"Hello"
No response. This is what bothered Aniket the most. He was on the way to work, in fact he had just left home and immediately there's a phone call. To top it all, there is no response. As if he did not have enough headaches to manage already.
Aniket was a very busy person holding a very serious position in one of the many multi-national companies that mushroomed in the city in the late nineties. This once sleepy town had been nudged from its slumber and forced to grow. Needless to say there were more cars than roads, unending serpentine lines of traffic. Every day he had to traverse through hours of traffic to reach work. He had little time to do anything else. His daughter had gone to college just this year. He was not returning home to anything really, his wife was equally busy and there was a mother in some part of the house who barely recognized him on her best days.
Aniket was a man of discipline, waking up at 6 AM, going for his morning walk, meditating, eating his cereal breakfast and taking his diabetes medicines without fail for the past many years. He did not have time for inefficiencies in his life. When he received a phone call while driving from the home's landline phone he was far from pleased. A landline phone! Who uses it any more? But his house has one, a legacy of a bygone era that they were holding on to just for his mother's sanity. Last time, he had brought up the topic of surrendering the account, she had thrown such a fit, holding the paper bill that was generated every month and gets piled up in their post box that no one checked anymore. Something to do with it being an utility bill bearing his father's name, as if that's how you can hold on to some one who is long gone. He was truly baffled and frustrated with this kind of sentimentality, but indulged his mother this one idiosyncrasy.
Who would have called? His wife Mitali had travelled to Mumbai for a conference. It must be the nurse. he just hoped everything was alright at home, because he did not have the strength to navigate through the traffic back home again. He knew he should be thinking about his mother's wellbeing, but his mind was occupied with the quarterly report he needed to turn in today. Soon a rogue motorist cut him off in the traffic and Aniket stuck his head out and gave him a piece of his mind, completely forgetting about the phone call. As he was reaching work, his phone buzzed again. It was Mitali.
"Hi Mitu"
"Hi Ani, good morning. Listen is everything ok at home?"
"Ya I am just reaching office, what happened?"
"I got a call from home number, but when I called back no one picked up."
This both worried and irritated Aniket. He had also received the phone call, but unlike Mitali he had not bothered to check in. But as usual, with a man who recognized his failings, he did not admit it.
"So call Jasmine and find out Mitu. How do you expect me to know? Look I have a really busy day, can you just sort this out and text me?"
There was a terse "Sure" from the other end of the line before disconnecting. Aniket went ahead with his day with the diligence of an ox. Around lunch time, he had a moment to look up from his work and noticed a one-word text from Mitali: "Sorted"
The kind of message where he could cut through the clutter and hear her annoyed voice, but he was in no mood to indulge these petty feelings now. We can speak now when she is back from Mumbai, he surmised. The day's rigmarole continued surely and quickly as any other day, there was nothing extraordinary to write home about.
As he started back for home, he had a moment to himself in the parking lot. He was relieved to have been able to ship out the report on time. The team had worked well, he would probably need to take the kids out for a few drinks this Friday. As the car trudged back, he dialled Mitali, but she did not pick up. This is what happened with them, like two large ships crossing each other in the ocean, they feel each other's waves, living highly successful parallel lives together.
He reached home and turned the key on the door he was met with a familiar scent of white lilies - or rajanigandha as his mother called them. Aniket knew that these were prohibitively expensive here and was surprised at their presence in the house today. As he took offf his shoes, he could hear the sound of laughter from the living room. He peaked in to see Mitali and his mother were sitting on the couch watching some TV and talking like two old friends, but that is not what arrested his attention. He noticed a bunch of rajanigandha neatly arranged in front of his father's photograph, along with two almost extinguished incense sticks.
It was fourteenth June, it was his father's birthday, Ma must have been calling about this. The woman who forgets her dentures had remembered the date, yet he who had the company's financials at his fingertip had forgotten this number.
