Chronicles of Bani - II

Regrets? Everyone has them. In the past five days though I’ve strangely not had too many of them. Well there’s always the ex-lover and messing up his marriage (I’m wondering when I will forgive myself for that), but generally, the last few days haven’t been so bad. Except for the fact that my parents have been asking me to find a boy and get married soon.

After they started nagging, ever so gently, I made a mental list of how many successful female journalists I know. And how many of them are married, with kids. Surprisingly many do get married, but after the baby comes along, they seem to vanish or stick to less aggressive journalism at least.

Hmm. As I'm wandering along the isles of Nilgiris looking for fruit, I find myself thinking, picking a man isn’t as easy as picking fruit. Looking for actual fruit, not men. Forget picking a man. Indian parents and in-laws will at some point harass you to have a child, which is what scares me more than the thought of marriage. After my I-hate-babies, fashion editor friend dropped the “I’m pregnant” bomb on me, I began worrying. Will all of us end up the same way, even if we don’t want to? If even an editor like Susan gives up her fitting black clothes, salad diet and pointy heels, we’re all doomed.

I sighed. Bad fruit. All of it. No salad leaves. I’d have to eat Maggi noodles while my mother was away. I was still reeling from Susan’s announcement though. The fact that a few months earlier she trod on a seven-year-old’s foot because he spilt milkshake on her Gucci shoes did nothing to ease my confusion. I still didn't have the guts to ask her if she really wanted a baby or not. I could be the next person she trod on. I could not help but wonder if she regretted getting married. Or if one day she would look back and regret having a baby because she missed her chance at being Vogue – India editor.

I had spoken to my friend Priya that morning. She was an aggressive, in-your-face news journalist who quit once she had a baby. Her secret confession was that she didn't want to be the pushy, aggressive reporter forever. “Most women are meant to have babies, Bani. And I got tired. Maybe old. Who knows. Believe me, even Barkha Dutt may want companionship or a child sometimes. Of course I loved running around, meeting top politicians, getting exclusives and breaking news, but I got tired after a while. And Naresh wanted to have a kid, while we were still in our 30s. It happened. And I was scared. But I love my son. And though I miss being a journo sometimes, I’ll survive.” My heart-to-heart with Susan was still due since I decided I’d speak to her once I recovered from my shock.

“Are you sure you want this ma’am?”

The cashier was pointing to a bunch of bananas which didn’t look too great.

“Yes, bill it.”

“Once you buy, you can’t take it back ma’am. Sure ah?”

Would I regret buying the bunch of bananas? For God’s sake, it’s only fruit. ‘Ah but it begins with fruit..’ my evil conscience said. I ignored it and bought the fruit, wondering if evil conscience was even a correct term. Men are not fruit. Babies definitely aren’t. And they could wait. At least a few more years, I thought, dumping my bags in the car.

I would have to practice a speech telling my parents they’d have to wait longer for Mr Bani… leave alone junior Bani. Sighing, I started the car and headed home.