Adultery Unfaithful Mothers and Housewives - Stranger_Women

"Mamma ice cream!!" seven year old Pinky yelled as she saw the gelato store in the mall and tried to run towards it. But Mansi held her hand firmly.

"Not now, Pinky." she said, dragging her inside the shoe store. "First we have to get your college shoes."

"But I want it now!!" she started jumping up and down. The kid had been a handful from the day she was born.

"Pinky, please don't make a scene!" Mansi said as the dozen or so customers in the store started looking at them.

"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?" a salesman walked up.

"We are here for these shoes for the Vidya Niketan uniform." she handed him the note from Pinky's college.

"Ice cream!" the brat pouted, but at least stopped jumping up and down.

"Yes ma'am, this way." he said.

Mansi took her sulking daughter towards the girl's section. The salesman measured Pinky's feet and then went to the store room in the back.

"Mamma, look at that!!"

Pinky had strolled over to the wall which displayed a lot of pretty designer shoes for little girls. Her mother walked behind her and admired the selection. They were all really pretty. The European sounding brand names suggested they were pricey.

"I want that one!" she reached over and picked up a purple sandal from eye level. Purple had always been her favorite.

"Pinky! Don't go around snatching shoes off the wall."

"But mamma..." she started whining again.

"Really pretty aren't they?" from nowhere, a sales girl materialized and started talking to Pinky. "Would you like to try them on?"

"YES!!" she shouted.

"We really don't need to..." Mansi started protesting, while looking at the wall to see if there was a price display. But the salesgirl was already walking towards the bench with Pinky in tow.

Mansi followed them, annoyed, as the salesgirl sat her daughter down and slipped her tiny feet into the shoes. Pinky stood up and ran to the mirror.

"We are here only for her college shoes." Mansi said to the salesgirl.

"Here you go." the salesman returned with that very box.

"Pinky, come here and try on your college shoes."

But the little one was standing in front of a full length mirror, admiring the designer shoes.

"PINKY!!" her mother raised her voice.

Pinky reluctantly sulked back. The salesman sat her down, took the purple shoes off and slid on her college shoes. Pinky, enamored with the designer shoes, held them in her hands.

"I want these!" she defiantly said.

"We'll see." Mansi didn't have a problem buying her the shoes if they were in her budget range.

Meanwhile the salesgirl had wandered a few meters away, and was talking on the cellphone. While the salesman helped Pinky tie the laces of her college shoes, Mansi walked towards her.

"How much..." she started asking but the salesgirl gestured her to wait.

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. No problem, sir. The pumps and heels are still..."

She kept talking on the phone for a while. Mansi mimed the sign of money, pointed to the purple shoes and signaled, how much? She nodded and held up five fingers. Okay, five hundred. Not too bad.

Pinky was walking around in her college shoes while still holding on to the purple pair.

"Are they the right fit?"

Pinky nodded, and raising her beloved pair, said,

"I want these too."

"Yes, fine."

Mansi told the salesman to pack both pairs and walked to the counter with Pinky to pay. As they reached there, someone suddenly called out from behind,

"Mansi? Is that you?"

She turned around to see a vaguely familiar face that she couldn't quite place. It belonged to a woman in her 50s, with big designer sunglasses, and dressed in a stylish pantsuit.

"It is you, isn't it?" she came closer and smiled.

"Yes, but..."

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked with mock disappointment.

"I am sorry. You look familiar but..."

"It's Reena Bajaj! From Happy Colony in Meerut!"

"Oh, right! How are you, aunty?" Mansi finally remembered. Reena was an army wife who had lived in her neighborhood for a couple of years. Their houses weren't very close, nor were their families. But she now remembered,

"I am great. Fancy running into you in here of all places. How long has it been? Almost 12 years."

"I think so." Mansi said, grabbing Pinky's hand as she was trying to reach for the box of shoes.

"I remember you were a pretty 16 year old then. And now look at you, a fully grown woman. And a mom no less!"

She then bent down to look at Pinky.

"And what's your name?"

"Pinky." the little girl distractedly answered.

"Ma'am. Your shoes." the lady behind the counter said, pushing a big bag with the two boxes.

"Thanks. How much is it?"

"It is five thousand six hundred and thirty rupees, including VAT."

"WHAT??" Mansi almost shouted and looked at the receipt. "I thought the purple shoes are five hundred."

"No ma'am, they are five thousand rupees. Esther Michaela." the lady said, flashing a condescending smile.

"I don't have that much cash on me." Mansi truthfully said.

"We accept cards."

"I...left my card at home." she said, not wanting to lose face by admitting that she didn't have a credit card at all. "I'll just take the college shoes for now. And come back for the other ones later."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!! I WANT MY SHOES!!" Pinky, who had been listening to the exchange intently, started throwing a tantrum.

"Pinky, please behave yourself." Mansi grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" she flopped down on the floor and started bawling. "I WANT MY SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOES!! I HATE YOUUUUUUUUU!!"

Now everyone in the store was staring.

"It's okay. I'll pay for them." Reena aunty said, handing her card to the clerk.

"What? No way, aunty. I can't let you do that!" Mansi protested. Yes, they had been neighbors just for a little while over a decade ago. But even back then, they weren't friends or anything. Barely acquaintances.

"Nonsense, what are old friends for?" she put her hand on the young mother's shoulder and pressed it.

The clerk, not wanting to let go of the commission, quickly swiped the card. Pinky, who realized that her tantrum had worked, quietly got up from the floor and hugged Reena aunty's leg.

"What do you say?" Mansi asked.

"Thank you." the little brat said.

Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting in the mall food court. Pinky had not forgotten about her ice cream. And Mansi felt obligated to buy Reena aunty coffee after the nice gesture she had made.

"Mamma, can I play in there?" the brat finished her ice cream and asked, pointing towards a ball pit nearby.

"Okay, but stay in my sight. You have been a very bad girl today." Mansi scolded her, but it was like water off a duck's back.

As soon as Pinky was out of an earshot, she turned to Reena aunty.

"Aunty, that was a really nice gesture, but you didn't need to do that."

"Nonsense." she waved away the protests, taking a sip from her cup.

"Pinky is a little brat who thinks tantrums can get her anything she fancies. On Monday when she's at college, I'll return the shoes and give you the money back."

"Mansi, you really don't need to do that. Consider them a gift. The little girl really has her heart set on them."

"She has the memory of a goldfish. In a week, she'll forget about the shoes and start demanding something else." Mansi sighed. "I hate taking her to malls. She just wants me to buy her everything she sees. And really, we can't afford it."

"Hmmm." she said. "What do you do, Mansi?"

"I'm a housewife."

"And your husband?"

"Amar is a history professor."

"Not too much money in teaching, huh?" she sympathetically said.

"It's okay. Not too bad. But we certainly can't afford to buy our little girl five thousand rupee shoes that she'll outgrow in six months."

"I see."

"But seriously aunty, give me your phone number and your address and I will come return the money on Monday."

"Out of the question." she smiled and shook her head. "About returning the money I mean. Trust me, I can afford such indulgences. But we should exchange numbers and meet though. I'd love to catch up in more detail."

She picked up her phone and asked me for her number. She then gave a missed call and Mansi saved her number.

"How is Bajaj uncle?"

"He passed away five years ago. Lung cancer."

"Oh my god! I am so sorry!"

"It's alright. I've gotten used to it by now."

"And how is..." Mansi tried to remember her son's name. He was a couple of years older than her and in college when they lived in Meerut.

"Nilesh? He's doing okay." she said.

"Is he in Mumbai too?"

"No." she said in a tone that suggested she did not want to discuss him.

"Do you live nearby?"

"Yes, Malad West. You?"

"Borivali east. Close to the station."

That's when her phone rang. She looked at the display, frowned a little, and said,

"Excuse me a moment." and walked away.

Mansi sat there looking at her daughter roll around in the ballpit with a few other kids. She was a handful but she was the center of her existence. She wished she could buy her everything she wanted. But money really was tight.

"Mansi, I am so sorry, but I have to get going. A bit of an emergency at work." Reena aunty returned and picked up her purse and her shopping bags.

"Oh, no problem. Where do you work?"

"I am the assistant manager at a hotel nearby. A couple of the staff members didn't show up, so now I have to go fill in for them." she said. "But we should meet Monday for sure."

"Absolutely."

"But don't you dare return that little girl's shoes. If you give me as much as a single paisa, I will never talk to you again."

"Come on, aunty, that's not fair!" Mansi tried to protest, but Reena was already on her way out.

Mansi finally managed to drag Pinky out of the ball pit and take her home. She agreed to leave on the condition that she could wear her new purple shoes. Mansi reasoned with her that they would get dirty in the local train on the way back, but she wouldn't budge.

When they walked up the three flights of stairs to their one bedroom apartment, the door was open, and the familiar cacophony of male voices could be heard.

"But Amar, even if Hitler had not been distracted by Yugoslavia, it was a matter of time before the Soviets would have prevailed. Maybe an extra year."

"You don't know what you are talking about." Amar shook his fist in the air. "If the bitz krieg had...oh there you are Mansi."

"Papa, papa, look, new shoes!!" Pinky jumped in his lap.

"Very pretty, my little princess!" he said.

"Namaste, bhabhiji." Amar's friends said.

"Namaste." Mansi said and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

When she got out, Amar was standing there.

"How about some chai?" he said.

"Okay."

"And some of your famous onion pakoras."

"Amar, onions are..."

"Yes, I know, they are very expensive. But you can't put a price on the pleasure of friends." he said and went back to his intellectual conference.

For the next couple of hours, Mansi slaved in the hot kitchen, frying pakoras for her husband and his friends. She hoped against hope that the session would end soon. But they kept rehashing world war 2 history all evening, and she eventually had to make dinner for everyone. Which used up all the vegetables in the house that she had hoped to make last til next week.

By the time everyone dispersed, it was midnight. Pinky was asleep on the bed next to Mansi. Amar came in, and laid down in bed, sighing heavily.

"Dinner was spectacular as always." he said.

Mansi didn't say anything.

"I know you are upset about the onions." Amar finally said.

"Shouldn't I be?" Mansi turned around. "It's not easy for me to budget our needs when you keep bringing friends home without notice."

"You should consider it a compliment, Mansi. They love your cooking so much that they always insist on coming here."

"I don't mind the cooking, Amar. You know that. But I don't have Draupadi's magic plate here. I was hoping to make those onions last at least a couple of weeks for us. And now..."

"I'll get onions tomorrow." Amar flatly said.

"Yes, and that'll be another couple of hundred rupees we didn't budget for."

"Then don't use onions for the next couple of weeks." he said, annoyed.

"Why are you getting annoyed at me?" Mansi flared up.

"Mmmmmm..." Pinky stirred on her bed.

Husband and wife stayed absolutely quiet until she went back to sleep.

"I need to withdraw two thousand rupees tomorrow for Pinky's textbooks and stationery."

"Textbooks...stationery...uniforms...picnics...it's like they are running a for profit business." Amar grumbled.

"You're the one who wanted to put her in that fancy college."

"Education is something I will not compromise on." he said. "Designer shoes on the other hand..."

"She threw an almighty tantrum right in the middle of the store!"

"How much did they cost?"

"Not too much."

"How much?"

"Five hundred." Mansi lied, not wanting to tell him about Reena aunty. She knew her husband was really big on self-respect, self-reliance, and pride.

"You could have just refused to buy them."

Mansi felt really annoyed at this comment. Amar knew how much effort it took to manage Pinky's demands. And handle her tantrums. He himself never really scolded her or said no to anything. He played the good cop. Mansi was supposed to be the bad cop.

She felt like throwing a tantrum of my own. But she just seethed silently in anger, half-expecting Amar to apologize. But soon, his patent snores filled the room.

"It's not even like I am asking for anything extravagant for myself. It's not like I expect him to buy me diamond necklaces or take me on a European vacation. But is it too much to expect him to show some recognition of our situation?"

"Not at all." Reena aunty sympathetically nodded.

"I know he himself is a very simple man. And he is a very nice person. Nice to a fault. Part of the reason our financial situation is tight is that he keeps donating a chunk of his salary to this charity that helps slum children go to college. I appreciate his generosity. But isn't it prudent to take care of your own family before going to help others? Hasn't he heard that charity begins at home?"

"Some dessert ma'am?" a waiter appeared out of nowhere.

"No, thank you. I am already stuffed." Mansi said.

"The chocolate lava cake here is divine. Try some." Reena aunty said.

"Really, I couldn't."

"Get her one." she said to the waiter who smiled, nodded and walked away.

"Aunty, this is too much. I am really really full." Mansi protested. And she really was full. The rich food at the restaurant was not something she was used to.

"Just have a couple of bites. You won't regret it."

Mansi was overcome by a sense of gratitude for the nice lady. She had called up Monday morning asking if Mansi could meet her at her hotel. It was a very fancy four star hotel in Malad, the likes of which the young middle class housewife had never stepped into. She then took her to lunch at a posh restaurant next door, insisting that it would be her treat.

She was being so nice that Mansi couldn't help but unload all her troubles and complaints on her. Mansi didn't really have any close friends. She spent some time now and then with Amar's friends' wives and Pinky's friends' mothers, but there was no one she was close enough to for her to open up like this. Her last close friend had been in college in Meerut and she had lost touch with her after getting married and moving to Bombay.

So Reena aunty was like a throwback to her younger more carefree days. And she had been so nice and generous. Mansi felt an instant bond forming. Reena aunty had listened patiently throughout lunch to all the whines about her middle class life.

"Mansi, let me ask you something." she said, folding her palms under her chin. "Why don't you just get a job?"

"Hehe. Who'll give me a job?"

"Why not?"

"I have no skills, no real qualifications. Just a meaningless B.A. from a college no one has heard of even in Meerut. That too with mediocre grades."

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I am just being honest, aunty. I have seen how it works nowadays. Everyone has an MBA or an MS or some sort of an advanced degree. Even these career-oriented women. But my parents never really thought of me having a career." Mansi sounded a little resentful.

"Lots of people have jobs even without an MBA." Reena said.

"Besides, even if I did get a job, who will take care of the house and Pinky? We can just barely afford a maid for washing clothes. I have to wash the dishes, cook, clean the house, take care of Pinky's homework..."

"I could give you a job."

"That's very nice of you. But like I just said, with all my household duties..."

"It won't take up too much time." Reena aunty said.

"You mean in your hotel?"

"Sort of." she mysteriously answered.

That's when the waiter came with the delectable chocolate lava cake. Mansi stared at it wide-eyed, like Pinky would have. Dinners in posh restaurants like these were way beyond their means. They usually ate at mid-level udipi type restaurants, that too on special occasions. The most fancy dessert there was a scoop of chocolate ice cream with a cherry on top that Pinky always demanded.

"Dig in." Reena aunty said, handing her a gleaming spoon.

"Mmmmmmmm." Mansi moaned in delight as the rich gooey chocolate filling danced around in her mouth. Although she had really felt full, this heavenly dessert whetted her appetite again.

Ten minutes later, Mansi had finished the whole thing. Reena aunty paid the bill and they started walking back to her hotel.

"Thank you so much for lunch, aunty." Mansi said, as Reena led her into her office.

"You're welcome, sweetie." she said. "No offense, but it looked like you really needed that."

"What do you mean?"

"Some indulgence...something nice...something out of the ordinary. Your life needs some more sunshine."

"What my life needs is some more money." Mansi bitterly said.

"So would you be interested in a job?" she asked.

"In the hotel? Like a receptionist?"

"Sure, you could be a receptionist if you want." Reena aunty said. "But those shifts are a minimum of 8 hours."

"Oh, that doesn't seem like something I could do."

"Hmmm." Reena said, playing with her phone. "I will think of something. Do you want some tea?"

"No thanks, aunty, I am so full with that dessert." Mansi said.

"It is amazing, right?" Reena smiled. "I have it at least once a week."

"I wish I could afford to. I saw the price on the menu. It was...let's say it cost a lot more than the ice cream we have at our usual restaurant." Mansi said. "Thank you again for the treat. And the shoes. You are being so kind. I wish I could repay you back in some way."

"Nonsense!" Reena shrugged. "You are an old friend. Friends shouldn't really bother about repaying stuff."

There was a lull in the conversation. Then Reena started talking again.

"Although we are old friends, I don't know much about what happened since we lost touch."

Mansi kept finding these "old friends" references odd. Yes, they lived in the same neighborhood over a decade ago. But they barely knew each other. Even so, the old lady was being so nice that it was hard not to think of her as a friend.

"Well, not much happened." she shrugged.

"Is yours an arranged marriage?"

"Yes, of course."

"Why of course? I knew many people having love marriages in Meerut."

"I know. So did I. But you didn't know my parents." Mansi said.

"Hmmmm...so did you get to spend any time with your husband before you married him?"

"Oh yes. We went for a movie once..." Mansi said.

"Okay..."

"But my mother was with me."

"Oh..."

"It was nice." Mansi smiled.

Reena realized that Mansi's upbringing had been even more sheltered and protected than she had imagined. She knew those type of families. Doing their best to stamp out a woman's individuality as soon as she is born. And then trade her away in a marriage like cattle.

"How many years have you been married?"

"Almost eight years."

"And how old is Pinky?"

"Seven."

"So Amar didn't waste much time, huh?" Reena winked.

"Aunty!" Mansi blushed.

"Pinky seems like a very intelligent girl." Reena said.

"She is. We have put her in this really good international college. Amar wanted it. In fact...that is another reason our finances are tight. The college is quite pricey."

"I can imagine."

"Anyway, speaking of Pinky, I should get going." Mansi got up. "She will be home soon."

"Oh okay. It was really great spending time with you." Reena also got up. "You should drop by whenever you are free."

"I would love to."

"I can have one of our hotel cars drop you home if you like."

"No aunty, don't worry. I will take the local. The traffic will be too much anyway."

The two women walked out of the office and towards the hotel lobby. As Reena escorted her young acquaintance through a crowd of guests waiting to check in, she noticed something. A few of the men discreetly checked out Mansi. Nothing blatant or disrespectful, but something Reena caught. It didn't seem like innocent young Mansi had noticed though.

"Okay aunty, thank you so much again." Mansi held her hands in gratitude.

"Stop thanking me, Mansi. Oh and wait!" Reena took out her phone. "Sunil, come here."

She called out to a bellboy hanging around. She handed him the phone.

"Take a few pictures of me and my old friend here."

"Oh." Mansi smiled.

"Just to remember the occasion. Who knows when you will drop by again?"

"Oh come on, aunty. I will come again soon."

Mansi said and the two posed for a picture, smiling. Sunil snapped a good one and was about to hand the phone back.

"Take a few more. My phone's camera can be very unreliable." Reena said.

And Sunil took half a dozen more pictures. Reena took the phone back from him. Mansi said goodbye once again and walked out of the hotel.

Reena went back to her office and looked at the pictures. Mansi had a nice smile, she noted. And she was not bad looking at all. Not exactly a drop-dead gorgeous hottie that would set the ramp on fire. But pretty enough to turn a few heads as she had just done in the lobby without realizing. Even in a conservatively wrapped sari, it was clear that she had a nice slim body. And a pleasant symmetric face with big eyes and a sharp nose, with a light-wheatish complexion.

Reena looked at the pictures for a little while more as she thought about everything Mansi had said about her money problems. She then opened her contacts list, found the name she was looking for. She chose the 3 best pictures she thought Sunil had taken. And forwarded them to that contact with a message.

Mansi walked to Malad station and took the local to Borivali. Throughout her journey, she kept thinking of the time she had spent with Reena aunty. It all had seemed so nice and posh and plush. From the fancy hotel lobby to aunty's tastefully furnished office to the restaurant they had eaten at. She was amazed at how crisp and clean the clothes of the waiters had been. And the waiters actually spoke English! The only waiters she was used to wore stained tattered clothes and looked like they hadn't taken a bath in weeks.

Even the food itself was so unbelievably delicious. She had seen that the menu had a lot of French, Italian, and Spanish dishes. But with no idea about what those things were, she had ordered from the Indian part of the menu. Her usual order, dal fry and jeera rice. Aunty then asked if she was vegetarian. Mansi said no, she wasn't. So aunty also ordered some fancy sounding chicken dish and a fish started. Everything, right down to the simple jeera rice, had tasted heavenly. Even the plain rice in that restaurant was so much tastier than what she was used to - super long grains like in Basmati advertisements, and lovely flavors. And then of course, there was the dessert, which Mansi decided was the best dessert she had ever had.

As she walked through the narrow lanes of Borivali East towards her building, Mansi started thinking less and less about that amazing time with Reena aunty, and more about the chores she had to do at home, and what she would cook for dinner. And then she remembered that she had to buy more onions. She walked towards her vegetable seller, mentally thinking about how to negotiate him down by 10-15 rupees.

That night, after dinner and cleaning the kitchen, she went to the bedroom. Pinky was asleep and Amar was reading a thick book about the Ottoman empire.

"Listen."

"Hmmm." he responded.

"I am thinking about getting a job."

Amar shut the book and looked at her.

"A job? You?" he said, surprised.

"Why not?" Mansi asked, a little hurt by his condescending tone.

"Why not indeed?" Amar shrugged and opened the book again. "What kind of a job?"

"I am not sure yet. But Pinky is now grown-up enough to not need my constant attention. She is at college most of the day. In the free time I have, I can earn something extra to support our finances."

"So it's about money?"

"What?"

"Is it all about they money? Isn't the world already materialistic and consumerist enough that I should hear this from my own wife?" Amar asked.

Mansi stared at him in shock. From the day she was matched with Amar for marriage, she knew that she was going to spend her time with an idealistic and academic man. And for eight years, she had heard his monologues and speeches and rants about society and materialism and everything. But to bring it into this?

"Come outside." she quietly said.

"What?"

"Come out to the living room and close the door behind you. I don't want to wake Pinky up."

Amar sighed and got up, following his wife as she angrily stormed out. As she had instructed, he closed the door.

"Yes, my dear wife." Amar said in his typical condescending professorial way.

"What do you want from me?" Mansi said, her nostrils flaring.

"What do you mean?"

"I understand your principles and ideals and all that. But you don't run the house. I do. You have no idea how difficult it is to stretch the budget, especially when I include all those parties you throw for your friends."

"Mansi, hospitality is our..."

"Yes, yes, I have heard that before." she said with a sneer. "All I said was, I would like to get a job. And yes, Mister Professor, it IS all about the money for me. If I can make a few thousand rupees more to buy my daughter whatever she wants, I don't care if it is about the money."

"Fine. Fine." is all Amar said. "Get a job. When have I ever stopped you from getting a job?"

"Then what was that materialistic and consumerist taunt about????"

"It wasn't a taunt. I was just expressing my opinion."

"So I can get a job?"

"Again, Mansi, when have I ever stopped you from doing anything?"

The young wife stared at her husband. He wasn't entirely wrong. He was a bit weird in his ways, and his habits and way of living did put a lot of stress on her. But he had never been a domineering demanding husband. Especially when it came to the question of getting a job, it was a brand new topic. She had never thought of it before. Her parents had raised and trained her to be a housewife, just like her mother and grandmother and aunts and all other women in her family had been. After marriage, she just assumed that position by default. It's not like she had some great qualifications anyway.

So Amar was right. He had never stopped her from doing anything. She just had never talked about getting a job before.

"You have not." she quietly said.

"If you want to get a job, get a job. If you want it to be for money, that's fine. My humble suggestion to you is...get a job that is satisfying for you. Aim for real satisfaction."

"Satisfaction." Mansi repeated.

"Yes. Aim for a job where the money is just a welcome bonus for doing something that truly satisfies you." Amar said, using a line he often used to lecture students about their career choices.

"Truly satisfies me." Mansi nodded and walked back to the bedroom. Amar smiled and followed her.

The very next day, Mansi thought about calling Reena aunty about the job opportunity. But then she felt it might come across as opportunistic and desperate. The way she thought about it, that nice woman, who barely knew her in Meerut, had bought her daughter shoes worth almost six thousand rupees. Then she had taken out for a fancy lunch, that based on what she read on the menu, easily cos another two thousand rupees at least. Now if she called her right away about a job, it would seem like she was some opportunistic woman. So Mansi decided to wait until Reena aunty herself called her again.

Reena on her part was thinking in a similar way. But in an equal and opposite way like Newton's third law. She saw a lot of potential in Mansi. Potential for something that would be mutually profitable for them. It had been at the back of her mind when she paid for the shoes. And had solidified when she spoke to her during that lunch. But she did not want to come across as too pushy and eager. She knew that middle class women from small towns could be very touchy like that. So she too held off, waiting for Mansi to call her.

This continued for another two weeks. Both ladies thought that the appropriate thing to do would be to wait for the other to call. Finally, it was Mansi whose resolve broke. It was a combination of yet another impromptu dinner party thrown by Amar for his intellectual buddies and a tantrum thrown by Pinky demanding new clothes.

"Hello, aunty. It is me, Mansi." she finally made the call one Monday morning when she was home alone and had finished her chores.

"Oh hi, Mansi, how are you doing? How are Amar and Pinky?" Reena was delighted that the call she had been eagerly waiting for finally arrived.

"They are good. How are you doing?"

"I am great." Reena said and paused as she wondered about how to proceed.

Mansi was also thinking about what to say. She did not want to instantly talk about the job. That would seem impolite.

"So aunty, I am free today. If you are free too, we could meet too." Mansi said, and then not wanting to seem like she was trying to mooch off another meal, added, "You can come over to my place and I will cook for you."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, Mansi. But today, I am busy." Reena said. "Oh wait, someone has just come into my office for something. Can I call you back in a few minutes?"

"Oh sure."

There was no one in Reena's office. She reached for her phone and sent a text message.

'When can you be in Bombay asap? It's about that thing we discussed.'

She got a reply very soon.

'Wednesday. I will get in by 10.'

'Ok. Confirmed. Keep your afternoon open.'

Reena dialed Mansi's number.

"Hi Mansi, sorry about that."

"It's okay, aunty. I understand."

"Thanks. So what was I saying...oh yes, sorry, I am busy today. But are you free day after tomorrow, Wednesday, for lunch?"

"Wednesday, let me see." Mansi had no idea why she said let me see. She was free pretty much everyday. But she didn't want to sound too eager.

"Problem?" Reena asked.

"No no, no problem. Wednesday lunch sounds great. Let me tell you my address..." Mansi spoke up.

"Actually Mansi, if you don't mind, can you come here to the hotel again? I have a couple of hours free for lunch. But then I have some appointments right after. So traveling to and from Borivali will be..."

"I understand, aunty. I will come there." Mansi said eagerly.

"Great. Just go to the reception and tell them my name like last time."

"Thank you, aunty."

"Stop thanking me, Mansi. I will see you in two days."

Mansi hung up, feeling a little glad that their meeting would again be in that fancy hotel. Maybe she would take her to another nice restaurant again. Reena hung up, feeling glad that it had worked out so easily. And started making plans for Wednesday.

On Wednesday, Mansi was standing in a small line in front of the reception. In front of her was a white couple, very stylishly dressed. Behind her were two young men dressed in suits. Mansi felt glad that she decided to dress nicely.

The last time she was here, Mansi had felt very out of place in her simple almost wrinkled sari that she wore at home. Everyone around her had been so fashionably dressed. And then the hotel itself was so posh with its big chandeliers, scent of perfume wafting through the air conditioning, expensive elegant sculptures everywhere, etc. So Wednesday late morning, as she started getting ready, she decided to dress well. She wore her most expensive green-gold sari that was normally reserved only for weddings and other such functions. She didn't really own much make-up but put on some lipstick. And instead of just tying her long hair into a bun, she combed it throughly and left it open. She also took with her the relatively fanciest purse she owned, and put on a couple of gold bangles.

This small makeover did make her look even more alluring than usual. Because this time, even she noticed the glances she was getting from men around her. Nothing blatant or impolite, but still, it was clear that she was making heads turn.

"I love your sari!" the white woman in front of her suddenly turned and said.

"Thank you." Mansi blushed.

"Where can I get something like that?"

"I..I don't know. I bought it...in my hometown. Meerut." Mansi was feeling uncomfortable talking to her in English. It's not like Mansi's English was bad. She just wasn't very used to speaking it beyond helping with Pinky's homework. Besides, the white woman's tall frame and foreign accent intimidated her a little.

"Well, it's beautiful. Excuse me." the lady said as it was their turn at reception and walked away.

Mansi stood at the front of the line, waiting to be called.

"You are from Meerut?" a voice behind her said in Hindi. She turned around.

It was one of the two suit-clad young men standing behind her. They seemed like hotshot executives or MBA types.

"Yes." she answered.

"I am also from Meerut! Well, Ghaziabad technically, but that makes us neighbors." he smiled.

Mansi just nodded and looked straight ahead. She wasn't used to strangers, especially men, just casually striking up a conversation with her,

"Are you also staying in this hotel?" he continued. His friend, to whom it was obvious he was trying to chat her up, suppressed a smile.

"No." Mansi simply said.

"We are. About to check in. We are both investment bankers. Visiting from London." he said, hoping, like many investment bankers do, that it would impress her.

"I see." she wasn't sure why this man was continuing to talk to her.

"We are here to close a multi-milion dollar deal. What brings you here?"

"Just visiting someone." she said curtly, wishing he would take a hint.

"Someone in this hotel?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Ohhhhh! I understand." he said and giggled a little, as did his friend.

Mansi was too sheltered and innocent to realize the conclusion they had drawn. A good looking young woman dressed so nicely, not very comfortable in English, without any luggage, visiting someone in the hotel. They drew the only conclusion they could.

"Do you have a card or something?" he giggled and asked.

"Card? What card?" Mansi was confused. The two men giggled some more.

"Yes, ma'am?" a clerk at the reception called out. And Mansi rushed towards the desk. She was getting a bad vibe from those guys.

"I am here to meet Reena Bajaj."

"Oh, Reena ma'am? Yes, you must be Mansi ma'am." he said.

"Yes."

"Just one second." he reached out under the desk. "Here's a key card."

"Key card? I am just visiting her."

"Yes, she is expecting you in her residence."

"She lives here?" Mansi's eyes went wide.

"Yes, she has a suite on the VIP floor. The 35th floor. And that floor is only accessible by card. So here it is. Suite 3502."

All this was very new and impressive to Mansi. She knew Reena aunty worked in the hotel at a senior post but she had no idea she even lived there. And that too an exclusive VIP floor? 35th floor? Mansi had never gone that high in any building. Very impressive. She stepped into a shiny lift and entered the card in a slot meant for the 35th floor.