Sorting Out Sid (19 page)
And his father … Well, you must rise to great heights and make us proud. We are giving you the best education so you must make us proud. You must repay us by standing first and yep, you guessed it, make us proud. And yet, every time he ever achieved anything
–
topping in school, getting admission into the best of colleges
–
it would be just that nonchalant, indifferent, damned ‘Of course, it’s expected’. And then the next challenge would be set.
Together the two of them drove him nuts. No wonder why over the last few years he had almost cut off all meaningful contact with them, just doing the obligatory, yearly, short visit to Lucknow. Initially, Mandira used to accompany him, but the trips had always led to some acrimony or the other between them. So, over time, Sid stopped asking her to come along and Mandira never offered.
Sid’s parents rarely ever came to Delhi. In fact, this was actually the first time in the last four, maybe, five years. He had made those obligatory noises on the phone often enough, ‘Ma, Papa … you guys are getting old … you need to think
about moving in with us at some point … come next summer for a visit …’ and so on. They all knew he didn’t really mean it and the conversation always moved on to other, banal things until he hung up with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t love or care for them, it was just that they were so … from another planet altogether … stuck in a time warp, unwilling to change. Well, he didn’t want to be reminded of the past anyway. Not that it had been
bad
really … just a bit lonely. But he didn’t want to be made to feel like a child any more and no one managed to make him feel that way more than his parents. Of course, he knew that he was the only child and had a responsibility towards them, but somehow, his heart wasn’t in it and the guilt this generated in him irritated him.
He chewed his pizza, quickly stuffing his mouth again after every bite finished to avoid talking to his mother. Sid told himself he didn’t really have it that bad at all. He recalled his conversation with Neha at dinner three nights ago, and what she had told him about her childhood.
Neha had been only eight when she lost her father in an army chopper crash
–
it sounded horrible. She was, like Sid, an only child and so it had just been her mom and her. Together they pulled themselves through some rough times. Neha had narrated this in a matter-of-fact tone, towards the end of their evening, after Kippy had finally finished eating all the expensive food and fallen into a contented, deep sleep in Neha’s arms. Sid watched in silence as Neha placed Kippy gently on the sofa next to her. She gazed tenderly at her daughter for a moment before saying, ‘Maybe neither Kippy nor I were ever meant to know our fathers.’ Her voice was light but he could sense something underlying it that he had never associated with Neha ever before
–
bitterness. But it
was gone in an instant and she smiled again and said, ‘What about you? Your parents?’
Sid had been focussing on the fascinating little bump on her nose and so he wasn’t prepared for the question. He responded unthinkingly, ‘Huh? Good, GOOD. They are both alive and well … been married about forty years now. We’re all fine … more wine?’
Well, if they were all fine, how come he still couldn’t bring himself to tell them that he was getting divorced? The little voice that he had suppressed for so long was apparently trying to make a comeback, the impertinent little pest. Still, it had a point, he supposed.
He swallowed a mouthful and said, ‘Ma, I thought I should tell you something.’
She didn’t say anything. She just waited.
‘I was saying…’ Do it Sid, he told himself. She was so silent that he thought she had stopped breathing. ‘…on Saturday, Papa and you
must
go to India Gate.’
She looked disappointed for only a second before giving him a weak smile and replying, ‘If you think it’s a good idea, we’ll go, beta.’
He nodded enthusiastically and said, ‘Of course, of course! In all your visits to Delhi so far you haven’t seen the very capital of the city! No, no, you must go…’
He shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth to keep himself from babbling further and concentrated on chewing it as slowly as possible. He would wait for a more opportune moment. You didn’t break life-altering news to your mother over
pizza
, for heaven’s sake. Besides, there were would be other opportunities to tell them
–
there were still another five full days to go before they returned to Lucknow.
And that seemed like a really long time.
‘W
hat’s the matter with you? Why don’t you ever answer your phone?’
Sid instinctively looked around to see if anyone else could hear the voice plaintively chiming from the other end of the line. He was still getting used to the fact that his new cabin had no one in it but him. He puffed up his chest a bit and decided that no VP should get bullied like this, so he snapped back at Aditi, ‘I’m answering it right now, na? How else do you think you’re speaking to me?’
‘Don’t be so silly, Sid’.
He cringed. God, sometimes Aditi acted like
they
were married.
‘You know I’ve been trying to reach you since last week. Your promotion came through? And you told Neha before me? I can’t believe I had to hear it from her!’
Sid let out a long sigh. ‘Achcha, don’t start that again, please. I called you the instant it happened, you didn’t have the time … I know you called back, but I couldn’t take your call
–
I got busy … my parents have been in town and I’ve had to spend time with them.’ Well, that was part of the truth anyway.
Spending time avoiding them was also spending time. It took imagination and effort.
‘Okay then, take me to lunch to make up. Tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’ Hmm. Saturday. The day his parents were going to India Gate at his urging. His mother had gently expressed the hope that since he wouldn’t be working on Saturday, he could take them. Sid had been unable to think of a response and had murmured in reluctant agreement.
It took him only a second to decide.
‘Sure, I’m free tomorrow … let’s go!’ Great. Now he had an ‘important lunch appointment’, so no India Gate.
‘Okay, good,’ Aditi said. After a brief pause, she added, ‘So … Neha and you … hang out now, huh?’
It was obviously meant to be projected as a casual afterthought. It might have worked if he didn’t know her so well. ‘Not really,’ he said in a guarded manner, ‘we just went to dinner once.’
‘Anyway,’ she quickly changed the subject, ‘it’ll be nice to catch up tomorrow, I feel like we haven’t talked in ages.’
‘Sure … see you then.’
‘Wait, wait … where are you going to take me? I feel like doing Thai!’
The Lemongrass Lounge was another one of Sid’s favourites. He sincerely hoped the delicious food they served would distract Aditi from asking too many questions.
Obviously, he should have known better. She only gave one brief appreciative ‘Mmm’ after her first mouthful of Chicken in Red curry before asking, ‘So how’re your parents taking the … situation at home?’
‘Good. GOOD,’ he replied. ‘They’re doing well.’
She kept looking at him penetratingly until he caved in. ‘Oh, all right. They find it rather awkward, I guess. They still believe that things can work out between Mandira and me if only we give it a shot. I don’t know…’ Sid didn’t want to let his frustration show, but the past six days had been very trying for him. He rubbed his forehead distractedly. ‘Anyway, they’re leaving tomorrow … so that’s good.’
‘They still think it can work out?’ Aditi paused with her chewing, eyebrows raised. ‘That’s pretty delusional of them, isn’t it
–
the divorce is just a couple of months away. Why did they decide to come and visit you guys now, anyway? It was bound to be awkward, no?’
‘Yeah … well.’ Sid knew this might not go down very well, but he felt duty bound to clarify the situation a little. ‘Actually, they don’t really … ummm … know, as such … about the divorce per se … yet.’
Sid glanced up at Aditi. She was looking as if she might burst a nerve, or throw her glass of water, regular not bottled, on his head. Through gritted teeth Aditi managed a simple but poignant, ‘What?’
‘Hey, my father’s a heart patient, okay?’ Sid protested. When in doubt throw in the ‘heart patient’ card. After all, his parents used it all the time on him. Aditi didn’t seem one bit impressed by this, but he pressed on valiantly, ‘I need to break it to him slowly.’
‘Sid…’ Aditi started in a tone of exaggerated patience, but her next words came out in a hiss, ‘it’s been
months
since you’ve been talking about the divorce. Her entire family knows. How could you not have told your own parents?’
‘Hey, they’re old,’ Sid said weakly. ‘I have no idea how they’ll take it … I’ve been waiting for the right moment … but it’s really difficult, Aditi. Mandira is so mad at me … she doesn’t understand. I’ve told her that maybe if she’s so keen they know, she should talk to them about it herself and…’
‘You want her to tell them? You’re crazy, Sid.’
‘You’re right, you’re right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘They shouldn’t have to hear it from her, of all people. What they really need is to hear it from a neutral third party.’ He played with his fork, pretending to be deep in thought and then brightened up as if an idea had just occurred to him. ‘Hey! You know…’
‘I’m
not
telling your parents about
your
divorce, you … you … stark, raving lunatic.’
‘Fine, fine.’ Sid settled back into his chair dejectedly, muttering, ‘Some best friend,’ under his breath. He added a bit louder, ‘Listen, if you’re not going to help, at least don’t yell at me? It’s tough enough at home, really. Can you imagine? They spend the whole day in my room. They are
always
in my room.’ Aditi was still looking at him as if he was nuts, but he continued, ‘Mandira feels completely trapped in the house with them around, too. They think she’s behaving strange, she thinks they’re loony for not figuring it out yet. It’s a bloody circus.’
He looked so unhappy that Aditi’s stern face finally softened a bit and she reached out and patted his hand. ‘Sid, listen, you know you have to tell them, right? What are you waiting for?’
‘I don’t know … the perfect moment? A sign?’
‘So what’s the plan? How long will you wait for that sign? Couple of years, maybe?’
‘Of course not,’ Sid said indignantly. ‘I have to tell them before they return to Lucknow … I mean before tomorrow, they’re leaving tomorrow.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Maybe I’ll do it right before they leave. Or even better, as they’re leaving, just as I’m bunging them on the return flight. You know … Bye Ma … Bye Papa … I’m getting divorced … Have a safe journey!’
Aditi’s face was stern. He watched to see if the corners of her mouth would twitch. They didn’t.
‘You’re crazy,’ she reiterated firmly. She sighed and shook her head. ‘How are things on other fronts? Work? Promotion and all?’ And as a sly afterthought: ‘Or maybe I should just ask Neha for the updates?’
‘Hey,’ he protested, ‘you know I called you first.’
‘Ya, ya, I know,’ said Aditi. She toyed with the glass of water. ‘So what’s going on with you and her anyway?’
Sid narrowed his eyes and studied her innocent face closely. ‘You were just asking about my promotion. Now you’re asking about Neha. Which one do you want to hear about?’
‘Which one do you want to talk about?’ said Aditi with a little smile.
‘Promotion.’ The smile disappeared from Aditi’s face, but she nodded, trying unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment.
‘Well, it’s great,’ Sid started with enthusiasm, ‘I’m the youngest VP in the company. Not too different a portfolio really, but a nice new office … you know … the works.’ Then his tone became less enthusiastic. ‘People act a little different now, though. A lot of the guys I was friendly with earlier aren’t open with me any more. I used to eat lunch with the seventh-floor bunch, but that doesn’t happen now. And I can’t have
lunch with the other VPs, they’re too senior, not to mention … old and boring. So, I’ve been eating with Meenakshi and she keeps asking personal questions, so…’
