Page 68 of Made in Mumbai

“Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

Whatever his brain had stopped his tongue from saying was detrimental to his longterm mental health. A few more moments in her presence, and he would open old wounds, bring new salves, and maybe fall deeper into this blackhole. Yes, that’s what she was. A blackhole. Not some sun that drew you into her orbit. This side of her was a blackhole, like those witches of folk stories that tied you to their gazes with magical kohl in their eyes.

Gautam stood to his feet.

“I am really tired. You can relax here. The TV remote, Apple TV, everything is here. My flight is in the afternoon so I’ll see you tomorrow morning and introduce you to my house help and cook. Ok?”

He took steps back — “Alright. Goodnight.” He turned and strode faster, feeling his chest lighter and lighter, his mind emptier and emptier of her thoughts the farther he went from her.

“Hey, Gautam?” Her tiny voice startled him to a stop.

“Yes?”

“We won’t tell anyone in the office, no? About me staying here. I… I don’t want gossip like my landlord to go around the office.”

“Who are you scared of?” He turned bold eyes on her. She was right of course, but when had Maya ever been scared of people talking?

“I am not scared of anybody,” the firebrand retorted. “But I want to stay put at Made in Mumbai for the long haul. These kind of talks, even if for a while, won’t give me my respect for any number of my future days to come.”

He nodded. And left her there, wishing he was sitting with her too. The voices in his head were contrasting and loud. He was going crazy!

13. Dil-E-Nadaan Tujhe Hua Kya Hai

There was something wrong with him. Or his head. Initially, distance from Maya had made it work properly. But then, even the distance of a whole continent between them hadn’t been able to empty his head of her thoughts. Throughout his meetings, market visits, team building… through his lonely hotel nights in Istanbul, through dinners, sightseeing, even bathing — he had thought about her. In 3 days, he had probably taken her name 3000 times in his head. And contacted her only 3 times.

That had been the limit he had placed on himself — one per day. For the first two days he had just texted her, polite and courteous — ‘How are you? Do you have everything you need at the house?’

The third day, he had hovered over the text box for a few seconds, aiming to write a similar message in different words. Then he had gone ahead and pressed the call button.

“Gautam?” Her surprised voice had sounded, engaging him on the second ring. “Is everything ok with you?”

He had laughed. “I called to ask if my house was still standing.”

“The fire brigade just asked me for your insurance guy’s number…”

“Maya?”

She had sputtered into a sweet, tinkling laugh. The woman couldn’t keep a straight face in person, but she had a dry voice on phone calls. He had made a mental note about it.

That call had been longer than he had intended. They had progressed from talking burning houses to her cramps, which had thankfully subsided, to the new Amul ad hoarding on S.V. Road.Typical Maya.At the end of that phone call, Gautam had dragged himself to his next meeting, wishing he could have gone on another minute with her.

Now, as he got down from the airlines Mercedes just outside his building and strode into the concierge, Gautam felt some kind of spark return. He was two days early, the evening was drab but windy for pre-winter, but Maya would be home. It was a bank holiday. That thought made him rush up through the lift and into his flat.

Everything was quiet. He deflated. Maybe she was out. With her office friends. Or that Aarya. The thickest silver lining of tearing up that contract with Amber was goodbye to Aarya. Good riddance. Gautam deposited his suitcase by the kitchen counter and padded to open the windows. If Maya wasn’t here, he at least needed fresh air. He opened it, stepped out, and that’s when he heard it. Her crying.

He turned and walked down the deck, closer to her bedroom. Stopped.

Her window was open, and she sat on the lounger, feet tucked under her, silently crying. Her hair was in a disarray, her soft pink T-shirt ridden up as she massaged her swollen belly. She looked so small, and vulnerable. His heart squeezed. Did she not feel well? That thought came late and he was about to step forward when her next words froze him.

“Would you forgive me one day…” she hiccupped. “When you are all grown up. I mean… I will make sure you grow up very well. A very nice person. But when you would know that I wasn’t a very good pre-mom, would you forgive me? Your nana and nani have it all, you could have had it all. But you may not. If ever I cannot give you something, would you always remember it and throw it in my face one day?”

Gautam swallowed.

“Listen,” she cried silently to her belly, “You cannot do that, ok? I am telling this to you right now — my intentions will always be the best for you. If I cannot give you something, it’s because I tried and tried but failed. And yes, I spent my youth thinking Maya Kotak can never fail. But baby, adults do fail. And it’s ok if they fail for themselves, but not when they fail for their kids… see now, I haven’t been able to secure us a house. But I promise I will. Before you come, we will have a longterm house. And one day, one day very soon, I promise we will have our own house. Where nobody will be able to throw us out.”

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