Serendipity

29

"Kavya, where's my morning coffee?" This was the third time Vanraj was calling out to her. But Kavya seemed to be nowhere. Sitting on the dining table, he wondered where his wife had disappeared so early in the morning.

"Here," said Leela placing a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of him.

"Thank you Baa," he smiled at his mother, taking a sip, the relish evident in his expressions. No one made coffee like his mother except...

"I was calling Kavya. Have you seen her anywhere?" His mother scrunched her face at that.

"God alone knows. I haven't seen her since I got up. But I do know she was here.

"This newspaper," she pointed to the crumpled mass that she'd carefully straightened with her hands and placed on the dining table, "was lying next to the TV."

Vanraj looked at the vengeance with which that day's newspaper had been treated. What had bothered Kavya to this extent so early in the morning? Come to think of it, she'd been behaving rather odd since they'd returned from Anupama's house a week ago.

Unaware of the thoughts running through her son's head, Leela sighed: "Now that's a rather difficult feat for the newspaper boy to achieve, don't you think?"

Vanraj's eyes dared to peek at the picture on the front page of the newspaper. He flinched. Anupama was looking at Anuj with so much love and adoration. He didn't remember Anupama looking at him ever like that.

"What are you thinking?" His mother's voice broke his thoughts.

"Nothing Baa."

"I know you're feeling sad about Anupama. Like I said don't. It won't take Anuj Kapadia long to figure out who she is."

"Who is she Baa?" This was the first time Vanraj had questioned his mother. If she was surprised, she hid it only too well.

"What do you mean who is she? Don't you know? She's a useless piece of trash. She didn't care for you. She didn't love you. You were so frustrated with her in your life. Isn't that why you sought comfort in Kavya?"

Just then Hasmukh made his way to the dining table and Leela got up to serve her husband his cup of morning tea. Hasmukh glanced at the newspaper and his eyes brightened up seeing Anupama's picture. He smiled, genuinely, for the first time in seven months. As he pulled the newspaper towards him to read what was written, Leela was back with his tea.

"Yes, you too. Read. See what your darling daughter-in-law is up to. Like what she's already done wasn't bad enough."

"Leela," Hasmukh began gently, taking a sip of his tea, "you've heard the saying right, that good things happen to good people?"

Leela nodded her head, unsure of what Hasmukh was trying to say. "Look at yourself and your son. You both did bad things, hurt my lovely Anupama, cheated her, betrayed her trust - look at what your life looks like, now. You, Leela, are taking care of your son at an age when someone should take care of you, and you Vanraj - if a man doesn't know where his wife is at 7 am, he should begin to worry."

He paused, taking another sip of his tea, before continuing: "And look at Anupama. She is getting publicly engaged to India's most eligible bachelor. That man owns 200 such companies that you work for Vanraj, and yet, the love with which he's looking into her eyes......" He pushed the newspaper towards the mother-son duo.

While the two stared at the picture with growing unease, Hasmukh finished his tea and got up. "Leela, next time, put some more ginger and cardamom in the tea. It wasn't spicy enough."

As Hasmukh made his way back to his room, Vanraj's thoughts went back to what his mother had previously said. She hadn't said anything he didn't believe in. And yet, for the first time, he wondered, why did he have such an impression about Anupama. When did he start feeling suffocated by her presence?

Vanraj and Anupama had been married six months and he'd brought her to their village to seek the Goddess's blessings. The Village Goddess was said to be sitting inside a well. Newly married couples would go to the well and sacrifice the most precious thing they owned by throwing it in the well. The Goddess pleased with the sacrifice would then grant them their wish and bless their lives with prosperity.

Away from the daily chores, the constant complaints, and the rigid rules of the Shah house, he'd seen Anupama breathe for the first time. She was a lively girl, full of fervour. The two had danced in the rain and eaten hot toasted corn. Newlywed romance had a charm of its own.

Three days later the couple had visited the well and Anupama had insisted that her sacrifice not be seen by Vanraj. As he'd turned around, he'd heard the sound of ankle bells. Unwilling to break his promise, he'd stood facing away until he heard a splash.

"What did you sacrifice?" He'd asked on their way back home.

"My dreams," she'd replied.

"What happened? What are you thinking about now?"

Vanraj shook his head. His mother would find a way to criticize Anupama again. She'd never really warmed up to Anupama in the last 26 years.

He sighed as he sipped his coffee. He'd made his bed. Now it was time to lie in it.