Family.
“What even is a family?” she muttered. “We’re a joke.”
Tina promised herself to bring it up at her next Buddhism meeting, a recent addition to her social calendar by one of her friends that had at once given her life a positive makeover and solidified her dislike for Geetu. Buddhism meetings were an exercise in self validation for Tina, a source of swelling vanity. Then there was her sister-in-law.
Geetika Shroff had that specific deep voice that was cultivated over many years of cigarette smoke and taking herself too seriously. She’d never been tall, definitely not with her sister in the same room whenever the odd occasion called for it, and had thus at some point, though by no premeditation, taken to chunky antiquarian jewelry that always seemed to announce her presence in the room. The tinkle of her bangle and that low throaty hum of prayer had been more than enough to leave a bad taste in Tina’s mouth. It was the same gossip in a different social circle and all things considered she had lost the ability to keep up.
Sadly there was nothing, neither appreciation of her running a successful boutique in Meherchand market nor even the death of her husband, that could’ve warmed Tina up to Geetu.
She picked up her phone and texted Sana.
-Beta listen, I hope everything is ok?
Delivered. Unread.
-I wanted to know if you’ll have some time tomorrow
Delivered. Unread.
Last Seen: 7 minutes ago.
-I need u to give Vikram directions for that Khao Suey everyone loved so much at papa’s birthday last year.
Not Delivered.
-Or can we do kimchi finger sandwiches?
Not delivered.
Connecting …
She locked the phone and tossed it.
Vikram entered the room and asked if she needed anything else, she dismissed him for the day once he cleared the tea tray.
Tina had recently developed a habit for staying up late, not too late, though two thirty wasn’t an ideal bedtime for someone who hated dark circles.
She walked to the bar and poured herself three fingers of Jack. The crackle of ice as the amber liquid hit it was music to her ears. She poured her drink and went back to the couch.
“How about some jazz …” she spoke.
Her phone vibrated and she quickly unlocked it.
Don’t miss out! Pre-approved home loans…
“Uff … bastards don’t stop at night also!” she deleted it.
All messages read. No response.
Last Seen: A few seconds ago.
Tina was sorry she’d skipped that visit to the abortion clinic. She really was, and it wasn’t the first time she’d felt that way. She told herself that it was totally possible that some women just weren’t cut out to be mothers, and she said it enough till she believed it.
She nodded to herself.
The playlist loaded and a soft French horn swelled around her.
The glass felt so good against the skin of her forehead, she almost didn’t want to drink from it. The constant change in weather had only just left its mark on their house, all of them recovering from a light flu, the afternoon heat was unbearable and the evening wind unsavoury in comparison. Sometimes she wondered why they still lived in Delhi – there was nothing redeemable about the city, not its weather, not the people, not the constant political unrest. Someone at lunch had said the Jaat rioters had raped women in open fields and left them there, someone else mentioned dirty slurs heard from politicos at some JNU protest, she wondered what was worse. So much shit and filth in the city it was no wonder that everybody who lived here was miserable; the constant dust, the fucking pollution, it was disgusting. She wanted to go back to her mother’s home, back to the Worli penthouse where she’d wasted her youth watching the city lights. Of course the Delhi bungalow was bigger and most of the family lived here but that wasn’t the reason they were rooted; it was Sana and her social circle. She’d once almost managed to convince her about how the move would ensure instant celebrity for her daughter. All the important page 3 parties were in Bombay, all major magazine publications were there. It would be so easy to make a few calls and book modeling jobs for her. But once her follower count went past seven thousand, the last ray of hope had vanished and Tina had felt their roots dig deeper.
Stupid cow.
That’s what she’d called her mother when Tina offered to buy her new followers. Tens of thousands of followers and all genuine accounts – because that’s what she’d seen on one of those pop up ads before the office assistant had offered to install ad-block for her.
Stupid cow … you can’t just buy your way into being a somebody!
She stared at the unrelenting edges of the crystal cut glass and wondered how hard she would have to squeeze to feel it crack under pressure. She scoffed at her own melodramatic overtures and took it back to her forehead. It was an oddly comforting realization: how much she hated the city.
Her phone buzzed.
Chicas (9 members)
-Hey girls.. anybody up still?
-Hi shona, just sitting in bed thought I’d read today for a bit before sleeping…
-Lol where’s the hubby tonight?
-Arey ya he’s out na, he’s travelling to Bbay for that stupid conference all week
She winced
-Where’s Tina
-Right here babes… What’s happening?
-Can’t sleep. Let’s go out na?
-Abhi it’s so late darling, let’s do something tomorrow night. There’s an awesome happy hour place I’ve found we should def go there only!
She switched her phone off, only grateful for the full day of distractions that awaited her – shopping, aquaerobics and pilates, and then cocktails at night. She decided that she might try some clove cigarettes as well, live on the edge a little. The only problem left to deal with was Sana.
At that exact time, Sana’s cousin Surya found herself with a strange problem of her own. She was inexplicably focused on the spider crawling over the ceiling and she’d almost forgotten about her boyfriend. They were sort of still in the middle of sex. He was also sort of married with a sort of kid. She’d never asked him about his wife or child. But the sex was always good, no it was beautiful – part of the reason they were still on that bed in a Karol Bagh guest house seventeen months later. She shut her eyes and tried to stop thinking, it was still good but she couldn’t understand why she was so distracted.
Surya had always been fascinated by spiders and had often spent her time following their dance across ceilings and gardens and the corners where walls met the roof.
They climaxed and he didn’t go down on her immediately, in fact she found herself counting seconds before he did. Somewhere after five hundred she got bored and opened a can of coke, which he took as his cue.
The man owned a chain of artisanal products, food items that were perfected by hand and true craft rather than mass produced. Business had never been great until a Facebook group of millenials declared them to be the best thing ever. With every heavily filtered photo, the demand went higher and his business expanded beyond honey. His artisanal honey, jams, cheeses, and breads became products that stood at the apex of the hipster food chain. Surya had often wondered at the possibilities if they had met when he was younger and single – would she have stuck around through the bad times or perhaps taken a more active role to help him – but there was always only one answer: it didn’t matter. So she emptied her can and tried to find the daddy long legs spider she’d seen before while he got her off.
She lit a cigarette and gave him a kiss of approval when they were done. They stayed in bed a while longer, checking messages, calls, or any other updates they’d missed out on. Her fingers itched to open the other app, Tinder. More than scrolling through the endless barrage of memes with subtly nihilistic undertones she enjoyed the absolute absurdity of Tinder profiles. That they had first spoken through Tinder was a completely different matter – Surya had learnt to be more prudent online. It
was all for a laugh really, if you’d ask her about it now she’d tell you how much fun swiping left was because they were all ‘ugly losers’.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he jumped out of bed. “I got you something.”
“Were we doing gifts or something?” she asked warily.
“No not at all. It was just a new batch they’d finished before I left the factory so I thought I’d get you one,” he made a grand gesture of handing her the jar. “I realized I’ve never made you try anything we produce.”
She was desperate to have as little of her skin touching that murky honey jar but it seemed impossible. It looked harmless enough but there was a general icky-quality about it that set her teeth on edge and suddenly she couldn’t understand why she was with a man with a soft belly and a wife. She could feel the sickly sweet honey gurgling down her throat, glooping down her skin in a sticky trail. Suddenly she wished she were in a different country and they’d never met and she was someone else.
His eyes were expectant when she looked back at him.
“Oh-oh hey thank you,” she hugged his shoulders, “it’s really … I can’t wait to taste it.”
She giggled then he sort of giggled as well.
“You love it then? Good.” He kissed her wetly. “I got it because we met for the first time on this date, so I don’t know I just wanted to do something special for you baby.”
She was hyper aware of his growing excitement and fondling hands and decided to put him on a time-out soon. Her fingers where they’d touched the jar felt grimy but she wasn’t sure if it was real – he didn’t mind her fingers wiping against his back.
Laksh knocked softly on the door, so soft that at first Sana didn’t even hear it. The second one was firmer and he entered without waiting for her permission. She was in her balcony smoking, he took it from her and gave her a slight shove.
“You know when I was a little girl I was obsessed with the world of Disney. I used to come home from school and watch The Little Mermaid every afternoon. Literally every afternoon. The summer bled into winter and I had every line memorized and I’d sing along even if I were only mumbling through the words. I swear it was the most amazing movie, still is if you’re very drunk.” She giggled.
“I was so so fascinated by how in the end the water turns into that glittering dress and she steps out of the sea and she’s a transformed woman who doesn’t need help walking on two legs.”
The silence did something to them it hadn’t done before. It got awkward.
He handed her the cigarette.
“You know what happens in the original story? The prince falls for the wrong girl and marries her and no one gets to know it’s the evil witch. So she kills herself. She becomes a mermaid again and kills herself. Now that I know it I just watch the movie and laugh because that’s exactly what life’s like now, isn’t it? You can see it happening and you can’t stop it … this … Oh I don’t know this big car crash. You know it’s happening in slow-mo and you know it’ll make a mess of everything but you can’t do anything to stop it. So my point is, why bother really?”
Her shell was cracking right in front of him, like she was finally speaking in words than sighs. And then she snapped out of it.
“It comes down to the most basic level of Darwinism really, I’m hot and stinking rich, and I totally have like a really high threshold for douche behaviour – I mean we live in Delhi for god’s sake, right. Right! So my point is why should I be the one at the receiving end of this pedestrian level fuckboy-ism?”
“So what do you wanna do about it?”
“I think I should be the fuckboy here – the concept itself transcends genders ya know! I should be the one ghosting guys after three hot dates or just straight up breaking their hearts. Why am I not totally Netflix-and-chill-ing like it’s 2017 and women are on top. Here’s what – I should join Tinder. Yes. And then I should just revolutionize the theory of fuckboyhood – literally for the sake of women everywhere.”
Just like that she was lost.
“Wow,” she put a hand to her chest, “I think I finally get the whole women-empowerment thing. If I didn’t have so much money I could almost be like one of those unwashed, lesbian mahila krantikaris from LSR you know? Like an imagine my face on the cover of a book that literally says The Theory of Fuckboyhood, like oh my god Lilly Singh eat your heart out! Wow I’m a genius Laksh.”
“I think we both know none of that is happening any time soon.”
She shrugged. “You never know who’s willing to ghostwrite your first Pulitzer winner.”
“Oh Pulitzer-winner it seems!” he shook his head. “So, The Little Mermaid eh?”
She blushed uncharacteristically and dipped her head away from him.
“That’s adorable.”
“Shut up!”
“No, really it is.”
“You’re sick. I hate you.”
“You still remember everything about it?”
“Everything.”
He made a funny sort of noise. Somewhere between surprise and awe, and walked away without explanation. She followed him, glad to be out of the gathering dust storm.
He scrubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe how hot it is outside.”
“It’s terrible. I hate summers in Delhi.”
“It’s weird but I just I have this fear that one day I’ll be driving and because of the heat I’d just pass out behind the wheel and crash and die – literally just because of the heat. It’s ridiculous!” he pulled out a bottle from the mini fridge.
“No. What’s ridiculous is your fiancé-to-be calls it off in the same breath as ‘I have AIDS’.”
“Wait, AIDS? Like …”
“The poor-African-people thing.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “Wow.”
“Got it from a married guy. Like, they sort of gave it to each other I guess.”
“WOW!” Laksh was impressed at his own inability to think clearly. What more could he have said?
“How long does he have till … umm.”
Well that.
“I didn’t ask. I just ... Well I left. I don’t know. Maybe my mom’s right and I’m just a plain old bitch.”
“Sunaina, don’t be silly. You’re not a bitch.”
“Don’t call me Sunaina,” she flopped onto her bed. “And I must be if my own mother calls me a bitch!”
“I’ve heard you say it to her more often than she has.”
“I see your point but does that mean I am a bitch?”
“Maybe not. More of an asshole. But that’s not the point.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” he shook his head. “The point is, are you okay with it?”
“With what?”
“With being a bitch?”
“No. But I think I’m okay with being an asshole.”
“Then none of it matters anyway because you love yourself for who you are.”
“Well ... Someone should.”
She was suddenly aware of how close they were and that tightness in her chest returned. Sana remembered how she’d pined for him silently, while Lakshman had grown up and cut her from his life. She was aware of every breath he exhaled, of how the skin of her shin was millimetres away from his. As she looked the distance lessened till only a hair’s breadth. Her heart hammered in her ears.
He stood up to charge his phone but her mind was still on the distance between them. She couldn’t make sense of his words anymore and he insisted on saying a lot of them. She was an island and he was lost at sea.
“Anyway, how come your friends aren’t here already with a care package or something?”
“A care package?”
“Yeah dude like a thing which has a whole bunch of wine and chocolate and tissues. Like a ‘hey you got dumped but it’s okay he’s an asshole anyway’ thing.”
“Wait, I thought I was the asshole.”
He shook his head and Sana wanted to slap and kiss him at the same time. “Diffe
rent situation. My point is – where the minions at?”
“Firstly, they’re not my minions-”
“-Your posse.”
“I don’t even know what that is okay …”
“Your girlies, your dolls, hoes, or whatever they call it these days.”
“They’re my friends.”
“So you say.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m only saying-”
“Really you shouldn’t even be talking anymore.”
“Dude no come on. What do you even have to gain by hanging out with those girls?”
“They’re nice. Also excuse you, I did not get dumped.”
He raised an eyebrow, fighting back a laugh.
“Why is it so hard for you to believe? I dumped him Laksh. God you’re so mean.”
“Wait so you want me to believe that he told you he has AIDS. He’s dying. He’s also practically in love with a married man who for all intents and purposes is dying too. And he still wanted to stay in a relationship with you? At what point is that not him ending things with you?”
“Listen you’re so mean, just leave please.”
“Are you serious right now, S?”
“You’re ruining the energy of my room.”
“Oh your energy is it? Your energy can go fuck itself.”
She threw the first thing within reach and missed his head. His whole body. Her phone went flying above and hit the wall behind him. Laksh doubled over laughing and she could do nothing but hide her face. By the looks of it she’d need a new phone even if to update her follower stats.
The door opened and they came in, dressed down in shorts and oversized tshirts – every bit the girl gang he’d predicted.
“I will take that as my cue to head home.”
She picked her phone off the floor and tossed it onto her bed, she wasn’t ready to see the full extent of the damage. Sana walked out with him, trying to block out the smirks and stares from her friends, shutting the door behind them.