Monday , May 23 2022

A middle class housewife discovers a new world

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.

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