Life Lately

“He’s got his mother’s eyes and his father’s ambition.” ~ Superman

Mist settled as the sun peeked out from the cloudy sky. The winter morning was just like any other. The neighbourhood in Udaipur's Fatehpura area woke to the paperboy’s cycle bell at dawn. “Paper! Paper!” He carried on with his duty, throwing the papers perfectly at each doorstep and even to the second-floor balconies of the apartments.

A newspaper landed between the black railings of the first-floor apartment, in between the nicely placed pots of flowering plants. A wind chime with small blue elephants and horses, attached to tinkling bells, swayed in the breeze.

“Baccha! Are you awake?” A voice rang from the kitchen. It smelled of buttered bread and cheese omelettes in the small apartment. Sundays were spent at home cooking the best food, and also for occasional visits to their favourite places. “Amar?” She frowned at the silence, peeking out of the kitchen briefly, spatula in hand.

A boy, about seven, in his white and red Mickey-printed pyjamas, rubbed his eyes as he peeped through the balcony door and collected the paper. He then, reluctantly in his sleepy, slow walk, made his way to the dining table, dragging his feet, and sat up in one of the two chairs, spreading the paper in front of him, as he saw his mother do each morning.

“Good Morning.” She called cheerfully from the kitchen, tossing the omelette on a blue plate with a smile as she heard the chair being dragged out.

“’ Morning, Mamma.” He managed in a soft voice as he read the headlines. He had just learnt to spell and read sentences and difficult words in school, and he always omitted the harder ones. The glossy pages full of celebrity pictures attracted his attention.

“P-R-A-T-A-P Partap? Umm…. “ he continued a little louder, hoping his mother would hear him read and praise how he had grown up. “S-I-N-G-H … Singh! … TO …. M-A-R-R-Y…. Mary?” He stopped as his mother kept down the plate of toast and omelette and stared at the page. In a flash, she snatched the paper from him and ordered in a quite serious tone, “Amar, the breakfast will get cold! Go clean yourself fast while I make your Bournvita. Now!”

“Okay, Mamma!” Amar knew that when his mother used this tone of voice, he was not supposed to nag. Unlike other kids his age, he was more mature and responsible, or so Khala often said. He got down from the chair and rushed to his room, while she sat down on the same chair and stared at the paper.

“Pratap Singh to Marry Rajkumari Phool Kanwar Rathore”. She had a pensive smile as her eyes fell on the perfect family picture below. The business tycoon Udai Singh smiled his happiest, with Phool Kanwar giving him tough competition for the title. Pratap stood beside them, his hand on her waist, with a faint smile on his face. Beside him, his mother looked elegant. Heer refused to smile, while Shakti held her hand and posed. Her hand hovered over Heer’s baby bum with a smile. It was showing. It carefully stopped at his face, noticing the diamond ring on the hand wrapped around his arm. She let out a sigh as her phone rang. She smiled. This Sisodia lady would never listen to the court order. She picked it up.

“Hello?” She sounded cheerful.

“Jija?” There was a slight, unsure frown on the other side.

“How are you, Heer?” She managed a smile. “You look so gorgeous in the front paper.”

“About that, Jija…. Umm… I swear… I….” She stopped to lower her voice. “I didn’t know that Dad would announce an engagement at my baby shower, and also I am sure even Dadabhai…”

“Heer.” His mention made her clench her jaw. “I don’t need an explanation, not from you or anyone. I am glad he moved on. Like I did.”

“Jija… Amar…” Heer exhaled.

“I can’t talk right now. I will call you later. Bye.” She disconnected the call as her son came running back in a fresh pair of trousers and a T-shirt with Spider-Man on it.

“Mamma, where is Bournvita?” He frowned.

“Making it right now!” She caressed his messy hair and gave a peck on his forehead. Before making it obvious, she carefully picked up the paper and took it with her to the kitchen and threw it in the dustbin.

“Mamma, are we going to the party?” Amar spoke between his toasts. “Please say yes.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s Sunday. We can visit them some other…”

“Why, Mamma? I want to go! We never go to birthday parties. Aarchi Didi said they would have my favourite cake. Please, Mamma! Please.” Before she knew it, the child was tugging at her kaftan rather violently.

“Alright, let’s see. Wait, let me call and check.” She picked up her phone, dialled a number and walked to the balcony away from the boy, who was smiling happily and resuming his breakfast.

“Ajab? Did you see the paper…?” Ajabdeh smiled at her friend’s question.

“Amar and I will be at the party, Saubhagyawati.” She confirmed, ignoring the question. “Will anyone else we might know be there?” 

“No! Yesterday, he said he couldn’t make it. Now I know exactly why!” She heard her friend sound a little upset.

“ We will see you soon.” Ajabdeh pressed the red button and went back outside with a smile.

“What will Amar wear at the party?” made him jump, saying, “I will choose! I will choose!” before he dashed to his room, quickly gulping down the Bournvita.