5.3 Vhy
Like, by the time I reached the hospital, I learned from a nurse that Mom was out of the operation theatre and back in a private room. She was still under the effect of the anaesthetic and nobody but Dad had been allowed to go in and see her. But Anant-tau was in the waiting room and he looked calm.
Then again, Anant-tau always looks calm. He could have played the Michael Douglas character in Coma, maybe even the Hugh Grant character in Extreme Measures, or the maha cool Anthony Hopkins playing Dr Hannibal Lecter in the under-production movie Hannibal, but as usual I'm ranting on about movies galore. What can I say: It helps me chill, and I really needed to chill at a time like this.
I had got the news about Mom's condition hours after it happened. That's because I spent the afternoon watching a phillum with Ruchi that neither of us really paid much attention to, and after that we just did TP, had a bite, wandered around, the usual stuff. It was only when I came home in the evening that I got the news from our maid Mala, who was still shuddering from the memory. I got goosebumps when she came to the part where she found Mom...I don't even want to repeat it right now, okay? I was feeling lousy as it is for not being there, not coming home sooner...I knew it wasn't my fault, then why did I still feel so guilty, damnit?
I took a moment to breathe, trying to calm myself down. For the first time ever, I wished I had listened to Viv's constant yammering about how yoga helps you control your senses, breathing, vagaira, vagaira...After I was sure I could have a conversation without falling apart, I moved forward again, heading down the corridor and entering the glass-walled waiting room.
Anant-tau was talking to Mikey and Mrs Mudgal. Mrs Mudgal is our neighbour; she's a bit of a gossip and I can't stand the way she yaks to Mom for ages about celebs. Mom says that it's because she's from a middle-class background and she's embarrassed by her son suddenly becoming famous, but it's a hell of a strange way to show it.
They saw me and Anant-tau nodded, calling me over.
"Vaibhav-bete," he said, putting his arm around me and squeezing, "there's nothing to worry about. Your mom is out of danger. She's anaesthetized, so you can't see her for a while. When you do, you'll be a little taken aback at the sight of the stitches, but really, the bandage looks more scary than the wound, and she'll be fine within a month or two."
"A month or two?" I was shocked. "Is it that bad?"
He smiled, but his eyes had that same look that Dad's have when he's dealing with a crisis: strong but also hard. "She'll be home within a week, but yes, the cuts will take a few more weeks to heal completely."
Mrs Mudgal had her hand to her chest, and a hankie clutched in the other hand looked damp. She looked up at me and moaned, "Vaibhav-bete, you should thank God she's all right. When your bai called me, she was so frantic, I knew something terrible had happened, and when I came into your house and saw Sarla-ji lying there, I thought she was..."
She covered her mouth as if trying to block her own words, then continued, "So much blood. And those cuts! Hai Raam."
I glanced at Mikey. He was quiet.
"You okay?" I asked him.
He shrugged as if to say: As okay as can be expected under the circumstances, big brother. The gesture was so Mikey-like, I almost thought for a moment that it was him, my kid brother.
But I knew better.
Anant-tau excused himself for a moment to go speak to someone.
I asked Mikey if he'd go get Mrs Mudgal some coffee from the vending machine down the hallway. The old Mikey, the real Mikey, would have looked at me like I was nuts and turned the volume on his Discman even higher. But this Mikey nodded and went without a word of protest. Proof.
I checked to make sure nobody else was within earshot, then turned to Mrs Mudgal.
"Aunty," I said gently. "Aunty, did you see what happened?"
She shook her head, sniffling a bit into the hankie. I felt sorry for her. She was, like, an old chicken, this was like a shock for her. Major. Watching her struggle to control herself actually made me feel more determined to keep my emotions in check.
"Nahi, bete. Your servant rang my bell. I was on the telephone. I couldn't follow her babbling, so I came to see. I saw your mother lying there on the floor in the passage, next to the telephone. She was concious still, and she said she had already called an ambulance, and she was to be taken to Hinduja Hospital because your tau is a surgeon here. Bas, that's all I know."
I wanted to shake her, to scream at her, 'what do you mean that's all, you must have seen something else? Come on, tell me every last detail!' Like Russell Crowe interrogating a suspect in LA Confidential.
Instead, I said gently, "When I reached home, the other neighbours said that they saw my sister, Viveka, running down the stairs some time before the ambulance came. Did you see her too?"
"Nahi, bete, I didn't even know who had attacked your mother till the servant told me. I thought it was these gangs who go around to houses in the afternoon and stab the housewife and rob the house. But when I asked your mother, she wouldn't say who hurt her. And then she lost consciousness."
"Did you see Viveka, my sister?" I paused after he said it, not wanting to say too much. Although I had already heard the whole story from the maid when I came home from college.
Mrs Mudgal shook her head at first. Then she paused and looked at me through her old-fashioned horn-rimmed glass spectacles.
"Pata nahin, bete, who that person was. But just before the maid rang the bell, in fact just as the bell started ringing, I was sitting in my hall and looking out the window. You know my window faces the downslope of Pali Hill, that empty plot behind our building which is under court dispute for some FSI problem?"
I nodded, willing her to get to the point quickly. I didn't want the duplicate Mikey to return and hear this conversation. I didn't know how much I could trust the guy.
Mrs Mudgal went on:
"So I was talking to one journalist--you know how they are always calling to ask me to comment on Ravi's success, no? I was talking to her on the phone and I was looking out of the window at the empty plot. And I saw someone, I think it was a woman, jump over our building wall into that plot, then run like a madperson across the plot and jump over the other wall on that side. After that, I couldn't see where she went, and the doorbell was ringing."
She looked at me, a strange expression in her eyes. I could see that Mrs Mudgal was trying just as hard as I was to make sense of this bizarre incident.
"That could not have been Viveka, no, bete? Why would she be running away like that? And those walls! How could she jump those walls?! They must be at least eight-ten feet high!"
I was about to say something when Mikey returned.
"Coffee, ma'am," he said maha-politely, offering her the steaming plastic cup. She took it thankfully. Mikey offered one to me too.
I hesitated, then took it. I could always dump it in a trashcan after pretending to take a sip or two. I didn't want him to suspect that I suspected him.
I didn't want to continue the conversation in front of the duplicate Mikey. So I just said, "Mrs Mudgal, aunty, I don't know how to thank you for taking so much trouble to help my mummy at a time like that. I really appreciate it, aunty."
She flapped a hand at me admonishingly, embarrassed but pleased. "Arre, don't say that. It was my duty, bete. What sort of neighbour doesn't help at a time like this?"
Silently, I thought to himself: And what sort of daughter attacks her own mother and injures her enough to put her in hospital, then leaps over ten-foot walls to escape like a runaway criminal?
Definitely not my sister, Viveka. Not the Viveka I knew.
Then again, Anant-tau always looks calm. He could have played the Michael Douglas character in Coma, maybe even the Hugh Grant character in Extreme Measures, or the maha cool Anthony Hopkins playing Dr Hannibal Lecter in the under-production movie Hannibal, but as usual I'm ranting on about movies galore. What can I say: It helps me chill, and I really needed to chill at a time like this.
I had got the news about Mom's condition hours after it happened. That's because I spent the afternoon watching a phillum with Ruchi that neither of us really paid much attention to, and after that we just did TP, had a bite, wandered around, the usual stuff. It was only when I came home in the evening that I got the news from our maid Mala, who was still shuddering from the memory. I got goosebumps when she came to the part where she found Mom...I don't even want to repeat it right now, okay? I was feeling lousy as it is for not being there, not coming home sooner...I knew it wasn't my fault, then why did I still feel so guilty, damnit?
I took a moment to breathe, trying to calm myself down. For the first time ever, I wished I had listened to Viv's constant yammering about how yoga helps you control your senses, breathing, vagaira, vagaira...After I was sure I could have a conversation without falling apart, I moved forward again, heading down the corridor and entering the glass-walled waiting room.
Anant-tau was talking to Mikey and Mrs Mudgal. Mrs Mudgal is our neighbour; she's a bit of a gossip and I can't stand the way she yaks to Mom for ages about celebs. Mom says that it's because she's from a middle-class background and she's embarrassed by her son suddenly becoming famous, but it's a hell of a strange way to show it.
They saw me and Anant-tau nodded, calling me over.
"Vaibhav-bete," he said, putting his arm around me and squeezing, "there's nothing to worry about. Your mom is out of danger. She's anaesthetized, so you can't see her for a while. When you do, you'll be a little taken aback at the sight of the stitches, but really, the bandage looks more scary than the wound, and she'll be fine within a month or two."
"A month or two?" I was shocked. "Is it that bad?"
He smiled, but his eyes had that same look that Dad's have when he's dealing with a crisis: strong but also hard. "She'll be home within a week, but yes, the cuts will take a few more weeks to heal completely."
Mrs Mudgal had her hand to her chest, and a hankie clutched in the other hand looked damp. She looked up at me and moaned, "Vaibhav-bete, you should thank God she's all right. When your bai called me, she was so frantic, I knew something terrible had happened, and when I came into your house and saw Sarla-ji lying there, I thought she was..."
She covered her mouth as if trying to block her own words, then continued, "So much blood. And those cuts! Hai Raam."
I glanced at Mikey. He was quiet.
"You okay?" I asked him.
He shrugged as if to say: As okay as can be expected under the circumstances, big brother. The gesture was so Mikey-like, I almost thought for a moment that it was him, my kid brother.
But I knew better.
Anant-tau excused himself for a moment to go speak to someone.
I asked Mikey if he'd go get Mrs Mudgal some coffee from the vending machine down the hallway. The old Mikey, the real Mikey, would have looked at me like I was nuts and turned the volume on his Discman even higher. But this Mikey nodded and went without a word of protest. Proof.
I checked to make sure nobody else was within earshot, then turned to Mrs Mudgal.
"Aunty," I said gently. "Aunty, did you see what happened?"
She shook her head, sniffling a bit into the hankie. I felt sorry for her. She was, like, an old chicken, this was like a shock for her. Major. Watching her struggle to control herself actually made me feel more determined to keep my emotions in check.
"Nahi, bete. Your servant rang my bell. I was on the telephone. I couldn't follow her babbling, so I came to see. I saw your mother lying there on the floor in the passage, next to the telephone. She was concious still, and she said she had already called an ambulance, and she was to be taken to Hinduja Hospital because your tau is a surgeon here. Bas, that's all I know."
I wanted to shake her, to scream at her, 'what do you mean that's all, you must have seen something else? Come on, tell me every last detail!' Like Russell Crowe interrogating a suspect in LA Confidential.
Instead, I said gently, "When I reached home, the other neighbours said that they saw my sister, Viveka, running down the stairs some time before the ambulance came. Did you see her too?"
"Nahi, bete, I didn't even know who had attacked your mother till the servant told me. I thought it was these gangs who go around to houses in the afternoon and stab the housewife and rob the house. But when I asked your mother, she wouldn't say who hurt her. And then she lost consciousness."
"Did you see Viveka, my sister?" I paused after he said it, not wanting to say too much. Although I had already heard the whole story from the maid when I came home from college.
Mrs Mudgal shook her head at first. Then she paused and looked at me through her old-fashioned horn-rimmed glass spectacles.
"Pata nahin, bete, who that person was. But just before the maid rang the bell, in fact just as the bell started ringing, I was sitting in my hall and looking out the window. You know my window faces the downslope of Pali Hill, that empty plot behind our building which is under court dispute for some FSI problem?"
I nodded, willing her to get to the point quickly. I didn't want the duplicate Mikey to return and hear this conversation. I didn't know how much I could trust the guy.
Mrs Mudgal went on:
"So I was talking to one journalist--you know how they are always calling to ask me to comment on Ravi's success, no? I was talking to her on the phone and I was looking out of the window at the empty plot. And I saw someone, I think it was a woman, jump over our building wall into that plot, then run like a madperson across the plot and jump over the other wall on that side. After that, I couldn't see where she went, and the doorbell was ringing."
She looked at me, a strange expression in her eyes. I could see that Mrs Mudgal was trying just as hard as I was to make sense of this bizarre incident.
"That could not have been Viveka, no, bete? Why would she be running away like that? And those walls! How could she jump those walls?! They must be at least eight-ten feet high!"
I was about to say something when Mikey returned.
"Coffee, ma'am," he said maha-politely, offering her the steaming plastic cup. She took it thankfully. Mikey offered one to me too.
I hesitated, then took it. I could always dump it in a trashcan after pretending to take a sip or two. I didn't want him to suspect that I suspected him.
I didn't want to continue the conversation in front of the duplicate Mikey. So I just said, "Mrs Mudgal, aunty, I don't know how to thank you for taking so much trouble to help my mummy at a time like that. I really appreciate it, aunty."
She flapped a hand at me admonishingly, embarrassed but pleased. "Arre, don't say that. It was my duty, bete. What sort of neighbour doesn't help at a time like this?"
Silently, I thought to himself: And what sort of daughter attacks her own mother and injures her enough to put her in hospital, then leaps over ten-foot walls to escape like a runaway criminal?
Definitely not my sister, Viveka. Not the Viveka I knew.
posted by Ashok K. Banker at 12.10.05
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