Fauzia opened the windows and walked into the balcony. It was going to be a lovely day. A greyish blue morning was on its way, and rain pelted relentlessly on the trees. She loved the Bombay monsoons. People usually expressed surprised at this, and she ended up explaining, sheepishly — “Yes, I do realise I’m very lucky. I have a very short commute to work, and I’ve never really been hassled by the wet weather.” But she was learning to be unapologetic about this quirk of hers. She loved rain and that’s all there was to it. The dark skies, the delicious smell, the cool dampness, the sound of thunder — these things had always spelled adventure and excitement for her. Just one of the many things I’m learning to be unapologetic about, she thought, and smiled. She moved her chair forward to have some rain fall on her feet. A few drops fell into her coffee but she didn’t mind. She wanted to savour the weather while she could, before the day’s work took over all her attention. Anyway, Raghav would be up soon, and he would make her come indoors. He hated the monsoons with an intensity that was almost comical. She smiled again, thinking of him. He is a bit of work, but I love him. I’m sure he finds me as difficult as I find him. It’s not an easy relationship, but he’s worth it.
They had met on the first day of engineering college, and he had asked her out at the end of the first week. Theirs was the only relationship in their circle of friends which had survived the four chaotic years of college. They had connected over so many things — they had grown up in small towns, they were passionate about technology and had acquired patents even before they started college. And they loved dancing. They had married a few weeks after graduating, and had joined the same technology start-up. Raghav is the best thing that has happened to Fauzia, her father had said at the wedding speech. Bagging this amazing man is even more of an achievement than bagging the first rank at IIT, he had said, and people had laughed and cheered. She didn’t mind. She knew he was joking. Everyone knew Fauzia was the center of the universe as far as Dr Hassan was concerned. His clinic was plastered with her certificates and pictures, and his patients used to tell her that all his small talk was about her. I wish he had stayed around to see my name on the IPO. He would have been so proud of me.
She breathed deeply. The smell of coffee mixed with the smell of the wet earth — was there anything like it? It made her feel grateful to be alive. A morning like this made everything exciting. She realised that she was not dreading the difficult conversation that lay ahead of her as much as she had been the night before. Hope was creeping up next to the fear, and it was whispering, it will turn out to be okay. It’s a bit of an unexpected crisis, but it’s a minor crisis, and we’ll manage it together. It might even bring us closer.
Wait, what’s going on? Chitrank was confused. He had sat down to write a short story about a modern Indian couple. There was going to be snappy dialogue, witty back and forth over a breakfast of whole grain toast and muesli. Where were these long descriptions of weather coming from? He had wanted the girl in the story to wake her husband up, sit down to breakfast and start a conversation. Why she was wasting time smiling to herself in the balcony? And what kind of weird name was Fauzia? He didn’t know any Fauzias — where had the name come from? He looked at the notes he had scribbled the day before in his metro ride home. His plot had a Raghav and a Riya. Raghav was still around even though he was sleeping at the moment. But this Fauzia seemed to have had booted Riya out. Chitrank shrugged. Let it be for now, I’ll change the name before I hit publish. But the plot needs to take off soon. You can’t have fifty per cent of your characters sitting and daydreaming in the rain. Raghav needs to wake up and start something.
Raghav walked into the balcony. “How many times, Fauzia, how many times have we had this discussion? I hate starting the day like this! You could have at least closed the windows. Look! This entire edge of the carpet is wet!” He was struggling to control his anger, and his voice was shrill with the effort.
Fauzia jumped up from her chair. “Oh crap! I’m so sorry, sweetie, I really am! I don’t know how I forgot to close the door. I’ll dry the carpet out before I leave for work, I promise.” He continued to glare at her, and she kissed his cheek. “Good morning, you grumpy boy! There’s coffee in the kitchen, please take it? I’m sure that will help you forgive me.”
Raghav walked away without a word. Fauzia sighed, closed the balcony door, and switched on the living room lights, hoping the brightness would cheer him up. She suddenly remembered the coffee she had spilled in the kitchen and groaned. He disliked messy kitchens even more than monsoons. Maybe she could clear away the worst bit before he noticed. She walked quickly towards the kitchen, but she was too late. He had picked up a dishcloth and was wiping the counters. She recoiled when he looked up at her with an expression in which anger, disgust, and exasperation existed in equal parts. She held her arms out in a hug, and said, “Sorry! I swear I was planning on tidying up before you woke up. I was going to do it right after I finished my coffee! I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so early. Why don’t you take your coffee to the couch, and let me clean this? Please?”
He waved her hug away. “No, it’s okay, Fauzia. I’ll do it. I really don’t know why it’s so difficult for you to wipe surfaces right after you spill stuff, instead of fixing points in the future. Go and sit, I’ll join you in five minutes. I’m not mad at you. Please, just go.”
But of course he is mad at me, Fauzia thought. And he is only going to get madder after I’ve told him my bit of news. How do I tell him? She tried a few sentences in her head, and they all made her wince. No, there simply was no painless way to say any of it, she knew that. She sat at the table and waited for him, her heart hammering. Today is the day I should have been extra nice to him, and I ended up annoying him twice before he started his first cup of coffee.
Raghav walked out of the kitchen and sat across the table. He met Fauzia’s appealing eyes and looked away. Her hope, that he might have started to calm down, went away. She touched his hand. “Raghav, I’m really sorry. I feel awful that your day started badly because of me. I’m going to be a lot more attentive. I promise you.”
He pulled his hand away, not looking at her. “It doesn’t matter.”
Fauzia knew from experience that he could hold on to anger for a long time. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to leave him alone for a few hours, then apologise again. By then the worst of his rage would have ebbed. Then he would explain to her in detail how much her behaviour annoyed him, how self-centred she was, and only then would he generously forgive her. Until then, she would need to show her affection in various small ways. She knew the drill but it was so difficult to do all this on a full working day. But she would do it. She smiled brightly and got up. “I’m going to make you some French toast, with cinnamon and nutmeg. And you can have it with the maple syrup that Aarti got us from Montreal. I bet you’ll love it!”
This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, Chitrank thought as he shut his laptop and started to pace around the room. I’m the one writing the story, but it’s going wherever it wants to go! This Raghav fellow is turning out be such a whiny, weird creature, ugh. There’s no way I can bring in that funny dialogue I wrote yesterday, the dialogue that was supposed to be the core of this story. That back and forth was meant to be among two cheerful, fun people. This Fauzia person is taking over my story. It’s like she’s not even a character that I created. She has a mind of her own and she wants to tell her own story.
“No, I don’t want French toast.” A strange silence followed. It looked like she had upset him more than ever before. She was thinking of something safe to say, but Raghav spoke again. “We need to talk about a bunch of things. Please come here and sit.”
She came back to the table, and he continued. “Look, this is not easy for me to say. I’ve been thinking about us a lot. I think we should separate.”
Fauzia blinked. “What? Raghav, don’t be like this! You know I’m trying to become the kind of person you want me to be. And you did say I have improved a lot. Let’s separate! What an unkind thing to say! Uff, so silly, you know you don’t mean it.”
But she knew, from his face, and from the rising dread in her own chest, that he did mean it.
“Fauzia, this doesn’t have anything to do with your — with all this.” He waved his hands about, summarising the various evidences of her ‘inadequate feminine skills’. “I do appreciate that you’ve become a lot tidier, for my sake. It’s not that at all. We’ve just been drifting apart, and I just don’t feel the same way about you anymore.”
She shook her head, disbelieving. She had not seen this coming. “We had sex on Sunday, you said you loved me this Sunday morning!” She knew she was shouting. She felt herself panicking. She suddenly had a vision of her life without him. It would be so lonely.
He winced and looked down at his hands. “Yes, yes. I’m very sorry about Sunday. Didn’t mean to. Just happened. Um. ”
She came closer and tried to hug him. “Listen Raghav, I think you’re very angry with me right now. Can we please talk about this a little later? Tomorrow? When you’re not feeling angry anymore? Please?”
He put his hands in front of him and pushed her gently. He wanted her to see how final this was, how much he meant it. He spoke softly, “I’m not angry. Not even a little bit. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” She continued to shake her head, and he continued, “Fauzia, um. I’m seeing someone else. It has been six months. I’m going to move in with her this week.”
Fauzia looked stunned. But she looked like she finally believed him. He went on. “The thing is, she’s pregnant.”
Chitrank wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead. It was a warm day, and his glass of water was empty. He was thirsty but he was worried that if he got up to get himself water, if he stopped typing now, something awful would happen. He would never know what happened to Fauzia and he would worry about her forever. He had to keep writing.
Fauzia was surprised to see that her hands were wet. She touched her face. That was wet too. This is so strange, she thought. I’m crying and I don’t know that I’m crying. She looked at Raghav, wanting him to see her grief. He would see her crying and he would come and hold her in arms. They would cry together. He would ask for her forgiveness, and she would forgive him, of course she would. She loved him.
Raghav was looking at her, but with distaste. He looked away as soon as their eyes met. He stood up, and cleared his throat. “Look, Fauzia. I’m really sorry about this. But it is the way it is. Marriages break up all the time. I’m sure we can be grown-ups about it.” He walked to the fridge and took out the milk. With his back to her, he chuckled. “And of course the milk is running low. It was your turn to buy grocery this week. There’s just enough for one bowl of muesli. I guess you’ll need to make that french toast for yourself now.”
This demonstration of callousness from him became a gift for her. Fauzia felt a physical lifting away of her pain. She felt as though she had been wearing a wet blanket for years and hadn’t known it until it fell off. The sheer relief of it startled her. Could you get over someone in one moment? She would always remember this moment. She saw her future again, a life without the persistent fear of displeasing him, and felt lightheaded.
He came back to the table and started to eat. He seemed relieved that she wasn’t crying any more. He smiled at her — it was his first smile that morning. She tried to smile back but it was too much effort. She felt exhausted and sleepy. Could she go back to bed for a few hours? Maybe she could call in sick for a day? Her thoughts were interrupted, and she seemed to hear his voice come from far way. Was he saying something to her?
He was. “Yes, I was saying that I just remembered your phone call from last night. You said you wanted to tell me something. What was it?”
Fauzia looked at him blankly. Her thoughts felt muddled and she had no idea what he was talking about.
“Arey, you called me when I was driving last night, and you said you had some news, but you wanted to give it to me in person. Remember?”
She remembered now. Yes she did have some news for him. She felt a nervous giggle rising up her throat. She thought, whoever is writing the plot of my life has an excellent sense of comedic timing.
“Oh yes. The news. So I got called into a meeting with the partners yesterday. You know how kind Subbu is. He had convinced them to tell me before they make an official announcement. So that we can prepare ourselves. Turns out they’re going to let a few people go. They want to cut some of the expenses before the IPO. Four managers will be asked to resign. You’re going to be one of them. I’m sorry.”
Raghav put his spoon down. His ears had turned red. “What? Are you serious? They can’t do this to me! I refuse to believe this. Wait, did you make this happen? I know how popular you are with the board. Did you influence this decision?” He was shouting.
“I guess this is the reason they wanted me to tell you about this before you came into the office today. So that you don’t react like this. They said your ratings over the last two years have remained below 3. Seems like a lot of your reviews had this one phrase — “free rider”. And no, I did not make this happen. Up until 20 minutes ago, I had no reason to want anything bad to happen to you.”
He sputtered. “Who are the other three people being asked to resign?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
He smiled a crooked smile. “Maybe you’re one of them, and that’s why they told you.”
She shook her head calmly, and this irritated him. “Wow, you’re so sure you’re not going to get the axe, huh? That’s some amazing bit of overconfidence, Fauzia Hassan. There are only eight managers on the team right now. If they’re letting four of us go, there is at least a fifty per cent chance you’re one of them!”
“It would actually be a forty three per cent chance, Raghav.” Fauzia said softly.
In normal circumstances, this would have been his cue to sneer and call her a show-off. But he did not seem to have heard her. “Maybe they won’t let you go. They’ll want to keep you in the company to make sure the minority representation stays on track.”
This is not an insult, Fauzia thought. This is another gift. He’s making it all so easy. Was he always so petty and I was so blind that I didn’t notice?
She shrugged. “I’m going to ignore that comment because I know this is difficult for you. The reason I’m not getting fired is that my ratings have been consistent and high, you know that. In fact, they offered me partnership. They think I’m ready.”
Raghav looked like he was going to explode. And Fauzia realised she was able to smile after all. Her tiredness was melting away too. She was looking forward to her workday.
