12 August 1999
Brahmi hasn’t been coming to school since the day she bandaged me. For the first two days I called her phone and it was constantly engaged. Ma was keeping strict vigil so I could not sneak out at night either. By the third day I thought I would lose my mind so I went to her house during school hours. I walked around the house, passing it every ten minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I made several such rounds. I managed to spot her a couple of times but could not make eye contact. She came to the balcony around 11.30 a.m. to wring and put clothes on the clothes line, and then again at 3.00 p.m. to take the clothes off. She seemed fine, which only begged the question, why hadn’t she been coming to school. Yesterday I knocked on the flat above and below hers, pretending to sell tickets, and asked the people at the door questions about the people staying below/above them. They would look at me strangely and slam the door on my face. Today, to my relief, she was sent to drop clothes at the dry-cleaners’ and I caught up with her. We walked a few yards away from each other to not raise eyebrows in her neighbourhood.
‘You should be in school,’ she said.
‘So should you.’
‘Taiji has gone to her mother’s. I had to cook. Were you worried?’ she asked.
‘Why would I be worried?’
‘Is that why you were outside for the last few days?’
‘I was absolutely not here. I hope you can sense the sarcasm in my voice.’
‘From a mile away,’ she said and asked me to wait till she dropped off the clothes. We found a secluded spot where her neighbours couldn’t spot us. ‘I called Vedant. He told me he might find me a job. I will leave this house and never look back!’ she said and clutched my hand.
‘Your parents? School?’
‘Mummy–Papa will have to understand. I will see when it comes to that,’ she said, eyes brimming with hope and recklessness.
‘Can’t you ask for money from them?’
‘Tauji–Taiji won’t allow it. If I ask for help, they will drag me by my hair back to the house. I don’t want to depend on them for my happiness. They should have helped me when there was still time,’ she said, and for the first time I noticed a tinge of disappointment in her voice for her parents whom I absolutely hated.
‘You have thought this through?’ I asked, my cowardice bubbling forth. Would I be willing to leave the security of a household—no matter how abusive—and venture out alone in the world? Find a job? Earn to eat, to survive, to stare at a future which is hardly so? Every class I had attended till now, every test I had taken had been geared towards success not survival. Jobs were a means to a career not sustenance. And here she was, talking in a language so brave that it was scary.
‘Hmmm.’
‘You’re frowning.’
‘You won’t be in school. You can’t expect me to be 100 per cent happy.’
‘But I will finally be able to leave this house.’
‘And that’s why I’m about 80 per cent happy. How’s this Vedant person? I want to meet him,’ I said.
She laughed and said, ‘What are you going to do exactly? Charge at him with a rod?’
‘This time I won’t miss.’
‘You’re sweet,’ she said. ‘Now go back home and start going to school. Both of us can’t be illiterate, can we?’
‘So has the school seen the last of you?’
‘Believe you me, it’s only you who will miss me.’
I came back home to find Maa–Baba shouting at each other, their voices carrying to the ground floor. I was asked to go to my room and I couldn’t make out what they were saying but it went on for an hour. Baba left for his tuition centre in the evening and Maa started packing her bags.
‘Maa? Where are you going?’
‘To see Dada. I can’t keep up with your Baba’s madness. If he wants to keep away from his son, it’s his choice, but I won’t!’
‘It was your choice too, Maa.’
‘But I’m a mother. How long does he expect me to stay away from him?’
‘So?’
‘I can’t stay away from my son,’ she said. ‘Get out of my way. I’m going to miss my train to Bangalore.’
I was sitting on a pile of Maa’s clothes, a little dazed to be honest, to see Maa’s quivering lips, trembling fingers, and her sudden change of heart.
She said, ‘What happened has happened. Your Dada broke our hearts but what kind of parents will we be if we don’t forgive him?’
‘Are you going to get him back?’
It was I who wanted to squeal with joy. In that split second, I imagined a future—like I always do—of Dada, Boudi, that little kid, and Brahmi, who in my version chooses to shift to our house rather than Vedant’s.
‘Stop asking questions! I’m late! Move!’ She slapped me on the back. Before I could react, she pulled me close. She held my face and apologized.
‘Will you let Boudi come here too?’
‘I don’t know if Baba will ever allow him in this house but how long can a mother stay away from her son? But till the time I’m not here you need to listen to Baba, okay? You need to do everything that he tells you. Now help me close this suitcase. Yes, like that. I will be back soon.’
I revelled in seeing Baba’s stricken face when I told him that Maa had left. He stood there dumbstruck, like the cat got his tongue. He disappeared inside the kitchen and cooked dinner for himself and for me. We ate early, after which Bhattacharya Uncle came over. They both drank from the bottle Bhattacharya Uncle had got. Later Baba slept on the couch, quite restless without his partner in crime.