Reputation. That word pulsated in his mind – Deepali’s face, the disappointment in her eyes, it still stung.
He lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The last few weeks, all those moments when he’d felt like he was achieving things – it meant nothing in the end. Because here he was, back at square one.
An hour later, there was a knock on the door. Mukesh hauled himself up from the bed, his head heavy and sore, slipped his slippers on, and slid his way across the hallway.
‘Vritti?’ he said, as he pulled the door wide.
‘Hi Papa,’ Vritti’s voice was soft. ‘I just wanted to pop in for chai. Are you free?’
Mukesh felt his eyes sting with tears, but he blinked them away as he stepped aside, to let his daughter through.
‘Sachet chai?’ Vritti asked, wandering straight to the kitchen.
‘Yes, okay, but please add Canderel. Rohini bought the unsweetened ones last time.’ Mukesh hovered in the kitchen doorway, watching Vritti make her way around the kitchen, like it was her home.
‘Fine by me, but don’t tell her I’m doing that!’ Vritti called back. ‘I’d never hear the end of it. You go sit down, Papa, put your feet up.’
He did as he was told, unsure what to say.
Moments later, Vritti walked in, balancing two chais on Naina’s little tea tray with some extra tablets of Canderel scattered all over, between the mugs. She placed it down gently on the table next to Mukesh, but still managed to spill some tea onto the tray. The Canderel began to float, and some began to swim as fast as they could to reach the shore. Some survived, others slowly disintegrated. Vritti and Mukesh just watched for a moment, until the thought of Rohini’s scolding came to them through the inertia: ‘Get some kitchen towel. Clean that up!’
‘I got this!’ Mukesh looked at Vritti, his eyes bright. His arm reached down beside his armchair and he brought a hand-held vacuum with a squeegee top into view. ‘It cleans up water!’
Vritti laughed. ‘Where on earth did you get that, and why?’
‘Those television programmes. It was so easy! This is the second time I have used it for a proper reason. Most of the time I just use it for condensation on the shower.’
Vritti laughed again, and Mukesh suddenly saw how ridiculous it was, how mundane, and he started to chuckle too.
‘How long have you had it?’
‘About three months. You know, when my Netflix wasn’t working, so I got very hooked on those shopping channels. Silly stuff, but this is useful!’
The doorbell punctuated their afternoon once more, and Mukesh felt the blood drain from his face. Vritti was here … what if, could this be another cornering? He looked up at the portrait of Naina, hoping for a sign, a warning.
‘Do you know who that might be?’ Mukesh asked Vritti, who shrugged casually.
He shuffled into the hallway and cautiously opened the door.
‘Dada!’ came two squealing voices. Within seconds, two little pairs of arms had clasped themselves around Mukesh’s legs, and Deepalydia Bennet was standing in front of him, but without the bonnet he’d imagined all the Bennet sisters would wear.
‘Hi Dad,’ she said, tentatively.
‘Deepali,’ he said, smiling. Just behind her masi was Priya, smiling from ear to ear.
‘Rohini just called me, asked me to pick up Priya so she could spend some time with you, and these two wanted to see you as well.’ Deepali nudged the twins inside and looked down at her hands. He had known Deepali all her life, and imagined her to be bubbling with awkwardness inside. ‘I just, I just wanted to say sorry, for the other day. It was unfair of me. I could just hear Mummy telling me off, she’s been in my head ever since …’ She hated apologizing …
Mukesh thought of good old Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird – old enough and wise enough to rise above any personal falling-outs. And this was his daughter – while he didn’t always understand her, he knew she didn’t want to hurt him. Jaya and Jayesh rushed into the living room to pester their cousin, as Deepali leaned forward and clutched her father.
‘Oih,’ Mukesh grunted. ‘Don’t squeeze too hard, I am an old man now.’
Deepali didn’t move. ‘I miss her,’ she said, into his shoulder. ‘I just miss her.’
Mukesh felt a frog jump in his throat. ‘I know, beti, I miss her too. Every day.’ He saw his daughter, years younger, a little older than Priya perhaps, coming home from school crying. He had been able to understand how she felt then, when he’d seen the tears streaming down her face. But the other day, at Vritti’s house, he hadn’t seen the hurt behind the anger, he hadn’t seen how much she was missing her mother. She was always so brave, so bold. As Atticus said, the only way he could see what it was really like for Deepali would be to walk around in her skin.