A step at a time

Meera met and instantly liked Neepa, Joe's roommate Debu's college
going girlfriend. Daughter of a renowned Neurosurgeon- she lived with
her parents and a younger sister in a Punjabi ghetto locality. Neepa
smoked her first cigarette at the age of ten and had sex at sixteen,
with a first cousin of hers. Her short stature (she was less than five
feet tall), dark complexion and generous curves gave her a severe
inferiority complex and till she scored 80 percent in her Board exams
(to every one's amazement including her own), she was an uneasy and
extremely reticent girl. Young men did not ask her out- preferring
instead her fair and tall younger sister. Getting admission in a
prestigious Architecture college only boosted her morale: she never
looked back and began her revenge with men- drifting from one
relationship to another, some lasting not more than a week.

One afternoon Neepa called up, said she desperately needed to see
Meera. Her deep husky voice, which scared most men, sounded sore. Meera
pictured Neenamasi's consternation as she would come to know of Neepa
spending the night but there was nothing much that she could do about
it. Masi will have to lump it, Meera told herself, putting the phone
down.

Neepa's eyes were red and swollen and she could barely speak when they
met. Without exchanging many words, they set out towards Meera's place,
at a leisurely pace, then, began running as they got choked the
overwhelming smell of urine while passing a public urinal.

'Why do these fucking men have to piss in public places?' Neepa said,
gasping for breath, then, burst out laughing and abruptly said,
'Meera, I am fucked!'

'What's wrong? Meera asked.

'Everything,' Neepa sighed deeply, 'It's my family.' They crossed a
park where a small girl dressed in a pink frock howled as her maid
tried to please her.
'All she needs is a kick in her ass.' Neepa remarked coldly, referring
to the girl.
'And what do you need?'
'Happiness. Freedom. Peace.'

Well, who doesn't?

Neepa was troubled because her family would not accept Debu. Her mother
could not stand the sight of him and her sister openly accused him of
flirting.

'They are all hypocrites. On one hand, they claim to be very open
minded and liberated, yet they will not accept him just because he does
not conform to their image of an ideal son-in-law.' She said with tears
in her eyes.

'Maybe they don't like him and are cooking up stories to dissuade you.
Or, maybe they feel he is not right for you,' Meera said, surprised to
learn that Neepa was serious about Debu. In fact, whenever she
mentioned the question of settling down with Debu, he sounded vague and
unsure. Perhaps, deep down, Neepa realised this but was not willing to
acknowledge it.

'Meera,' Neepa explained rapidly, in one breath, 'I want a lot of sex
and a lot of children. And I want them now. I want my children to grow
with me. I want to marry and yes; I love Debu. There is a kind of magic
between us that I have never felt with anyone else. I can't give up my
family, because I cannot survive without them- not financially, if
emotionally,' after a long pause as an anticlimax, adding, 'and now I
am going to Wiesbaden next week.' She was going there for practical
training in Architecture.

Shanti was surprisingly quiet at dinnertime; and except for
scrutinising Neepa as if she were a specimen from a zoo, she said
nothing. Neenamasi was away for a friend's funeral. After dinner, Neepa
said she wanted to smoke.
'That is out of question, said Meera, 'Shanti has this terrible habit
of entering my room anytime without notice. She will be appalled.'
Meera's objections notwithstanding, they switched off the lights of the
room, drew the curtains as Neepa smoked with half her body out of the
window, exhaling.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Shanti called out, 'Meera,
I want to talk to you, please open the door.'

A frightened Meera quickly lit an incense stick. Shanti knocked again,
shouting, 'Open the door!'

'Shit,' Meera swore under her breath and opened the door as Neepa
jumped into the bed, almost hitting the bedpost in the darkness. Shanti
stood outside grinning from ear to ear in a dishevelled state reeking
of alcohol. 'Maman will not be returning tonight,' adding in the same
breath, 'I know you were smoking,' as she planted herself on the bed.
Neepa got up and looked at Shanti, still rubbing her forehead. 'I was
smoking. Any problem?' she asked. 'No dear, none, except that I too
want one.' Meera almost fainted with shock; Neepa laughed uproariously
joined by Shanti and Meera, and lit a cigarette.

'When you laugh, your stomach shakes. This shows that your laughter is
real and comes from deep within,' Neepa gave a smile that lit the room
up, 'my drama teacher told me.'

Neepa was a part of a troupe, when not in college or with her
boyfriend, she could be found rehearsing for a play that was to be
performed a day before she left for Germany. She played the role of a
married woman who loved an artist. In one of the scenes, she had to
jump into the bed on her sleeping lover. When her father saw this, he
was speechless. This was on the opening show; he tore up all the passes
for the play that he meant to give to his other relatives.

'The only advise I can give you is let some time pass, finish your
education. In the next one year, you will know where you stand with
him.' Meera told her the next day on her way to the office. Neepa
hugged her and said,
'Que sera sera!'
'Que sera sera!' Meera repeated, as she watched Neepa's figure
disappear in the fog till it could no longer be seen.

The problem of Neenamasi and Shanti had begun to grow at an aggravating
rate and had to be addressed urgently. They both drove her up the wall:
Neenamasi with her attitude, and Shanti with her lack of one. It was
not possible for her to discuss these things with Joe, he turned a deaf
ear to what he termed as 'bitching'. Maya proved to be a far more
sympathetic listener, and often, after office, they both went over to
Maya's place, where Meera gave vent to her feelings.

Maya had a nice two room pad with proper furniture, furnishings, potted
plants (both indoor and outdoor), and a tomcat called Biloo who stared
at Meera through his green eyes. Maya was meticulousness herself; even
while serving tea she put the cups and the plates in a neat organized
manner. Meera had to then place them exactly in the same position while
having the tea. Yet, despite being a great listener and a good friend,
Maya took pains never to reveal herself. Meera's attempts at probing
into her heart always met with darkness and silence.

'I never felt like marrying anyone. Since college, I have been working
here with Sarbjeet and somehow there was never any time for meeting
people or marriage.' Maya once said listlessly.

'Surely your parents can arrange a match for you.' Meera asked.
'Now, at this age!' Maya laughed at the idea.
'Come on Maya, its never too late to find happiness.'
'Oh, I am happy enough!'

So that was that.

'Don't you have any biological needs?' Meera skated on thin ice.
'I used to have them earlier. Out of frustration, I used to feel like
putting my hands in the electric socket.'

'And now?'
'I am used to it.' After a while Maya said, 'Sometimes when I go home,
I still get these urges,' adding, 'You know, Kerala is like that. It's
so green and bursting with fertility, that you feel like doing 'it' all
the time.'

Maya helped her find an alternative living arrangement with an
acquaintance of a friend of hers. Meera saw the place and promptly
informed Neenamasi about her plans to move out, after spending almost
an hour on the phone, explaining the problem to her mother, who agreed,
but only half-heartedly.

'Why, what is wrong with this place, may I know?' Neenamasi asked (eyes
half open).

'Nothing, Masi, I just feel like I should not be a burden on you. I
have been living here since last three months (it seemed more like last
three years). I feel I should be on my own now,' adding, 'I've
discussed this with my mother.' On hearing this, Neenamasi did not say
a word and shut her eyes. Shanti tried to dissuade her hopelessly.
Finally, Meera left, promising to drop in every week.

Meera was to share a rooftop apartment with Dolly Arora, a short, dark,
twenty five year old fashion designer (with a British grandfather, she
proudly informed). When Meera mockingly told Joe about her, he merely
shrugged. She liked Joe for his singularly endearing habit in that he
never criticized people. He would listen to her calmly whether it was
her grievances about Neenamasi or the general state of affairs in
Delhi. Joe never lost his temper and often, she teased him about
it.

'You don't have one,' she would say.
'That's great, it's a useless thing to have anyway.'

The deal with Dolly was simple. Dolly being the principal tenant paid
the rent to the landlord, Meera pooled in half of it. The total amount
came to two thousand rupees. Dolly also had a TV (a Black and White
one, that never worked) and a music system. The only thing that worked
in the system was a small FM radio: Meera felt cheated when she found
out. They were to share the kitchen, not the food, since Dolly ate out
most of the times. Initially, they tried to get along, but it turned
out to be too much of an effort on both sides, and they mutually gave
up the attempts. Dolly liked bland food while Meera liked it spicy;
Dolly read Mills and Boons- Meera read Agatha Christie: the disparity
between them was too much to bridge. This was when Meera understood the
meaning of the words "irreconcilable differences".

Added to this, strange men visited Dolly- men that were neither friends
nor lovers. Nor brothers. When Dolly had her visitors, Meera would
leave the room and go out.

That room, with a tiny window overlooking a drab back street depressed
her. Once, out of sheer boredom, she sat on her bed, crossed her legs
and arranged a stool in front of the bed with a bottle of coke and a
glass on it. She drank as if it was alcohol and she was a villain in a
B-grade Hindi movie. When the coke was finished, she kicked the stool
as if ready for a fight. The steel glass fell on the floor, rolling
noisily away. At that moment Dolly entered the room.

'What the hell is going on?' she said, eyeballs sticking out of her
face.

'Oh nothing. I was practicing for a play,' Meera said, impressed by the
quickness of her mind.

'Next time you practice, do it with your own furniture.' Dolly snapped
brusquely, lifting the fallen stool. Meera said nothing but opened a
book and began to read.

Joe was a frequent visitor to her place and she often cooked a meal
especially for him. They would sit on the terrace and talk, sometimes
till midnight. The Champa tree below was in full blossom. 'Black
diamonds studded in the sky,' was how Joe referred to the pale white
Champa flowers. Spring was in the air that was laden with fragrance of
'lily of the night'. They would go on talking to each other, without a
care in the world.

Meera's place was much more quiet and placid compared to Joe's where at
any given time, there would be at least four to five visitors. She knew
that girls liked him and strangely, this had begun to make her feel
jealous.

One frequent visitor to Joe's place was Bella, a tall thin divorcee
with a long, cavernous face who had just broken up with her boy friend.
Two years ago, Bella came to Delhi from Ranchi for a fifteen-day
seminar where she first met her ex-boyfriend. Apparently, he was so
fascinated by her earthy beauty that he sent her roses everyday till
she agreed to have coffee with him. Coffee led to dinner and many other
things. This fatal attraction cost Bella her marriage- by the time she
discovered that his interest in her was purely sexual- it was too late.
He agreed to live with her, but without commitments- tired of her soon
enough and when her self-respect was completely lost, she moved
out.

Bella would sit at Joe's place for hours, drinking and smoking, and
sometimes sleep there; at other times Joe dropped her home in the
middle of night. She often asked Joe to help with her assignments.
Simple and straightforward Joe complied without complaining.

An Italian film festival was on and 'The last tango in Paris' was being
screened. Joe, Bella and Meera decided to meet at the Auditorium, one
hour before the show. Joe said he would try and organize passes from a
journalist friend of his; a difficult task since the tickets had sold
out and passes were in great demand. Meera got delayed and found Bella
and Joe waiting impatiently; amidst a scant crowd of youngsters
standing at the shut gates of the auditorium, hoping to get a free
entry. Bella was furious.

'You know the film has already started!' she said greatly incensed,
wringing her hands and glaring at Meera.

'Do we have the passes?' Meera inquired, ignoring her.

'Joe managed only two!' Bella's voice, when irritated became shrill,
like that of a parrot.

'Well, both of you go. I am not really keen.' said Meera. Bella looked
at Joe, who seemed greatly disinclined to move. In the end, Bella took
the pass and went to see the film alone, tearing the extra pass into
bits.

Later, Meera and Joe had dinner at a cheap Punjabi food restaurant
where everything was cooked in the same gravy. 'What do you expect, at
this price?' Joe said, as he cut his chicken neatly into bite-sized
pieces. She liked watching him eat in a Zen master like way. She also
liked sitting behind him on his Yamaha and feel the breeze pass through
her hair. Many a times, she would ask Joe to accompany her for some
personal chores. Joe hated these things and would say,
'Surely you can go on your own!'

'Yes I can, but you have a bike and I'll save money if you come with
me.'
Sometimes Joe would take her, sometimes not. For years to come, she
could not figure out whether it was being with Joe that she wanted or
she really found it convenient to go with him.

'Meera, there this Interior Designer from London. He needs an
assistant, are you interested?' He asked, adding, 'The pay is good.'
Joe asked her to meet Kercy Taraporewala on the following Saturday. Not
having much to do in the office, she agreed.

Kercy was eccentric, to say the least, as he smiled at her and shook
hands, dressed in a black and white tie and dye Kaftan. He lived in a
huge house with three dogs and one hundred parrots with a couple of
peacocks, a macaw, a few budgerigars, canaries and java birds thrown
in. Six feet tall Kercy had long curly hair that stopped at his
shoulders, spoke with an accent and wore diamond rings on his fingers.
Meera was offered the complete charge of project and a share in the
profits provided she joined immediately. Compared to the miserly three
thousand Sarbjeet offered for getting bored, this sounded great and
challenging. It took Meera a split second to decide that she wanted to
work with Kercy; she went back and gave notice. Her office was an
impersonal organisation and the resignation was accepted without any
fuss.

At her own place things were going very badly with Dolly. Absent minded
by nature, Meera did not realize that many of her belongings were fast
disappearing. The first time she noticed was when she could not find a
book on cross-stitch that she had bought for her mother. She looked for
it everywhere and when Dolly came home, she asked her about it. They
hardly spoke to each other, except when absolutely necessary.
Dolly was immediately offensive.

'What do you mean? Do you think I have stolen your book?' said Dolly,
sounding insulted. This was unexpected, the thought of stealing had
never occurred to Meera. It was late in the night and she decided to
let the issue pass. The next day she rummaged through all her
belongings and to her dismay found several of her things missing. When
she told Joe about it, he said,
'Oh, maybe she is a deprived creature and needs these things. Forget
it.'
Forget it, indeed!

It depressed her, the thought that she was sharing a room with a person
who could not be trusted. 'I don't want to go home.' She said after
some time.

'Why', Joe asked, surprised. Meera's eyes gleamed with mischief.

'I have both the room keys today and I happen to know that Dolly has
called some friends over.' She remarked smiling broadly.

'Meera, that's mean!' Joe was shocked. The time was around seven in the
evening. 'Please go back', he said, 'immediately'. She left after yet
another hour. When she reached home, Dolly was pacing the terrace
wildly, hopping mad, waiting for Meera to return.
'Hi Dolly!' Meera said knowing fully well what was about to
follow.

'Why are you so late?' When Dolly was angry, she looked even more
grotesque.

'Hello, is this a hostel of sorts where I am supposed to come before a
stipulated hour?' Her cross-questioning further nettled Dolly. Meera
was thoroughly enjoying herself, she knew that nothing bugs an angry
person more than a cool attitude and she played her cool role to the
hilt.

That day, Dolly declared an open war. The moment Meera would enter;
Dolly would start muttering under her breath. Meera would calmly
continue to read or pretend to be asleep. Dolly's aggression continued
to rise. She would hide the heating rod in the morning thus forcing
Meera to have cold-water bath. Meera's missing items list began to
lengthen at an alarming rate.

One such day, as Dolly expatiated torturous mutterings under her
breath; unable to bear it any more, Meera said,

'Whom are you talking to? A pause followed. 'The walls?' As Dolly did
not reply, Meera remarked, 'It must be the walls, because I am not
listening'.

Caught unawares, Dolly was at a loss as to how to react: this was the
first occasion when Meera had interrupted her. It took Dolly by
surprise; her voice trembled as she retaliated,
'Who else is there in the room besides you and me?' Clearly this was
going to be a confrontation.

'See Dolly, I think its time for me to move on. I don't think it is
good for either you or me to live under the same roof. I want to
leave.' Meera was surprised at the calmness of her voice.

'When?' Dolly was curt.

'As soon as you return my deposit.'

Dolly had taken two months advance as a safety measure. She promised to
return the money within a week and they left it at that. Meera had
already begun her search for a new place and every Saturday, she and
Joe visited all the rooms advertised in the classifieds- some not fit
for human habitation. They found a one room flat close to Kercy's
office and Joe's room in Hauz Khas that was by far the best. Brimming
with pleasure, she informed Dolly about it (not revealing her address)
and decided to shift the very next day, also the first day of the
month.

Dolly still had Meera's deposit with her; leaving Meera with no choice
but to wait for her before leaving. Joe was away in Rishikesh with some
friends of his and Meera was a little worried about shifting on her
own, and got restless as the night closed in.

At Hauz Khas, the new landlord waited for her with the keys. When Dolly
did not appear that night, Meera lost her patience. It dawned upon her
that Dolly had no intentions of returning the deposit and was hoping
that Meera would leave without the money. This infuriated her. All the
calmness that she had feigned in front of Dolly for the past three
months broke loose. She stood there trembling with fury, thinking of
all the things that were stolen from her luggage, the cold-water baths
she had to take in chilling winter days, the bickering she had to
tolerate just because she did not fight back. All these sufferings
collectively hit her in that one moment. How could she avenge
herself?

Just then the landlord's son knocked on the door. He wanted to speak to
Dolly. Meera thought for a while- then told him all. He was a young
man, full of radical ideas. 'Do what she has done to you. That's
justice', he advised, after contemplating over two cups of tea.

'What do you mean? She asked, 'Steal?' dropping her voice to a whisper.
Surveying the room carefully, she exclaimed, 'There is nothing to steal
here.'
'Book for a book; tape for a tape and take the T.V. in lieu of your
jacket. (Meera had recently bought a US Army jacket, which Dolly had
locked inside her cupboard). The landlord's son suggested; he had some
private scores to settle with Dolly.

'What if she calls the police?' Meera queried,' I don't want to end up
in a jail!'

'Don't worry about that. I'll make sure she doesn't do anything of that
sort.'

The landlord's son's confidence was infectious. Meera thought for a
while and said, 'Let me give it a thought. If she doesn't come by
tomorrow morning, I'll do something. She had no desire to take anything
from the room yet in her heart there was a burning desire to teach
Dolly a lesson.

Never underestimate a quiet person. Never.

Morning came, without Dolly. Back in Hauz Khas the new landlord was
fidgeting. In short, it was time for action. When she was certain Dolly
would not turn up, Meera rolled up her sleeves and set to work. First
she removed the cassettes from their cases and put them in a plastic
bag after neatly putting the cases back in their original position.
Then she tore the insides of all the trashy books and piled them in the
same bag. The covers, removed of the inner content went limp. With her
iron, she tried to smash the T.V. screen. The old black and white T.V.
was made to endure and did not yield so she broke all the tiny
batteries and chips exposed behind the T.V. (with her bathroom
slippers) and set it back on the stool. The alarm clock that never rang
at the right time was also placed along with the tapes and pages of
Harold Robbins, and other books meant to rush the adrenalin. With a
pair of scissors (the landlord's son's), she cut the seat of the cot,
taking care to cover it back, and looked around for another object to
destroy. Her eyes fell on an aluminium trunk that Dolly used for
storing her winter wears. She took out all the full-sleeved sweaters
that protected Dolly from the winter and cut one sleeve each from all
of them and put them back. The carry bag had become heavy with the
weight of the tapes, books, some ten sweater sleeves and an alarm
clock. There was a copy of 'Jude the obscure', which she kept with
herself; she did not have the heart to tear it. Then she surveyed the
room. It looked same as before. It would take Dolly weeks to find out
what had hit her. Every day she would get a new shock. With this
pleasing thought she lifted the carry bag and went out to the terrace.
A ladder had been placed across one of the walls- she climbed it and
dumped the poly bag into a shaft full of drainpipes and smiled as it
crashed with a thud. As a last measure of revenge, she pissed on
Dolly's bed, relishing the thought that these were winter days and it
would take weeks for the bed to dry. Then, leaving the door wide open
and taking the lock (her own), she walked out, fading into the
anonymity of the metropolis.

Dolly created a furore when she discovered what had happened to her,
but the landlord's son refused to let the police enter his house. Dolly
called up the office and created a scene, threatening to sue Meera,
much to Maya's acute embarrassment. Nothing could be done; Meera had
left the office. Strangely enough, Sarbjeet took Meera's side and
refused to take any action. 'There are two sides to a story. I have
heard your end but I do not know what Meera has to say. I am sorry, I
can't help you,' was all he said. Although Meera was thrilled at what
she had done, for days she lived in mortal fear of bumping into Dolly
or the police.

Joe was greatly distressed when he heard about it. 'What have you
gained by doing this?' he asked, distressed.

'Pleasure. Happiness. I wanted to teach her a lesson. She will never
harass anyone again,' was Meera's reply. Joe did not comment any
further and continued to play his guitar.