#1 Yellow Mansion

First chapter of the novella, 'Beachhouse Diaries.'

(picture : open source from internet)

Alaya always believed that this house should have been all white. She expressed this wish every time the three of them entered this house holding their hands and looking at its tall and thick walls. All three of them were little then. Seven - eight-year-olds. They were always in awe of those walls.  Often, they felt dwarfed by their magnanimity and warmth as if the walls kneeled down and invited Alaya and her two friends. Like they bent down and poked her with fondness. Alaya persisted with her wish and insisted till it reached irritating levels. This made the girls try once painting the outer wall of the house in white, behind the eyes and ears of Vijay uncle. One balmy afternoon when the walls were blowing out stifling heat directly at their sweltering faces and bare arms, the three of them sneaked out to paint. They were caught white-handed.  Their faces red. The sizzling and spilling bucket was daintily taken away by Vijay Uncle lest not a drop should spill or fly. Then he sat all of them down on his lap and gruffed.

‘Goan houses are never painted white as an ode to the white churches around.’ He twisted his face exactly like the landlord who had voiced the concern with these words while handing over the keys to the house and flying to America. The girls were left laughing and pleading for more of such stories as Vijay Uncle tickled them all around. He often pampered them by repeating this and many more of such stories in the large courtyard of the house. With keen interest and unique style, he would explain how this house possessed an aesthetic inspiration from all traditions - Indian, Portuguesa and Islamic. His voice felt overwhelmed while narrating these stories and gazing at the edifice which resembled a coy bride in wait, who sat rustling, yet unmoved in her yellow dress. Yes, yellow it was. The color of the house building, the color of its visage.

Alaya and Kavya often called it a shitty house merely to tease Penny. Not for anything else, but only for the color of the house. Unlike them, Penny was the real daughter of Vijay Uncle. Yellow is abounded in Goa - yellow dresses, yellow sun, yellow flowers etc. Then why carry it here and in this shade? Why could not they paint it sunshine yellow, beachy yellow or even the yellow of Penny’s favorite strappy dress? At this, Vijay Uncle would let out a hearty laugh and take them out on a ride amongst the coconut trees. Sunshine yellow, beachy yellow, balmy yellow – the girls would sing throughout. The house seemed to remember the giggling of the seven-year-old girls around the mango and coconut trees. It was shining extra bright today even with its fades.

It was their house. Of all of them. Their dosti’s abode, where they grew into adults and their friendship flourished. Kavya looked for reasons to not breath for even an extra second in her own home after her mother left. She believed her mother was pushed away into another world by her father, her biological father.

Alaya’s home stank of an indifferent gloom, where the air was rustled only by opening and shutting of the doors as her super rich parents left for work and returned back. They arrived in different time zones, took a slight peep in Alaya’s room before shutting behind the other separate set of doors. She would fake sleep. Sometimes it was better to not even savour that drop, which would leave you craving for more.

Although they called it ‘ a shitty house’ because of the colour of its paint, Kavya and Alaya were always here, with their craves, relishing their share of drops of warmth with Penny. Until they abandoned it. Today, exactly fifteen years later they were standing here. Right at the feet of this once glorious bride. The bride who sat with faded colours and welled up tears upon their arrival. The girls looked away with palpable sadness, since their destination today is not her but afar. They are loading their bags in a car to go to the other abode, the weekend abode of their childhood. Fearing the duo may give another ominous name to it, Penny had named it ‘The little mermaid.’ It was the beach house, where they were heading for right now and where they had spent their childhood weekends, years ago.

*

Their arrival stirred something in the air today. Not just the air of the city that they grew up in but also the air between the walls of this magnificent mansion. Exactly, fifteen years ago, Alaya had let go of this air and shine for marriage and Kavya had to leave for work. They could not find the time to come back till this day. After winning her Miss India Pageant Alaya got married to Anvay Singhania, the real estate baron and took on the life of Mrs. Singhania which was prominently played in the busy fashion streets of Milan and Paris. Of her, they heard mostly from the tabloids. Kavya, with her studious self and the deep desire to have a loving home went on to compete for the civil services and chose to be a civil servant. Her zeal for laurels at work and a happy married life pushed her into the forlorn districts of an equally forlorn state in North India. Penny, however, stayed put to the shitty house. Despite being one of the most successful Directors the whole Bollywood was ready to lap up for their next project, she would not step out of this city. Her contracts strictly stipulated this condition that she would not leave Goa. She was lucky as her work allowed her this flexibility though it was frowned upon as stubbornness by the tinsel world. However, none could afford to ignore this Goan jaadugarni. She could work magic even with her kodak camera in their school days. Kavya still carried the picture of the three of them sitting in Vijay Uncle’s lap under the tree. Whenever she took it out from under her mattress - did this ever exist? – the thought kept escaping her.

*

‘Can anyone say that she is a mother of two?’ Penny snapped at Alaya while dumping her rucksack in to the back seat of the car.

‘Or the good old maggie noodles of our childhood?’ Kavya joined placing her brown suitcase wrapped in an anti-dust cover carefully and slightly away from the rugged rucksack. The discipline in her little soul then had not left her in the years of growing up. Her hair unlike the other two were tied in a neat bun even today. It was her discipline which often gave her the authority to make the other two dance around. She never meant any jibe at the mop of curls crowning Alaya even then. In fact, she loved them, even then.

‘Look at her!’  Penny smirked again as Alaya hopped in to the car, nimble footed, no less than a feather. Her strappy gladiator sandals were placed on the dashboard. Not that she always wanted the front seat but she never wanted to miss any fun also. Alaya claimed her seat and spread out in the front with the other two standing out of the car.

‘But you surely look like a mother!’ Looking at Kavya, Alaya chuckled and put on her shimmery sunglasses. Alaya herself looked no more than a teenager in her denim hot pants and the pristine white tank top. It was complemented by a sleek golden pendant around her neck, its golden color being the only out of place thing on her. A circle of peachy diamonds was tinkling on her right wrist, the kinds Kavya had seen only in the fashion magazines. Kavya ran her gaze upon herself. Her good old linen culottes and the oversized beige shirt though neat and without a single crease, fell pale and dated in front of Alaya.

‘I wish you had put that much thought in some other concrete work in life.’ The comparison sensed by Kavya a moment before leapt out in vengeance.

 ‘Really? Any other gyan madam super achiever? I have all the time in the world to hear you out.’ Alaya stretched long her legs again.

‘Uggh! How do you even feed your kids with these? Kavya picked on her nails next. ‘You know na all these nail enamels are made from car paint.  Oh, I forgot. Her highness must have left this job to some heavily paid nanny.’ She could not help that outburst, but repented a fraction later. That is how she was. But not Alaya. She quickly got back.

‘Yes, at least for a fun vacation at their Naani’s orchards in Manali and not a boring middle-class summer camp next door like you.’ This comment was a bit overboard Alaya realised and bit her lip.

‘Sorry.’

 For a moment she may have been but not for long. That is how Alaya was. ‘It’s not my fault if I am rich and it never was.’

‘Okay okay. Ceasefire!’ Penny had to finally intervene.

‘Yeah yeah. You were waiting to get the perfect camera angle. Right?’ Kavya raised her eye brows at her. ‘Sometimes, I never realize you are there.’ Kavya wondered at the camera lens Penny was cleaning with the sleeve of her cotton shirt.

‘That’s how a cameraman should work.’ Penny jerked her high boots on the car. So much had changed in her. From the breezy Goan girl who refused to wear any dress if it did not have straps and didn’t flow around in tune with the breeze to this plain white collared shirt, rugged super skinny denims, heavy boots and cowboy hat.

‘Hope you are carrying some suitable stuff for a swim.’ Kavya teased Penny. ‘These boots won’t work; they would get stuck.’

‘Have patience, I will change. Only because I am driving that….’ Penny stopped at that and grunt-ed noting that Kavya was typing on her phone. ‘Hey are you listening to me or you have only learnt to taunt others?’

Grabbing this opportunity, Alaya snatched the phone from Kavya.

‘Can’t keep my hands-off hubby text, haan?’ 

While contorting her disappointed face she began scrolling down. It was Kavya’s daughter’s WhatsApp chat window. She was 9. She was not liking the summer camp as she found it no different from school. She wanted to immediately shift to the summer ballet workshop in the hills.

‘Stop controlling her so much, she must be hating you for dead!’ Alaya began blabbering while not taking her eyes off the chat. ‘Does she talk to you; I mean in person or only on chat?  I am sure not’. She raised her eyes at Kavya. ‘Poor girl is begging. Listen to her, talk to her.’ She flashed the phone screen at Kavya’s face. ‘Tchhh…I feel bad for her and you’.

Kavya could still tolerate the middle-class summer camp comment but this mother daughter hating business blew her off. It had to. Even after achieving everything she wanted to, life was not easy for her. Love was not easy for her.

‘Listen for once and all.’ Kavya threw her hands off in the air. ‘My kids don’t hate me. As whatever I do, they know or will get to know eventually, is only for their own good.

And, if I don’t keep a watch on her even she will turn in to a stupid trophy wife like…like.…’. She stuttered and stopped herself.

‘Like me? Say na.’ Alaya   turned back.

‘But what is wrong with me? Look at me – happy, rich, celebrity, winner of so many awards, Director in three companies. I am sure your daughter would be ready to die for this kind of life any day. Just ask her once. Whether she would be ready to slog herself in sweat and files in those plain cotton sarees of yours? Remember there was not even a separate Ladies toilet in your last office in that godforsaken village. Huh!’ She put on her sunglasses and looked to the side.

She did not stop. ‘I am sorry for my harsh words but sweetie I had told you not to get in this sarkari business and on the top of it get married to an IPS. Now neither you have time for kids nor he has for you. How much more do you need to prove to the world? Come back…’ She turned back howling. Kavya could spot crow’s feet at the ends of her eyes.  Even the world’s most expensive makeup could not hide these fine lines out of sleepless nights, she thought. The next moment the girls were in a mad hug and wild laughter. This is how all their fights always ended.

‘Hah.’ Alaya sighed. ‘All is good except for venue.’ She began her ramble again. ‘I mean meeting after so many years, why could we not have stayed in a nice place somewhere outside India, may be my summerhouse in Scotland? I could have arranged a chartered plane. I mean why Goa?’ She frowned.

‘Because this where we began.’ Kavya replied. This may have a different meaning to it, she wondered.

‘And this is also where you all chose to leave, midways.’ Penny chimed wryly.

‘Rightly. So, we should finish the unfinished, no?’ Kavya blurted and bit her lip again.

‘What? What unfinished you are talking about?’ Alaya asked almost dropping Kavya’s phone.

This wasn’t the right time Kavya thought and quickly shook her head to dismiss what she had uttered.

‘I mean, remember how we used to promise to each other to bring back our daughters here once they are grown up. Guys these were the most beautiful years of our life, can’t abandon them for anything.’ Kavya looked to the side. She could sense a familiar unease in the air. Alaya had already bitten half her nail. Penny was silently fuming.

‘Hope we are not going for a mountain ride Penny, what is with this car? Slow down.’ Kavya yelled. ‘My city, my rules, Madam officer! Now don’t dictate everything. Leave it to me.’ Kavya and Alaya quickly grabbed hands of each other not just for reassurance but to keep themselves from falling on the sides. Penny was in a different mood now – angry or excited, that they could not make much in the given speed. Even their faces were not visible properly with the wind, the hair and the scarves all blowing, playing around. She never drove like that before.

After some time, their senses numbed and their heads were rested on the back of the seats. The hands however still clung on to each other. ‘Wish Vijay uncle was here!’ Alaya sighed.

‘Why?’ Kavya asked trying to disentangle the curls that had crisscrossed her face all across.

‘It always felt safer in these lanes with him around.’ She lifted her head and rubbed her neck. She had been asleep for long in that position. ‘He will always be there with us.’ Kavya tried to reassure.

Penny took her glasses off despite the sun.

‘Yeah, he never went anywhere!’ She underlined with the widening of her eyes as if she knew something more than us. The car suddenly stopped outside the local cemetery.

‘Why here, weren’t we going to the beach house?’ Alaya jumped.