A quiet dissonance, p.15
A Quiet Dissonance, page 15
This project was growing by the minute, and Anu groaned internally at having agreed to it.
“I think I will need a bit of help with these or it will not get done in time.”
“Yes, yes. I will get some other mothers to give you a hand.”
“If I sketch the entire picture on the muslin panels, I’ll just need a few people to paint the colours in. Then I can add the details of the leaves, etc.”
“How many days will it take?”
How long is a piece of string, Anu wanted to ask?
“Well, if I come in every day, I should complete the sketch in a fortnight. Then it depends on how long the ladies take to paint it, only after which I’ll be able to finish it. So, we are talking at least a month.”
“Ohh, that long?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
* * *
“You know what’s really annoying, Ravi?” Anu stirred the daal1 in the pressure cooker, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder. “She thinks I can wave a wand and have it done in a week.”
“Anu, she probably doesn’t realise the amount of work it entails. Have you got the time for it though?”
“Just about, but we’re cutting it close. And she’s given me that awful woman Jigna as a helper.”
“The bossy one?”
“Yep! Who is now recruiting a rag-tag team to help with the painting.”
“So, you’re getting the help, and you’re getting to know some new mums. Isn’t that what you wanted, anyway?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It seems more trouble than it’s worth! Besides, these women haven’t bothered with me in all these years. What makes you think it’ll be any different now?”
“Well, at least Neha is excited that you’re helping.”
“Yeah, I think she’s even more excited with her role of a cowherd. I don’t think she’s figured out that it’s a bit part. The major roles have gone to Jigna’s daughters, of course.”
“Sour grapes, Anu?” Ravi laughed at the other end of the line.
* * *
Were they really? Anu wondered as she squatted and placed the fabric over wooden boards laid under plastic sheets. She taped the fabric securely onto the boards to prevent movement. Then placing the approved sketch next to her, she took her pencil to draw the horizon line. With slow, tentative strokes, she started outlining the scene. The more she drew, the calmer she got. Her mind stopped flitting about in irritation and instead focused itself on transferring the scene painstakingly on to the fabric. The few times she went wrong, she swore under her breath, correcting the trajectory of her pencil but working with utter concentration.
When her phone alarm rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. How quickly the two hours had passed! It was time to leave, so she locked the door behind her, handing the key to the old man at the reception.
Driving home, her mind went back to worrying about whether she really was envious that Jigna’s girls had been given major roles in the show. But it wasn’t the girls she resented as much as the mother. All her life she’d been subjected to being pushed and shoved around by people like Jigna. Bullied at an early age for being too quiet and shy, she’d taken a natural aversion to aggressive, bossy women like her. To Anu, assertiveness did not come naturally, but it was more the complete disregard of other people’s feelings that the likes of Jigna displayed that she found off-putting. To go through life barrelling along and stomping on people was an anathema to her.
* * *
“So we need to write you off for the next month?” Julie asked her in the playground.
“I’m sure I can take a bit of time out here and there, and my evenings are free.”
“I meant for Louise’s birthday lunch that I’d planned.”
“I can’t make the lunch because I’m committed to this project now. I’ll explain it to Louise whenever I see her next.”
Julie shrugged. “Let us know when you’re free again.”
“I will.” Anu wasn’t sure whether she was reading too much into it, but it seemed almost as though something had miffed Julie.
“Is everything okay, Julie?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”
“No, nothing.”
The door to the classroom opened just then and Julie moved off to collect her son, leaving Anu standing alone and bemused, wondering what she had done to give offence.
* * *
The sketch was very nearly complete when Mrs Madhok came in to look at it. She had Jigna with her.
“This is looking very nice, Mrs Dhawan. Very nice.” She stood next to it, nodding her head approvingly.
“It’s nowhere near complete. We still have to add the colour, and then I’ll paint the details in to add the depth and dimension.”
“So talented you are! Mrs Parekh has organised three other mothers to come and help you from tomorrow.”
“Romaji2,” Jigna looked from the fabric on the floor to Mrs Madhok, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “We will have to go and buy the paints today. Don’t you think this project is going a bit over-budget? This is a very large backdrop.”
She flicked a glance at Anu, not bothering to hide her dislike of her. Anu returned the glance coldly.
“The background is exactly in the dimensions you requested, Mrs Madhok. I have all the receipts for the materials right here.”
“Of course, of course! That is no problem.” Mrs Madhok looked at Jigna before continuing. “We will get a discount on the paint as my brother-in-law owns the shop, so budget is no problem Jignaji.”
“Well, in that case you had better give us a list of the things you need.”
As Anu reeled off the items - latex paints, rollers, stencils and brushes - she wondered how exactly was she going to work with a woman who was so clearly hostile towards her?
❖
Being as busy as she was with the dance-backdrop project, Anu had been rushing Neha home after school every day. Today she dug her heels in.
“I want to go to the park!”
“Baby, Mummy is tired. I’ll bring you on the weekend.”
“No! I want to go today. All my friends are here.”
Sighing with fatigue, Anu agreed reluctantly. There was a little bench free on the side of the park and she went to sit there on her own, letting Neha run off and join her friends on the swings. Today she just wanted a bit of peace and quiet.
She watched how the children played, happy and carefree, running from the swings to the merry-go-round and up to the slides. The little ones made castles in the sandpit, crying as another child carelessly knocked them down. Shrieks of happiness filled the air as children swung each other higher, while their mothers called out to be careful. Women congregated in twos and threes; mothers of classmates, friends or not. A merry, sociable spirit pervaded the entire park. There was a beauty to this part of the world; an innocence to this time that she felt like soaking up, instinctively aware that it wouldn’t last. As their children outgrew the park and its swings, so would the mothers. These carelessly formed social bonds would disintegrate just as quickly as they had developed, leaving perhaps a lingering memory of days spent in the sun.
“Is this seat free?”
Snapping out of her stupor, Anu looked up to see Mia shading her eyes and pointing to the space next to her. “Yes, do sit.”
Mia lowered herself with difficulty, parking her empty stroller next to the bench.
“Where are your little ones?”
“Poppy is on the swings and Ollie is In the sandpit. He loves it there, but I’ll have to bathe him as soon as we get home or there’ll be sand everywhere.”
“I can imagine.” Anu smiled at her. “Thankfully, Neha’s too fastidious for the sandpit. She hates getting messy.”
“She’s such a sweet little girl. She’s been very kind to my Poppy.”
“Oh?”
“Some older girls were picking on her and your daughter told them off.”
“I’m glad! Neha was bullied a bit when she started school, so I’m sure she understands perfectly.”
“It’s beautiful around here, but not everyone is very nice, are they?”
“It takes all kinds, I suppose.”
“They’ve tried it with me, but I’m not having any of it.” Mia spoke, a slow flush rising from her neck and spreading to her cheeks. “Who are they to judge me? They don’t pay my bills!”
Anu recalled Julie’s words about how combative Mia could be and stayed quiet. After a few minutes had elapsed, she asked, “When are you due?”
“Next month, but I have a feeling this one wants to arrive early.” She patted her stomach. “Poppy and Ollie were early too.”
“They are beautiful children,” Anu said, looking at their white blonde heads. “But it must be hard work to have two little ones and another on the way.”
“It’s nonstop. I’m constantly exhausted and look at my ankles!”
Anu gasped to see how swollen her ankles were. Mia laughed and said, “It’ll subside. It always does. Harry, my partner, is taking three weeks off to take care of me when the baby arrives. I’m going to put my feet up then.”
Anu remembered the muscular, tattooed man who’d accompanied her to the park the last time. Then she wondered if he was the one who’d made her cry.
“Ummm, that day when you were... errr... upset, is... has... I mean, is everything okay now?”
Mia kept rubbing her stomach and looking into the distance.
“I’d just heard that my dad had died that day.”
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s okay. I can talk about it now. In fact, you’re probably the only person I would talk about it to at this school.”
Anu stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.
“I hadn’t seen him in many years. He left my mum when I was fourteen and moved in with someone else. Then he just drifted in and out of our lives as he pleased. I hated him for most of his life, which is why when I heard he’d died, I didn’t expect to feel anything. But I did.” She looked at Anu and smiled sadly. “How do you explain that?”
“Blood.”
“Maybe. But men don’t feel that way, do they? Their father didn’t.” Mia looked towards the park at her children. “He moved on from me too.”
“And Harry?”
“Says he’s loved me a long time. I’ve known him since we were little. Lived down the street from me. When their dad left, he found out and came looking for me. Hasn’t left my side since then.” Mia sighed. “You wouldn’t know it from looking at him, but he’s a real softie.”
Anu felt ashamed of herself for judging them both, knowing nothing about them. It had been easy to assign labels because of how they looked and spoke, yet they were just normal people living through their own heartaches and life’s little dramas.
She put her hand over Mia’s.
“If you ever need anything, any kind of help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Mia patted her hand and stood up. “That’s Ollie crying. I’d better see what’s happened. Thank you for our chat. I’ll see you around?”
* * *
Parking in her drive, Anu felt a subdued sadness. How right Simone had been! One could never tell what was going on in anyone’s life, and a bit of understanding and kindness wouldn’t ever go amiss. Sitting with Mia on the bench that day may have meant very little to her, but to Mia it probably meant the world. Yet, how little she had done to follow up on it. And when Simone had mentioned it, she had slowly severed her ties with her too. Had she really become so self-centred in the last three years that the very things that had upset her about her treatment at the hands of the school mums, had become her own blueprint?
* * *
❖
“She’s going to be ready for pre-school any day now.” Anu remarked as she saw little Melanie chasing butterflies in the garden. They were sitting together in Susan’s house, after a hastily cobbled get-together plan that had been arranged and rearranged several times over.
“I know! I can’t believe where the last few years have gone.” Cathy sighed happily. “And I’m sorry I’ve cancelled on you so many times. No one ever told me how often children get sick.”
“That’s how they build their immunity, dear. The sicker they are in childhood, the stronger they are as adults.” Susan supplied.
“I certainly hope so! Was Neha a sickly child too?”
“Not really, but we did have a terrible time with the colic and the teething. Things settled down after that. She’s had the usual colds and coughs, and the ruddy norovirus comes around every year.”
“That’s the vomiting bug?”
Susan refilled their cups of tea as they chatted about their children.
“Jan is visiting this weekend.”
Both Cathy and Anu fell silent. In all the years they’d lived in the neighbourhood, Jan had only visited Susan twice. Each time she had either needed money or needed to borrow something.
“She keeps talking about getting me to release equity from the house.”
Cathy frowned.
“Why? The mortgage is paid off, and you don’t need the money that desperately, do you?”
“No, but she does, and when I protested, she got annoyed and hasn’t visited since.”
“But Susan, this is all you have aside from your pension. Does she not understand that?”
“She thinks that since it is all coming to her anyway, why not have some of it in advance?” Susan sat down, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve only ever been a cash cow to her.”
Cathy exchanged a glance with Anu, then went over and hugged Susan.
“I guess she feels a sense of entitlement as she is going to inherit the house someday.”
“Her and Mark. They are both my children, even if one of them doesn’t wish to speak with me. How can she just assume that everything belongs to her?”
“Then you need to tell her, Sue. She can’t just bulldoze over you, don’t you agree, Anoo?”
Anu nodded, completely appalled that Jan had the temerity to even broach the subject. It would break her heart if in the future all she represented to Neha was the amount she stood to inherit.
* * *
“No wonder these old people leave their money to dog and cat charities,” Ravi exclaimed angrily when she recounted the episode to him. “Their kids don’t deserve it!”
“Jan hardly bothers to visit... ”
“And she’d probably be the first one to stick Susan in an old people’s home.”
“We are bringing Neha up in this country. Will she be the same?” Anu asked, her voice quivering.
“It depends on the values we instil in her. I have an English colleague who is absolutely devoted to her parents. They are quite old and infirm, and she’s moved them closer to her home, and takes really good care of them as far as I can tell. I don’t think we can tar everyone with the same brush.”
“No, you’re right. But it’s just so sad to see old people completely ignored in this manner. Where is the respect for age and wisdom?”
“It’s being eroded the world over. Young people are too busy living their lives to be concerned about what happens to the older generations.”
“But one day we’ll all get old... ”
“Yes, but who realises that when they’re young?”
* * *
When Neha came out of the classroom on Thursday looking upset, it immediately brought back the early days of school when it had been a regular occurrence.
“Everything okay, baby?” Anu asked, concern lacing her voice.
Neha nodded, gulping hard. She held her mother’s hand, tugging her out of the school.
Once in the car, everything came spilling out.
“… and then Daisy said that she was Libby’s best friend, so I needed to stop bothering them when they were playing... ”
“What did Libby say?”
“She didn’t say anything, Mummy. She just kept drawing in her book without looking up.”
“Maybe you need to talk to her on her own?”
“How, Mummy? Daisy is always with her! She even goes to her house for sleepovers now.”
Recalling Mrs Pellow’s advice from years ago, Anu reassured Neha.
“Baby, sometimes friendships change for a while. Then everything goes back to normal. Libby has been your friend for such a long time, I’m sure she won’t stop being one all of a sudden. Let’s just give it time, okay?”
Privately, Anu decided she’d try to have a little chat with Jemima about it. It couldn’t hurt to bring Libby’s mother into the picture.
* * *
Still busy with painting the backdrop, Anu hadn’t seen Jemima in weeks, rushing off after dropping Neha at school each day. But the next morning she lingered at the gates, hoping to see Jemima saunter in with minutes to spare, as she usually did.
Sure enough, most of the mothers had already left when Jemima crossed the road with Libby and Emily. Only Jemima could look as unperturbed while running late. Depositing her children at the gate, she said, “Run along, you two.” Then she looked at Neha and smiled slowly. “Well, hello you. Haven’t seen you around lately.”
“Hi Jemima, sorry I have been busy with painting that backdrop for the dance show. I thought Julie would have told you.”
“Hmm, now that you mention it, she did say something.”
“Anyway, listen. Really quickly, I don’t know if Libby and Neha have had a falling out, but they aren’t playing together lately. I wondered if Libby had said anything to you?”
“No, can’t say she has.” She shrugged. “But it's kids. They fall in and out of groups all the time, don’t they? I’d just leave them to it if I were you.”
“You’re right.” Neha nodded. “That’s what I thought too, but I just wanted to mention it to you, seeing as the girls have been such good friends.”
“Ah, don’t worry, Anoo. They’ll sort themselves out in time.” She made as if to move off. “Aren’t you in a hurry?”
