Sorting Out Sid (25 page)

Of course, it had been a bad idea to tell them over the phone, he had known it all along. But he had been so listless for the past so many days. Finally, he had called his parents on Tuesday morning from the privacy of his cabin.

‘Hello Ma.’ Sid was immensely relieved that his father had not answered the phone. ‘So, you had a good flight?’

‘Beta, it’s been over a week since we landed, why are you asking now?’

‘Oh … Been busy, Ma,’ Sid muttered. He cleared his throat and continued, ‘So, I want to know how things are with you, how is Papa’s … heart condition?’

‘In control, beta, as you saw yourself … touch wood, but why are you worried about it? You saw us last…’

‘Yes, I know, I know … but there’s something that I thought I must tell you, Ma.’

Sid swallowed a couple of times, and then with great difficulty he got the words out. He told his mother that Mandira and he were heading for a divorce, and that no amount of family intervention was going to help. She listened quietly and when she spoke, it was to ask him a few questions, her tone gentle. It was obvious that somewhere inside she had known all along. Sid was embarrassed to confess that the divorce proceedings had already been initiated and only another two months remained before they signed on the dotted line and ended it all in court.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Ma.’

‘Sid, beta…’ The worry and concern in her voice added to his misery. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine, Ma,’ Sid assured her, ‘I’ll be better off alone.’ After a moment of silence, he continued, ‘Listen, Ma, I’m in the office, will … perhaps you tell Papa, or should I call and speak to him later?’

She hesitated only a moment before saying, ‘I think it’s best if I tell him, beta.’

As usual, she was offering to protect him as though he was still that scared little boy rather than a capable, grown man. It was obvious Ma would try to do this till the end of her life, or just as long as he continued to let her. And yet, Sid found himself agreeing, ‘Okay, great, Ma, you tell him first and then I’ll speak to him aaraam se later.’

He barely heard her soft goodbye as he hung up and tried to focus on work.

It was later that evening, just as Sid was getting ready to leave the office, that he got the call from his mother. ‘Sid,’ her voice was full of fear and panic, ‘I think your father is having a heart attack.’

Sid grunted now at the memory, randomly deleting the sales figures of the North branch from the excel file.

He recalled the sheer panic with which he abandoned everything that evening, rushing to book his ticket on the next available flight to Lucknow.

Sid had always thought that his mother had a tendency to be overly dramatic at times, but clearly he had underestimated his father. By the time he had landed late at night and called them from the airport, his parents were already on their way
back from the hospital. Ma spoke to him in a hushed tone, telling him to go home and wait for them. Sid sat outside the door of their small, independent house, feeling exhausted as well as relieved and more than a little confused as to what was going on.

When they reached, his mother was pale with relief but his father’s ears, as much a giveaway as Sid’s in moments of stress, were flushed red
–
a combination of anger, embarrassment and sheer sheepishness.

Apparently, Sid’s father had not said a word to his wife when she broke the news of Sid’s divorce. He only continued to read the newspaper and pretend that he hadn’t heard a word of what was she saying. After ignoring her until she gave up trying to talk to him, he had disappeared from the house.

It had been an hour since he had been away and Ma had started to get worried. That’s when she got a call. It was the proprietor of the neighbourhood sweet shop, who had known them for several years and was therefore aware of the entire medical history of the family, asking her to come urgently, saying he had already called the ambulance. Sid’s father was complaining of pain in the chest.

She had rushed over, calling Sid as she stumbled towards the sweetshop. Fortunately her mobile for once was charged and ready for use in this emergency. Which of course had turned out to be a false alarm!

The doctor sent them back after an examination, assuring them it wasn’t a heart attack, but merely a bout of severe indigestion. He had chastised Sid’s father saying that the next time he had the inexplicable urge to eat four large, greasy gulab jamuns from some unhygienic joint, he would do well to remember his age and curb his instinct. But Sid knew this had
been a one-time thing. It had been his father’s way of trying to handle the bad news about the divorce, drowning his sorrows silently in sugary syrup.

At home, they didn’t speak about it at all. Sid just hovered in the background as his mother gave his father some Eno, settling him into bed and making sure he was comfortable. Sid had been afraid that Ma would want to discuss things, but she just gave him a wan and exhausted smile before turning again to watch her husband drift off to sleep. Sid escaped to his old room and lay staring at the ceiling through most of the night.

For the next two days, Sid sat around at home with his parents. He could have gone back, of course, but somehow he felt duty bound to stay a while and make sure everything was in fact all right.

It felt familiar now. For most of the day, Sid sat wedged between the two of them on the sofa and his father grumbled and flipped channels. But there was a strange sensation that Sid felt; he couldn’t quite figure it out initially. It was a certain sense of
lightness
. He wasn’t lying to them any more. They now knew his life was an absolute shit-hole. In a weird way, it felt good.

After a couple of days had passed, Sid told them that he wanted to get back to Delhi. They didn’t protest. His mother looked a little worried but his father didn’t react at all when Sid said that he was thinking of leaving the next evening. He assured Ma that he would be fine, that he would call more regularly and that yes, he would come and visit again as soon as things were all settled. When the taxi came, Sid actually
felt sorry to leave them. This was a definite first. Usually, he couldn’t wait to get away.

He had arrived in Delhi late last night, late enough to avoid Mandira. When he had been leaving, he had sent her a text message in a hurry, informing her that he was on his way to Lucknow because his father wasn’t well. She hadn’t even bothered to check with him about it for the last couple of days. He let himself into the dark, silent house and headed straight to his bedroom. He had set his alarm for 7 a.m. and it had jolted him out of his Meenakshi dream this morning.

He had dressed in a hurry, glad that Mandira hadn’t risen yet. But he had felt duty-bound to tell her something, even though she hadn’t asked. So he had left behind a note propped up against the mirror in the hall: ‘Back. False Alarm. Gulab Jamuns. Sid.’

Cryptic, perhaps, but he figured she didn’t really deserve any more.

That dream about Meenakshi was still bugging him. He had successfully managed to avoid her all day. Every time he saw Meenakshi from the corner of his eye, he headed in the opposite direction. He even skipped lunch for fear that she would sit down next to him as usual. This was silly. It was just a dream and it wasn’t like he never had inappropriate thoughts or dreams about other people. Was he feeling guilty because the dream this time involved a colleague?

No, he realized. The guilt was because, for some strange reason, it made him feel disloyal.

And not to Mandira.

Sid leaned back in his chair and sighed. This wasn’t just silly, it was plain idiotic. But he couldn’t get it out of his mind
–
the way Neha had looked at him just before he ran out on her. Now, that had been a dumb move to make. Why had he panicked like that? Did he really believe Aditi that he might end up hurting her? Well, he definitely wasn’t ready for a relationship and that was certain.

So why had she been constantly on his mind despite all the chaos of the last few days?

Sid decided there was only one way to find out
–
he would see her again. He would apologize for his behaviour, explain that he really liked her a lot and suggest that perhaps they could just be friends. Also, he would hand over the gift to her, the one he had picked up from Lucknow.

Basically
–
he had to see her again.

‘I know I really should call first.’

Sid couldn’t get beyond this first line as he stared at Neha’s upturned face. He thought she was smiling, but it wasn’t too easy to tell given that she had some sort of icky, dark-green, mud-pack covering every centimetre of her face and neck. Neha’s hair was ensconced in a plasticky showercap. It had taken every ounce of self-control for Sid not to yelp when Neha opened the door. She reminded him of a tiny replica of the Statue of Liberty. Sid noticed she was now gazing at the large package he held under his arm.

‘Gift,’ he explained, somewhat unnecessarily.

‘Oh. Thanks.’ Neha grinned, this time her expression
unmistakable, her white, even teeth contrasting with the mudpack. She was totally unselfconscious even while answering the door looking like this. She stretched out her hand.

Sid blurted out, ‘It’s not for you.’ Neha’s hand froze in mid-air, making her look a little more like the Statue of Liberty. ‘It’s for Kippy,’ he clarified.

‘That’s very nice of you, Sid.’ She sounded pleased and more than a little surprised. ‘Would you like to come in?’

‘Oh, just for a minute, I guess. Wouldn’t want to disturb you while you’re…’ He waved vaguely at her face and then averted his eyes. He decided to just shut up and followed her inside. He handed her the package. ‘I got it from Lucknow. Thought it would be nice to get her a little souvenir.’

Neha put the package on the table and sat on one of the chairs, inviting him to join her.

‘So you’ve been in Lucknow the last few days?’

‘Oh yes,’ Sid said not sure where to look. He decided to focus on her eyes, especially the left one.

‘Pleasure trip or work?’

‘Well … pleasure … er … sort of,’ Sid said. ‘As in, Dad had a bit of a heart attack … And you? How’ve you been?’