‘I can’t,’ I said with a tight smile. ‘I’ll have a filter coffee. Without sugar.’

Nisha shook her head in disappointment. She picked up the sandwich and ate it.

11

After about two weeks, Aunty V needed to go back home for a few days because of some bank work she had to do in person.

It felt strange once she was gone. I missed coming back home to the sound of her booming voice. I didn’t miss her in the kitchen though, where I could now go without fear of coming face to face with a caramel pudding or a pot of prawn vindaloo.

Ma was alone during the day when Papa was in office and I was in college. She looked pale and was losing weight! I worried about her endlessly and hurried home, instead of hanging out with Nisha and Anirudh as I usually did once classes were over. I always had this silly fear that something could happen to Ma. I messaged her throughout the day.

The three of us spent a quiet New Year’s Eve together, sitting in the living room watching TV. I was wondering how much things were going to change in the next year. This was the last time we were going to be doing this, Ma, Papa and me. There was going to be a squalling infant with us in some months and next New Year, we would no longer be the same cosy unit.

I glanced at my parents, who were clearly not thinking about this at all. I was a bit resentful because my parents were already caught up with this baby and I was no longer their sole focus.

It was ironic, because all this while, I hadn’t wanted them to focus on me. I hadn’t wanted them to be on my case, asking which stream I wanted to pursue in college, or what I wanted to do. Now I was missing it because they were thinking of something else.

The following morning, I realized I could see the bulge under Ma’s kurta. It horrified and fascinated me at the same time. Ma walked differently too—I noticed every little thing about her, despite not wanting to. She had to place one hand at her lower back. I used to think it was an exaggerated pose whenever I had seen pregnant women walk like that before. Ma told me that her lower back ached constantly and she had to walk that way.

Ma’s bathroom breaks also became frequent.

‘Pregnancies are so messy!’ I told her one day and she burst out laughing.

‘Why are you laughing?’ I asked, surprised.

‘You think pregnancy is messy? Wait till it’s time to give birth. Then you’ll know what messy is,’ Ma said. I looked at her, horrified. I wasn’t sure I wanted any details.