Leaving on a, well, aeroplane
In this day and age of globalisation, I would have never imagined someone moving to the US could be such breaking news
There was a sudden flurry of activity in our colony. The news caused a massive stir the moment it arrived; in fact, the very manner and method of its arrival was quite dramatic. It was like an anthill shaken out of its stupor by the first droplets of monsoon, and then, the little insects, with something bigger to do (read, talk about), were running helter-skelter, stopping to exchange a few hurried exclamatory sentences when they bumped into one another, quickly moving on to the next gossip columnist.
Phones had started ringing every few seconds across the complex — Mrs. Bhasin to Sushila auntie; from there to Latika auntie, then to Sujata auntie to Shefali bhabi to Meenakshi. Even the men, huffing and puffing in their shorts during their extremely short evening walks, were heard discussing the matter. "Hmmm... my Mrs was saying... you have heard?" From this cryptic dialogue by Binoy uncle, Mr. Bhasin gathered all the world's knowledge. "Oh yes yes... A-25's news you are talking about, right?" (Yes, like in prison, in our complex, families are labelled by their flat numbers.)
My phone and doorbell had rung simultaneously that evening. I had returned at eight after a particularly horrific day at work. The cellphone displayed "Shefali bhabi A-16". I squirmed. "There goes a good 45 minutes of my life," I thought. I answered the phone while attending to the door. And two shrill, shrieking voices swamped me at the same time -- the phone one excited, the doorbell one indignant.
Shefali bhabi (phone): Have you heard?/Meenakshi (door): Am I the first to tell you?
Phone: Our little Sheila and Rahul... (Ahem, little?)/Door: That Rahul and Sheila, hrrrmpf...
Phone: ...the sweet lovely husband and wife.../Door: ...the silly, idiotic wife and husband...
Phone: ...are taking aeroplane to go and live in America!!!!/Door: ...have landed a gig in the US!!!
Phone: Praise God!/Door: Fuckin' Lord!
Well, to be very honest, the crescendo to which everyone's excitement had risen, I had expected something bigger. Massive, in fact. This was kind of a dampener. Who does not go the States nowadays? Actually, I was quite happy for them, maybe even thrilled -- perhaps a bit tired to assess the level of my exuberance. But I could understand where all this was coming from. The auntie clan had something new to discuss, and they still were in awe of AMERICA. And I should think, they were also making lists of gifts they wanted from there every time the couple would visit home. For Meenakshi, exactly the opposite. Rahul is the oiled-hair, roti-sabzi eating, never-overspending, good-boy engineer. Sheila is the stay-at-home, sometimes-gym-visiting, saas-bahu watching, incapable-of-doing-anything-worthwhile wife. So, it pinched Meenakshi. I understood.
The next evening, dutifully, I went to Sheila's house to congratulate the couple, with flowers, pastries et al. Rahul opened the door, the oil from his head seemingly dripping on his cheeks, he was glowing so much. Sheila was -- well, I think I can safely say I was blinded by the dazzle of all the yellow and golden. She was draped in a shiny South Indian silk and was wearing at least half of her wedding jewellery. She was surrounded by a bevy of not-so-beautiful but also grossly overdressed aunties.
I entered with a Cheshire grin. However, the moment their gazes turned to me, the scene froze, for a good two minutes. I got a curt, “Oh, you. Um, come, sit”, (with an implied “if you must”) from Sheila’s mum-in-law. I tried to dodge a few dirty glances from the rest of the troupe. Still trying to figure out what I had done wrong, or rather, what I hadn’t done right, I turned to Sheila, “Hey, grea news, congratu….” I was cut-off by the oozing-with-pride mum-in-law, “Did you not get news yesterday?”’
“Um, yes, I did…” I trailed off, desperate to say, “It was hard NOT to get it, the way you guys had sounded the drumroll.”
“Meenakshi came yesterday only,” mum-in-law snidely added. WHAT?
“Even Rinku came, after college and all,” announced Mrs. Bhasin. (Rinku’s her daughter, and her affair with Ronnie was still hot by the way.) College? COLLEGE? I WORK!
Suddenly, the Queen Bee, Sheila herself, looked at me with a smug, arrogant expression. “It’s okay everyone. What will she know of America? She only knows Indian Standard Time, no?” Everyone cracked up, guffawing like this insipid line was the best joke ever cracked. I stood there sheepishly. And, to my shame, even gave a guilty chuckle.
