Read The Private Life of Mrs Sharma Online
Authors: Ratika Kapur
The Private Life of Mrs Sharma (12 page)
I am fine now. By God's grace I am actually well and truly fine. I was a little bit troubled before, which I think was understandable because I am a respectable woman and respectable women normally don't do the types of things that I have been doing, but from time to time they have to do such things so that they can go on living, just like a man has to eat to live, so if I felt a little bit troubled I think that it was understandable. And if Vineet has not called me up or smsed me for four days now, it is actually better like this. Vineet Sehgal is timewaste, TV serial-type timewaste that is foolish and harmless but also dangerous because it distracts women from their duties. See, why has Bobby become the boy that he has become? Why all this cooking nonsense that he keeps talking about? Why the alcohol? What is the reason for Bobby's behaviour?
The answer is simple. The reason is me. The reason for all this is me, his mother, Renuka Sharma, who has been wasting her time with some useless man, which, if you stop for one
minute and think about, is actually quite understandable, but then since when was the word understandable allowed to be used for women, especially mothers? And the truth is that no matter how understandable it was that Renuka Sharma did the types of things that she did, the truth is also that by doing such things she did not do her motherly duties properly and so her son went out of control. But by God's grace, and because of the type of person that I am, I understood this quickly, I understood that by loitering around with Vineet I put my son in danger, and now I have already started doing things to bring him back on to the straight road.
The first thing that I have started doing is spending more time with my son, so, for example, I accompanied Bobby to Ankit's father's restaurant on Monday. Bobby was not very happy when I first told him about my plan, but I begged him to let me come and he finally agreed, and I tried my level best to be jokey and fun, and I think that he was fine. Then this evening, instead of going to the market to buy rations, I stayed at home and sat with Bobby while he watched TV. Actually, it was very nice today. It was very nice to have him lying on the divan next to me with his head in my lap and to play with his hair, which, even though it is a little bit long and untidy, is so soft and beautiful. It is not black, Bobby's hair, it is actually dark brown, almost like a foreigner's or a Kashmiri's. And then yesterday I also bought Bobby the Puma-brand keds that he had been wanting for almost six months but that I had not agreed to buy because they cost almost two thousand rupees. But I decided to buy them yesterday. Actually, what happened was that last week I made a little extra money from Doctor
Sahib's ink cartridge supplier. The price of onions had gone up again, and, as I said before, this is the one and only time when I allow myself to make a little extra money, so I called up the supplier, Aggarwal, and I told him the same story that I tell all of them about how another supplier was ready to give us a huge discount, and Aggarwal begged and begged and said, Madamji, please, and I said to him, Madamji, please, what? and then after a little more talking he said, like all of them say, Madamji, we can both help each other, and then we finally agreed on an amount and completed the deal. I am sure that Doctor Sahib does not mind. When the kabaadiwallah comes to my house I don't sit on his head when he is weighing the newspapers and bottles, even though I know that he is cheating me of a few extra rupees. I say to myself, It does not matter. I will not die without twelve or fifteen rupees, but for the kabaadiwallah this money could feed his hungry child. And I think that it is one and the same thing for Doctor Sahib. What are twelve or fifteen hundred rupees to him? My father used to say, A thief is a thief, whether he steals a diamond or a cucumber, but, even though he was my father and he is dead now, I have to say that I think that he was wrong. You first need to ask the thief why he stole the cucumber. So, I made some extra money and bought Bobby the shoes that he wanted and I think that it made him a very happy boy.
I am also trying my level best to pay more attention to Bobby's studies, and this I am trying to do as carefully as I can. I am trying to do it in such a way that he does not know that I am doing it, because these days my Bobby seems to get agitated and angry easily. Sometimes I wonder what has happened to my
son. Sometimes I wonder where my sweet Bobby has gone. But yes, I am trying my level best to pay more attention to Bobby's studies. I asked Rosie from the clinic what to do because her children always come first or second in class and she told me that the most important thing that I needed to do was to get
The Hindu
newspaper delivered to my house because it would greatly improve Bobby's general knowledge, which is important not only for his studies at school but for all the entrance exams that he will sit for in the future. She said that it only has proper articles in it and not all those Bollywood photos and gossip that fill up all the other newspapers, and that all South Indian families get it. Everybody knows how South Indian children are so intelligent and so good in their studies. So,
The Hindu
newspaper was delivered at seven o'clock in the morning today, it will be delivered each and every morning, and I am paying two hundred and twenty-five rupees for this, and when it came today I did not say anything to Bobby about it. I just picked up the newspaper roll from the doormat, pulled off the black rubber band, pressed the pages neat and flat with my hand, and put it carefully on top of the TV remote control on the stool next to the divan. Now I am waiting for Bobby to read it.
I was in the veranda picking up the dry clothes when Bobby came back home from school, and without even washing his hands and face he came outside. He greeted me and then loitered around while I was collecting the clothes. I thought that his behaviour was a little bit odd, so I said, What has happened to you today?
Nothing, Ma, he said.
Nothing. That word. I hate that word. I am scared of that word. Why not just put a black cat in my lap. I decided to keep quiet.
Ma? he said.
What? I said.
Are you angry? he said.
Not at all, I said.
Then why are you not talking? he said.
Because you said, Nothing, Ma, so I thought that you wanted me to be quiet.
Ma, please, just stop it, he said. I need to talk to you about something.
Then talk, I said, I am listening.
But you have to listen to me not only with your ears, but also with your heart, he said.
Then I knew surely that trouble was coming. But I said, Fine, and I put the bucket of clothes down on the floor and listened.
And surely trouble came. I am thinking about leaving school, Bobby said.
What? I shouted.
Ma, don't shout, please, he said, and then he took out a piece of paper from his schoolbag and gave it to me.
It was a form, an unfilled application form for a school-leaving certificate.
You have to sign it, Ma, he said.
No, that is not what I have to do. What I have to do is this, I said to Bobby, and I took the form from his hand, and then, then and there in front of that boy, I tore it up into hundreds of small, little white pieces and threw them all over the veranda railing. They fell to the road like snow.
They fell to the road like snow. Such pretty words, Renuka. Your son is threatening to leave school, and this is how you talk?
In the peace of night-time, many hours after what happened on the veranda, am I trying to use pretty words to hide one very ugly truth? But poetry never hides the truth.
Seven hours have passed now since what happened in the veranda in the afternoon today, and I have still not spoken to my son. Actually, first I did not know what to say when I tore up the form and left the veranda, and then afterwards I thought that it would be better not to say anything at all because sometimes quiet is the best language to use, just like doing nothing is sometimes the best type of action. But what I did do was talk to my husband, which, obviously, was such a foolish thing to do. Actually, what happened was that I became a little bit agitated and angry, and then I thought that I should talk to my husband, I thought that he should have some idea at least about his son's behaviour because he will be in Delhi in thirty-three days' time and he should not get such a huge shock then. For all these months I have been hiding all the problems with Bobby from him because I was scared that he would just leave his job and come back. But today I thought that I would give my husband just some small, little hints so that afterwards, when he comes back, he does not fall down to the floor and hold my knees and say, Renu, what have you done? Why didn't you tell me before?
So, I called up my husband, and because it is Friday today, his off-day, I did not have to wait until night, so I called him up as soon as Bobby and I came in from the veranda and Bobby went to have his bath. And what happened? I said just one thing, just one thing about how it seems that Bobby has not been so happy at school and that he sometimes, and I especially used the word sometimes, he sometimes lies around the house with a long face. And what did my husband say? Why did I ever leave you both? he cried. What have I done? How can
you manage? I will come back just now. Anyway I hate this place, I will come back now. And what not.
It took some time, but when I disconnected the phone I am quite sure that my husband was less agitated. Basically I told him that the Bobby problem was not as serious as he thought that it was but it only seemed that serious because from far away problems always seem much bigger than they actually are. And then I changed the topic to his parents in Canada and we talked about them and his sister and her house and the preparations for the baby that was going to be delivered any day now, and after all that I think I can say that my husband was calm and happy. I think I can also say that I learnt my lesson today and I swear on God, I swear on my husband himself, that I will never talk to him about such things again.
But see? Even though the main reason that I called up my husband was to prepare him a little bit for his trip to Delhi, so that he does not get too shocked by Bobby's behaviour, I also called him up for comfort because it is my right as his wife to get comfort from him. But what happened? Who had to comfort whom?
Six days have passed and Vineet still has not called me up or sent me one sms. It is a little bit odd, but I have not even seen him at the Metro station. But how can this surprise me? How can I actually expect him to call me up? Still, I wish that he would call me up one time, so that I could ask him just one time why he never wants to see me again or speak to me, or
touch me. I have some idea about his answer, because I have thought about it day in and day out for almost one week, and it seems that there could be two reasons. But I want to know which one of these two reasons it is. I want to know the exact answer. Is it about morals? Has the Renuka Sharma that his small eyes used to want so badly, and if anybody saw those eyes that person would know that I am not just telling stories, has that sweet Renuka Sharma turned into some dirty, shameless, used older woman that his eyes have sworn on God never to look at again? Is that the reason? Has Renuka Sharma turned into some whore? Or is it something not so deep, not so serious? Is it just that before I told him about my life I was just a pretty young woman that he met on the Metro, somebody he liked to talk to and listen to and touch and that is all and nothing else, but that now there is a new Renuka Sharma, somebody with a husband and a son and other types of problems, who he does not want to be near any more? If it is the first reason then there is nothing at all that I can do, but if it is the second reason and the problem is not me, the woman Renuka Sharma, but only the attachments to me, then I would like to tell Vineet that he does not have to worry at all. I told him about my husband and son, but this was only by mistake. This was only because of the sex, because it seems that the greatest danger of sex is that when you open your body to the man, you also open your mind to him. But that is all that it was, an opening of my mind. I want to tell Vineet that I did not actually want him to start worrying about my husband and son. I only want him to worry about this woman, this woman's body and nothing else.
And isn't this what he also wants? Can he so easily forget the two times that we were together? Can he forget the first time, the time when he invited me to his house as soon as his mother had gone out of station and how, when we were in his house, after we talked for some time he came and sat down next to me on the sofa that I was sitting on and then he suddenly put his hand on my knee and looked at me and waited to see what I would do or say and when I did not say or do anything he said, Are you scared? and I shook my head, and then he very, very slowly brought his lips to my right cheek first, then my chin and then finally my lips? Has he happily forgotten that? I remember how at that second, when he was coming to my lips so slowly, so carefully, with his eyes closed so tightly, I remember that I almost started laughing because it seemed that he was a first-timer in such things and it also seemed that he thought that I was also a first-timer, and that was actually a little bit funny. Even if he has forgotten that part, he has surely not forgotten what happened after that. I don't think that he could have forgotten what our two naked bodies did on the floor after that. And what about the second time, the last time? Vineetji, can you swear on God that you have forgotten what happened six days ago when we were locked up inside a fancy air-conditioned room in your fancy boutique hotel, when we were lying on that fancy bed with our clothes thrown all over that fancy carpet in your fancy boutique hotel?
I don't like to boast, but the truth is that after he got his first taste of me, his first touch of me, I became like his drug, I actually became like some type of addiction that made him totally mad if he could not have me. Even though we have
actually only been together alone two times, there have been so many other times on the crowded train, and one time in an auto and another time behind the emergency doors at the mall, when he has tried to touch me, squeeze me, kiss me. I don't like to boast, but the truth is that if anybody at all saw how he looked at me, how he touched me, if anybody saw all this then that person would also surely think that just now, at eleven o'clock at night, Vineet is probably lying down in the darkness, his hot, hot body on his hot, hot bed, thinking of me.