Monday , May 23 2022

A middle class housewife discovers a new world

Mansi was intrigued and pushed it. Immediately, a small refrigerated box slid out of the panel next to her. It had water, cola, and a couple of juices.

“Wow!!” she said, her eyes wide. A mini fridge in a car? She reached out and took a bottle of water.

“Press it again.” he said, and then the fridge disappeared into the wall as if it was never there.

Taking a sip of water, Mansi licked her dry lips. Dutt watched her do that and felt a stirring in his loins. But he restrained himself.

“Duttsahab…what do your kids do?” she asked.

“My kids…oh they are a great bunch. The eldest, my first daughter, is a Vice President in my business. She is the one who runs most of our operations these days. And once I retire soon, she will take over completely. To be honest, she is going to take our business to great heights. She is married to a lawyer and they have two sons.”

Mansi was a little surprised that despite having a son, it was a daughter that he was grooming as his successor.

“The second is my son. About your age. He is a sculptor. Not hit the big leagues yet, but I see a lot of promise. And my youngest is doing a masters course at Stanford University in the US. She is going to be a great writer.” he proudly said.

Mansi smiled and nodded. If she had been born to him, maybe she could have become an artist too.

That’s when Dutt’s phone rang again.

“Excuse me. Duty calls again.” he said and answered.

As the old man talked business on the phone, Mansi turned back to look outside the window. They were now on the western express highway. She thought about her own daughter, and how intelligent she was. What was in her future? Even with all his flaws and idiosyncrasies, the good thing about Amar was that he was not an old-fashioned guy when it came to that part. It was his idea to put her in an expensive high quality school. She was sure that with him together, they would be able to help her live up to her full potential. But that needed so much money these days.

“See that blue building over there with the glass facade?”

Mansi was so lost in her thoughts that she did not realize when Dutt finished his phone call and slid over right next to her. His face was right in front of hers and his finger was pointing out the window. His hips were touching hers.

“Hmmm?” she absent-mindedly said, looking where he pointed.

“I own two floors in that building, and that is like my Mumbai branch office.”

“I see.” she said.

“So you see, we are neighbors of sorts. You live in Borivali East. I have my offices in Borivali East.” he said, still right next to her, a little too close.

“I guess so.” she said, and squirmed a little, uncomfortably.

Dutt noticed her reaction and was a little disappointed. He had hoped for some sort of a signal that she was also attracted to him. But it wasn’t there, He immediately slid back and she looked more relaxed.

Soon the driver turned off from the highway and went into the roads of the suburb. There was a short period of silence as Mansi sipped a bit more of the water. She didn’t think that Duttsahab meant anything untoward by sliding that close to her. Maybe that was the norm among high society people. And he was such a nice charming man. When his face was right next to her, she had found herself thinking that it was a very handsome face. And that in his younger days, before he got a paunch, he must have been quite a good looking guy. He reminded her a bit of Rishi Kapoor.

“We are almost there, ma’am.” the driver said from the front.

“Oh, yes, thanks.” Mansi said as she recognized the familiar narrow roads of her neighborhood. Part of her felt a little sad that the ride was ending. It meant that her small adventure with high class society was ending.

“Mansi…” Dutt said holding his phone. “Why don’t you give me your number? Like I told you, my son is a sculptor. Through him, I hear of a lot of exhibitions and events related to art in Mumbai. Next time there is one, I can call you. And then you can visit it with your husband and daughter.”

The mention of her family was very purposeful. He had gauged her well enough to know that if he just asked her for her number saying the two of them should meet, she might refuse. But putting that request in the context of her main passions – art and her family – would make it easier.

“Oh sure…it is…”

Mansi gave him her cellphone number. He then gave her a missed call and saved his.

And then thanking him once again for the ride, the chopsticks lesson, and the gift card, she stepped out of the car.

As the fancy limo drove away, she realized that she was now back in the tepid confines of her regular middle class life.


Two days later, Mansi took Pinky to the mall near their house that had a branch of Food Mart. They walked the two kilometers there to save money on rickshaws. It was nearing the end of the month and finances were low. So whatever couple of hundred rupees were on that gift card Dutt gave her would be helpful.

“Mamma look!!” Pinky said as a toy helicopter flew over their head.

The little girl struggled free of her grip and ran after the helicopter. It landed right in front of a makeshift stall in a corner. It was laden with many different types of toy helicopter and a few young sales people with remote controllers in their hands were flying them around, enticing kids. There was a small crowd of kids and parents around the stall.

“Hello there.” a young woman walked up to Pinky. “Do you want to fly it?”

“Pinky, let’s go.” Mansi said, annoyed. This is why she hated going to the mall. There were temptations for her demanding daughter around every corner.

“Mamma please…just a few minutes.”

“It’s a lot of fun, ma’am. I love it even as an adult. You should try it too.” the sales girl made her practiced pitch.

Mansi knew there was no point even putting up a fight. She had been through such situations so many times. And it unfolded exactly as she knew it would. Pinky flew the helicopter around for a few minutes. Fell in love with it. And who wouldn’t? Mansi herself was very impressed by how cool and fun it was. She would have loved to buy it for her precious daughter if she could.

But she had also read the board they had on the side with the prices. The cheapest model was 1000 rupees. She had just a little over 1500 left for the rest of the month after accounting for what she owed the kirana store. Even with that gift certificate of a couple of hundred rupees, she simply could not afford it.

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