Free No Time for Goodbyes by Andaleeb Wajid
Authors: Andaleeb Wajid
sheâs lying on her mattress.
âHow was your day?â she asks, curling up towards me when I get ready for bed.
âIt was okay. Tiring,â I tell her as I cover myself with the blanket and pull it up to my chin.
âHow was Manoj today?â she asks and I grimace. What does she want me to tell her?
âWe met some girl called Neelima today at the bus stop. And heâs very popular in college also I think. Everyone seems to want to talk to him!â I say.
Suma leans her head on her elbow and snorts. âI know!â she says. âIâve seen that girl Neelima a few times. Sheâs very pretty, no?â
Oh mom. Donât go there.
âYeah, she is,â I say because Suma is expecting me to answer her.
âBut you know something?â she asks and I take a deep breath and shake my head.
âNo. Tell me.â
âI donât think Manoj really likes her,â she sounds pleased as she says this.
âHmm,â I decide not to answer that. When I look at her a few minutes later, sheâs asleep with a smile on her face.
Sixteen
S O WEâRE SITTING IN this ice cream parlour called Chit Chat on MG Road. College is over for the day and Manoj has insisted that we come over here because heâs feeling bad for having forgotten about lunch the previous day.
Today I did come prepared however. I had shyly asked Ajji if she would make lunch for me because I wasnât sure of the canteen food and Ajji had warmed up to me instantly, handing me a dabba packed with piping hot, fragrant chitranna. I ate outside the library on the steps, wondering what Manoj was doing, a little glad that he knew I came with lunch today, so he didnât have to feel like he had to spend lunch time with me.
The waiter brought us our ice creams and placed it on the table. The ice creams in 2012 are way more sophisticated and there must be at least a hundred more flavours. My glass dish of ice cream has three scoops on it, the typical vanilla, chocolate and strawberry covered liberally with cashewnut pieces and a wafer stuck on top. To be honest, itâs not very appetising because Iâm used to eating Death by Chocolate. Nevertheless, Iâm sure Manojâs feelings will be hurt if I donât seem to enjoy it so I smile and dig in.
Weâre eating the ice cream in silence, because Iâm quietly observing the people around us. Most of them seem to be young couples although there are a few families as well. Next door is Lakeview, and Iâve been reliably informed by mom that the 2012 Lakeview is not a patch on how it used to be before. But Iâm sure the ice cream there would be just as insipid. What 2012 doesnât have is the atmosphere I think. Thereâs no rush to go home, and no one is clicking pictures of their ice cream before digging into it. All the oddities of our lives in 2012 would actually make us look like aliens in 1982.
âMy grandfather wants to meet you,â Manoj says, breaking the uneasy silence.
âOh thank god! Has he found a way to send me back?â I ask, dipping my spoon into the chocolate scoop.
âNot yet,â Manoj says slowly. âBut he wants to talk to you, find out in detail how you came here. He wants to know the exact sequence of things that happened to you.â
Iâm a bit disappointed but I shrug. âSure, when does he want to meet me?â
âSoon. Maybe when you get back home you can freshen up and come home with me,â he says.
âOkay,â I say.
âWant one more?â he asks when he notices that my ice cream bowl is empty. I shake my head.
âNot as good as what youâre used to, I suppose,â he says and for the first time, I notice a slight hint of bitterness in his tone.
âWe do have better ice creams in my time,â I tell him, feeling a little defensive. Thatâs not my fault is it?
He doesnât say anything as he continues eating. When
âHow was your day?â she asks, curling up towards me when I get ready for bed.
âIt was okay. Tiring,â I tell her as I cover myself with the blanket and pull it up to my chin.
âHow was Manoj today?â she asks and I grimace. What does she want me to tell her?
âWe met some girl called Neelima today at the bus stop. And heâs very popular in college also I think. Everyone seems to want to talk to him!â I say.
Suma leans her head on her elbow and snorts. âI know!â she says. âIâve seen that girl Neelima a few times. Sheâs very pretty, no?â
Oh mom. Donât go there.
âYeah, she is,â I say because Suma is expecting me to answer her.
âBut you know something?â she asks and I take a deep breath and shake my head.
âNo. Tell me.â
âI donât think Manoj really likes her,â she sounds pleased as she says this.
âHmm,â I decide not to answer that. When I look at her a few minutes later, sheâs asleep with a smile on her face.
Sixteen
S O WEâRE SITTING IN this ice cream parlour called Chit Chat on MG Road. College is over for the day and Manoj has insisted that we come over here because heâs feeling bad for having forgotten about lunch the previous day.
Today I did come prepared however. I had shyly asked Ajji if she would make lunch for me because I wasnât sure of the canteen food and Ajji had warmed up to me instantly, handing me a dabba packed with piping hot, fragrant chitranna. I ate outside the library on the steps, wondering what Manoj was doing, a little glad that he knew I came with lunch today, so he didnât have to feel like he had to spend lunch time with me.
The waiter brought us our ice creams and placed it on the table. The ice creams in 2012 are way more sophisticated and there must be at least a hundred more flavours. My glass dish of ice cream has three scoops on it, the typical vanilla, chocolate and strawberry covered liberally with cashewnut pieces and a wafer stuck on top. To be honest, itâs not very appetising because Iâm used to eating Death by Chocolate. Nevertheless, Iâm sure Manojâs feelings will be hurt if I donât seem to enjoy it so I smile and dig in.
Weâre eating the ice cream in silence, because Iâm quietly observing the people around us. Most of them seem to be young couples although there are a few families as well. Next door is Lakeview, and Iâve been reliably informed by mom that the 2012 Lakeview is not a patch on how it used to be before. But Iâm sure the ice cream there would be just as insipid. What 2012 doesnât have is the atmosphere I think. Thereâs no rush to go home, and no one is clicking pictures of their ice cream before digging into it. All the oddities of our lives in 2012 would actually make us look like aliens in 1982.
âMy grandfather wants to meet you,â Manoj says, breaking the uneasy silence.
âOh thank god! Has he found a way to send me back?â I ask, dipping my spoon into the chocolate scoop.
âNot yet,â Manoj says slowly. âBut he wants to talk to you, find out in detail how you came here. He wants to know the exact sequence of things that happened to you.â
Iâm a bit disappointed but I shrug. âSure, when does he want to meet me?â
âSoon. Maybe when you get back home you can freshen up and come home with me,â he says.
âOkay,â I say.
âWant one more?â he asks when he notices that my ice cream bowl is empty. I shake my head.
âNot as good as what youâre used to, I suppose,â he says and for the first time, I notice a slight hint of bitterness in his tone.
âWe do have better ice creams in my time,â I tell him, feeling a little defensive. Thatâs not my fault is it?
He doesnât say anything as he continues eating. When