Ronit is frustrated

It’s strange walking with Neeti like this. Things were not like this with Vaishali. We would walk together holding hands, sometimes I would keep my hand on her waist and she would rest her head on my shoulder. We used to enjoy going for walks late in the evening. I can’t imagine that level of comfort with Neeti. She is so conscious of the surroundings and somehow distant. This one time I took her to a cake shop and bought her favorite choco-chip cake for her. When we were waiting for the cake to be put into a box for us I casually put my arm around her waist. She jumped away from me, looked around and then glared at me as if I had committed a crime or something. It's not like I was trying to make out with her in the middle of the street! She is just so annoying sometimes! Why should I care though? I didn’t marry her because I necessarily wanted a wife. I simply married her because my parents needed a daughter-in-law.

'You're stuck with me for life!' Soon to be published. 

Neeti is bored

Lying down comfortably in the plush bed at the hotel, I can see intricate floral patterns lining the moulding of the ceiling. One pink flower after every third green leaf. I count fifteen flowers on the long side and twelve on the short side of the ceiling. I am extremely conscious of the large wall-mounted TV staring at me, daring me to turn it on. But what is the point of coming so far away from home if I’m just going to sit in the room and watch TV? It has been an hour since we came to the room and Ronit is still sleeping. He didn’t even bother to change into more comfortable pajamas and jumped into bed in his jeans. Can’t be too comfortable sleeping in those. That too with a T-shirt that has an uncomfortable looking collar. 

I don’t understand this concept of being so lazy on vacations. On working days he is so active and full of energy. From his morning workout, to long days at the office, to evening errands and grocery runs, he is quite a Duracell-bunny. But the moment the weekend approaches, he becomes a completely different person altogether. He wakes up late in the morning, has breakfast, and goes back to sleep. Then he wakes up for some time to have lunch, and then it’s time for his afternoon nap. All that is still fine at home, but right now we are at a new, exciting, and beautiful place. I can’t waste my holiday like this. I need to be in charge of my own entertainment!

'You're stuck with me for life!' eBook soon to be published on Kindle. 

Unbelievable!

Ronit:

I am standing on the highway, practically in the middle of nowhere, with potato chips in one hand and a bottle of water in the other hand. My car doesn’t work and this woman has suddenly decided to sprout a temper! What a way to celebrate my wedding anniversary! 

But really, where is all this attitude coming from anyway? First she wants to see that ridiculous park. Then she wants to control my vacation and make it into a military drill. And then she wants to yell at me for breaking my own car! Who breaks their own car? Obviously it was an accident! And who yells at the victim of an evil speed-breaker? That too, a victim who is shortly going to have to shell out a significant sum of money to fix the damned radiator! This is practically inhuman! And now she is behaving as if she is doing me a great favour by bringing me these potato chips. These chips which will make me grow fat and have a heart attack! What can I do about it though? I am the fool who got emotionally blackmailed into bringing home a daughter-in-law for my family. I have no option but to eat these deadly high-calorie chips and hope to die quickly when the heart attack comes.

'You're stuck with me for life!' eBook to be published soon on Kindle. 

He doesn't understand, of course!

Here are a few lines from my upcoming novel 'You're stuck with me for life!'

Neeti is on a road-trip with her husband on their first wedding anniversary. Things are not going as she had hoped.

Neeti:

As the sun sets on the evening of our first wedding anniversary we are not gazing at the Taj Mahal together, real or replica. We are sitting in our broken-down car being towed into Kota city by a very questionable-looking van with a very scary-looking crew. We are moving very slowly, keeping to the leftmost lane.  As we approach the city, I can see the bright tail-lights of more and more cars ahead of us. Suddenly, my phone begins to ring. It’s my mother. 

“Hello.” I say in a measured tone as I pick up the phone.

“How are you beta?”, asks Maa, “Have you reached Kota? Have you checked-in at the hotel?”

She sounds quite tense.

“Yes Maa. We have reached Kota. We are right outside the hotel.” I lie.

No point in adding to her stress. 

I look towards Ronit. He glances at me with a questioning look on his face.

“Was the journey comfortable?” Maa goes on.

“Yes, it was very comfortable. Achha, Maa, I need to go and check into the hotel now. Can I call you later?” I say, wanting to bring the conversation to a quick end.

Lying to my mother is not easy for me.

“Yes of course beta. Take care.” she says.

I cut the call.

“It was Maa. I didn’t want to worry her.” I tell Ronit.

“What’s the big deal?” He asks “I told Amma and Baba everything. Why lie?”

He doesn’t understand, of course.

 

Dhaba on a highway

 

These are some photographs I have taken in eateries on highways (dhabas) during road-trips that I have been on with my husband across Central India. 

Here are a few lines from my soon to be published novel 'You're stuck with me for life' where Neeti and Ronit take a lunch-break while on a road-trip from Indore to Ranthambore:

Neeti:

“Look out for decent dhabas”, Ronit instructs me, “We need to stop somewhere for lunch.”

“I see one coming up on the left.” I inform him.

“Seems too basic”, he says, narrowing his eyes in disapproval before he continues, “There are no cars parked there. Try to spot one where a lot of cars are parked. Cars, not trucks, mind you.”

His comment brings back memories from a long time ago. Papa used to joke that some dhaba-walas probably park old cars in front of their establishments to convince people about the quality of their wares. It seems people are more likely to stop at an unknown eatery if they find it somewhat crowded. Of course, people of a similar social strata are the ones that count in this equation, hence Ronit’s comments about avoiding the dhabas with too many trucks. Finally, we settle on one that claims to be a 'Jain family restaurant'. There are over half a dozen cars parked in front of the single-storied structure. The wide entrance leads to a covered sitting area with plastic tables and chairs. There are a few khatiyas on one side with wooden boards serving as tables. To the left of the sitting area is a small shop with streams of brightly coloured packets of snacks hanging from one side. There is a small freshly painted yellow building on the right with T-O-I-L-E-T written in big, bold, blue letters. The place looks promising. I hope the toilet is clean.

Ronit:

I take off my sunglasses and place them on a red plastic table. The sitting area is quite airy and open. About half the seats in the eatery are taken. It doesn’t feel crowded. I look around for a waiter and wave my hand to grab his attention before I take a seat.

“Kya lenge sahab?” The middle-aged waiter asks, bending his right shoulder towards me, focusing his ears to receive instructions. The blue and white checkered gamcha on his left shoulder seems somewhat at odds with his well worn dark trousers and cream shirt.

“Ek dal tadka, ek jeera aloo, chaar roti.” I inform him. It’s best to keep the menu simple.

“Tandoori roti or chapati?” He asks, his eyes focused on the edge of the red table in front of me.

“Which one will I get faster?” I retort, wanting to know the implication of my choices.

“Everything is fast.” He says, looking towards me with pride and confidence. No doubt an eatery on the highway must often need to cater to customers in a rush.

“Get me tandoori rotis then.”, I decide, “No butter. And be quick with the food.”

Having received the requisite instructions the waiter walks to the large window of the open-ish kitchen right in front of me and has a chat with a stout man in a brown ganji who is stirring some concoction in a large black kadhai using a giant ladle. I wonder if some of the contents of that kadhai are going to end up on my table.

 

Tiger! Really?

 

I took these photographs at the tiger reserve at Ranthambore many years ago. Here are a few lines from my novel 'You're stuck with me for life!' that are inspired from that trip:

Whether one manages to spot a tiger during a safari in the wild life sanctuary or not is kind of luck of the draw, but the zone that your vehicle gets assigned plays a big role in determining your chances. The zones are supposed to ensure an even distribution of vehicles in the national park and prevent overcrowding of the most popular spots. Even though all zones are supposed to have some probability of allowing the sighting of a tiger, not all zones are equal. From what I understand, zones 1 to 5 are known for more frequent tiger sightings. Unfortunately, our canter is assigned to zone 8. The driver of the canter and his companion, who is serving as our tour guide, are trying their best to sound optimistic. As the gates to the national park are opened, all the vehicles that had been waiting in line enter the park. Some of the open jeeps that can be hired at a higher price than that of booking a seat on a canter enter the park with a bit of urgency. Some other vehicles, like our canter, move forward at a relaxed pace, knowing that the odds of any exciting events are on the lower side. The terrain in this zone is a bit hilly. We come across rocky patches along the way. When we find no tigers near a water-body that we cross, the guide tries to divert our attention towards an owl sitting in the hollow of a tree. He is trying to convince us that citing an owl in the morning is supposed to be the most magical thing ever, but I’m sure most people know that’s not true.

“See! Pugmarks! There is definitely a tiger close by!” The guide says excitedly after some time.  

Really? I don’t think so. It’s all drama.

There are other nice animals to see besides the tiger. We spot a few different types of deer. We also spot birds of different shapes and sizes. Overall it’s not so bad. But not quite as magical as it could have been. Kind of like my life. 

"Sherni hai Sahab!"

I took this photograph on a visit to the tiger reserve at Ranthambore many years ago. Certain events on that trip inspired me to write my first novel 'You're stuck with me for life!'. I intend to publish it soon. Here are a few lines from the current draft of the novel:

I look up at the clear pale blue sky. I take a deep breath of the crisp morning air and my gaze shifts to the hills on the other side of the lake. Even in the barren winter landscape, there are patches of green on them, no doubt from the large evergreen trees that the forest is peppered with. On this side of the lake we have left the forest cover behind us and our vehicle is parked on a barren stretch of land dusted with red soil. I gaze at the bank of the lake that is a patchwork of red soil and golden grass punctuated with black rock jutting from within. The tiger’s golden coat with black stripes makes it look absolutely at home in its surroundings. The territorial beast walks around the golden grass for a while before it settles on a patch that seems to be to its liking and sits down in a majestic pose.

“Sherni hai, sahab” The driver of our jeep says, letting us know that the tiger we have spotted is a full grown female.

She looks like she thinks she owns the place, doesn’t she?