bottles and tubes but this was rocket science. I couldn’t figure out what could be applied and where, how it was to be applied and to which part of the body, so I put everything back and shut the cupboard again. Never mind. I’m not that bad. I have what it takes in the proportions required. That will have to do.
I decided that I wasn’t coming home for lunch; I’d eat with him. The only problem was that his school closed in a fortnight or so. He wouldn’t turn up at the gallery then. It didn’t work out quite like that. One day, he turned up at the gallery with four or five boys, all of whom also seemed to be bumbling about in a trance. His classmates, he said, and introduced me. Strange names they had: Vishwang, Orayan, Bahaar, Sahadev. Sahadev got to the point: ‘We need a model to pose for us. Figure work. Would you?’
‘Nude?’ I asked.
‘No, no,’ Orayan said. ‘We just like something in your face, something about your spirit.’
I thought about the face I had examined in the mirror earlier that day. Spirit, eh? Why not?
‘What do I have to do?’
I’d just have to sit there. My shift at Green Earth ended at three o’ clock. I agreed to sit for them between three and six.
‘We can’t pay you. Do you mind?’
I hadn’t even thought there’d be money involved.
While this was going on, he was looking at one of the pictures of the pavement artists. ‘In return, lunch will be on me,’ he said. ‘My company thrown in free.’
I began to laugh. I realized that I was overreacting when even the doped out types began to look puzzled. I controlled myself and threw in a demand.
‘And guitar lessons. You were going to teach me, remember?’
2 August
Today, I woke up early as usual. At seven o’clock, Sakhubai, who does the floors, was dragging a rusty table along the floor. The ugly sound brought on the goosebumps and total wakefulness.
I ran into the passage and shouted, ‘Can’t you lift that damned thing?’
Her face fell and I felt ashamed. I took one end of the table and helped her lift it.
Aai and Maushi came back from their morning walk. When Aai goes visiting, she wears only salwar kameez. Maushi’s kameez flapped around Aai like a tent. She was wearing Maushi’s canvas shoes too but still, the effect was rather pleasing. To top it all, she had a big fat kunku and a shiny mangalsutra on.
I got dressed and left and then was forced to return. I had no money. I hadn’t needed any for a while. Aai took out some money and said, ‘On your way back, can you get some shengdaana and sabudaana? It’s Tuesday tomorrow and this Sharayu has nothing I can eat. Here’s three hundred more. You don’t have anything left, do you?’
It took me nearly an hour to get to the city. I walked around with no purpose, no intention, no direction. The shops were only just beginning to open. The chaiwalla was surrounded by college students. Traffic began to increase. Old men, sweaty from badminton, were chatting with their friends as they kick-started their recalcitrant bikes. My feet took me to the gallery. I thought I shouldn’t linger, it might set me back. But then I felt: I’m tired of this fear. Let’s see what happens.
I stopped at the chowk and looked around.
Within a few minutes, a young man arrived, wearing the familiar green T-shirt and cap of the Green Earth volunteers. He pulled out his forms and began to arrange them.
My stomach hollowed out. Only my life was on hold. Everyone else was going about their business. The honking of the cars started to worry me. I wanted to go home. He was gone. I turned quickly towards the terminal from where a bus could take me back to Sharayu Maushi’s home. Every spot on the road began to remind me of him. The traffic roared past. The exhaust made me feel dizzy. I began to rush along, pushing past women shopping from the roadside vendors. I got into a bus that was as hot as a stove and returned home. I rushed to the bathroom and splashed my face with
I decided that I wasn’t coming home for lunch; I’d eat with him. The only problem was that his school closed in a fortnight or so. He wouldn’t turn up at the gallery then. It didn’t work out quite like that. One day, he turned up at the gallery with four or five boys, all of whom also seemed to be bumbling about in a trance. His classmates, he said, and introduced me. Strange names they had: Vishwang, Orayan, Bahaar, Sahadev. Sahadev got to the point: ‘We need a model to pose for us. Figure work. Would you?’
‘Nude?’ I asked.
‘No, no,’ Orayan said. ‘We just like something in your face, something about your spirit.’
I thought about the face I had examined in the mirror earlier that day. Spirit, eh? Why not?
‘What do I have to do?’
I’d just have to sit there. My shift at Green Earth ended at three o’ clock. I agreed to sit for them between three and six.
‘We can’t pay you. Do you mind?’
I hadn’t even thought there’d be money involved.
While this was going on, he was looking at one of the pictures of the pavement artists. ‘In return, lunch will be on me,’ he said. ‘My company thrown in free.’
I began to laugh. I realized that I was overreacting when even the doped out types began to look puzzled. I controlled myself and threw in a demand.
‘And guitar lessons. You were going to teach me, remember?’
2 August
Today, I woke up early as usual. At seven o’clock, Sakhubai, who does the floors, was dragging a rusty table along the floor. The ugly sound brought on the goosebumps and total wakefulness.
I ran into the passage and shouted, ‘Can’t you lift that damned thing?’
Her face fell and I felt ashamed. I took one end of the table and helped her lift it.
Aai and Maushi came back from their morning walk. When Aai goes visiting, she wears only salwar kameez. Maushi’s kameez flapped around Aai like a tent. She was wearing Maushi’s canvas shoes too but still, the effect was rather pleasing. To top it all, she had a big fat kunku and a shiny mangalsutra on.
I got dressed and left and then was forced to return. I had no money. I hadn’t needed any for a while. Aai took out some money and said, ‘On your way back, can you get some shengdaana and sabudaana? It’s Tuesday tomorrow and this Sharayu has nothing I can eat. Here’s three hundred more. You don’t have anything left, do you?’
It took me nearly an hour to get to the city. I walked around with no purpose, no intention, no direction. The shops were only just beginning to open. The chaiwalla was surrounded by college students. Traffic began to increase. Old men, sweaty from badminton, were chatting with their friends as they kick-started their recalcitrant bikes. My feet took me to the gallery. I thought I shouldn’t linger, it might set me back. But then I felt: I’m tired of this fear. Let’s see what happens.
I stopped at the chowk and looked around.
Within a few minutes, a young man arrived, wearing the familiar green T-shirt and cap of the Green Earth volunteers. He pulled out his forms and began to arrange them.
My stomach hollowed out. Only my life was on hold. Everyone else was going about their business. The honking of the cars started to worry me. I wanted to go home. He was gone. I turned quickly towards the terminal from where a bus could take me back to Sharayu Maushi’s home. Every spot on the road began to remind me of him. The traffic roared past. The exhaust made me feel dizzy. I began to rush along, pushing past women shopping from the roadside vendors. I got into a bus that was as hot as a stove and returned home. I rushed to the bathroom and splashed my face with
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