The Secret wish List

  I realise that while I have shared some details of my life with him, I know nothing about his personal life. I ask him whether he has a girlfriend.

  ‘Divorced recently,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say, not knowing how else to respond.

  ‘Don’t be. I was glad when the divorce finally came through. Fortunately no kids. It was messy enough without,’ he says drily.

  He doesn’t want to divulge any more details and I do not press him. Instead I change the topic to movies and books. I am delighted to discover that he reads a lot and has read Milan Kundera, whose work I greatly admire. I am overjoyed to find a kindred soul. We talk enthusiastically about all the authors we love and discover that we have much in common when it comes to our taste in books.

  He opens up about his passion—salsa—and tells me how he got into it. He has done courses from the World Salsa Federation, the recognised and governing body for salsa dancing and competitions recognised even by the International Olympic Committee.

  ‘Most instructors don’t really have certification. Many of them in India, in fact, have just trained under someone or the other, and not received any formal training.’

  ‘Is that accepted? Is it valid?’

  ‘Well, it’s like this. There are institutes all over the world that offer certification. And, in the end, it is how you dance and how you are able to teach that matters, right? Most students are just looking for some basic steps to be able to do at wedding or parties, to learn a few moves and impress their friends. Very few have it in them to do it professionally. But you, Diksha, really have it in you. It is amazing, the way salsa has come so easily to you. I am really impressed and it is a joy teaching you.’

  ‘And I must return the compliment, Gaurav. It is indeed fantastic dancing with you. It comes so effortlessly because of you.’

  ‘Ever considered becoming an instructor?’

  ‘Goodness, no! I haven’t even thought about it.’

  ‘But you must. I too had joined a salsa class while in college, just to meet girls and make friends. And then I got heavily involved, won a few competitions and so on, and after that there was no looking back. And finally, I convinced my mother. I really faced hell from her as she wanted me to do an MBA. She raised me single-handedly, you see. I lost my dad when I was five.’

  ‘Oh! She must have been disappointed then in your choice of career?’

  ‘Initially she was. But I kept talking to her. I even took her for a few dance contests.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah! That’s when she saw me performing on stage, saw my passion, saw the adulation I got. She realised that I had talent and finally agreed that this was perhaps my true calling. Then I went to Miami and got my certification.’

  ‘Wow! That is really something. No wonder you are this good.’

  ‘Yes. In those days, I had to go all the way to Miami. But now, because of the Internet, it is so much easier. Today, you can take the test by sending DVDs of yourself dancing. The institute trainers spell out every move—the turns, foot placement, etc, and the applicant basically needs a partner to dance with. They even test if the applicant can do both parts—male and female. They have various grading systems and specify the names of the steps. It’s all very organised now and, depending on your competence, they grade you bronze, silver or gold.’

  ‘And you must definitely have got Gold, right?’

  ‘Of course,’ he smiles. ‘I love salsa and it shows. And I feel delighted to have found that same love for salsa in you.’

  I am fascinated by Gaurav’s narration. I keep asking him questions and he enjoys answering them.

  He tells me how much he desires to open his own dance studio and how he is still a paid employee in the current place.

  ‘You must! You are such a good teacher. Your own studio will be wonderful,’ I say.

  He says he is saving up for it but it would take a huge initial investment, especially in real estate. Then he would have to hire instructors and, ultimately, generate enough students to break even and make it sustainable. He says he plans to, in the long run, and is slowly moving towards it.

  Later, as I say my byes to him, he gives me a hug and that happy feeling stays inside me, lights me up, warms up my soul, and I cannot help thinking how beautiful life is when you have the right people in it.

  I am yet to know then just how much of a tumult the ‘right people’ can really cause. But right now, I am happy and content to bask in the warmth of a new friendship as it makes my life worthwhile and I am so grateful for that.

  Seventeen

  MY MOTHER-IN-LAW MOVES BACK INTO HER OWN apartment on Saturday. Sandeep drops her off and then goes for his usual round of golf. Before she leaves, I ask her if she will be fine on her own or whether she wants me to come and help her settle in.

  ‘I am around, am I not? I’ll settle her in or do you think I’m not capable of it? What do you take me for?’ Sandeep snaps at me before she even has a chance to reply. I keep quiet.

  My mother-in-law doesn’t miss either the exchange or the hurt expression on my face, even though Sandeep is oblivious to it.

  I should be used to him by now. I really should. Yet, each time it hurts. I still haven’t learnt to grow a thick skin to deflect his jabbing words.

  She gives me a hug as she leaves. ‘God bless you, Diksha. May you always have happiness. And come around sometime. Send Abhay also over to stay. You know I enjoy it,’ she says.

  ‘Can I go with Aayi now? Can I ? Can I?’ Abhay dances around excitedly.

  ‘No, Abhay, not today, but I will send you another day. I promise,’ I say to him.

  ‘I will,’ I reassure my mom-in-law, hugging her back.

  A bond has definitely been established between us, something which wasn’t this strong before. I decide that, every now and then, I will definitely send Abhay to spend time with her. I can hear the loneliness behind her words and I promise to myself that I will make amends and visit her more often.

  Tanu arrives in Bangalore that afternoon. And with her arrive memories. She has been such an important part of my early years that I think our personalities have crisscrossed each other and shaped us into being the people we are today. There is a bit of Tanu in me, as much as there is a bit of me in her.

  When Sandeep returns from golf, I tell him that my childhood friend has shifted to Bangalore, and is temporarily staying at the Oberoi, and that I will be spending the afternoon with her.

  ‘Who? Who is this friend? You never mentioned her before,’ he says.

  ‘Yes, I know. Her name is Tanu. We used to study together. Then we lost touch. Vibha had registered me on a reunion site some weeks back and that is how she found me. We were best of friends back then,’ I tell him.

  ‘You shouldn’t put personal details on the Internet. It is not safe. Vibha should know better,’ he says in a disapproving tone.

  I want to roll my eyes. His ideas and outlook are really outdated. Most people would be delighted that I am reconnecting with a person who has meant or means a great deal to me, but all Sandeep can see is the danger in posting information on the Internet.

  ‘Well, she just put my email ID online. We exchanged phone numbers through mail. It is not as if she put up my whole address and phone number,’ I reply.

  He does not know what to say to that.

  ‘Uh, okay. Take Abhay with you, and… umm… by what time will you be back?’ he asks.

  ‘What will Abhay do in a hotel room, Sandeep? He will get thoroughly bored. Tanu and I have such a lot to catch up on. Besides, if he’s here, he can go out to play with his friends and return at six thirty pm. It’s not like he is going to trouble you or even take up your time,’ I reply. I am annoyed at his suggestion of taking Abhay with me. How unreasonable is that? But I control my urge to vent my irritation. I am so eager to meet Tanu that I just want to placate Sandeep somehow and get out of the house. I do not want to confront or argue with him.

  It is
really these small things about Sandeep which reflect his supreme selfishness. As far as he is concerned, his needs must always come first.

  Finally, Sandeep reluctantly agrees to let Abhay stay at home. And before he can change his mind, I am out of the house and in a rick, heading to meet Tanu.

  I spot Tanu before she sees me. She is waiting at the entrance lobby of the hotel. I recognise her immediately. She hasn’t yet seen me and, as I walk towards her, I am stunned at how gorgeous she looks. She is about four inches taller than me which makes her five eight. And she is wearing four-inch heels which make her look even taller. Her complexion is flawless and her hair is silky straight like the hair of models one sees in television ads. She sports white skinny Guess jeans and her well-fitted top is very obviously designer stuff, cut to show off her toned shoulders. Her nails are perfectly manicured and she sports a platinum bracelet studded with Swarovski crystals. She is carrying an oversized red designer bag. She could easily be mistaken for a professional model. I immediately feel dowdy in my ‘Mummy clothes’ which translates to a nondescript salwar kameez which I had flung on without a thought. It is probably silly, but the first thing I think of when I see her is, ‘Damn, I should have dressed up a bit.’ I wish I had at least worn the clothes I wear to my salsa class, but it is too late for that now.

  Tanu turns around and sees me walking towards her. She looks a bit confused, then as slowly recognition dawns on her, she screams, ‘DIKSHA! OH MY GOD!’ She envelops me in a bear hug, almost crushing me, and I am surrounded by a whiff of her strong perfume, most probably Chanel.

  I hug her right back and she plants a kiss on either cheek—a real kiss, not those fake air kisses which Page 3 people do, even though she can easily be mistaken for one herself—totally surprising me with her genuine warmth.

  ‘God it is amazing to see you after so many years,’ she says and there are tears in her eyes. I squeeze her hand and we go up to her room which is luxurious like any five star hotel room. I sink into the plush bed. I love these luxury hotels and all the material comforts they offer.

  ‘Isn’t this amazing, Diksha? Look at us, we’re meeting after eighteen years. Our lives have taken such different turns and yet this connection we feel, it is stronger than ever.’

  ‘Yeah, Tanu. And God, you really look stunning. You have transformed into a total model-type. I really feel like the village bumpkin who has come to visit a city cousin.’

  ‘Thanks babes and, come on, you are no village bumpkin!’ she says loyally.

  ‘To be honest, I hate these clothes of mine, Tanu. But Sandeep doesn’t like me in anything other than these mummy outfits.’

  She looks at me and walks over to me. Then she hugs me again and says softly, ‘Look at what marriage has done to you, babes. Even your clothes aren’t yours anymore.’

  She has hit the nail right on the head. It is one thing which I hate about myself—the things I do to placate Sandeep and my sheer lack of guts to stand up to him and assert myself.

  ‘Tell me the truth, is Sandeep an asshole?’ she asks directly.

  ‘Shut up, Tanu! It is my HUSBAND you are talking about,’ I say with more force than necessary.

  ‘So? So what? What is this? Are you some kind of modern version of Savitri? So bloody what if he is your husband? You have a choice, you know! Come on, Diksha. Between us there is nothing really to hide, is there?’ she asks indignantly.

  ‘I will tell you everything, Tanu. This marriage thing, it is complicated. It gets even more complicated when kids arrive. You get pregnant and you change in ways you never thought possible. For me, having Abhay makes it all worthwhile.’

  ‘I agree motherhood and all that is great. But tell me, are you really happy in your marriage?’ she persists.

  ‘Look, let’s not talk about it now, Tanu. We will talk, but another time.’

  ‘Ha! I knew it! I knew you weren’t happy, even from your mails.’

  I smile at her total honesty and the liberty that she takes with me. Coming from anyone else. I might have found it rude, but from her, I actually like it. I like how she demands to know all about my life. I like that she still cares as fiercely and as intensely as she did back in school. And I feel ecstatic to have her back in my life.

  ‘Wine?’ asks Tanu as she opens a bottle chilling in an ice bucket in her room.

  ‘Hmm, no thanks,’ I say. I have never had alcohol and I curiously read the label on the bottle. It is a Chardonnay, made in Australia. There is also a card on it is addressed to Tanu, welcoming her to Bangalore.

  ‘It is from my office. They are being extra nice to me. I am taking over you see,’ she explains.

  ‘You know, I have never had alcohol even though I have always wanted to,’ I say.

  ‘What?!Never? Oh my God, Diksha, You really are missing the one big pleasure of life!’ says Tanu.

  ‘I wouldn’t know really, would I? Sandeep never drinks and we do not have any alcohol in our home,’ I reply.

  ‘Didn’t you drink in college?’

  ‘Ha. You know how my college life was. I was watched over like a hawk. And by the time I was nineteen, I was married off. And then, I got pregnant. Once a baby arrives, it takes over your life. I have never done the normal things most young people do Tanu. I have never really ‘had fun’ or at least the kind of things that most people term fun, like partying, going to discos, watching movies, theatre, etc. My life has been so different from yours. In fact, this is the first time I have left Abhay at home and come out like this. He is nine now, and fairly independent. But this is only now. Earlier he needed me all the time.’

  Tanu is silent for a while as she takes in all I have said.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay. We will do all the things you missed out on. We will have fun, babes. In fact, we will start right now. Here, let me pour you a glass,’ she says.

  I indeed want to know what wine taste like. I want to find out what all the fuss is about. But while I am excited, I am also a bit scared.

  ‘Hmm. What if I get drunk?’ I say to Tanu.

  ‘So what if you do? Are you scared I will rape you?’ she asks

  I chuckle.

  ‘Cheers!’ she says as she hands over the glass to me.

  I take a sip and it is not sweet. Yet it is not bitter. It is nothing like I have ever tasted before.

  ‘How is it? Do you like?’ asks Tanu

  ‘Yeah! I like it,’ I reply as I take another sip.

  ‘Have it slowly. There are many varieties in wine. Some are sweet, some dry, some full-bodied. I did a wine appreciation course once,’ she says.

  We settle down on the bed with our glasses and lean against the propped-up pillows. This is something I haven’t ever done—relaxing with a good friend like this. It feels wonderful.

  Tanu brings me up to speed about her life. She tells me about the MBA she did in Australia. About her four failed relationships. About how she lost her virginity. She talks about sex, about being single and how she buried herself in her career to get over the pain of breaking up with a guy who, each time, she thought was ‘the one’. She talks about how, now, her career is top priority for her.

  I tell her about my married life. About Sandeep and his idiosyncrasies and how stifled I have been feeling in my marriage lately. I tell her about my secret wish list which I made with Vibha, and she makes me promise that I will show it to her. I also tell her about my salsa class and my ‘date’ with Gaurav.

  I want to ask her about Ankit, but somehow I don’t, as in this moment, my closeness to her overshadows all other feelings, including my curiosity about Ankit. There is time for that later, I decide in my mind and right now all that matters is that I am here with Tanu, after eighteen long years and that we are still as close as ever. It feels incredible and I feel so fortunate for a friendship like this. My mind is full of all that she has told me about her life and all that I have shared with her. Our lives couldn’t have been more starkly different.

  It is only when the light outside cha
nges to orange that I realise it is evening and the entire afternoon has passed. The colours of the sunset are beautiful. I feel light-headed because of the wine and a bit unsteady on my feet.

  ‘Oh, Tanu. This has been truly amazing. Look at the sunset. It feels as though someone has emptied a can of paint all over the sky,’ I say, gazing at it from the french windows which provide a marvellous view.

  Tanu nods happily from the bed.

  ‘Hey, I have to get back and I feel slightly dizzy now,’ I say as I reach for my handbag and wear my sandals.

  ‘I’ll call a car. I am entitled to a car and a driver here. One of the few perks of slogging my butt off,’ she replies.

  It is only then that I look at my phone and see two missed calls from Sandeep and a text which says, ‘Where are you? Why are you taking so long? Abhay is hungry.’

  I panic seeing the text. I know Sandeep is irked. I feel like a teen who has overshot the curfew time set by the parent.

  ‘Oh no. I didn’t hear the phone, Tanu. It was in my bag. And now Sandeep is upset,’ I say.

  She grabs my phone from my hand and reads the text.

  ‘Come on! It is not every day that you meet your best friend after eighteen years. And you have been here just three hours, Diksha. So what if Abhay is hungry? Can’t Sandeep make a sandwich for him? Is he that helpless? Isn’t he a full-grown adult?’

  ‘Look, you really don’t know him. He can be nasty.’

  ‘Hey, let me do one thing. I am coming home with you, right now. Let me see how nasty he can be,’ she says.

  I giggle. I find it funny that I, a full grown woman, am taking my best friend home to avoid getting a ‘scolding’ from my husband.

  I want to protest and tell her that I will manage just fine, but the wine is making me really light-headed and unsteady on my feet. I am happy to go along with whatever she wants to do. I am in no state to take a rick by myself, in any case.

  She brushes her hair, touches up her lip gloss and calls for the car.