Recap: Back at the guest house, Lata gets her address ready, but is woken up by Goopy and Duma and rushes back to Calcutta in the middle of the night. Ronny oversleeps, then rushes to listen to Lata, but hears the session has been cancelled. And in Tilo’s office, freezes upon hearing some tinkly laughter.
Did you clear the cat story?” Hem asked.
“What cat story?” asked Aaduri glumly.
It was afternoon. Aaduri was sprawled on the sofa in Hem’s brother’s house, Hem’s niece and nephew, 15 and 10, flanking her body proprietorially. They’d begun to colonise her almost as soon as they’d set sight upon her yesterday — it was entirely instinctive and, to Hem, who knew Aaduri’s dislike for kids, almost fatal. But Aaduri seemed far more accepting of the arch, book-reading Naina with her perennially raised eyebrows, and the clear-eyed, phone-stealing Robin, than she had been of, say, Josh and Pixie.
The last two days had gone by in a blur. There’d been so much catching up to do. Hem was visiting the folks in Ranchi after several years, for the first time with a lady-friend. Hem’s brother and sister-in-law took leave from work to spend time with them and, much to Hem’s relief, everyone had gotten along with everyone else. So, it was only this morning that Aaduri had learnt the grim news from Calcutta. Since then, she’d sunk into deep gloom, while the children took it upon themselves to cocoon her. Hem felt a little left out.
“What cat story?” Aaduri asked again, somewhat roused now, stretching her hand out for her phone. Robin instantly pulled his one-moment-please face. His sister extended her long slim arm across the leather seat, grabbed the phone wordlessly and handed it to Aaduri, before returning to her Vampire book. “Your old friend Ronny got a cat with his girlfriend and your protege Tiana did a story on it that’s now apparently getting thousands of hits. You haven’t checked the work group?”
“What?” said Aaduri sitting up in surprise. “Ronny and Pragya got a cat? When? Where?”
“According to Tiana’s sketchy little piece, she came to Jamshedpur spontaneously to raise money for a kitty shelter. The whole thing was instigated via Instagram. And she rescued a little black kitten that, apparently, she and Ronny will co-parent.”
“Hang on,” said Naina, “You guys know Pippa Sen? The actress? I saw the video of the kitten she adopted.”
“She’s not an actress,” Aaduri said crossly, “She hasn’t acted in anything yet. Pippa Sen!”
Naina explained patiently, “To be a social media influencer you don’t actually have to be good at anything specific. Wait, let me show you the cat post, one second.”
Aaduri looked at Hem dolefully, “Sumona must have cleared the cat story. I think we need to get back to Calcutta before Lata does something drastic and/or Tiana steals my job. I mean, look, I am happy about the hits. But it’s just so ridiculous!”
“Wait, who’s this?” Naina said.
Aaduri looked sideways at her phone in Naina’s hands, “That’s my best friend Lata. You see, these two kids, children of our friends, had a funeral for a parakeet in Jamshedpur, which Ronny Banerjee — the filmmaker? your Pippa’s love interest? — shot on my phone. I’d clean forgotten about it.”
“Bird funeral!” Robin jumped up, “Let me see, let me see.”
Hem loomed over them and all four began to watch the video of the bird funeral.
In Tilo’s garden, with its symmetrical rose beds, the last dregs of sunlight had cast a haunting sort of light upon the little grave. Lata kneeled at its edge, holding the box where Max’s lifeless body lay in state. On one side of her, Josh — Optimus Prime perched on his shoulder — shed silent tears. On her other side, Scone mewled gently in Pixie’s lap. Ronny Banerjee, wielding the phone-camera, clearly knew his job.
“Dear Max,” said Lata, simply, affectionately, her right arm around Josh. “Today is not a day that we mourn you. No. Today is a day we celebrate your brief but beautiful life.” Josh nodded. Lata continued. “Even before you were known, Max, you were dearly missed. How many of us have had that privilege? Optimus Prime had pined for you night and day, losing his feathers, suffering the pain of your absence, until you arrived one fine day, in a flash of green.” Josh smiled wanly. “Dear Max, know that this is but a brief parting. According to the laws of karma, those who are loved are never lost in death. There are only interim separations. Now that you are free, we hope you find the choicest fruit and nuts to nibble upon, as you wait for us on the other side.”
Josh gave a little sob. Ronny’s hand wobbled a bit. Pixie took a few steps forward, a black shawl draped around her shoulders like a cape, and lowered Max’s bier ceremonially into the grave. Scone barked, Josh threw fistfuls of earth. After a last lingering shot of Lata’s face, the camera artfully followed Optimus Prime as he flapped his wings and circled above Max’s grave.
It was barely two minutes long, unedited footage, but Aaduri, no great lover of animals or kids by the way, found herself tearing up.
“That, Chachu,” said Naina, burying her nose into Hem’s arm, “Is the sort of stuff that breaks the Internet. Why can’t you share that video on your website? My friends will go crazy about it. Everyone will go crazy about it. It’s got that quality. All you have to say is ‘This Bird Funeral Video Will Make You Cry’.”
“No, no,” Robin interjected, “You should say, ‘If this bird funeral doesn’t make you cry you are a psychopath.’ That should be the headline.”
“I should hire you two!” Aaduri said.
“How much will you pay?” Robin asked, seriously.
***
“It’s Alzheimer’s. Isn’t it?” Manjulika Ghosh said to her daughter, “Don’t sugar-coat it, Munni.”
“Ma,” said Lata tiredly, “Let’s not jump the gun.”
She tucked Manjulika in — mother and daughter were both grateful to be out of that hospital with its sterile pink walls and back in Manjulika’s boudoir — and then Lata sat down next to her, holding her hand. Manjulika was feeling like herself now, she was bickering with Nimki about the salt in the dal and cracking jokes with Duma. And so, Lata found it almost impossible to wrap her head around the events of that night, even though Manjulika had reconstructed it perfectly for the neurologist.
At 9.30 she left the book club meeting, as usual, her head buzzing with ideas that she wanted to discuss with Munni, once Munni had returned. After five minutes, though, she felt a little cold and paused to take her cardigan out from her bag and put it on. After that, when she looked up, she just couldn’t make sense of where she was. The shops had shut down and the road was emptier than usual. And just like that, it was as though the coordinates had completely slipped her mind. She just couldn’t figure out the way home. She knew she had to go home. But she just couldn’t remember where home was or where she stood in relation to it. The harder she tried to find her way, the more lost she seemed to get. No, she clarified to all the doctors who interviewed her, nothing like this had ever happened before. Yes, she often forgot where her phone and her charger were, and several times she had found herself teaching the wrong class in school. But she had never lost herself on a familiar route before this. It was the first time.
In the wee hours of the morning, Lata, Duma and Kaku had found her sitting on a bench by the Ganga, very cold, but perfectly composed. “Now that you’ve found me, we may as well see the sunrise,” had been her first words. Goopy and Boro Jethu were at the police station. AJ’s father and uncle were trawling hospital wards.
Afterwards, a whole battery of tests were conducted and the head of neurology, Boro Jethi’s cousin, had insisted on keeping her overnight, under observation.
“I know the early symptoms of Alzheimer’s, Munni,” said Manjulika stoically, “The sense of spatial geography is the first thing to go.”
“Just because you discussed Still Alice in your stupid book club doesn’t mean you know everything,” snapped Lata.
“Ah, don’t be mad,” Manjulika told her daughter mollifyingly.
“I’m not mad, Ma,” Lata said, stroking her mother’s hand softly, immediately softened by guilt.
“Was Ronny there in Jamshedpur?” Manjulika asked.
“Yes, he gave a good speech,” Lata said shortly, “Then he got a cat with Pragya. The cat is now the subject of Internet discussions.” Lata had had enough empty hours in the hospital to encounter them on social media.
“Munni,” Manjulika said urgently, abandoning the subject of Ronny, “I have to tell you everything important before I forget. But you are so busy!”
“Will you stop with the doomsday talk already! It’s probably stress or something. Really.”
“And Munni,” Manjulika said, as though she hadn’t heard a word Lata said, “Will you take me to London with you when you go back? I want to do all the things I always said were too expensive or too silly or too dramatic...”
“You mean you will finally watch The Mousetrap at West End? Shop for tea at Fortnum’s? Eat caviar on blinis for breakfast?”
“Also, champagne tea at the Ritz,” Manjulika finished.
“Don’t think you are going to London without me,” commented Nimki, entering the room with Manjulika’s dinner tray, “I have Aadhar now, I will get a passport also. Why are you crying, Mamoni? Ma Kali is watching over us, don’t cry, come on now, wipe your eyes.”
(To be concluded)
