bai.

"Geeta Bai, I am here on a short trip, I need to get the house clean and more presentable. I have already talked to a few people who are interested in buying the house. They will be coming next week and before that, we have a lot of work to do. Your daughter-in-law Champa, does she also do house-work?"

Geeta Bai listens carefully all the while, "Yes beta. She is very good at it too..."

"Ok good. Ask her to come at 7 am sharp tomorrow. We have work to do, Geeta Bai, to make this house, what it was."

A sad look crosses her face for an instant but she smiles and says, "Yes beta, we have to work hard...the house deserves it after all these years..."

She walks out slowly and I wonder if she meant to say, "…after all these years of your neglect"?

Ankit had insisted that I book a motel room nearby, "You can't stay alone in the house, Sapna."

"I am not scared Ankit! And Geeta Bai sleeps in the servant quarters anyway..."

"At least ask her to sleep in the house too...I am getting worried already!"

"Hey, I am not a little girl..." and then in a milder tone, I tell him, "I promise to be careful."

I don't feel that confident now. Night seems to have unveiled a different face of the house, I hear moaning sounds, I see ghosts in the dark and the whole house seems to creak. I have an urge to call Geeta Bai to sleep over or call Ankit. It's too early in the morning for him and he will unnecessarily worry for me. I turn the bedroom light on and try to sleep.

What did my mom say to put me to sleep, when I was a child? I try to recall forgotten words, hoping that their familiarity would calm me down. "So jaa Rajakumari...", sleep, my princess..."kal tera rajkumar aayega...dholi me bhitake tujhe leke jayega...", your prince will come tomorrow...to carry you in a palanquin...the sound of her voice comes rushing back to me and I hear it as if she whispers them to me now, I remember her as she was when she said the story to me, beautiful and kind, I almost smell the sandalwood paste that she used to smear on her face everyday, if I insisted too much, she would put a little bit on my palm and I would be thrilled, I see strings of jasmine flowers fluttering lightly against her long braid...and she puts me to sleep once again, after so many years.

***

The house is falling apart, brick by brick. Each thud seems to send a wave of pain through me. Thud, thud, thud...

"Sapna beta, are you ok? Sapna betaaa!", Geeta Bai's raspy voice wakes me up finally, what is she doing here at this ungodly hour, breaking the door down? And then all the previous day's events come rushing back to me. I stumble down to the door and am annoyed that she looks so bright and fresh early in the morning. Behind her, a small woman stands, head bent with her pallu covering her head.

Geeta Bai introduces her daughter-in-law with a flourish, "Sapna, this is Champa, you have met her before no?" Champa looks up and gives me a shy smile and as she steps forward, an even smaller figure huddles close to her, almost hidden by her saree.

"And this is my ladla-pyaara, Kishan", she lifts the child deftly and leans towards me, the child hugs his grandmother tightly and looks scared. With my disheveled hair and white night gown, I must have looked like a ghost to the kid.

I smile and welcome Champa in and am back to business, "Champa, glad you could come. Geeta Bai must have told you that am selling the house, we need to clean the house, dust and polish everything, that's a lot of work."

She nods and says nothing. I turn to Geeta Bai, "Geeta Bai, I need a cup of your strong filter coffee, my head is pounding..."

Geeta Bai gets started on the coffee while Champa and Kishan follow me.

"So, where shall we start? Let's start cleaning my father's office room first", I pick the room that will affect me the least. I lost my father when I was ten, I remember just that he used to be a tall, well-built man with big hands, but they were gentle when he hugged me, I didn't pick up any of his traits except his reading habit. Every night, he would pick a different book to read to me, I wouldn't understand much of it, but the fact that my busy, important father took the time to read for me, compelled me to sit patiently and listen to the way the words rolled out of his mouth. He wore a turban that he removed at nights and he had the biggest mustache that I had ever seen. And that's all I knew about my father. Years later, when I would ignore mom's calls, lost in a book, she would come into the library irritated, but the worry lines on her face would always crease into a smile when she saw me cuddled in dad's huge rocking chair. That's when I felt closest to my father, she probably sensed that, or perhaps she was reminded of her husband that she admired, maybe even dared to love and lost so early in life.

The bolt creaks open and I turn to Champa, "Tomorrow morning, get some oil and make sure these bolts become smooth."

Besides the dust that the room has accumulated, it looks just the same. I walk to the ornate rosewood table - it retains its distinctive smell, and pick the open book lying on the table, "Did I leave it there, leaving the story incomplete? How long has it been lying there - my precious childhood memory, left carelessly on the table?" I suddenly have an urge to get the table shipped to America. I can easily afford it – Ankit earns enough for both of us - and Ankit might end up loving such a well-made table and...I stop myself and turn to Champa who is studying me with a not-so-shy curiosity, "Umm...I'll dust the table, open the curtains and start dusting the bookshelves. Keep the kid away, all that dust is not good for him."

And to my surprise, the child starts dusting the lowermost shelf - that's all he can reach - Champa just smiles and starts cleaning the higher shelves.

I dawdle over my task, trying to concentrate as conflicting feelings fight for attention in my head, I want to let go while holding on as fast as I could…back at home, it had seemed foolish for me to hold on to this house, a waste of money and effort spent dealing with the maintenance people who I knew were charging us double the normal rate…

"Memsaab, the shelves are done. I am going to sweep and clean the floor with a wet cloth."

"Call me Sapna", I say it more rudely than I want to but I am not memsaab, my mother, sentimental and stubborn...

"You can't make me sell the house Sapna. I can sell my wedding jewellery and maintain it. I will not sell it", obstinate, like a child. When my mom got into these moods, there was no arguing with her.

"Ma, all am asking you to do is to think about it. You can come and live with us in America. Ankit will be more than happy...and who is here anyway?"

"This is my place, Sapna. I let you select your husband but I can't let you govern my life. This is the house my husband lived in and I will breathe my last here..."

And she did, my stubborn, beautiful mother...

"Sapna beta, your coffee...", Geeta Bai is about to place the steaming hot cup of coffee on the table when I say, "Careful, you might stain the finish!" and Geeta Bai asks, "Does it matter beta? Isn't it all going away anyway?"

I would probably not have put up with her insolence any other time but am already tired today and I take my coffee, wordlessly.

***

Three hours later, my father's office is ready for visitors, gleaming and proud, like my father was. Is that what happens to a house eventually, after decades? Does it don the qualities and quirks of the person who lived there the most and made it their own? I know I should probably call Ankit but the ISD phone booth is fifteen minutes away and I don't have the strength to go there, I tell myself I will call tomorrow. My stomach growls as I wonder which room I should take on next.

Geeta Bai calls for me, "Sapna beta, come down and have your lunch. Hai Ram, what will memsaab say if she finds you working like this?", why does she always talk in present-tense as if my mother were around watching us sell what is hers...

Onion Sambhar, rotis, crisp, roasted potatoes and rice and my irritation melts away, "Thank you, Geeta Bai..."

"Hush beta, eat first", I silently follow her command. There is something about her that makes me do that.

She has set a place for me at the dining table and today, of all days, I don't wish to eat alone. I carry my plate to the kitchen and settle down on the floor amidst loud protests from Geeta Bai.

"Sapna beta, the people buying this house, when are they coming beta?"

"Day after tomorrow. I think they said morning works for them."

"Ah ok. So...", she makes a round ball with rice and alu curry in it and plops it into her mouth and asks, "do you know what they plan to do with the house?"

"What do you mean 'plan to do'? They will live in it, like everyone else..."

"But, that's not what Sevanthi says..."

I am getting annoyed with all this circuitous talk, "Who is Sevanthi now?"

"She works for the memsaab that wants to buy this house..."

I gape at Geeta Bai, was she playing me all along? "If you knew who was going to buy the house, why did you ask me? You might as well tell me what you know since you seem to know much more than me!"

"What does this old woman know beta? All Sevanthi told me was that they were planning to remodel the house, they thought the current design will probably not work for them...they also thought the entrance was too...loud, maybe rebuild the entrance..."

"What? I love the entrance, its beautiful! I love the Ganesh and elephant carvings on the door...", I am angry at this memsaab who is already bad-mouthing my house.

"What to do beta? When we sell the house, we should not care about all this...it is difficult to maintain after all..."

"No, of course not, it's a wonderful house and ...", what am I saying? I look at Geeta Bai's face closely and her eyes seem to challenge me, "It's a wonderful house, isn't it beta?"

"Yes, but am sure we needn't worry about them. They will take good care of the house. Let's get back to work."

And through-out the day, that nagging thought stays behind - "Will they really bring down the entrance and remodel my house, the house that belonged to my parents?"

***

It's dusk and Champa and I sit down on make-shift chairs in the backyard - inverted plastic buckets. I realize she is quite beautiful, dusk has a way of adding beauty to everything that it embraces, I listen as Champa talks, once she became comfortable with me and I became aware that how efficient she was with her work, we warmed up to each other and she became quite talkative.

"He is also very attached to this house...", she doesn't call her husband by name and I think it's charming...

"Ok, enough about the house...tell me..."

"No Sapna didi...I can understand why...look how she stands...no wonder memsaab was proud of it..."

And we both look at the house. I wonder what it is about the house that has drawn my mother, Geeta Bai and now her son and daughter-in-law into its arms...and as I take in each feature of the house, I notice a delicate glow to the house and am almost proud. I begin to understand why Champa says, "She"...I close my eyes and pray that I am taking the right decision.


***

The next morning, Champa greets me with a "What next didi?"

"Let's take my room next..."

I walk in behind Champa and Kishan and Kishan immediately runs to a rocking horse, my rocking horse, and sits on it. Champa begins to chide him when I gesture that it's ok.

I open my old cupboard, the one that mother wouldn't sell or give away even after I left to America. A few salwar kameez and skirts, an old box of trinkets, I turn to Champa, "Here, take them."

"No Sapna didi..."

"Take them. I want you to have them. It will remind you of me later."

For a second I think she will hug me but she just nods happily.

An hour later, we are almost done with my room and I am surprised, almost disappointed that nothing in there brought back any memories at all, it was as if when I packed to leave to the US, I had packed away all my memories too...

By evening we have finished almost the entire house, except Mom's room. But hey, if I managed my room, mom's room would be easy too.

Kishan rushes into the room first and we follow him inside. I know she is there, my mother, I can smell her as soon as I walk in. Even Kishan seems to slow down and walk with us inside. Champa turns to me and says, "I will be right back memsaab, I want to check if ma needs my help to cut vegetables for dinner..." and she leaves me alone with the child. I smile reassuringly at him and walk towards my mother's cupboard. Her room is small, a small, neatly-made bed - has it been this way since she left me? - a cupboard with a few pictures of Gods and Goddesses and an old photo of my father on top of it and a night stand. Something catches in my throat when I look at the lone photo frame on the night stand - a picture taken years ago of our family leaning against our new car...Geeta Bai stands behind, deferentially, she seems younger, happier...we all do. And standing behind us, as if guarding us, with its arms around us, is Ananda Nivas.

I sit down on the bed and take a deep breath. Kishan stands next to me and I notice that he has his hand on mine - for support, for him or me?

Is this a sign? Is mom trying to tell me something? Why didn't I just let Champa clean this room...and I am suddenly angry with my mom for having played such a mean trick on me.

When Champa walks in a few minutes later, I have already dried my tears and have removed the photo from the frame.

"Start cleaning here, I will be right back", I instruct and rush out before she can say anything. I place the photo carefully in my file of house papers and decide to take a walk to the phone booth, Ankit can get up early once for me.

I get the connection almost immediately, the shop keeper offers me cool drinks twice and I decline politely twice.

"Ankit, Good morning..."

"Sapna....Sapna, is that you", I feel sorry for him as I listen to his groggy, sleep-filled voice, "Why didn't you call yesterday, I don't even have a number to reach you!"

I cut him off, "They are coming tomorrow..."

"They who?"

"The people who want to buy the house...Geeta Bai says they might want to remodel the house..."

"That's good, so they really intend to buy the house, if they are already making plans to remodel..."

"No, you don't understand. I don't want them to..."

"You don't want them to buy the house?"

"No, to remodel the house..."

"But you want them to buy it, don't you? You told me you wanted to let go and it was just a big maintenance hassle and..."

"I know all that...I found this old photo...of our family..."

"Sapna, are you ok? Listen, if you are not ready to sell the house, then don't."

"No!", I am angry that he thinks I will go back on my decision, "I want to sell the house, so wish me luck. Will call you tomorrow once they sign the deal."

"Ok...good luck and Sapna?"

"Uh Huh?"

"Take care of you for me."

I smile as I walk in the light rain towards my house. By night, I am running a temperature and Geeta Bai insists on sleeping on a mat, on the floor beside my bed, "What? Leave you alone with such a fever, memsaab will..."

By now, I have given up on her. Yes, memsaab will be angry. I know. As thunder rumbles in the distance, I am unable to sleep - excited, confused, anxious, feverish all at once. So, Geeta Bai and I talk through the night,

"Do you remember Sapna beta, you used to such a naughty little girl, never listening to memsaab. But she would never lay a hand on you...you would pull out all her roses, get your hands pricked with the thorns and bawl loudly and would demand a gift to sop crying...memsaab never got angry with you..."

And suddenly I remember mom's flashing eyes when she refused to sell the house. Had I finally made her angry? I hear the angry sound of thunder in response.

After a few more hours, after Geeta Bai has smeared Tiger balm all around my forehead and neck, I fall asleep as she talks in a soft voice about her past and mine.

***

The next morning, I try to be or at least appear cheerful, in spite of a stuffy nose and a dull headache.

Geeta Bai stands next to my bed and announces even more cheerfully, "The streets are all water-logged, it's difficult to even walk, leave alone drive anywhere...", and hands me a hot cup of coffee.

I groan. And now the next obstacle presents itself, is there no end?

The day passes by sluggishly, imitating the weather. Kishan is cranky, stuck inside the house all day long and even Champa appears frazzled.

By evening, I am about to run to the phone booth to call up the buyers - they are five hours late - when the bell rings. Geeta Bai appears not to have heard it from the kitchen and Champa is busy pacifying Kishan and so I walk down to greet the potential buyers.

I am not impressed. I expected a traditional aunty in a salwar kameez if not a saree, an uncle equally traditional and instead a lady barely my age, in jeans and a t-shirt and a nervous looking young man stand at my door step.

"Hi, How are you? You must be Sapna!" The accent tells all. This kind of faked, polite accent cannot be anything but an NRI accent. Geeta Bai has suddenly become cheerful, did she read my mind again? and is asking them whether they would like some coffee.

"So you see, I was like, chalo Rahul, why don't we buy this quaint house here? I love the place, it's charming and ancient...and Rahul loves it too."

Rahul nods unhappily and keeps looking around the house and I want his wife to shut up, so I stand up and say, "Feel free to look around. Geeta Bai will get your coffee here in a minute."

They walk upstairs, the woman looking lost and quite foolish, she keeps up her babble as her husband still looks around him nervously as if the house were going to attack him.

"What shall I do Kishan? Will you also turn against me?"

But Kishan just smiles back, clearly not understanding a word of what I said.

"Did you say something Sapna beta? Such nice people no? I am sure they will take good care of the house..."

No more games, Geeta Bai. I stand up, "I am not selling the house, Geeta Bai. Not to these people."

"I see..."

The lost couple saunters back in and start sipping their coffee.

"You have a lovely house", I hate, hate her accent, "it's quite sad in places, almost falling apart but I am sure we can fix that." I would like to fix your face now, lady.

"Err...how old did you say the house was?", Mr.Nervous wants to know.

"Atleast a hundren years old."

He draws in such a shaky breath, I am afraid he will have an attack of sorts. I wait for them to finish their coffee. They sounded so different on the phone and didn't they say they were from this place? Maybe I spoke to someone else? I need to find that crazy agent who convinced me they were "solid buyers". And now I realize the depth of my foolishness, coming here depending on this one proposal. No matter, I will find another buyer...I must.

"I thought you lived around here..."

"Oh mummy and pappa used to. They said they even talked to you about this house. We have been in American for God knows how long...", she laughs, "we just thought, it'd be cool to buy a house in my native village, memories and all, you know?"

I know. That's why I cannot sell this house to you. Aloud, I say, "I talked to my husband last night and he seems to be having second thoughts about selling the house. I might have to call you back."

"Oh...", she seems disappointed, the husband, relieved.

A few minutes later, they find themselves outside the house and I close the door behind them, mentally preparing myself for the confrontation.

"Geeta Bai. You can clear out the cups later, I want to talk to you."

"Sure beta. Shall I get you some coffee too?" Could this innocent woman be as crafty as I think she is? I don't know yet.

"What do you want Geeta Bai?"

"This old woman wants a million things beta..."

"No, I mean why did you not want me to sell this house? What could you possibly gain by it?"

I don't care if I hurt her feelings, I needed to know.

"I didn't say that beta and what could I possibly gain by it?"

"Don't turn around my questions back to me! I am going to find a buyer for this house before I leave, I have made up my mind, is that clear?"

"Of course beta, whatever you wish. I am sure memsaab would have agreed..."

"Don't drag my mother into this!" and then I lower my voice and ask her once again, "Geeta Bai, you are like a mother to me, please tell me what's on your mind...I know all along, you have been hinting that I should not sell this house...and I am having second thoughts now...maybe you are right, mom wouldn't approve...maybe I shouldn't sell this house...Geeta Bai, will you live in this house with your family if I did not sell this house?"

Maybe that's what the old woman wanted and I don't blame her. She has done enough for the family...

She straightens up suddenly and her voice changes abruptly, "I can never accept this offer Sapna beta. This house is where memsaab lived, I am here to provide service to her and now to you. I had no intentions of taking over the house..."

"No, I am sorry, that came out wrong...", did it really?

To my surprise, she says, "Yes, it did", and I notice her pride, hidden from my eyes till today, "You hurt an old lady beta by thinking you can bribe her with this house. Memsaab loved this house, every brick in it and you sitting in your America thought you could sell this house with a few phone calls? Did you find out if those people cared? What would happen to this house once they bought it? Don't you still hear memsaab's voice in these old walls? I hear them beta...I lost your mother, who was like a daughter to me, I can't afford to lose her again..."

And here she cries, but proudly, each tear drop falling for a precise reason, the right reason, unlike mine, falling down for my mistakes. I am not crying for my mother now, I am crying because I hurt a woman who was like a mother to me...I am crying for Geeta Bai, I am crying for my home that I almost lost...

***

It's as if everything happened in fast-forward, it's already time for me to leave and I don't want to leave. But this time, I know that Geeta Bai and Champa will take good care of the house ("No Sapna didi, that is too much, I can't accept that much money from you", Champa had said, but I insisted, she deserved it), I know I have taken the right decision, no doubts to haunt me during dark nights, no flashing eyes to remind me of attachment and heritage...just the comforting smell of chandan and jasmine; I have made peace with my mom. I have let go...

I wake him up, early in the morning again,

"Hey Ankit"

"Hey yourself. So, did it all work out as you planned?"

"No, my whole plan fell apart...thank God. I know I'll be annoyed with the huge maintenance bills we get and all but I know we can at least show our child where grandma lived and where grandpa told me his stories..."

"Sounds like something a wise man told you not long ago...", darn, I remember now, he did say that, didn't he?, "I guessed that you wouldn't sell the house, Sapna"

"Yes, I bet you read my mind...I don't buy your story Ankit and how do you know I didn't sell the house?"

"I know."

"Because....?"

"Because you are your mother's daughter."

And I walk back to my house, smiling in the rain again. I am still smiling as the flight takes off to take me home, away from my home.

***

***Excerpt***

A house, an NRI and all that jazz.

"Satish has recently bought a town house, his mother tells me...did he tell you?"

In spite of the intermittent static and bad connection, the implication of the seemingly innocent question was clear. I sighed, the weary, futile sigh of a middle-aged NRI forced to do things quite outside his capacity, like buying a boat, for instance, oh alright, it's a house...apples, oranges, whatever.

"Ma, I am not planning to buy a house anytime soon! Not until Kalpana goes back to work and she cannot until Kapil becomes more manageable..."

As if on cue, our two year old starts to bawl loudly. Kalpana makes half-hearted attempts to pacify him. She asks loudly - I am not sure if that is for my benefit for the benefit of the curious ears listening on the phone - "I think it's about time we settle down too, Sheku..."

Disgusting abbreviation, Sheku, really, does she do that just to get me to agree to her demands? Shekar, such a respectable name, has a ring to it. As I revel in my onymous glory,

"What is that? Is that Kalpana? What is she saying?"

I am definitely in no mood for this game. I use the faithful NRI long-distance-call tactic - "Ma, I can't hear you clearly, I will talk to you later!"

***
The stage: Friend's place with the requisite number of people, a pre-planned and deviously schemed get-together, I am sure!

The protagonist: Our friendly pot-bellied, obnoxious "friend", Dr.Sahi.

The Director: My very own better half (hah!), my very own Brutus, Kalpana-the-plot-planner.

Dr.Sahi moves his considerable bulk towards my direction with a champagne glass in his hand, an unpleasant grin extending all the way from one cavity-filled set of molars to another. "What, Shekar?"

Really, what kind of a self-respecting, decent man begins a converation with "What, Shekar?" How is one supposed to respond to this anyway?

I avert my eyes from his rather large yellowish teeth, and try to look non-chalant, "How do you do, Dr.Sahi?" I decide to play it real safe. "Tough weather out there, isn't it?" and fall headlong into the trap.

"Yes, yes, indeed..." - like a tiger with bad teeth pouncing on an innocent over-worked lamb - "Those apartments you live in, they seem so fragile, one tornado and the construction will just crumble" He makes little annoying gestures with his fingers to show me how they will crumble. I have a bad feeling where this conversation is leading me to and I try desperately to steer clear...

"Oh, Shhhekhar Bhai", an equally imposing figure makes its way towards me. I squint to get a better glance at kalpana, talking animatedly to another guest at the end of the hall, trying to discern an evil-Kalpana lurking behind her innocent, almost angelic visage. She catches my eye for a moment and I see an almost malicious grin mask her face. I have got to stop watching Sci-Fi movies.

I turn towards the second opponent that my wife has strategically sent to impose her far-fetched, crazy ideas on me. I will stand as a rock, steady in my decision.

"Hello Mrs.Sahi, nice to run into you here..."

"Indeed, Shhhekar Bhai, Kalpana tells me you are planning to buy a small house nearby? Sahi he, aapne bataya hi nahi? Shmart decision hah..."

I look for a nice little spot where I can start digging a hole and then disappear in it away from the Sahis of the world.

"Mrs.Sahi, we were just casually discussing it and of course, we are not planning to buy a house anytime soon..."

***
Striped, three-piece suit, yellow tie with small black dots on it, gold-framed spectacles, with an unusually long wire hanging from the supports on either ear, branded I am sure, the kind that will tint a questionable shade of brownish-black as soon as the sun hits the eyes. A black leather carry bag and a sheaf of papers. Seriously, did they make real estate agents like these any more?

We, or rather Kalpana, laid out a clear set of requirements for Keith Barone, our buyers agent.

"A ranch style house, yes...our parents may come to stay, you know? High ceiling? Well, I am more particular about the school district the house is in..., 2 bedroom and 2 baths, yes, I think that will help with the resale value also."

I stood looking at the creature that had taken over my demure, unsophisticated, naive Kalpana. I also noticed that I had been subtly excluded from the conversation between my wife and our agent. I decided to put my foot down.

"Ahem...the budget?" They both laughed. I had a good mind to relieve Mr.Barone off his three-piece suit and invite him for a one-on-one.

"Really, Mr.Khanna, you are one funny man...", the three-piece-suit (TPS) said, laughing.

***
A tiny but perfectly manicured front lawn with a pleasant landscape. A loud FSBO sign stood in the center of the lawn. TPS confidently led the way into the house. The house was perfectly maintained - the carpet, the walls, the kitchen floor flawless. A waft of vanilla mixed chocolate added to my troubles. Kalpana was already grinning like a woman possessed. I casually picked up the info sheet from the kitchen counter.

Perfect home, silent neighbourhood, good school...bla..bla...
- followed by the numbers that will haunt me till today - $195000!!!

I made up my mind and decided to use my imagination to extricate me from this sticky situation, after all, I am a writer! I walked slowly towards the decently sized, what-was-once-an-office-room.

Kalpana's eagle eyes caught my movement and she pounced immediately, "Sheku, isn't this room lovely, this can be your quite office area and you can write nice little novels in here and earn a lot of money..."

This time, I was not unprepared. "Well, I assumed this would be the game room, you know, the guys can come over and we can hang out every Friday night! Have never been able to do that in our apartment...now even weekends, I can picture it right now..."

I must say I did act that out pretty well. I held up both arms, palm facing outwards, a director's pose, and said, in a slightly high-pitched voice,

"I see it now, Shankar, Prakash, Sujan and the rest of the gang, around the poker table, beer and cigarettes and gambling all night long! I can't wait!"

***
According to me, the first house-searching stint was a success! I had hardly finished revelling in my first mentionable triumph, when TPS called the next morning; as was the norm, Kalpana and TPS decided when and where to meet and details about the next house we were going to see. My writer-brain almost complacent after its first victory, woke up again.

Yet another picture-perfect house. I walked in with some trepidation, my wallet already seemed lighter.

"Mr.Barone, we were expecting you and you must be Kalpana...", something about the lilting voice made me look up. Our seller, a young American lady, Nancy, had a personality that did complete justice to her voice - charming! I was almost tempted to ask her more about the house, just as an excuse to talk to her...

"$201000, that's correct, the house is just 2 years old and we added a sun room right here..."

Now completely awake and far away from my sudden misplaced inclination, I proceeded to show some interest in the house and it's seller. Fifteen minutes, cups of tea later, I was still deep in conversation with Nancy, when Kalpana cleared her throat for the second time. I had successfully ignored her initial curious glances, then more pointed attempts to join our conversation. She finally resorted to pouting in a corner.

"I am sorry to hear that you are separated, it must be difficult for you to manage your work and the house and all...", I tutted sympathetically and this time, Kalpana tapped me on the shoulder, not so lightly.

"Shouldn't we be leaving now Shekar? Anyway the price range is probably a bit too high for us, isn't it? Thanks for your time and it was nice meeting you, Nancy."

Kalpana linked her hands in mine and gently nudged me towards the door. Me? I was just glad I was not the recipient of the frosty glare that she presented to Nancy. I whistled an old song as we headed back home.

***
Let me save you the trouble of reading through more such accounts. Just suffice to say, I left it all to Kalpana to decide, helping the process a bit, here and there. A few weeks passed, TPS sulked and left our house for good, Kalpana told me that a house could always wait - "We have each other and Kapil, don't we, let's take it slowly" and I was back to being a happy writer.

That night when the India call came, I heard Kalpana talking to my mom, "Ma, we looked at four or five houses, yes, not good at all, they say this is not the season to buy houses, maybe next year..."

Well...atleast I have until next year!

***
***Excerpt***