Intro: Female centric plots fascinate me. Unfailingly. So, when I landed this idea, about the chance meeting of two women, courtesy a conversation with one of my lady friends, it was irresistible. So much so that, I wrote it down, straightaway. It was then that I wondered if it couldn’t be made into a short film, and hence this article…
A disclaimer: This isn’t the script. It’s a write-up as to how I visualize the whole episode in mind. It would take some real good acting from the lead actors to bring out the emotional turmoil within… 
How I visualize the plot, if it’s filmed: Indu, thirty-five, a mother of two, recollects an unforgettable experience to Athira, one of her close friends, as they take a walk together. The story would unfold in a flashback. The linear narrative would be occasionally punctuated by voice-overs, as the thoughts in her mind – the judgments and observations that she makes (or had made then) – are aired out aloud, in conversation to Athira.
Over to Indu, and as she starts the narration, triggering off the flashback.
The narrative: I tapped on, incessantly, at the call history button on our telephone. She had called around afternoon on the previous day, I remembered. I wasn’t fully sure that it was her, but I had got a hunch, as I listened to my mother-in-law talking over the phone. Gaurav’s granddad had passed away the previous week after a prolonged illness, and she was attending a condolence call from someone, in response to the obituary news in the local daily.
Should have been a local mobile number, I thought to myself, squinting, poring over the caller-id list on the telephone. One number caught my eye. Local, mobile number. I dialed. A guy with a deep, booming voice picked up the phone and snapped at me, in response to my question whether I could get Maya on the line. Slamming the receiver back onto the cradle, I continued my search.
Soon, I found another number. This had to be it, I realized; there weren’t any other calls received the day before. I noted the number down, and dialed, this time from my cell. For quite some time, the phone kept ringing.
The fact that I was getting tense surprised me. Then, a soft, mature female voice answered.
“Maya?” I asked. There was an unmistakable tremor in my voice.
“Yes. Who is this?”
Confused, still pleasant. I could feel the smile in her voice.
“It’s Indu”, I said. “Indu, Neryamangalath.” I was sure that our family name would ring the right bells.
“Oh!” The calmness suddenly disappeared. Then a stunned silence. A barrage of questions ensued.
“I can’t believe… How did you get my number? Where are you now? At home? Or at Gaurav’s place?”
“Am at Gaurav’s”, I said, “Maya, could we meet up?” I hadn’t planned on that, but somehow, it was my heart which seemed to be talking.
“I…” she stammered, “No Indu, I am a bit busy, have to fetch the kids, maybe another time…”
“Oh Maya. Just take some time off can you? I will wait for you.”
She mumbled incoherently in reply, vacillating for a while.
“Ok, I’ll wait for you, at CCD.” I said.
“Which CCD?”
“The one near the bus station. I will wait for you. At Three in the evening.”
“Ok, I’ll try to come. But I can’t be sure…”
I hung up and called Vinay and Anuja who came bounding up towards me. “We are going out, kids. Get dressed up.”
“Where to, Mummy?”
“We’ll go have ice-cream”. I called out to the kids who were already running off to their room, eager to go out, “Get ready fast. And don’t care to explain to anyone where we are going or whom we are meeting.”
“Ok Mummy”, they shouted back.
******
A five minutes drive and we were waiting at Café Coffee Day, the three of us. To my surprise, I found myself perspiring, in spite of the cool evening air; a strange tension seemed to hang in the air. The kids sat next to me, oblivious to my mental escapades, contentedly munching into their Chocó bars.
I kept watching out of the window, wondering how she would look like, trying to picture her in my mind. I had never seen her yet, not even a photo. I was even thinking whether she would go back on her word, when my cell phone rang.
******
It was Maya. “Indu…I have reached here. Am standing near the door.”
Just as we were talking I spotted her. She should be around forty, I guessed. One or two stray strands of hair stood out on her scalp. She had aged gracefully. Even in the chiffon saree, which though very plain, was meticulously wrapped, she looked graceful. I wondered how she might have looked around ten years before. She should have been strikingly beautiful, I realized.
Then both of us looked away, involuntarily. It was becoming more difficult than what I had expected; even to look at each other. She came up and sat beside us, self-consciously pecking the kids’ cheeks, asking them their names. As I watched her, I couldn’t help comparing myself with her – it’s something that I never do, but somehow, I found myself doing just that. And I felt a pang of jealousy whizz through me. I rebuked myself.
The kids wandered away, leaving us alone at the table. She was looking at me now.
“Indu, how did you get my number?”
“I guessed it might be you. I was in the room, while Mom was attending your call. It was a hunch…”
“I feel so happy now…”, she started off. The voice held a lot of poise. “I never expected we would talk. Ever. I really don’t know what to say.”
I smiled back. “I never really thought you would turn up too. Calling you up was a spur of the moment thing.”
“How are your parents doing?” she asked.
“They are fine. Just some age-related problems.” I said. “You have a daughter, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and a son”, she said. “Anuja looks just like Gaurav.”
I smiled. “He says she looks like me.”
“Where’s he now?” she asked. “Is he at home?”
“No, he is back in Oman . He couldn’t manage to extend the leave, so had to go back last week.”
There was a pause again. We just sat facing each other, unsure of what to say next.
“Maya”, I said. “Keep in touch. Will you?”
“I wanted to. I always think of that, but somehow, I could never bring myself to call you up. I am sorry. Maybe we’ll see each other more, from now. Maybe this is a beginning.”
“I don’t have many friends here. I really hope we will keep in touch.” I said. And I meant it; being born and brought up in Bangalore, I didn’t have many close friends worth mentioning in my native place.
Then she shocked me. “Isn’t it Gaurav’s birthday today?”
“Yes, it is”, I said. “And yours is day after tomorrow, isn’t it?” Now it was her turn to be stunned.
“How did you know it?” she asked, the surprise not leaving her eyes. Then she turned, looked out of the window, the sunlight painting patterns on her cheeks. She looks amazingly beautiful, I thought.
“One second, excuse me”, I said, as I got up from the table. She didn’t seem to notice, and continued staring outside, lost in thought.
******
Then I rang up Gaurav. “Gaurav, where are you?” I enquired.
“Am in office, where are you? Somewhere outside? Vinay and Anuja seem to be there with you…?”
“Yes they are here with me. We are at Café Coffee Day. By the way, Happy Birthday!”
“He he”, Gaurav laughed. His typical, lazy, laidback laugh. “I just forgot all about it. Thanks Indu!”
“As if you remember always! You would never remember if it wasn’t for me”, I said complainingly. “And guess what? I have a surprise for you today.”
“Hmm. Surprise? What’s it? Now Indu, don’t kid around, tell me fast, I’ve got a meeting coming up.”
“Someone is with me now. Just a minute.” I said, trying to keep the bubbling excitement out of my voice.
I suddenly handed the phone over to Maya, who, was now totally taken aback. She took the phone hesitantly from me, pressed it against her ear and muttered weakly.
“Hello… Gaurav? It’s me.”
There was a long pause at the other end, I guess. Silence. Maya sat looking at me, blankly. Then she handed the phone back to me.
“He didn’t recognize my voice”, she said with a smile. But though she smiled, I could see and feel the hurt which simmered beneath.
I took the phone from her. “Gaurav, it’s her. Maya. Maya Devi.”
Silence again. There was a sudden spurt of questions, breaking the silence, as the recollection dawned upon him. “What? How on earth…” He was now fumbling for words, unable to cope with the sudden shock. Then I gave the phone back to Maya, who now was even more hesitant than before.
“Come on, speak, he is still on the line”, I said reassuringly.
She just sat there, pressing the receiver against her ear, her hands trembling visibly. I smiled as I pictured Gaurav, sitting in his office, his typically deadpan expression disturbed by this sudden, unexpected turn of events.
Gaurav had told me about his love affair with Maya even before our marriage, during our courtship days itself. Though Gaurav’s family was more or less ready for the marriage, her family wasn’t ready to give her in marriage to a businessman and that too, one who was abroad. Instead, they had married her off to a college lecturer, who was ten years older than her.
It used to irritate me to no end, I remember. The passion with which Gaurav spoke about her. The unintentional excitement which used to ripple in his voice then. That sickening, sickening feeling that I was the second love would never leave me, in spite of however strongly Gaurav rubbished the idea. But slowly, as the years wore on, I had grown to accept it. That it would never affect us, and that it was indeed a closed chapter.
As I watched, both of them slowly recovered and finally managed to put some perfunctory greetings together. The tension which creased her face relaxed. Then as they hung up, I noticed her voice crack, ever so slightly.
She then handed back the phone to me and got up, glancing nervously at her wrist watch, hurriedly adjusting her saree pallu. She bid a quick good-bye to us, affectionately patting the cheeks of Vinay and Anuja in the process. And as she walked out of the coffee shop and turned back to face me, smiling, I saw a stray tear brimming over in her eyes.
I still cannot explain what exactly I had felt then. I was overwhelmed. Words came up, choked and died in my throat. A heavy cloud descended over my chest. But nothing came out. In spite of all that raged within, everything about me would have appeared perfectly normal, I believe.
And all I did, as she left from the coffee shop, was to just smile and wave her good-bye, and watched her walk away, hurriedly cross the road, tugging at her saree and disappear into the madding crowd.
******
PS: I dedicate this post to the one and only Padmarajan, and the trio of Jayakrishnan, Radha and Clara, from the timeless classic, Thoovanathumbikal.
(For more info on Thoovanathumbikal, go to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thoovanathumbikal)
Originally published on www.passionforcinema.com
