The Reading List(16)
The beeps from the library alarm ushered her out, her own stolen library book nestled in her bag.
Chapter 5
MUKESH
MUKESH WAS LYING ON his back when the doorbell rang. Had he fallen asleep? Rohini and Priya weren’t due to be here for hours, or so he thought. He gradually hauled himself up, groaning and creaking on the way, his back stiffer than he’d expected. He wanted to swear, but that wasn’t the sort of thing Mukesh did.
He was looking forward to seeing his granddaughter, his daughter too. But he knew the Rohini whirlwind was about to hit … And no matter how many times he’d survived it, he wasn’t sure he was ready for it after the aimless, lonely day he’d had. Once upon a time, Fridays were his and Naina’s relaxing day, the day they spent for themselves. These days, on Fridays, he usually did nothing.
He plodded down the stairs very slowly, holding on to the handrails on either side. Rohini’s handyman friend had fitted the rail on the other side of the stairs, to give him more stability. He was embarrassed about it. On the rare occasions he had non-familial visitors, he would joke about it before they mentioned it first.
He spotted the head and shoulders of a woman, obscured by the frosted glass in the centre of his front door. He would recognize her anywhere.
He took a deep breath and pulled it open. ‘Rohini, beti!’ he called, arms wide open in a welcoming gesture, forcing his voice to sound cheerful and bright.
‘Papa,’ she replied, walking straight in, avoiding his open arms. Behind her came Priya, a book held tight in her little palms.
‘Priya, come in, darling.’
Without wasting any time on greetings, Rohini stomped straight through to the kitchen and began rummaging in the cupboards. She tutted a few times. Mukesh glanced at Priya, hoping to exchange an ‘oh dear’ moment, but she had already tucked herself up with her book on Naina’s living-room chair.
‘Papa? What is this?’ Rohini called, holding up a Tupperware of rice he’d had sitting in the fridge for a few days … maybe a little longer. ‘This is disgusting!’
‘Sorry, beta, I promise I wasn’t going to eat it.’
‘Never eat rice left longer than a day, Papa! You should have at least let me fry it up for you.’
‘Beta, don’t worry,’ he shuffled forwards, grabbing the Tupperware from her and emptying it into his food bin. ‘Gone! Out of sight, out of mind.’ But Rohini had already started making her way over to the sink.
‘Uh-ruh-ruh!’ She vocalized her disgust, just as Naina used to do. ‘How long have these plates been sitting here, Papa? This is so unhygienic! You’ll get all those ants back again – they love this hot, hot weather.’
‘Rohini, please, beta, just go and sit down and I will make you chai.’
‘Papa, no! I need to wash this all up. You think I come here just for chai? I come here to look after you. If only Mummy could see you now.’
Mukesh knew that last sentence came only from her frustration, but nonetheless it hurt. He’d noticed how over the past year, Rohini only ever mentioned ‘Mummy’ to berate him, to tell him he was living in a pigsty.
He was too tired for this, too tired to argue back. Instead, he wandered to the living room and slumped himself down, trying to tune out Rohini’s frequent grunts and groans as she found cracks in the cupboard door (‘I told you I could get someone round to fix this! This is almost a brand-new kitchen, you can’t have it looking scruffy like this, Papa!’) and boxes and boxes of mung beans in the fridge (‘Papa, this is very unhealthy if this is all you eat! I know Mummy always used to say good for fibre, but you must eat a balanced diet, Papa, like the doctor told you!’) and three empty cartons of his favourite packet chai in the recycling (‘Papa! You’ll rot what’s left of your teeth and these are not good for your diabetes! Mummy said only for special occasions, Papa, I have shown you how to make it from scratch’).
He wished more than anything that – rather than suffering creaking joints and ailing eyesight – he’d started losing his hearing first. In his family, where each of his daughters liked to talk a thousand decibels louder than the average human, that would have been particularly useful.
‘What are you reading, darling?’ Mukesh asked Priya, as Rohini roamed the house, searching from top to bottom, like a sniffer dog, on the lookout for the next thing to complain about. The living room was deadly silent.
‘Little Women, Dada,’ she replied, her eyes remaining fixed on the page. ‘It was one Ba recommended to me. She said she read it when she was a very little girl. Dad bought it for me last week.’
‘I haven’t heard of it,’ Mukesh said, honestly, but he made a mental note – now that he was a library member, he could and should pay attention to these things …
‘It’s a very famous book, Dada. Everyone knows it,’ she said, still not looking up, but her eyebrows were arched in a mock-accusatory, surprised frown.
‘What is it about?’ Mukesh asked, a little nervously – remembering her words from the other day: ‘You don’t get books, Dada … You just don’t care!’
‘Shhh, Dada, I’m trying to read it. I’ll tell you another day,’ Priya snapped in a sweet kind of way, and Mukesh did as he was told. Naina used to be a bit like that when she was reading too – maybe one day he’d understand.