24 July 1999
My somewhat stellar mood of the past four days was reduced to ashes when I found Dada waiting for me outside the school. I followed Dada to the hired taxi. Zubeida was waiting in the car and smiled widely on seeing me. I could have smiled back at her since now I know the wondrous world of being in love—the missed calls, the stolen glances and the electric awareness of an accidental touch. But I didn’t because Dada’s abandonment and Maa–Baba’s misplaced anger towards me still rankled deep. I noticed Dada’s facial hair growth—an ominous small tuft was growing on his chin and fired my first salvo.
‘You’re growing your beard. What name have you chosen? Aslam?’ I asked him.
‘Raghu, let that be the last time you mock her faith,’ Dada spoke gruffly.
‘Let him,’ said Zubeida. ‘I’m sure he’s going through a lot. It’s okay for him to vent.’
‘By venting, do you mean I can tell him that he has destroyed our family and left me behind to deal with the consequences? If only you had tried harder to convince them, Dada, I wouldn’t be in this shit.’
‘How am I supposed to try when they refuse to talk to me? It’s they who need to accept that the situation is not going to change. That’s the idea behind marriage.’
‘Had you not told me I wouldn’t have known, Dada. Thank you for your limitless wisdom.’
‘Raghu, I didn’t come here to fight. Zubeida and I got something for you and I wanted to give it you. That’s all,’ said Dada.
‘I don’t want anything from you.’
Zubeida Boudi took out a slim rectangular box from a huge polybag and gave it to me.
‘Open it. Zubeida Boudi bought it for you.’
I ripped the box open. It was a brand-new PowerBook.
‘I don’t want it,’ I said, my voice betraying the import of my words. Inside the box was another little box. They were CDs of five games. Race, Arcade, Combat and two more. ‘Why are you giving me this?’
‘There’s something we need to tell you,’ said Zubeida.
‘Zubeida is pregnant,’ said Dada.
‘She’s having a baby?’
‘We are having a baby. That’s what being pregnant means,’ said Dada.
‘I can’t believe it, Dada.’
‘What is so hard to believe?’ asked Dada, smiling.
‘You don’t look happy,’ said Zubeida.
‘But the astrologer—’
‘What astrologer?’
‘Maa–Baba consulted one. He told them your marriage wouldn’t last long and that there would be a problem with your child if you choose to have one. He or she wouldn’t survive the first two years. They asked me to tell you to hold off having the child. They are planning to do a havan at the house to make things all right.’
‘Oh, fuck off!’ snapped Dada. ‘Did they? You can’t be serious? God!’
‘What do you mean make things all right?’ he asked after a pause.
‘Dada, you know. To make the Gangulys whole again? For your marriage problem to go away. They—’
A look of horror passed over his face.
‘They will be praying for my marriage to break?’ fumed Dada. He paced around the car, holding his head. His face flushed red. ‘You go home and tell him, tell Baba that he’s dead to me now. Tell him that he has nothing to do with me any more. You know what . . . You know what . . . tell him that I will convert! I will fucking convert to Islam and then I will see how his ridiculous religion with a thousand gods and contradictory logic and stupid rituals touch me or my wife! TELL HIM THAT, OKAY! ASK HIM TO DO AS MANY PUJAS HE WANTS TO DO. ASK HIM—’
Dada’s voice broke and tears splashed out of his eyes. I rubbed Dada’s back. He coughed and phlegm splattered outside from his nose. He used my handkerchief. The words dried up between us. He leant away from me as if I would infect him with Maa–Baba’s insidious plans against his wife.
‘I’m sorry, Dada. I’m sorry, Boudi.’
Boudi patted my back. ‘It’s not your fault.’ She looked at Dada and said, ‘Don’t worry. My Allah will protect me.’
It seemed funny at the moment. Gods being summoned like Power Rangers.
They left soon after. But on my way home, the PowerBook kept getting heavier for me to carry. It was as if the guilt of betraying Maa–Baba even further seeped into the box and morphed into lead. I called Sahil from a PCO. He couldn’t believe his luck—and neither could I—when I told him I would give him the PowerBook and the CDs for safekeeping. We met outside his house and he asked me if he could use it and was grinning when I told him he could. I told him it’s not his, and he would only keep it if Brahmi refuses.
Maybe Sahil is playing with it as I write this.
I have chosen not to tell Maa–Baba of Boudi’s pregnancy right now. Today I’m going to revel in the imagined future of a little kid calling me Kaku and seeing me as his or her hero. And since we are going that way, he/she’s going to call Brahmi Kaki, and he/she’s going to love spending time with us rather than his/her stupid, stuck-up parents.
In my imagined future, Dada and Boudi are scraping past their expenses while Brahmi and I are the power couple but with a lot of time on our hands to live a fulfilling life.
Today’s not the day to tell Maa–Baba.