Translated by Rohee Dholakia
One afternoon, on your way from work to the post office, you notice Prerna from 20 feet away near the glass pane of the Manhattan bagel cafe. She seems confused about deciding whether to go in or not. You look at her, taking a glance at her reflection in the pane and adjusting the dupatta slithering away from her chest. You like the way she readjusts it. She enters the cafe when you are 10 feet away. You leave to finish your work at the post office.
After finishing your work, you stop by the Manhattan cafe in the hope of seeing Prerna there, with one of her friends. You can’t stop yourself from going in to check. You pretend to enter like it is your first time and go to the counter. “One bagel with cream cheese and coffee to go, please?” Holding your parcel in a brown bag, you look around casually. And there she is! Prerna is seated at a table outside at the street’s corner. As you pretend to walk out, your eyes meet. She looks at you and gives a long, hearty smile. Today might be your lucky day. You move closer towards her and spot the empty seat.
“I am…” You stutter in a low, vibrating voice.
“Hi! I am Prerna. We met at Sudhir and Vishaka’s party last year. If you are not in a hurry, please have a seat.”
Her long and silver danglers jingle as if a clapper ringing in a bell. She closes the fat book she was reading. You cannot discern the title of the book. You sit next to her and get a giddy feeling, thinking life might take an exciting turn ahead. Prerna’s lustrous skin gleams through her sleeveless top. Her thin, long fingers look alluring. You spot a diamond ring glowing in her hand. When she said, “Please have a seat,” you noticed the symmetrical arch of her luscious lips. You hadn’t seen her from this close at Sudhir and Vishaka’s.
You talk about your wife, Jayshri and your four-year-old son, Nishith. Being raised in a small village near Jamnagar, you were enchanted by the idea of a big city. Your father sent you to study in Mumbai, where you watched an American movie for the first time. A friend of yours, bedazzled by life in America, called you here. You are an insurance salesman. You take computer classes in the evenings. The thought of having talked non-stop strikes you. She might think of you as an idiotic chatterbox. Yet still, you go on. You tell her you came to America penniless, studied here on loan and worked hard to reach a reputable stage. Your boss is happy with your work. Your wife is simple and sweet.
Prerna talks about Arun. He is a diamond merchant. He regularly visits Antwerp for his work. Her daughter Anuja is studying in college. Prerna often travels to Mumbai when Arun is in Antwerp for a long time. In her free time, she likes to draw.
“Do you come here frequently?” You ask.
“Yes! Every Wednesday I come for the matinee show.”
“You come alone?”
“Yeah, why do you look surprised?”
You feel weird about a woman going alone for a movie, but you don’t tell her. Prerna is beautiful, but is oblivious to it. You can tell that through her eyes, expressions, clothes and behaviour. You decide to leave now. You have to go off to work.
At work, your mind wanders off and you cannot focus. You feel like taking off and going for a movie with Prerna, but you don’t have the courage to do it. You cannot lie to your boss, say that you’re unwell. You also wouldn’t know what excuse to give your wife about your absence at work. Without a solid excuse, how can you go for a movie on a working day? You don’t have it in you to deceive your boss and Jayshri both.
You start waiting for next Wednesday now. The next two Wednesdays, you do not see her. You leave the cafe, collecting your bagel and coffee. The next Wednesday, as you are about to leave with your bagel and coffee, you meet Prerna at the door. You go back in and order a coffee for her. You get to talking. She tells you that Arun had gifted her a computer on their anniversary, which Anuja now uses more than she does. She says she had joined an evening school to learn how to use a computer. She asks you if you can give her a refresher course. You wish to tell her you will teach her computer in no time whenever in the future you go to visit her with your wife, but instead you say yes. You cannot decline her invitation. Deep in your heart, you know you want to meet her alone.
Prerna plans for both of you to meet in the afternoon next Wednesday. You leave work early, with the excuse of having a headache. You arrive at the address she shared. She lives in a Victorian-style house in a posh neighborhood. At the entrance, there is a huge garden with pruned lush grass and multiple pots of skimmia, japonica and hebes. You ring the bell. She opens the door and greets you in. As you enter, you see a living room. Next to it, a kitchen and a small bathroom. Prerna takes you to the library on the first floor. On one side, there is a stereo with tapes, CDs and other accessories. On the other side, a white shelf stacked with books. The new computer sits on the desk in the front. You cannot take your eyes off the yellow sofa next to the computer.
You go and sit on the chair near the computer. You tell her that learning how to use a computer is not so difficult and teach her the basics of it. After explaining, you ask her to type something on the page while you stand close to her. She types as swiftly as a teenager would text on their phone. The typewritten page is a love letter addressed to you.
You are taken aback. You hadn’t expected this.
She pulls you to her bedroom. Feeling a little apprehensive, you take a few moments before making love to her. After the lovemaking, she sleeps peacefully next to you, like a kitten would sleep after having milk to her heart’s content.
You lie aghast and fully awake on her bed. You have never made love to a woman other than your wife before. Suddenly, the phone rings. Prerna wakes up from her slumber to receive the call. Arun is on the call. You hold your heart in your mouth when you discover he is on the other end. Your body shivers. Your heartbeats fasten. You realize you have committed an unforgivable sin. You feel the weight of your body on the earth, as if the ground should open up and swallow you. Prerna gently massages your fingers while talking on the phone with an unusual ease — “Darling, how are you? What did you do today? Did you have your lunch? There are no posts in the mail. What time will you be home today? What should I make for dinner? Dal Dhokli? uh.. ahh… What am I doing right now? Honey, the rapture of your love has turned me plump, so I am loosening my blouse.” Releasing Prerna’s hand, you get up in a haste. You wear your clothes and tell her you have to leave. She comes to the door and bids you bye with a soft kiss. You start the car and start sweating. You use your handkerchief to wipe the sweat. The handkerchief is drenched. You turn on the AC. You move about mindlessly on the road. The whole scene unfolds again before your eyes. You had never met such a woman, but you enjoyed her company. You stop at the red signal. After about thirty seconds, the light turns green and you shudder with the flickering green light. Your heavy shivering and Prerna’s sweet talk with Arun were as natural as the blink of an eye. As natural as closing your eyes when dust is hurled at it. As natural as checking your phone first thing in the morning. So easy, that it occurs to you: how can such spontaneity come about? Only when one knows the ins and outs of a place can they tell where the room is in the dark. The question is that of familiarity, of habit.
Upon reaching home, your wife asks why you were home early. You make the same excuse of having a headache. For the first time in your life, you have lied to both your boss and wife. It is difficult to lie or do something “wrong” the first time. Your heart skips a beat the first time you do it. A part of you dies in the process. But once you get used to it, it becomes easy to do it again. It comes naturally, as natural as blinking your eyes.
You start thinking of next Wednesday now.
The story was first published by Opinion Magazine on 23 July 2018, and subsequently by Ekatra Foundation in an anthology of Gujarati short stories compiled and edited by Manilal Patel.
Panna Naik is a postmodern American Gujarati diasporic writer. She hails from a literary family and background, with graduate and undergraduate degrees in Gujarati and Sanskrit. She is a distinguished Gujarati poet and writer who has published eleven volumes of poetry and a volume of short stories. Born in Mumbai, she went to Philadelphia as a young bride in 1960 and a lot of her work therefore displays the alienation, displacement and loneliness she faces as an Indian woman living abroad.
Author Photo by Sanjay M. Vaidya
Rohee Dholakia is a poet, translator and educator from Ahmedabad, India. She was an attendee at the South Asian Literature in Translation workshop 2024 (the SALT project) held by University of Chicago in Colombo and a mentee at 2025 American Literary Translators Association (ALTA) Emerging Translator Mentorship Program. Her work has appeared in The g5a Imprint Magazine, Scroll, The EKL Review, Usawa Literary Review, among others. For more information visit: https://roheedholakia.weebly.com/
IG: rohee_dholakia
Featured photo by Sarah O’Shea (Pexels)
