Mahesh Rao - The Smoke is Rising

As she surveyed the room on her way back to the kitchen, she was acutely aware that they had never been inside each other’s homes. He had no idea what hung on her walls, lined her shelves, lay on her coffee table. The idea that this evening would be one more modest step in their discovery of each other released a train of glee in her mind, a fact that would remain buried. There had been no sign of it when she had called Jaydev the day before to confirm the time and to enquire whether there was anything that he did not eat. Apparently he did not care much for beetroot but everything else was fine.

She had been brisk and businesslike: ‘That’s perfect then; see you tomorrow at eight.’

‘You sound like you are inviting me for an interview,’ he had responded.

‘Mr Jaydev, I cannot help how I sound. Now if you don’t mind, some of us have work to do.’

What he had not been able to see was her giddy smile.

As Susheela began to slice through some tomatoes, the doorbell rang.

‘Not today,’ Susheela muttered, walking to the door, her mind whipping through the possible identities of uninvited guests destined to introduce more turmoil into her day.

She leant into the spyhole and sighed. The distorted countenance of Vaidehi Ramachandra stared back at her, its rippled surface hardened against any alibis.

Susheela opened the door, easing a smile on to her face.

‘Vaidehi, come in. What a surprise.’

Vaidehi wagged her finger. ‘You may have forgotten your friends but your friends have not forgotten you.’

‘Now, there’s no need for all that,’ said Susheela, wagging her finger back, desperately trying to predict how long this visit would last. The woman was too tiresome for words and the sight of her sari border, as always an unseemly two inches above her bloated ankles, only served to irritate Susheela further.

‘I was in the area visiting my sister-in-law and it occurred to me that it has been so long since I even caught sight of you,’ Vaidehi announced. She settled herself in the armchair, her gaze wandering about the room.

‘So lovely, your place,’ she said, with the tone of someone who had emerged after several years in a dank cave.

Susheela stared modestly down at the carpet.

‘And how are you ?’ Vaidehi continued, still smiling. ‘You seem well.’

‘I am well,’ said Susheela. ‘Nothing to complain about.’

‘Really?’ asked Vaidehi, a little too quickly it seemed to Susheela. ‘Well, if one can say that then what else does one need in life?’

Susheela was already beginning to tire of the oblique pronouncements. She neither knew nor cared why Vaidehi was here, although she suspected that it had something to do with that ridiculous pamphlet from all those months ago. She needed to chivvy along the proceedings.

‘You’ll have some coffee?’ she asked.

‘I’ll never say no to your coffee,’ said Vaidehi. Her eyebrows were raised in a delighted conspiracy.

Susheela could not bring herself to smile. She stood up.

‘I’ll just be two minutes,’ she said, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

Vaidehi immediately followed her.

‘Something smells delicious,’ she said. Her voice had turned into a poisonous cant with an obvious intention to provoke. Susheela did not respond, spooning coffee into the filter.

Vaidehi walked over to the hob and peered into the pan.

‘ Halwa ,’ she crowed, as if a significant clue had fallen into her lap.

Susheela reached into the fridge for the milk.

‘Special occasion?’ asked Vaidehi. ‘Sweets, all this preparation in the kitchen?’

‘I just decided to make some halwa . My neighbours love it so I’m going to send some over later,’ said Susheela, her voice tight with impatience. ‘Come, let’s go back and sit down. The coffee will be ready in a couple of minutes.’

‘That’s so thoughtful of you. I always say, we have to look out for each other because no one else will.’

Susheela was not sure whom Vaidehi counted in her team of responsible protectors. Her thoughts drifted to the tasks she had to finish before Bhargavi was due to arrive to clean the kitchen.

‘So, I want to hear all your news,’ said Vaidehi.

‘Well, I don’t really have much news,’ said Susheela with a quick laugh. ‘Children are both fine, I am fine, everything is going well. I think the coffee is done.’

Susheela went into the kitchen and emerged with one cup. In spite of her instincts for hospitality, she had decided not to risk cake or biscuits.

‘You’re not having any?’ Vaidehi asked.

‘No, I have just had some.’

Vaidehi took the cup and carefully lowered her top lip into it.

‘Delicious, as always,’ she said, her mouth a dangerous pantomime.

A silence settled over the pair. Vaidehi took another sip of coffee, still looking keenly at Susheela. Through the open windows they could hear the mid-morning birdsong nipping at the air.

Vaidehi put her coffee down and leant forward.

‘The truth is, Susheela, I have come here to help you. To warn you.’

Susheela dragged her gaze to Vaidehi’s merciless face.

‘I don’t understand. Warn me about what?’

‘First of all, you must promise me that you will not think badly of me. I have come here with only good intentions. It is not easy for me to talk about this either.’

Susheela looked blank.

‘So do you promise?’

Susheela nodded mechanically.

‘People are talking,’ said Vaidehi and leant back again, as if she did not intend to say anything more.

‘Talking about what?’

Vaidehi lunged at the question.

‘Talking about you . And your, I don’t know what to say, your friend Mr Jaydev. They are saying all kinds of things. You are going everywhere together, behaving like senseless youngsters, these are the kinds of things.’

Susheela stared at Vaidehi.

‘Like I said, I have come here as a friend because I think you should know these things, what they are saying. I have tried to defend you but you know how people think. The thing no one can understand is this: why you of all people should stoop to such things.’

Vaidehi paused as if she expected an answer but then continued.

‘See here, of course it is not easy being a widow, everyone knows that. But you are from a good family, your husband has left you comfortably off, you have children with good jobs, you don’t need to go chasing after a man with money. What will you do with more money?’

Susheela had grown pale but stayed silent.

‘You have not gone mad, suddenly thinking you are eighteen again. So why should you be running around after an old man like this, making a fool of yourself? So what if he has that big Yadavagiri house? That is what everyone is asking, Susheela.’

Vaidehi picked up her cup and noisily swallowed the rest of the coffee.

‘I am sorry to be the one to tell you this my dear, but you have become a laughing stock in this city.’

Vaidehi put the cup down squarely on the coaster.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘a laughing stock.’

The editor of the Mysore Evening Sentinel was adding the finishing touches to his comment for the next day’s edition. When he completed an item that he found particularly insightful, his hooded eyes seemed to retreat further into his face. He read through the column one more time so that the conclusions would resound in his head as he drove home. The piece was intended as a wake-up call on climate change to the residents of Mysore. There was an urgent need to change lifestyles, adapt processes and harness new technologies. This would all take time, so in the interim readers were urged to purchase more eco-friendly products and reduce reliance on air conditioning when the weather began to change in a few weeks.