A few more minutes to 7 o’clock.
The guests would start arriving soon. I went in the kitchen to check up on the
food again. Jamuna was tidying the kitchen up after our cooking marathon. I
once again explained her the order in which the food was to be served. She had
been zealously helping me with the preparations since morning as she was quite
delighted that her ‘didi’ had been honoured with a literary award. It wasn’t
known to many but nowadays Jamuna was usually the first person to whom I would
narrate my work. She would be busy doing the housework and I would call her
over and ask her to sit while I would read out my story to her. At times she
understood the story and yet at other times she would just say “I didn’t
understand much of it but it sounded quite good to me”. Perhaps she was a
simple soul and understood only simple words. The world of metaphors and idioms
was unknown to her.
The doorbell rang and sure
enough the guests started arriving. Guests – a few close relatives and close friends
who insisted on being a part of my achievement and celebrating it. Relatives
included elders who always wished success for me and gave their blessings
wholeheartedly. And as for friends ... well, they deserved to be thanked for
being my sounding board and research team. It meant receiving my calls at odd
hours of the day or night and having to answer my questions such as ‘is there
really such a place in Mumbai as I am describing in my story?’, ‘do
auto-rickshaws in Jaipur charge according to the meter?’, ‘since you are from
South India, could you tell me if people there drink more of coffee than tea?’.
I was hardly to blame as the thought of a story would come to me at any time of
the day and hence my calls didn’t adhere to etiquette of socially acceptable
times. I don’t know if my friends cursed me after hanging up my call for
disturbing them but they always answered them for sure. Speak of the devil and
... Ranveer came.
While most of the guests had
brought gifts and bouquets, Ranveer asked me where was his gift.
“Your gift! Whatever for? Is it
your birthday or have you finally cracked your kindergarten exams?”
“The way you use our
conversations in your stories, your unearthly-timed calls ... I demand to be compensated
and hence want a gift.”
“Sure Ranveer. I’ll gift you
one of my old pens and you may keep it as a memento”. I smiled cheekily at him.
And these chitchats and conversations,
ranging from formal to silly and mundane to witty, continued over dinner with
other friends and relatives too. Time somehow tends to run along during happy occasions,
while crawling during untoward events. Nearing 11 0’clock, the guests bade
their goodbyes and left after appropriately complimenting the food and congratulating
me again for my achievement. Everyone, except Ranveer. He stayed back to help me
and Jamuna clear up and tidy the place. It was a help that though I hadn’t
requested for, I was very much grateful for. I then opened a bottle of wine and
poured out 2 glasses for us, while Jamuna decided to call it a night and went
to sleep.
“I am really thankful Ranveer for helping us tidy up. I hope you won’t ask for a tip or a gift for this too.”
“We’ll come to that later.
First tell me this - what’s on your mind? Why are you sad?”
“Sad? Me? No Ranveer, I am not
sad.”
“Yes you are and you better
not lie to me. I can see through you and sense you very well.”
My eyes became moist and I
said, “Ranveer, my mother had always prayed and wished for my success and now
that I have achieved it, she isn’t here to see it. These celebrations seem
incomplete without her. She used to listen to my stories and lovingly point out
mistakes and make suggestions that would enhance my writings. Whenever any of
my work got published in a reputed newspaper or magazine, she would happily announce
it to our relatives and all those who stood by to have a word with her. She
used to cook my favourite sweet for me and also distribute sweets among the
neighbours. Today all these celebrations, merriments, awards and gifts are
nothing compared to the sweets that she would make for me". With these words my
eyes now let go of the carefully contained tears.
Ranveer offered me his handkerchief
and said “You silly girl, you’ll make your mom sad by crying like this. I am
sure she is happy to see your achievement from whichever world that she is in
now. Just think of it, you are lucky enough to make her happy and proud even
after her death. And keeping in mind her habit of sharing happiness, why don’t
we buy sweets tomorrow and distribute them among your neighbours and also an
old-age home perhaps? That is what your mom would have done, yes?”
A faint smile crawled on my
lips and I said “Yes, she would have done that and that is what we will do
tomorrow.” Then it struck me. “Ranveer, how did you know I was sad? I was happily
chatting to everyone with what I thought was a believable smile on my face.”
“You yourself told me so.”
“I did? I don’t think so.”
“Yes you did. Whenever I have
asked you ‘How are you?’, you have never given me a straight reply. Rather you
have usually replied with ‘Oh I am beautiful’ or ‘I am a literate witch’ or ‘I
am much more insane than you think I am’ ... But today when I asked you ‘How
are you?’, you said ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ And hence I knew you weren’t fine.”
Friend!!!
