The aroma of filter coffee, a constant in our South Indian household, was stronger than usual that morning. Dad was already on a conference call, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the house, while Mom bustled around the kitchen, her bangles jangling a familiar tune. Vinay, my older brother, was probably still asleep, the lucky so-and-so. He was living the Bangalore dream, or so it seemed.
I, Vishal, was a chip off the old block, following Vinay’s path right into the heart of the IT world. Now, I was about to join him in Bangalore, a city that felt a world away from our sleepy little town. Vinay was 28, a seasoned software engineer, and I was 24, a fresh recruit, my excitement tinged with a bit of anxiety. Vinay had a flat, a bachelor pad, whereas I was going to be in a men’s hostel, a typical rite of passage for southern IT workers.
Vinay’s life, though, had its undercurrents. Beneath the veneer of a successful techie, there was a recklessness. The word “girlfriend” was often uttered in plural, and late-night parties were a regular occurrence. Then came the arrest. A drug raid, a night in jail, a phone call that sent shivers down our spines. We managed to use our friend’s father’s influence to get him out, a deeply unsettling experience for all of us. The compromise was expensive, both financially and emotionally.
My parents, deeply traditional and shaken by the incident, decided marriage was the best solution. They arranged for him to marry Anasooya, a demure, sweet girl who, they believed, would bring stability into his life. Vinay, naturally, was resistant. He was still hung up on his old girlfriend, a fact that sent my parents into further despair. The wedding was a somber affair, a forced alliance that nobody seemed particularly happy about.
Soon after the wedding, Vinay got an onsite project in Germany, an escape he seemed to welcome. Anasooya was left behind in Bangalore, a city she was as new to as I was. She was also a techie, but her office was in Kochi, so she worked from home, practically home-arrested. I felt a pang of sympathy for her. Their relationship was tense, a stark contrast to the easy intimacy of my parents’ marriage.
Anasooya was quiet and composed, a woman who carried her burdens with a stoic silence.
Then, the world turned upside down. The COVID-19 pandemic hit, sweeping across the globe like a
wildfire. India announced a nationwide lockdown, plunging the country into chaos. My men’s hostel was closing down indefinitely. As the news broke, Dad called me, his voice firm and concerned. I had to shift to Vinay’s flat; Anasooya was all alone there, and they wanted me to look out for her.
So, I packed my meager belongings and headed to Vinay’s flat, a place I knew only from the occasional phone call. It was a small two-bedroom apartment, filled with the stark, masculine energy I associated with my brother. But there was also a sense of quiet orderliness, a feminine touch, undoubtedly Anasooya’s influence.
I found Anasooya in the living room, her face pale but composed, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop. She greeted me with a polite smile, her eyes holding a trace of something I couldn’t quite decipher – a blend of resignation and perhaps, a flicker of hope.