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Authors: Madhuri Banerjee
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for golf,’ Varun said, disturbing her thoughts. He was wearing his shoes as he spoke. It was Sunday and Ayesha was exhausted from all the parties they had attended the days before leading up to her very own Diwali bash. She could tell she was suffering from a kaju katri hangover. From farmhouses to outdoor gardens, Delhi had really outdone itself this Diwali.
‘Are you going all the way to Noida?’ Ayesha asked as she walked to Varun. The best part about being an IAS officer was the houses and apartments they were allotted. As you moved higher in rank, the number of rooms in your house rose as well. From DII to CI, Ayesha had shifted from colony to colony and trudged her old furniture to new houses and had changed the upholestery to give it a new look without wasting too much money.
‘Yes. Why?’
‘I need to send the driver to give this gift to Mrs Verma in Sector 36.’
Varun shook his head. ‘I don’t know why you keep giving these gifts.’
‘Arrey, she gave me a lovely tray and tea set for Diwali. If I don’t give something back, I’ll look so greedy.’
‘You need to stop this lena dena stuff. It never ends. You women spend more money in giving to each other than actually making any money.’
Ayesha bit her lip and wanted to say it was all much cheaper than what he had spent gambling but quietly handed over a gift-wrapped package. ‘The address is on this. Please send Gokulji as soon as you reach Noida Golf Course.’ Varun’s weekly ritual was to go to the golf course to meet his colleagues and friends to tee off and after a round of walking and playing to have a few beers and a heavy lunch and head back home in the evening. A few times Ayesha had gone and chatted with the wives who accompanied their husbands but soon she got bored of the conversations with the women who only spoke about who was transferred where and who travelled where during their holidays or as usual, their children. The food was the same in all the clubs, whether it was the Gymkhana or golf course—chicken tikkas, some cold snacks, an oily buffet and two varieties of desserts. She hated it. Varun loved it.
Once Varun left, Ayesha went back to her room to survey the mess. She had put off the inevitable for too long. She needed to pack up the house. All their summer clothes were lying in the cupboards. Adi’s books and toys were scattered in his room. The carpets needed to be cleaned and put away.
It was two weeks after the party. After she had broken the news to Adi that they couldn’t go on their vacation he had thrown a huge tantrum and stormed off, giving her the silent treatment because she was the one who broke the news to him. Adi was fine with his father, as usual. He didn’t blame his father, who had lost the money. He blamed his mother because she hadn’t saved enough and was not working! Ayesha had felt like she had been slapped in the face that day. She wanted to tell him that she had sacrificed her life for him. So that he could grow up with at least one parent around who would always go to his soccer and cricket games and school plays. A parent who was proud of her son and knew every detail about his life. And he was taking his father’s side? Ayesha had no words. That’s when she had borrowed money from her father and told Adi that they would go because she had managed it.
So she had delayed the packing.
She had gone to meet Tarini as she promised and had a wonderful lunch at Habitat, her favourite place for hearty Italian food that felt more from Chandigarh than Rome. Tarini had just bought a new Dior bag for four and a half lakh rupees. Ayesha would never spend so much on a bag. She was a practical woman. She had studied and passed in the first class in her Master’s program in sociology. She was planning to study more before she was married off. She had a keen interest in physics as well and often wanted to speak to someone about the topics that interested her and not just about the house and Adi. But
‘Are you going all the way to Noida?’ Ayesha asked as she walked to Varun. The best part about being an IAS officer was the houses and apartments they were allotted. As you moved higher in rank, the number of rooms in your house rose as well. From DII to CI, Ayesha had shifted from colony to colony and trudged her old furniture to new houses and had changed the upholestery to give it a new look without wasting too much money.
‘Yes. Why?’
‘I need to send the driver to give this gift to Mrs Verma in Sector 36.’
Varun shook his head. ‘I don’t know why you keep giving these gifts.’
‘Arrey, she gave me a lovely tray and tea set for Diwali. If I don’t give something back, I’ll look so greedy.’
‘You need to stop this lena dena stuff. It never ends. You women spend more money in giving to each other than actually making any money.’
Ayesha bit her lip and wanted to say it was all much cheaper than what he had spent gambling but quietly handed over a gift-wrapped package. ‘The address is on this. Please send Gokulji as soon as you reach Noida Golf Course.’ Varun’s weekly ritual was to go to the golf course to meet his colleagues and friends to tee off and after a round of walking and playing to have a few beers and a heavy lunch and head back home in the evening. A few times Ayesha had gone and chatted with the wives who accompanied their husbands but soon she got bored of the conversations with the women who only spoke about who was transferred where and who travelled where during their holidays or as usual, their children. The food was the same in all the clubs, whether it was the Gymkhana or golf course—chicken tikkas, some cold snacks, an oily buffet and two varieties of desserts. She hated it. Varun loved it.
Once Varun left, Ayesha went back to her room to survey the mess. She had put off the inevitable for too long. She needed to pack up the house. All their summer clothes were lying in the cupboards. Adi’s books and toys were scattered in his room. The carpets needed to be cleaned and put away.
It was two weeks after the party. After she had broken the news to Adi that they couldn’t go on their vacation he had thrown a huge tantrum and stormed off, giving her the silent treatment because she was the one who broke the news to him. Adi was fine with his father, as usual. He didn’t blame his father, who had lost the money. He blamed his mother because she hadn’t saved enough and was not working! Ayesha had felt like she had been slapped in the face that day. She wanted to tell him that she had sacrificed her life for him. So that he could grow up with at least one parent around who would always go to his soccer and cricket games and school plays. A parent who was proud of her son and knew every detail about his life. And he was taking his father’s side? Ayesha had no words. That’s when she had borrowed money from her father and told Adi that they would go because she had managed it.
So she had delayed the packing.
She had gone to meet Tarini as she promised and had a wonderful lunch at Habitat, her favourite place for hearty Italian food that felt more from Chandigarh than Rome. Tarini had just bought a new Dior bag for four and a half lakh rupees. Ayesha would never spend so much on a bag. She was a practical woman. She had studied and passed in the first class in her Master’s program in sociology. She was planning to study more before she was married off. She had a keen interest in physics as well and often wanted to speak to someone about the topics that interested her and not just about the house and Adi. But
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