‘Please
check carefully,’ she implored. Anything more and she would be begging.
‘Madam’
the booking clerk said. His voice sounded rough at the edges.
Okay,
I understand, Jaya relented. Her shoulders slumped. Poof goes the plan for the
movie! In that instant, a woman came behind her from nowhere. Her maroon palla
wrapped clumsily in her wrist. The large dot made her face come alive.
‘Excuse
moi,’ she motioned. Jaya faced her and crossed her hands, signaling the
futility of her effort. The sweet smell of vanilla that enveloped her like
second skin, was too close to avoid. Reluctantly Jaya breathed in a lungful and
said, ‘No Tickets’ to the hopeful soul.
‘Not
for me,’ she said as a matter of fact. There was something in her gaze. It
mesmerized her. Jaya tore her eyes away and stepped back. Their intensity
seared her. Startled Jaya stepped back.
She
marched on with firm steps.
‘Please
see if you could give us two corner seats,’ she instructed the booking clerk.
‘Show
me the booking message?’
‘I
haven’t booked, but please check.’ She demanded.
‘Check?
Like what? I have been here the whole evening and I know better,’ the ticket
clerk spitted.
If the plan would have fallen in place, I should have been in
Manali right now, with Jas huddled together smoking joint, but for the manager
who cancelled my leave, I am here enduring women like you!
‘Son,
take a chill pill, there will be a cancellation, and you could give me those
tickets,’ the tone softened, but the request remained.
‘And
do those tickets belong to your friends? Jaya chipped in from the background
from where she was watching the whole drama unfold.
‘No,
I just know.’ You know they call it intuition!
The
ticket clerk oblivious to their conversation was busy answering the gentleman
who had just then cancelled two corner tickets.
‘Ideally
I wouldn’t have called to cancel but I guess, it’s running houseful,’ the
gentleman explained. The clerk was dumbstruck.
Here
are your tickets Ma’am,’ the ticket clerk handed the tickets with downcast
eyes. He avoided her gaze. She held those measly bits of paper firmly and
strode away. They were hers. Jaya fumed. Those tickets belonged to her. She was
there before her. She couldn’t let her walk away happily. She had to burst her
joy bubble.
‘You
tried really hard for the ticket.’ The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.
‘I
don’t try. I contrive with the creator. I can see tomorrow,’ she spoke flashing her pearly whites and Jaya could see the unmistakable ring hiding behind them. She strode ahead leaving the trail of intoxicating vanilla behind.
‘It
was a pleasure meeting you. What’s your name?’ Jaya shouted. She had to know more about her.
'Maya,'
she crooned and sashayed away. Spellbound Jaya gazed at the sway of generously
proportioned hips draped in the six yard expanse of Kanjeevaram. With each sway of her hips her dark night curls struggled for freedom from the jasmine string tied ineffectively at the nape.
Odd
combination? Six inch stilettos,
kanjeevaram and tongue ring.
‘Tickets? Time to go in?’ Pranav’s question
jerked her back to the reality. She stayed quiet seething at his confidence.
‘Tickets?’
Pranav reminded.
‘I
didn’t get them. The movie is running houseful,’ she wailed.
‘Oh!’
Pranav exclaimed, his ‘all-time’ expression for happiness, sorrow or surprise.
‘I
am fed up of your oh. I didn’t get tickets and you are not bothered at all,’
she whined.
‘Let’s
chuck the movie and have dinner at Kebab Factory,’ he proposed a truce.
Jaya
nodded reluctantly. Her mood was spiraling downwards and she had to invest
efforts to salvage it.
‘Sounds
a good plan,’ she said and huddled close to Pranav to inhale in Marlburo smell
that mixed with his Burberry cologne splash. Jaya’s infallible strategy to
uplift mood. How could Maya balance sari
and stilettos? The lady was not getting out of her mind. Determinedly Jaya shook her head. Pranav looked at her. He knew Jaya would transport to another world at the drop of a hat and then shake her back from the reverie.
'Welcome,' he said. Jaya huddled closer. They
walked together to the parking.
‘Can anyone see future?’ she asked keeping her
tone casual. Pranav stopped scanning the parking for his silver Honda and
looked in her eyes.
'Why
this question?'
'Forget
it,' she waved her hand.
The
door of the Honda City closed with a soft click. The car whirred to life and
the lyrics Aaj Jaane Ki Jid Na Karo
permeated the interiors of the car. The fragrance of mogra mingled with Jaya's patented sandalwood perfume that she bought from the
perfumers of Old Delhi. Her kohl lined eyes had begun to weave their spell and Pranav was tempted to rush home to the solace of single malt and her. Not to forget the weekly ritual: warm
olive oil massage with Jaya humming as she stroked his scalp.
But, not now when Jaya's movie plan had gone kaput.
Why are you so quiet? He got talking. When Jaya was silent, he couldn’t
fathom what was going in her mind and that would put him at loss. He was a hard
negotiator, an exceptional performer who rose to the ranks of President with the country's largest telecom operator in 12 years from Management Trainee. Staying at a vantage point came to him
naturally.
‘Nothing,
I was just wondering, if someone can see tomorrow?’ Jaya’s mind was going in
circle.
‘I have heard of past life regression, but I
never heard about future life progression. Imagine if someone could see future,
would she be struggling for a ticket. She would just know in what to invest and
when to exit. Logic was integral to Pranav’s DNA.
‘She
must be a crook,’ Jaya let out a sigh and settled in the plush seat. Soon she was humming the lyrics. She had
learned music but didn’t complete her training. Yet, years of riyaaz reflected
in her singing.
‘Two
more hours before I can descend in the luxury.
Thank God, her mood is better
now.’ Pranav calculated. He smiled as he shuffled gear to put the car
on overdrive. He was restless to go
home.
The
next few days went by in a blur. They struggled with their schedules, which was
more of a norm rather an aberration. Then her favourite winter sale happened at
CTC at Agha Khan. This was the time, she would replenish her wardrobe with the
winter wear and this would happen every year, just like the sale.
‘Why
do you buy so many dress materials?’ Pranav asked. Not that it made any difference to him, but it
was a question he couldn’t resist posing to her, like a mundane husband.
‘So
that you get motivated to work hard towards increments,’ she had the perfect answer
ready, like an everyday wife.
A
genuine smile escaped his lips. He loved almost everything about her. No, it
wasn’t a choice marriage. The elders met and got the natal charts investigated,
before giving their consent. Pranav agreed to his parents’ wish. The first time
he had a glimpse of her face was during the marriage ceremony as they exchanged
that heavy garland for jaimal, through the see-through veil. It was not that
they got married in the last century. Their marriage was only fifteen years
old, but Pranav had been cheated in love. After living in for almost two years, Mangla, his live-in partner left for his best buddy, his business partner. He
was shattered. Within a month, he came
back to India for good. The past was dead. There was no point discussing it. The
parents hunted and fixed the match and he agreed.
Over
the years, she had become a part of him. It was impossible to think of a life,
without Jaya. He loved almost everything about her. The best part was that she
wasn’t fanatic about keeping the house clean. Unlike his friends’ wives, who
would make them take their shoes off at the door step, the moment they reached
the threshold of the house and would throw a fit at the wet towel on the bed, he
could roam around in his office shoes throughout the house. Like a spoilt brat, he had the luxury of
wrapping his jackets to the dining chair and would throw his laptop bag on the
couch. The ties were a different story altogether: inadvertently they were
tucked in the flap at the back of the driver seat. Weekly Jaya would send the
driver to retrieve all. But, she never complained. In fact, if he became
organized, how would she stay busy?
He
couldn’t have a morsel until it had flesh of a living animal cooked in the
plate: fish, mutton, chicken, pork, crab. Jaya cooked but didn’t eat. She
downloaded recipes, exchanged notes and experimented with new dishes. She never complained. She looked after him
with vehemence and vengeance. Pranav knew that it fulfilled her innate desire
to baby someone. They didn’t have children. Initially, they wished to stay off
kids and later destiny intervened. The best of treatments too could find no
flaw in them.
'It
is in God’s hands,' infertility specialist Sonia Kalra, the best in town, said
almost resignedly raising her hands up in the sky. For Jaya, the only
indulgence she did was on her outfits. She never wore them in the next season.
The servants were happy, the tailors were glad and Jaya was content. He did
have to pay the price, but what he got in return was priceless: the liberty to
be a boy at heart and live on his own terms and the weekly head massage.
Jaya
had already applied for a half day leave for the sale. She had negotiated with
her office’s senior accountant who had fudged with his calendar, so that he
could go on that day to the Syndicate Bank to deposit cash. She worked for a budding retail chain and every week, the accountant had to go to the bank. Today he was
going to offer her a ride as the bank was located nearby. In the evening. Pranav would get her back home.
Around
1.30 in the languid November afternoon, many women like her, bored or semi
bored with life had descended to Agha Khan Hall. She began to rummage the pile
of dress materials. A swathe of leaf green fabric caught her attention. It had
beautiful kantha embroidery on it. This is what I want, and she grabbed the
fabric.
A
swoop of hand and the fabric belonged to someone else.
Maya.
Jaya was furious.
That day, she took my tickets and today this fabric!
Anger was writ large on Jaya's face. Maya chuckled. A brook was set free from hill. Her eyes looked large for her face. Jaya dug in her heels. She wouldn't let her get away with this awesome fabric.
‘Have
we met?’ Your face looks familiar, Maya smiled once again, a genuine broad grin
in a bid to break ice.
Yes,
we have, a lot many weeks ago at PVR Saket, Jaya said. And you waltzed off
with my movie tickets
She
looked down to check her shoes. ‘Once again stilettos. How does she walk on
those chunky heels?’
In
my previous life, I was flying for airlines. They groom you how to walk six
inches above the ground, she had a hotline to her mind.
‘Fake
curls,’ Jaya observed.
Right
from the creator, Maya clarified. This was getting spookier. I can't even think.
Startled Jaya stepped back.
‘Tell
me Maya, can you read mind?’ Jaya asked point blank. There was no point beating
around the bush.
Yes,
said Maya. simply.
‘We
need to talk,’ Jaya suggested. ‘Let’s sit at a coffee shop.’
I
live close by, not very close, but just ten minutes from here. Let’s go.
Maya
held her hand and walked with feline grace towards the exit, without giving her
time to think, respond or react. Mesmerized Jaya followed her to the bright
yellow coloured Ambassador.
She
zipped through the traffic with the practiced ease of someone who is well
acquainted with the place. In no time, they were at Bangla Sahib road. She
lived in a one-bedroom, LIG flats allocated by the government for their
employees. In one deft move, she parallel parked her car and urged Jaya to come
out.
Jaya didn't budge. Absent-mindedly she fingered her Cartier.
'It's a replica,' said Maya as a matter of fact.
'How dare she?' Jaya was indignant. Cartier was a trophy, a make-up gift from Pranav after the most bitter fight they ever had. Pranav conceded and encased her wrist in a jewel studded Cartier. He never divulged the price, but she was sure he had blown a significant amount of savings on it. She wore it everyday to work, a reminder of her freedom.
'Come
on, you are safe with me,' Maya urged and opened the door for her.
This
is getting murkier, I can’t even think. She can read minds.
Maya
smiled unnerving her even more. Jaya got down and followed her to the first
floor. A line of aesthetically kept pots caught her attention. Money plants of
different size were planted in each.
'Why
so?' Jaya quizzed.
‘No,
they don’t help you read future. It’s sheer convenience. Get one plant and keep
planting the stems. You have a balcony full of greenery.’ Maya opened the lock.
‘Get
in,’ Maya urged.
Jaya nodded and stepped in.
Make
yourself at home, and she went in the kitchen to get her a glass of water.
Instead, she returned with homemade lemonade, garnished with fresh sprigs of
mint. Thin slices of lemon floated on the surface of long stemmed glasses.
‘Lemonades
in November?’ This was getting curious.
One
sip and she had the answer. The rest of the drink was down in a gulp. Afternoons
can be humid. Jaya explained to no one. Maya agreed.
So,
what do you want to know? Maya was business like. ‘ Touch me. I am real,' Maya giggled. Jaya burst in hysterics. 'Laughter is contagious. You see,' said Jaya. The professional efficiency of minutes ago had evaporated. Jaya worked on it again.
'Since
when did you start mind reading?' Jaya
sat straight going back to her journalism days and mimed a mic in front of her.
‘Are you recording?’ Maya played along. 'Why did you leave journalism?'
'Marriage' Pranav didn't want me to work. It's a difficult world he believed.
I never told her that I was a journalist...
'How do you know?' The suspense was getting more than she could handle.
Just guessed. Maya dismissed her query. Well, get started, Maya knew how to negotiate conversations to her comfort.
'To answer your query, I was always a bit of clairvoyant, like the kind who could guess right about things to happen in future. In school, my friends used to play a prank on me. They would
think about me, and I would come looking for them. The ability to see became
sharper as I grew.’
‘How
could you do that?’ Jaya was confused. ‘Do
you get some weird sensations that tell you,’ she was keen to unravel more.
‘Nothing
of that kind, it’s intuition. It’s wired in you, you just feel it. We all can,
but we don’t allow that sense to develop.
‘Oh,
the sixth sense,’ Jaya feigned to
understand.
‘Bingo,’
said Maya and got up.
Where
are you going? Asked Jaya.
It’s
time for lunch, said Maya and strolled to the kitchen. Jaya ambled behind her
but saw something and froze.
Her
feet were plastered to the ground. An obituary was framed in an ornate silver
frame. A beautiful girl looked at Jaya. The red dot between her head was alive.
If Jaya would touch, it would smear. Below the photograph was written Mangla 1973 –
2010.
She
was Maya.
