The Scent of Mogra and Other Stories Read online

  The Scent of Mogra and Other Stories

  The Scent of Mogra and Other Stories

  APARNA KAJI SHAH

  INANNA PUBLICATIONS AND EDUCATION INC.

  TORONTO, CANADA

  Copyright © 2018 Aparna Kaji Shah

  Except for the use of short passages for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in whole, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or any information or storage retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher or a licence from the Canadian Copyright Collective Agency (Access Copyright).

  We gratefully acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada.

  Cover design: Val Fullard

  eBook: tikaebooks.com

  The Scent of Mogra and Other Stories is a work of fiction. All the characters and situations portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Shah, Aparna Kaji, author

  The scent of Mogra, and other stories / Aparna Kaji Shah.

  (Inanna poetry & fiction series)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  isbn 978-1-77133-561-4 (softcover).--isbn 978-1-77133-562-1 (epub).--isbn 978-1-77133-563-8 (Kindle).--isbn 978-1-77133-564-5 (pdf)

  I. Title. II. Series: Inanna poetry and fiction series

  PS8637.H348S34 2018 C813’.6 C2018-904370-9

  C2018-904371-7

  Printed and bound in Canada

  Inanna Publications and Education Inc.

  210 Founders College, York University

  4700 Keele Street, Toronto, Ontario M3J 1P3 Canada

  Telephone: (416) 736-5356 Fax (416) 736-5765

  Email: [email protected] Website: www.inanna.ca

  For my mother,

  Who nurtured me by being herself.

  Table of Contents

  Maya

  The Last Letter

  Ba

  The Scent of Mogra

  No Other Way

  Vidya

  Acknowledgements

  Maya

  “Excuse me, Ma’am,” a young man’s voice behind her said. Startled, she jerked forward into the gallery as if drawn by a magnet. Now she stood close to the creamy wall, and like a fly in a bowl of custard she was sucked down. She remembered the taste of custard that her mother used to make and serve with red jelly, and she salivated. She imagined biting into a juicy grape swimming in the stuff, and its tartness brought her back to where she was; inside her friend’s gallery.

  She turned toward the wall on her right, deliberately ignoring the central wall she had been so mesmerized by earlier. The right wall stilled her mind for a moment, as she focused on its rough, corrugated surface. It too was painted yellow, but tinted with greens, browns, and shades of grey/black. She was distracted by a couple of teenagers who were chattering away and giggling, but they soon left. She thought she was alone in the room, till she noticed the young man she had blocked at the entrance. He was at the far corner, quietly taking notes as he stood before the central mural. An art student, perhaps?

  Again, she gazed at the art. She stepped back to get a better look, tucking her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ears, so that it didn’t fall over her eyes. It’s a forest, she thought. The brown strokes are the tree trunks, the green leaves, thick and lush. The yellow was sunlight peering through dense foliage. A dark gloomy forest, shrouded with mist in the early morning, the sun trying to penetrate the vegetation as the day progressed. What if she got lost in this jungle? How would she ever find her way back? She shivered, imagining dusk as it fell, lengthening the shadows of the trees on the forest floor.

  The young man’s movements attracted her attention away from the painted wall. He looked at her, and she saw that he was not that young after all. He had chiselled features, and a mop of unkept dark hair. His almond-shaped eyes looked at her inquiringly as he scratched his unshaven chin. She returned his gaze, and their eyes locked briefly. She turned back to the wall, and was once again lost in the forest, with this man guiding her by the arm. They rested against a tree trunk. The birds called out as they found a place to rest during dark night, which was rapidly descending upon them. She looked at the man, and he, holding her hand, looked deep into her eyes. Without a word, they both slid down on the forest floor and turned towards each other, her breasts almost, but not quite, touching his chest.

  “Excuse me.” The man’s voice startled her again. She whirled around to face him, and as she did so her dupatta slid down her shoulders and fell to the floor. They both bent down to pick it up. He got there first, and as they straightened up, their faces close to each other, they laughed. She embarrassed, he with delight, as he admired the orange-yellow colour of the fabric. When she stretched out her slim pale hand to take it from him, he grinned at her, and put the dupatta against his kurta, which was a pale yellow. Then he returned the dupatta to her. They stood there smiling at each other, and she imagined lying down with him on the forest floor.

  He said, “You have spent a long time looking at these paintings. Are you an artist?”

  “Oh no,” she said. “I … my friend owns this gallery. I stop by sometimes. Yellow is my favourite colour.” He is about ten years younger than me, she thought. “Are you an artist?”

  “Look, there is a nice little café behind this gallery. I was planning to go there. Why don’t we go there and chat? My name is Rahul.” Maya saw that the gallery was filling up, and they would be disturbing the viewers by talking. Her throat was parched, and she was longing for a cup of tea.

  “Okay, why not?” she smiled, then added, “I’m Maya.”

  They made their way out the door, and went around the building to the café entrance. He is tall, she thought as she glanced at him sideways. His body was muscular and lean, as if he worked out every day. Her own body, though still slim, was soft like ripe fruit, her arms sagging a little. Thank god, they were covered by three-quarter sleeves.

  The café was quiet. They chose a table close to a wall. Maya noticed that it was painted a pastel yellow, though it looked almost cream-coloured in the dim lighting. A few framed black-and-white photographs hung on the wall, photographs of Bombay of an earlier era. Now, Bombay was very different. It was Mumbai.

  Here she was with this strange man, when by now she should have been at her mother’s place. Her phone vibrated, and she told her mother that she was delayed and would be there soon. They ordered tea and sandwiches. She let out a sigh and Rahul raised his eyebrows, while a crooked smile lifted the left corner of his lips.

  “Well, this is unplanned,” Maya said, “and I have a lot of things to do this evening.”

  “Some of the best things are spontaneous, don’t you think?”

  She nodded, and her mind took her to a different time and a different place. The library was locked. It was only five o’clock, and she had an assignment due the next day. She knocked on the door, and waited in vain. Another student ran up the stairs behind her. He said, “How can the library be closed? Exams begin next week. Well, I’m going to find an empty classroom to study. Would you like to come with me?”

  They both ran down the stairs, and found a science classroom that was empty since the students were in the lab. They introduced themselves to each other. She was a p
sychology major, and he was studying economics. His name was Rakesh. Maya and Rakesh worked until the science students came back. They decided to get a bite to eat before going home. Her mother was upset when Maya told her, admonishing her that it was not a good idea to go out with strange men.

  And now she was doing it again. Maya was forty-nine, and Rahul was probably just under forty. Then, she was a young nineteen-year-old. Rakesh had proposed to her when they both graduated, but she wanted to go to study in the U.S., while he had to find a job right away. They had corresponded for a while, but the relationship petered out within a year. When she had sought him out after three years of post-graduate work, he was already married.

  Her mother had introduced her to many young men, but nothing had clicked. Her mother was worried. She was well into her seventies, and wouldn’t be there forever. And now it was too late. Or was it?

  “Would you like another cup of tea?” Rahul said.

  “Oh no. I should get going soon. I need to go and see my mother, then get home to do some class prep. I have an early morning class tomorrow.”

  “Psychology, you told me. I was always interested in the subject. Also, there is so much to learn about the creative process from psychology. Maybe another time, you could tell me about that.” He paused, trying to gauge her reaction to “another time.” Would there be another time? She didn’t know.

  He spoke again. “Where is home?”

  “Colaba. What about you?”

  “I live at Tardeo. I share an apartment with a friend. He teaches at the J.J School of Art. Where do you teach?”

  “Sophia College.” She picked up her bag, and started to take out money for her share of the tea and sandwiches. He touched her hand to restrain her.

  “I invited you to join me. The next time you can pay.” He smiled. “Can we meet again? Here is my number.” He gave her a business card. Rahul Saxena.

  “Thanks,” she smiled. “Sorry, I don’t have a card. I’ll try to call you,” she said and then left. Call and do what? she thought. Just see what this encounter leads to, if anything? She wouldn’t call, she knew. It always led to disillusion and disappointment, for her at least. Some of her friends were lucky that such meetings ended up in a long-term commitment, or marriage.

  She was relieved that her mother looked more cheerful than the last time she had visited her. Maya knew that she had been lonely ever since her father died almost two years ago. She had started clinging to Maya, the only child who lived in Mumbai; Maya’s brother lived in Canada. Her mother was financially comfortable, but was dependent on Maya emotionally. Maya made sure that her mother was doing well, but she saw her no more than once a week.

  It was close to seven in the evening when she finally reached home. Her mother had given her some parathas and a curry, but she was still full from her tea and sandwiches. Rahul. What is he doing now? she caught herself wondering. Who cares? She wasn’t going to call him anyway. He had told her that he was in the middle of painting three figures in the foreground of a huge canvas, with a stark landscape as the background. When she asked who the three figures were, he had smiled and shaken his head.

  She had to finish marking assignments for the next day, and be in bed by eleven, if she was going to make it to her eight o’clock class rested and prepared. That night she dreamt of the dark forest in the wall mural, and that she was lying down on the forest floor under a tree, with a man lying down next to her.

  No, she was not a virgin. During the three years that she had lived in the U.S. she had remained a virgin, subconsciously “keeping” herself for Rakesh. But after she had discovered that he was already married, she had plunged into a relationship right away. She thought it a serious relationship and she had agreed to sex. They had talked about books, enjoyed movies together, and he had even cooked for her at her place. But it had all turned to ashes when she accidently found out that he was also intimately involved with another woman.

  Tomorrow was her friend Usha’s anniversary party. Maya remembered her wedding as if it was just yesterday. At the time, Maya had been recovering from yet another affair that had turned sour. What was the reason that relationship had ended? Oh, right, she had not been enough of an intellectual for him. He was an Economics professor at her college. The sex they had was cold and mechanical, something to be gotten over with quickly for the release it provided, so that they could resume discussing the latest economic reform in the country. She was still smarting from the humiliation of not being cerebral enough for him. Yet, she had enjoyed Usha’s wedding. She and her friends had together decided what to wear for each event. Her friends had even encouraged her to buy the latest fashions, hoping to set her up with their husbands’ unmarried cousins and brothers.

  The wedding had led to another relationship, which had lasted almost a full year. But Satish was a lawyer, and too busy to commit. Their relationship had died a natural death. That was nine years ago. She had just turned forty, and Satish was forty-six, previously married and divorced.

  Luckily, she found a seat on the crowded bus while returning home the next evening. She had to shower and change before going to the anniversary celebration. She looked out the window as the bus passed Marine Drive, and saw couples sitting on the concrete ledge overlooking the sea, deep in conversation with one another, some just holding hands and others strolling along.

  Something tugged at her heart strings, and her thoughts turned to the man she had recently met. She knew nothing about him. He seemed to want to get to know her. Didn’t he see that she was at least eight to ten years older than him? Why did she think that it was romance that he wanted? Perhaps all he wanted was to discuss the creative process, because she was a psychology professor and interested in art. As she turned the key in her front door, she decided that she would give him a call after all. He was interesting, and what was wrong with simply enjoying some good company?

  ***

  Rahul stretched out his hand and pulled her up, so that she could stand on the ledge of a black rock on which he and Mukul were resting. They had started climbing at nine o’clock, and now it was almost one in the afternoon. She had wanted to rest and eat her sandwiches. They would reach the top of the ghat in a couple of hours, rest overnight in Khandala, and return to Mumbai tomorrow. An overnight excursion with two men. Her mother was none too happy, but she loved hiking and mountain climbing, and hadn’t done it for over fifteen years. She had been part of the mountaineering club as a student at St. Xavier’s.

  It was almost ten months since she had first met Rahul at the art gallery, and she had called him a couple of weeks later. They had met for lunch one afternoon after her classes. They had discussed the creative process , told each other about their families, and their upbringing, among myriad other issues of the day. He had called her again, to visit another art galley together, and so it went on. She had had dinner at his place, had met Mukul, Rahul’s flat mate. Sometimes they met as a threesome. Mukul was into mountaineering in a big way, and so when she expressed her interest, the two men had persuaded her to join them during the Christmas break at college.

  Her friends asked her about her relationship with Rahul, hinting that it may be more than just friendship. She’d shrugged her shoulders, and replied that nothing had happened yet. Occasionally, she did feel the urge to hold his hand when they went to a movie together, but she desisted, and was disappointed that he never made the first move. Gradually, she got used to their platonic relationship, and did not expect anything else. She enjoyed his company, without the pressure that one always felt in a romantic relationship. It was an easy camaraderie, sometimes with teasing and bantering, at other times with serious conversations about art, politics, and social issues.

  Her mother asked to meet him, and kept asking her when they would get married. She told her that it wasn’t that kind of a relationship, and that she would invite him to meet her only if she promised not to broach the topic o
f marriage; it would be embarrassing for Rahul and for Maya, and could jeopardize their wonderful friendship. In fact, the three of them were going to have dinner at her mother’s place when they returned to Mumbai after their hiking excursion.

  ***

  Mukul was getting married. Rahul would have to move out of the Tardeo place, as that is where Mukul and Radhika were going to live. Maya befriended the younger woman, hoping that they could meet as a foursome.

  When the question of where Rahul was going to live came up, Maya wanted to offer her place, as she had an extra room, which she used as an office. There was a sofa bed, which could be made up, until Rahul found accommodation. She hesitated. What would everyone think? Would Rahul think of it as a come on? What if it became a permanent arrangement? No, she wouldn’t want that; she liked her independence, and did not make the offer.

  Finally, Rahul decided to share a flat with a young woman who worked in a bank. It was close to Mukul’s place.

  Maya spoke up before the final decision was made. She told him how she had thought of offering her place, but had kept quiet because of what everyone would think. In any case, it could not be a permanent arrangement, but if he wanted to look for something else and someone else he could share with, he was welcome to stay temporarily at her flat. Maya had felt a tiny prick of jealousy. She wasn’t happy about Rahul sharing an apartment with a woman, and that the woman was much younger than she was. According to Rahul, this woman was attractive as well.

  Rahul realized what Maya’s feelings were, and he took her out for coffee one evening before his move. “Maya, I don’t want to move in with you because I don’t want anything to happen to our friendship. Who knows how our relationship might change if we live together. And, in any case, I would still have to find another apartment, and thus have to move twice.”

  “I understand that. It’s just that you don’t know this person, the young woman….” Maya said.