Serendipity

30

"Is this all you have?"

It had taken Anupama a week after the press conference to finally get comfortable with the idea of living with Anuj. Since the announcement, the paparazzi mania had only heightened. It had finally reached a breaking point when on a fateful day Anupama had almost twisted her ankle while trying to jump from the first floor of their apartment building and escape from the rear to avoid walking out and being papped. Only then had she finally called Anuj to tell him that she was ready to move in with him. And like the gentleman he was, he'd offered to help her pack and move.

Anupama could never have imagined packing to be such a fun activity. Her packing experiences at the Shah house were always lonely, with the entire family in the living room while she carefully curated and packed Vanraj's suitcase, only be told what a horrible job she'd done.

Anuj had instead played their old Bollywood favourites from the 70s and 80s on his iTunes while the couple enjoyed cups of tea, chatted about the absurdities of Hindi movies in that era, munched on fafda, and packed. He was shocked to find out that all of her possessions fit into one suitcase.

"I didn't have much time to pack and leave after divorce. Anyway nothing much in that house belonged to me."

When Anuj raised his eyebrows quizzically, she explained: "I was a housewife for 26 years. Everything I owned was bought by Vanraj Shah. I didn't feel like taking anything he paid for. So I took my Kanhaji and left."

Anuj took a deep breath, willing the tears that were threatening to spill to stay within his eyes. He looked at the woman standing in front of him. He didn't know what exactly she'd been through for the last 26 years but he prided her ability to smile, to stay strong and sane, despite the efforts of the Shah family to uproot her.

Having gathered all her stuff and placed them near the door, Anupama glanced around her apartment one final time. Her tulsi plant was still on her balcony. She picked it up and placed it near the door. Satisfied, she smiled wistfully. She would miss this place, where she'd first experienced independence.

"Let's go?"

He looked at her and then at the altar in her living room. 

"Don't you want to take your Kanhaji with you?"

Anupama smiled a full-fledged smile that reached her eyes. It definitely had room for improvement, but there was a start.

*****

As Anupama finished unpacking her suitcase, she noticed with irony that all of her possessions didn't even occupy half a cupboard. Her short journey to the Kapadia house had been uneventful. GK had welcomed her into their house as if she were a new bride. Sheela had directed her to the room that had been set up for her stay. 

The room - that had earlier belonged to Anuj's parents - was spacious and airy with three built-in cupboards, an armoire, a chest of drawers, and a dresser with a mirror. There was a small sit-out balcony with a rocking chair. A side table was next to the chair. 

The room felt lived in. Small things had been taken care of. The bedside table was just slightly away from the wall to allow for the width of the headboard. The chair in the sit-out, placed at an angle to avoid the sun in the afternoon, the dressing table was placed closer to the bathroom than symmetrically between the built-in cupboards. Small adjustments that indicated a liberal use of common sense had gone into designing the room. 

Anupama was fascinated by the sit-out. She'd always enjoyed open spaces and having her own private oasis was a luxury she'd never dreamed of.  She promptly picked up her Tulsi plant and placed it near the sit-out, admiring the green touch it added to the entire decor. 

Just as she was finishing up with her unpacking, Anuj strolled in to see how she was doing.

"My mother loved to knit and read," Anuj told Anupama. "And she loved tea!"

*****

It had taken Anupama less than a week to blend in with the Kapadia household. No one could remember a time when she wasn't part of it. Each morning Anupama would make breakfast for the entire family, Anuj would drop her at work, GK would have lunch prepared, Anuj would have a car sent to pick her up after school, Anupama would cook dinner, the family would eat together. Weekends were usually spent shopping. Anupama enjoyed the experience and GK often accompanied her. Anuj stayed cooped in his bedroom barking directions to unsuspecting staff members.

The routine warmed Anupama's heart. It was all so natural, the teasing, the banter, the nostalgia and laughter, the thoughtful gestures.

Her Kanhaji had his own temple. GK and Anuj encouraged her to offer daily prayers. What more, they also participated. Anupama was moved by the fact that she was finally part of a normal judgment-free life.

She looked forward to her time with the family, her conversations with GK, her banter with Anuj. Each day she retired with a smile on her face. Each morning, as she looked at the calendar and crossed one more day off, she felt a pang - this fairytale life of hers wouldn't last forever. But she'd learnt to enjoy things while they lasted. So instead of brooding, she enjoyed her time with Anuj and GK. When all of this was over, she'd still have these beautiful memories.

Anuj and Anupama fell into a companionable friendship. He would often regale her with stories from his business circles and she would tell him about what happened at school. She would give him her opinion and he would give her his, although it was pretty evident that neither Anupama knew much about business, nor Anuj about teaching.

Each night after they retired, Anupama noticed the light on in Anuj's room. He was working and often did until the wee hours of the morning. She wanted to tell him authoritatively to put his laptop and cellphone away and go off to sleep. She had no right to. So she kept quiet, leaving a midnight snack, a jug of water, or a cup of tea for Anuj, should he feel the need for it during the night.

Ever so often she missed her son Samar. She'd always had a soft corner for the child who'd given her those much-needed hugs and wiped her tears.

Once she casually mentioned that to Anuj Kapadia and he'd arranged for the mother and son to have a lunch date at a fancy restaurant near her school. The joy and gratitude she felt at his gesture was simply unbelievable. Her life was happy, her life was peaceful. If only her life continued to remain this way. She loved taking care of them. She relished it when they took care of her.

As she continued to cross days off the calendar; she felt a growing sense of melancholy. All of this would end if she didn't say something. And while she'd managed to say a lot of things to Anuj and GK in her short time with them, she somehow always felt tongue-tied when it came to telling Anuj what she felt about him. She worried about her ability to jinx it all by simply voicing her happiness. And so she stayed silent, albeit with a heavy heart.

But she prayed, often, for world peace, forgetting that she too was part of that same world.

It was one such rainy night when Anuj came home dripping wet. Worried he might catch a cold, she'd asked him to take a hot shower and change while she made ginger tea to help with the symptoms.

Clad in a white kurta pyjama, he sat on the sofa sipping on his tea, while she gently towelled his hair dry. She had an insane urge to lash out at him for his irresponsible behaviour. Instead, she politely asked him to apply some vaporub and retire for the night, knowing fully well that he wasn't going to take her advice.

She wished he had. When GK went to wake Anuj up in the morning, his body was on fire. Anuj Kapadia was running a 104-degree temperature.