Lockdown Diaries — Chinks in Relationships
There’s something about being successful in life. The aura of it. The pride of it. The feeling of happily ever after. Even, if there’s a phase like that in anybody’s life at all. Aman adjusts his spectacles and rocks back on his chair thinking about what he could do with his own life. He has just finished his 11th standard exams and the all-important board exams are donning upon him.
It was almost as if he completed his 10th standard board exams yesterday when he looked at the happy pictures of his classmates on his table. Aman, the not-so-popular one, standing with a low key smile on his scrawny face and ruffled hair. He’s gained a little weight in the last year, but his mother isn’t satisfied.
“Ah it’s already 11, I should hit the bed,” Aman dutifully puts his books back onto the shelf. He has been decent in academics in school, but the one thing he is even better at is organizing things.
“India records its biggest single-day spike as we move into the tenth day of the nation-wide lockdown. Delhi and Maharashtra are leading the charts as far as the states in India are concerned,” says the news presenter. “Oh no, this is never going to end, don’t know how many more days we have to wake up to this Ma,” says Aman, half yawning at the television while standing in the living room the next morning. ‘Arre beta, go have breakfast first, I have to wash the dishes before I start cleaning the house. We can’t call our maid also.’
This seemed to be the usual routine for the Mehras in a two-bedroom apartment in South Delhi as the Coronavirus continued to infiltrate the entire world. Aman would wake up at 11 am since he doesn’t have to go to school. He would curse at the news, and then eat his breakfast quietly. Then his mother would clean the house as Aman would take a shower. They barely crossed each other’s paths throughout the day. Aman’s mother Anjali would try to cook all the dishes for the day before Aman woke up and then she would take care of the other household chores as Aman did some light reading or watched television. Aman did reluctantly ask once or twice if he could help with anything, but Anjali ignored him. She wasn’t going to entertain half-hearted help. They have some light conversations during meals, but nothing in detail about each other’s lives. This has been the norm in the house for many years.
Anjali Mehra was just 21 when she married Rakesh Mehra, a successful businessman, in 2002. Anjali had just finished her university exams when her family asked her to meet Rakesh, who was 31 at that time. Anjali hasn’t known any other way of life. Coming from a moderately conservative family in Jaipur, she was always told that one day she will need to marry into an unknown person’s family and take charge of all the household chores.
With a beautiful face and a sweet voice, Anjali was always the topper in school and university. Her teachers had a lot of expectations from her, but Anjali found happiness in the ways her parents had laid down for her.
The perfect daughter, wife and mother played her many parts to perfection. She created a loving and warm atmosphere for her family when she moved to Delhi with Rakesh. She learned how to cook exquisite dishes at home itself, which kept Rakesh very happy and Aman too when he arrived two years into their marriage.
It was a perfect world for Anjali. Rakesh earned a good income through his export-import spices business and he was always there to support Anjali in any way he could. She had no intention of working so the conversation about her career goals never came up.
“Ma, tomorrow is the 5th April,” says Aman reluctantly. “Yes, I know, but we can’t even go to the temple,” Anjali, laughs nervously. “So we won’t do anything?” “Yes, it’s been two years now, I think your father would want us to move on with our lives.” This is surely a little strange, thought Aman. Anjali on the other hand performed her role as a wife to perfection when Rakesh was alive, and perhaps, in the process never really shared an emotional connection with her husband. She never had a mind of her own. She always had someone else tell her what are the steps to be taken in life. Getting married was just another step. But having an emotional bond with someone else, never really crossed her mind.
Doesn’t she feel things? This was the question on Aman’s mind whenever he spoke to his mother from the day Anjali hinted to just move on from her husband forever.
A few days after Rakesh passed away, the family accountant assured Anjali that she will keep receiving a steady income from Rakesh’s business. The company was taken over by a trusted employee, whom Rakesh had admired. Anjali didn’t want to do anything with the business if she is receiving her share of income on time.
“Beta, let’s go and get vegetables,” Aman and Anjali wear their masks and walk down to the market nearby. There are not many people around due to the lockdown, but fortunately, there was a functioning ATM machine which is a little hard to find in the capital city. Anjali hands the debit card to Aman, “C’mon withdraw money” “Ma, when are you going to learn” “Oh come on, I don’t need to learn when you are there na.”
Many thoughts swam through Aman’s mind at the dinner table later in the day. He had never confronted his parents about anything in his lifetime. Should he ask his mother to open up a bit? Is knowing how to withdraw money from an ATM machine that important or is it much more than that? “What? Are you getting worried about boards?”, says Anjali. Aman looks at her with a pensive look. “No,” Aman gives a quizzing look. ‘But,’ Aman says, stumbling a bit ‘This is about you.’ Aman moved into unfamiliar territory, with no expectations in his mind. “What about me, I’ll learn how to use an ATM machine, don’t worry” “No, it’s about you living on your own terms, not in a way your parents wanted you to,” says Aman shivering, with a slightly higher voice. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Anjali diligently picks up the plates and takes them to the kitchen.
Aman and Anjali continued to get through their days in regular fashion. Some conversations about Aman’s career here and there, but in very minimal detail. They never spoke about the unexpected dinner situation the other day.
Next week, Aman and Anjali went grocery shopping once again. Aman wore a sweatshirt since he was feeling a bit cold. It had rained in Delhi for two days and Anjali was happy to see her son take the necessary precautions. As usual, they walk into the ATM, Aman walks behind his mother. Anjali takes out the debit card from her purse and looks up to hand over the card, but Aman isn’t anywhere near her.
Anjali runs out of the ATM to check for her son, but he is nowhere to be seen. She looks from side to side for a while and then she looks at the debit card and a tear falls on it. She walks back slowly to the ATM machine and she can see her hand shivering. She has a look at the guard but then decides against asking his help. She puts the card in the ATM machine, but it doesn’t work. She turns the card and tries again and to her greatest surprise, it works!
Anjali puts in the pin for the card and withdraws the money. Her hands continue to shiver as she puts the cash in her purse. “Ma” Aman puts his hand on her right shoulder. “Aman, where were you?” “See, I can do things,” Anjali shows her triumphant moment. “I know, I was watching” Anjali looks perplexed. “I was hiding at the cafe opposite to this place.”