suitable flat for Vineet and his mother, not for me to build dreams from dream houses, and so at each property I would think about all its advantages and disadvantages, always keeping in mind the needs of these two people. At each property, Vineet and I would not only spend time at the show flat, but we would walk around the whole complex with the agent and ask him questions about power back-up and water supply, facilities offered, malls and hospitals nearby, and what not. Then after we would finish, Vineet would turn to me and ask me for my comments, which I would think about carefully before saying. And I think that he thought that my comments were quite useful.
After looking at properties, Vineet suggested that we go to eat Chinese food at a restaurant in the Sector 18 market in Noida. I agreed, and the food was very tasty. But then suddenly, in the middle of eating, he again asked me about my so-called brother. Obviously I was a little bit shocked. I was even a little bit angry that he had brought up this topic again. But then I realised that it was understandable that he did. Bobby was just a walking skeleton when Vineet saw us at the station, he was just a set of bones holding on to its mother. So, I decided to answer him properly this time. And when I started talking, I just could not stop. I blabbered on and on about the sad little story of my sick little brother, I told him about all the little, little things that had happened, I told him about how difficult everything was, and I don’t know for how long I talked. I just could not stop. It was very odd behaviour. I never ever talk about my son like that to anybody. Actually, is there any parent who would? So why did I talk like this today? And with Vineet? I have spent some time this evening thinking about this and I think that I finally have an answer. I talked freely about Bobby’s problems because I was talking about my so-called brother, not my son. I talked freely because it is much easier to talk about a troubled brother than to talk about a troubled child. I talked freely because my troubled brother’s troubles are not my fault.
So, at this Chinese restaurant I talked and talked about Bobby, and Vineet listened with those same small, serious eyes fixed steadily on my eyes, and then just when we were going to finish our food, he gave me this odd type of look, this look where his eyes suddenly became bright and scared at the sametime, and then, just like that, he reached over the table and put his hand on my arm.
I allowed it to rest there, Vineet’s hand. It was a warm, heavy hand, it was the hand of a man. It was not even two centimetres bigger than my hand, but it had much more weight. I know that this sounds almost funny, but as it rested there, this hand on my arm, I suddenly remembered the first time that my husband had laid his body down on me. I remembered how I had thought, during those moments, that even though my husband was slim and hardly one inch taller than me, he was much, much heavier than me, and I remembered how I had then said to myself, while my husband’s body was still on top of me, I had said to myself, Renu, this is what it is. All this love and romance and everything that happens between a man and a woman? This is what it is. It is the greater density of a man’s bones, the greater weight of him that will give to his woman both peace and pain.
The truth is that for that one minute I wanted to take Vineet’s hand, that hand that lay on my arm, and I wanted to put it on another part of my body. But I got up. I got up so suddenly that my chair fell back. Vineet also jumped up. Then I told him that it was getting late and I had to go back home now. He muttered something that I could not understand and we left.
When I reached home it was two o’clock and I could not believe it but my Bobby had prepared lunch, a poori-aloo lunch, for both of us. What was a bigger surprise was how clean thekitchen was. I had to pretend that I had
After looking at properties, Vineet suggested that we go to eat Chinese food at a restaurant in the Sector 18 market in Noida. I agreed, and the food was very tasty. But then suddenly, in the middle of eating, he again asked me about my so-called brother. Obviously I was a little bit shocked. I was even a little bit angry that he had brought up this topic again. But then I realised that it was understandable that he did. Bobby was just a walking skeleton when Vineet saw us at the station, he was just a set of bones holding on to its mother. So, I decided to answer him properly this time. And when I started talking, I just could not stop. I blabbered on and on about the sad little story of my sick little brother, I told him about all the little, little things that had happened, I told him about how difficult everything was, and I don’t know for how long I talked. I just could not stop. It was very odd behaviour. I never ever talk about my son like that to anybody. Actually, is there any parent who would? So why did I talk like this today? And with Vineet? I have spent some time this evening thinking about this and I think that I finally have an answer. I talked freely about Bobby’s problems because I was talking about my so-called brother, not my son. I talked freely because it is much easier to talk about a troubled brother than to talk about a troubled child. I talked freely because my troubled brother’s troubles are not my fault.
So, at this Chinese restaurant I talked and talked about Bobby, and Vineet listened with those same small, serious eyes fixed steadily on my eyes, and then just when we were going to finish our food, he gave me this odd type of look, this look where his eyes suddenly became bright and scared at the sametime, and then, just like that, he reached over the table and put his hand on my arm.
I allowed it to rest there, Vineet’s hand. It was a warm, heavy hand, it was the hand of a man. It was not even two centimetres bigger than my hand, but it had much more weight. I know that this sounds almost funny, but as it rested there, this hand on my arm, I suddenly remembered the first time that my husband had laid his body down on me. I remembered how I had thought, during those moments, that even though my husband was slim and hardly one inch taller than me, he was much, much heavier than me, and I remembered how I had then said to myself, while my husband’s body was still on top of me, I had said to myself, Renu, this is what it is. All this love and romance and everything that happens between a man and a woman? This is what it is. It is the greater density of a man’s bones, the greater weight of him that will give to his woman both peace and pain.
The truth is that for that one minute I wanted to take Vineet’s hand, that hand that lay on my arm, and I wanted to put it on another part of my body. But I got up. I got up so suddenly that my chair fell back. Vineet also jumped up. Then I told him that it was getting late and I had to go back home now. He muttered something that I could not understand and we left.
When I reached home it was two o’clock and I could not believe it but my Bobby had prepared lunch, a poori-aloo lunch, for both of us. What was a bigger surprise was how clean thekitchen was. I had to pretend that I had
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