Indian Wife in the Prison of Spring

"Although we are old friends, I don't know much about what happened since we lost touch."

Mansi kept finding these "old friends" references odd. Yes, they lived in the same neighborhood over a decade ago. But they barely knew each other. Even so, the old lady was being so nice that it was hard not to think of her as a friend.

"Well, not much happened." she shrugged.

"Is yours an arranged marriage?"

"Yes, of course."

"Why of course? I knew many people having love marriages in Meerut."

"I know. So did I. But you didn't know my parents." Mansi said.

"Hmmmm...so did you get to spend any time with your husband before you married him?"

"Oh yes. We went for a movie once..." Mansi said.

"Okay..."

"But my mother was with me."

"Oh..."

"It was nice." Mansi smiled.

Reena realized that Mansi's upbringing had been even more sheltered and protected than she had imagined. She knew those type of families. Doing their best to stamp out a woman's individuality as soon as she is born. And then trade her away in a marriage like cattle.

"How many years have you been married?"

"Almost eight years."

"And how old is Pinky?"

"Seven."

"So Amar didn't waste much time, huh?" Reena winked.

"Aunty!" Mansi blushed.

------

"Pinky seems like a very intelligent girl." Reena said.

"She is. We have put her in this really good international school. Amar wanted it. In fact...that is another reason our finances are tight. The school is quite pricey."

"I can imagine."

"Anyway, speaking of Pinky, I should get going." Mansi got up. "She will be home soon."

"Oh okay. It was really great spending time with you." Reena also got up. "You should drop by whenever you are free."

"I would love to."

"I can have one of our hotel cars drop you home if you like."

"No aunty, don't worry. I will take the local. The traffic will be too much anyway."

The two women walked out of the office and towards the hotel lobby. As Reena escorted her young acquaintance through a crowd of guests waiting to check in, she noticed something. A few of the men discreetly checked out Mansi. Nothing blatant or disrespectful, but something Reena caught. It didn't seem like innocent young Mansi had noticed though.

"Okay aunty, thank you so much again." Mansi held her hands in gratitude.

"Stop thanking me, Mansi. Oh and wait!" Reena took out her phone. "Sunil, come here."

She called out to a bellboy hanging around. She handed him the phone.

"Take a few pictures of me and my old friend here."

"Oh." Mansi smiled.

"Just to remember the occasion. Who knows when you will drop by again?"

"Oh come on, aunty. I will come again soon."

Mansi said and the two posed for a picture, smiling. Sunil snapped a good one and was about to hand the phone back.

"Take a few more. My phone's camera can be very unreliable." Reena said.

And Sunil took half a dozen more pictures. Reena took the phone back from him. Mansi said goodbye once again and walked out of the hotel.

Reena went back to her office and looked at the pictures. Mansi had a nice smile, she noted. And she was not bad looking at all. Not exactly a drop-dead gorgeous hottie that would set the ramp on fire. But pretty enough to turn a few heads as she had just done in the lobby without realizing. Even in a conservatively wrapped sari, it was clear that she had a nice slim body. And a pleasant symmetric face with big eyes and a sharp nose, with a light-wheatish complexion.

Reena looked at the pictures for a little while more as she thought about everything Mansi had said about her money problems. She then opened her contacts list, found the name she was looking for. She chose the 3 best pictures she thought Sunil had taken. And forwarded them to that contact with a message.

'What do you think?'

------

Mansi walked to Malad station and took the local to Borivali. Throughout her journey, she kept thinking of the time she had spent with Reena aunty. It all had seemed so nice and posh and plush. From the fancy hotel lobby to aunty's tastefully furnished office to the restaurant they had eaten at. She was amazed at how crisp and clean the clothes of the waiters had been. And the waiters actually spoke English! The only waiters she was used to wore stained tattered clothes and looked like they hadn't taken a bath in weeks.

Even the food itself was so unbelievably delicious. She had seen that the menu had a lot of French, Italian, and Spanish dishes. But with no idea about what those things were, she had ordered from the Indian part of the menu. Her usual order, dal fry and jeera rice. Aunty then asked if she was vegetarian. Mansi said no, she wasn't. So aunty also ordered some fancy sounding chicken dish and a fish started. Everything, right down to the simple jeera rice, had tasted heavenly. Even the plain rice in that restaurant was so much tastier than what she was used to - super long grains like in Basmati advertisements, and lovely flavors. And then of course, there was the dessert, which Mansi decided was the best dessert she had ever had.

As she walked through the narrow lanes of Borivali East towards her building, Mansi started thinking less and less about that amazing time with Reena aunty, and more about the chores she had to do at home, and what she would cook for dinner. And then she remembered that she had to buy more onions. She walked towards her vegetable seller, mentally thinking about how to negotiate him down by 10-15 rupees.

That night, after dinner and cleaning the kitchen, she went to the bedroom. Pinky was asleep and Amar was reading a thick book about the Ottoman empire.

"Listen."

"Hmmm." he responded.

"I am thinking about getting a job."

Amar shut the book and looked at her.

"A job? You?" he said, surprised.

"Why not?" Mansi asked, a little hurt by his condescending tone.

"Why not indeed?" Amar shrugged and opened the book again. "What kind of a job?"

"I am not sure yet. But Pinky is now grown-up enough to not need my constant attention. She is at school most of the day. In the free time I have, I can earn something extra to support our finances."

"So it's about money?"

"What?"

"Is it all about they money? Isn't the world already materialistic and consumerist enough that I should hear this from my own wife?" Amar asked.

Mansi stared at him in shock. From the day she was matched with Amar for marriage, she knew that she was going to spend her time with an idealistic and academic man. And for eight years, she had heard his monologues and speeches and rants about society and materialism and everything. But to bring it into this?

"Come outside." she quietly said.

"What?"

"Come out to the living room and close the door behind you. I don't want to wake Pinky up."

Amar sighed and got up, following his wife as she angrily stormed out. As she had instructed, he closed the door.

"Yes, my dear wife." Amar said in his typical condescending professorial way.

"What do you want from me?" Mansi said, her nostrils flaring.

"What do you mean?"

"I understand your principles and ideals and all that. But you don't run the house. I do. You have no idea how difficult it is to stretch the budget, especially when I include all those parties you throw for your friends."

"Mansi, hospitality is our..."

"Yes, yes, I have heard that before." she said with a sneer. "All I said was, I would like to get a job. And yes, Mister Professor, it IS all about the money for me. If I can make a few thousand rupees more to buy my daughter whatever she wants, I don't care if it is about the money."

"Fine. Fine." is all Amar said. "Get a job. When have I ever stopped you from getting a job?"

"Then what was that materialistic and consumerist taunt about????"

"It wasn't a taunt. I was just expressing my opinion."

"So I can get a job?"

"Again, Mansi, when have I ever stopped you from doing anything?"

The young wife stared at her husband. He wasn't entirely wrong. He was a bit weird in his ways, and his habits and way of living did put a lot of stress on her. But he had never been a domineering demanding husband. Especially when it came to the question of getting a job, it was a brand new topic. She had never thought of it before. Her parents had raised and trained her to be a housewife, just like her mother and grandmother and aunts and all other women in her family had been. After marriage, she just assumed that position by default. It's not like she had some great qualifications anyway.

So Amar was right. He had never stopped her from doing anything. She just had never talked about getting a job before.

"You have not." she quietly said.

"If you want to get a job, get a job. If you want it to be for money, that's fine. My humble suggestion to you is...get a job that is satisfying for you. Aim for real satisfaction."

"Satisfaction." Mansi repeated.

"Yes. Aim for a job where the money is just a welcome bonus for doing something that truly satisfies you." Amar said, using a line he often used to lecture students about their career choices.

"Truly satisfies me." Mansi nodded and walked back to the bedroom. Amar smiled and followed her.

-----

The very next day, Mansi thought about calling Reena aunty about the job opportunity. But then she felt it might come across as opportunistic and desperate. The way she thought about it, that nice woman, who barely knew her in Meerut, had bought her daughter shoes worth almost six thousand rupees. Then she had taken out for a fancy lunch, that based on what she read on the menu, easily cos another two thousand rupees at least. Now if she called her right away about a job, it would seem like she was some opportunistic woman. So Mansi decided to wait until Reena aunty herself called her again.

Reena on her part was thinking in a similar way. But in an equal and opposite way like Newton's third law. She saw a lot of potential in Mansi. Potential for something that would be mutually profitable for them. It had been at the back of her mind when she paid for the shoes. And had solidified when she spoke to her during that lunch. But she did not want to come across as too pushy and eager. She knew that middle class women from small towns could be very touchy like that. So she too held off, waiting for Mansi to call her.

This continued for another two weeks. Both ladies thought that the appropriate thing to do would be to wait for the other to call. Finally, it was Mansi whose resolve broke. It was a combination of yet another impromptu dinner party thrown by Amar for his intellectual buddies and a tantrum thrown by Pinky demanding new clothes.

"Hello, aunty. It is me, Mansi." she finally made the call one Monday morning when she was home alone and had finished her chores.

"Oh hi, Mansi, how are you doing? How are Amar and Pinky?" Reena was delighted that the call she had been eagerly waiting for finally arrived.

"They are good. How are you doing?"

"I am great." Reena said and paused as she wondered about how to proceed.

Mansi was also thinking about what to say. She did not want to instantly talk about the job. That would seem impolite.

"So aunty, I am free today. If you are free too, we could meet too." Mansi said, and then not wanting to seem like she was trying to mooch off another meal, added, "You can come over to my place and I will cook for you."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, Mansi. But today, I am busy." Reena said. "Oh wait, someone has just come into my office for something. Can I call you back in a few minutes?"

"Oh sure."

There was no one in Reena's office. She reached for her phone and sent a text message.

'When can you be in Bombay asap? It's about that thing we discussed.'

She got a reply very soon.

'Wednesday. I will get in by 10.'

'Ok. Confirmed. Keep your afternoon open.'

Reena dialed Mansi's number.

"Hi Mansi, sorry about that."

"It's okay, aunty. I understand."

"Thanks. So what was I saying...oh yes, sorry, I am busy today. But are you free day after tomorrow, Wednesday, for lunch?"

"Wednesday, let me see." Mansi had no idea why she said let me see. She was free pretty much everyday. But she didn't want to sound too eager.

"Problem?" Reena asked.

"No no, no problem. Wednesday lunch sounds great. Let me tell you my address..." Mansi spoke up.

"Actually Mansi, if you don't mind, can you come here to the hotel again? I have a couple of hours free for lunch. But then I have some appointments right after. So traveling to and from Borivali will be..."

"I understand, aunty. I will come there." Mansi said eagerly.

"Great. Just go to the reception and tell them my name like last time."

"Thank you, aunty."

"Stop thanking me, Mansi. I will see you in two days."

Mansi hung up, feeling a little glad that their meeting would again be in that fancy hotel. Maybe she would take her to another nice restaurant again. Reena hung up, feeling glad that it had worked out so easily. And started making plans for Wednesday.

------

On Wednesday, Mansi was standing in a small line in front of the reception. In front of her was a white couple, very stylishly dressed. Behind her were two young men dressed in suits. Mansi felt glad that she decided to dress nicely.

The last time she was here, Mansi had felt very out of place in her simple almost wrinkled sari that she wore at home. Everyone around her had been so fashionably dressed. And then the hotel itself was so posh with its big chandeliers, scent of perfume wafting through the air conditioning, expensive elegant sculptures everywhere, etc. So Wednesday late morning, as she started getting ready, she decided to dress well. She wore her most expensive green-gold sari that was normally reserved only for weddings and other such functions. She didn't really own much make-up but put on some lipstick. And instead of just tying her long hair into a bun, she combed it throughly and left it open. She also took with her the relatively fanciest purse she owned, and put on a couple of gold bangles.

This small makeover did make her look even more alluring than usual. Because this time, even she noticed the glances she was getting from men around her. Nothing blatant or impolite, but still, it was clear that she was making heads turn.

"I love your sari!" the white woman in front of her suddenly turned and said.

"Thank you." Mansi blushed.

"Where can I get something like that?"

"I..I don't know. I bought it...in my hometown. Meerut." Mansi was feeling uncomfortable talking to her in English. It's not like Mansi's English was bad. She just wasn't very used to speaking it beyond helping with Pinky's homework. Besides, the white woman's tall frame and foreign accent intimidated her a little.

"Well, it's beautiful. Excuse me." the lady said as it was their turn at reception and walked away.

Mansi stood at the front of the line, waiting to be called.

"You are from Meerut?" a voice behind her said in Hindi. She turned around.

It was one of the two suit-clad young men standing behind her. They seemed like hotshot executives or MBA types.

"Yes." she answered.

"I am also from Meerut! Well, Ghaziabad technically, but that makes us neighbors." he smiled.

Mansi just nodded and looked straight ahead. She wasn't used to strangers, especially men, just casually striking up a conversation with her,

"Are you also staying in this hotel?" he continued. His friend, to whom it was obvious he was trying to chat her up, suppressed a smile.

"No." Mansi simply said.

"We are. About to check in. We are both investment bankers. Visiting from London." he said, hoping, like many investment bankers do, that it would impress her.

"I see." she wasn't sure why this man was continuing to talk to her.

"We are here to close a multi-milion dollar deal. What brings you here?"

"Just visiting someone." she said curtly, wishing he would take a hint.

"Someone in this hotel?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Ohhhhh! I understand." he said and giggled a little, as did his friend.

Mansi was too sheltered and innocent to realize the conclusion they had drawn. A good looking young woman dressed so nicely, not very comfortable in English, without any luggage, visiting someone in the hotel. They drew the only conclusion they could.

"Do you have a card or something?" he giggled and asked.

"Card? What card?" Mansi was confused. The two men giggled some more.

"Yes, ma'am?" a clerk at the reception called out. And Mansi rushed towards the desk. She was getting a bad vibe from those guys.

"I am here to meet Reena Bajaj."

"Oh, Reena ma'am? Yes, you must be Mansi ma'am." he said.

"Yes."

"Just one second." he reached out under the desk. "Here's a key card."

"Key card? I am just visiting her."

"Yes, she is expecting you in her residence."

"She lives here?" Mansi's eyes went wide.

"Yes, she has a suite on the VIP floor. The 35th floor. And that floor is only accessible by card. So here it is. Suite 3502."

All this was very new and impressive to Mansi. She knew Reena aunty worked in the hotel at a senior post but she had no idea she even lived there. And that too an exclusive VIP floor? 35th floor? Mansi had never gone that high in any building. Very impressive. She stepped into a shiny lift and entered the card in a slot meant for the 35th floor.

Mansi could not believe how fast the lift reached all the way up to the 35th floor. The lifts she was used to, took that much time to reach 4 floors. She stepped out into a floor that was even more fancy than the lobby. She felt a little intimidated. But Rena aunty was expecting her. She went to Suite 3502 and knocked.

The door was opened by an unknown person. A tall old man in a suit, with half-bald white hair and a big belly.

"Oh I am sorry." Mansi said and looked at the number outside the door.

"You must be Mansi." the man flashed her a friendly smile. "Don't worry, you're not in the wrong place."

"Come on in. Mansi!" she heard Reena aunty's voice from behind the old man. He stepped away and opened the door wide. He saw Reena aunty putting some glasses on a coffee table.

"Oh, I didn't..." Mansi was a little taken aback. She had not expected anyone else to be there. But she still walked in, feeling out of place again.

"Sorry if this gentle giant scared you." Reena aunty smiled. "Let me introduce you two. This is an old family friend of mine, Mr. Navin Dutt. And as I told you, Duttsahab, this is my old neighbor from Meerut Mansi."

"Pleased to meet you, Mansiji." he politely folded his hands.

"He lives in Delhi. Called me a little while ago saying he was in Bombay for a business trip, so how about lunch? I assumed you wouldn't mind if he joined us."

"Not at all." Mansi politely said, although she was a little disappointed. With someone else there, she would not be able to be very open in her conversations. And would not feel comfortable bringing up the topic of a job.

The three of them headed towards the plush couches in the living area.

"Some beer, Mansiji?" Dutt asked pointing at the glasses on the table.

"No, thanks. I don't drink."

"Some orange juice then?" Reena aunty asked.

"Sure."

"Let me go get it."

Reena went into another room as Mansi sat on the couch. She could not believe how deep her petite body sank in. Dutt sat on a single seat perpendicular to her and smiled. There was an awkward silence.

----------

"So Mansiji, how long have you lived in Bombay?" he broke the silence.

"Eight years. And please don't call me ji, Duttsahab. You are my elder." Mansi respectfully said, remembering her manners.

"Are you calling me an old fogey?" Dutt feigned feeling hurt.

"No no, I didn't mean it like that." Mansi immediately explained.

"Haha, relax. I am just joking. Okay, I will call you just Mansi."