*You sure seem mature enough to take them,' I said and moved towards kitchen.

*Don't walk barefoot,' my mother called out. She bent to pick up the splintered shards. Anger seethed within me. Not only at my father but also my mother; how could she let him get away with this and start cleaning up calmly?

*I don't know why I come to this house,' my father said.

*I was thinking the same thing,' I said.

*Bastard, mind it!' he shouted at me like he did at his army jawans ten years ago.

*Krish, go to the other room,' my mother said.

*He can't be my son. Nobody talks to their father like this.'

*And no father behaves like this,' I said.

My mother pushed me towards the bedroom. My father looked around for new things to shout at or break. He couldn't find much. He turned around and walked out. The loud sound of the door banging shut sent a sigh of relief through the whole house.

My mother came to my room after cleaning up the glass in the living area. She came and sat next to me on the bed. I didn't look at her. She held my chin and turned my face towards her.

*You let him do this, so he does it. Why did you have to start cleaning up?' I sulked.

*Because he'll break the other glasses, too. And then we will have no more glasses left for guests,' my mother said. *Don't worry. I can manage him.'

I looked at my mother, a tear rolled down her eye. I flt my eyes turn wet, too.

*You have to leave him,' I said after we composed ourselves.

*It's not that simple,' she said.

*I will earn now,' I said.

*I am fine. Ninety percent of the time he is not even here. He goes to his army mess, he visits his partners with whom he tries his harebrained business schemes.'

*What? Like that security agency?' I scoffed.

*Yes, but he picks up fights with customers at the first meeting. Doesn't exactly make them feel safe,' my mother said.

I laughed.

*I can handle him. It is you who gets angry and fights with him,' my mother said.

*He starts it. What was the need to insult Shipra masi?'

*He won't change. Shipra is used to him. I worry how you will stay with him when you work in Delhi. Maybe you should take the company accommodation.'

*Or maybe I should not be in Delhi.'

*What are you saying?'

*I can't stand him.'

*Where are you planning to go?'

*I don't know, mom. I can only give a preference to Citibank. It's no guarantee.

Plus, you get posted out after two years.'

*You chose Delhi, no?'

I didn't answer. Somehow the thought of being in Delhi and seeing ditzy Punjabi girls by day and dad at night didn't seem terribly exciting.

*You come with me wherever I go,' I said.

*Where? I can't leave Delhi. All my relatives are here. You will be in office all day. What will I do in a new city?'

;I want to go to Chennai,' I said.

*Oh God!' my mother's mellow mood shifted gears to overdrive. She got up from the bed. *I find this harder to deal with than your father. Are you mad?'

*No, I like Ananya. I want to give our relationship a shot.'

*You'll become a Madrasi?'

*I am not becoming. I'm only going there to live. And Citibank transfers you in two years.'

*I should meet an astrologer. I don't know what phase you are going through.'

*There is no phase. I love someone.'

*Love is nothing, son,' my mother patted my cheek and left the room.

I didn't submit the Citibank form until the last date. I kept taking my pen to the *location preference' question. It had asked for three choices in order. I couldn't fill it.

*You've sent your form?' Ananya asked on the phone.

*I will. Almost ready,' I said *Are you crazy? It is the last day. You put Chennai, right?'

*Yeah,' I said and hung up.

I gave one final glance at the form. I looked at God above and asked him to decide my love-life. I filled up the form: *

Location Preference: 1. Chennai or Delhi (equal preference) 2. a 3. a I sealed the form and dropped it off at the bank branch. In my bed I opened Ananya's letter from last week. I read it every night before going to bed.

Hello my Punjabi hunk, Miss me? I do. I miss our cuddles, I miss our walks in campus, I miss studying together and then going for midnight chai, I miss running to my dorm every morning to brush my teeth, I miss eating pao-bhaji on the char rasta with you, I miss playing footsie in the library, I miss the glances we stole in the class, I miss my bad grades and the tears afterwards that you wiped, I miss how you used to watch me put eye-liner, I miss.....oh, you get the drift, I miss you like hell.

Meanwhile, I am fine in Chennai. My mother is at her neurotic best, my father is quiet as usual and my brother always has a book that says Physics, Chemistry or Maths on the cover. In other words, things are normal. I mentioned you again to my mother. She called a priest home who gave me a pendant to make me forger you. Wow, I never thought they'd react to you like this. Well, it is going to take more than a pendant to forget you, but for good measure I tossed it into the Bay of Bengal on Marina Beach. I haven't mentioned you since, because I know you will come to Chennai and charm them yourself a just as you charmed me.

Bye, my Love, Ananya.

PS: Oh did I mention, I miss the sex too.

I read the letter ten times. I read the last sentence a hundred times. I wanted to be with her right that moment. I realised I could have written *Chennai' in the form but I had played roulette with my love-life due to some vague sense of responsibility and guilt towards home. I wondered if Citi would need more people in Delhi as this is where all the money is. After all, a Punjabi is far more likely to *

want foreign bank accounts than a Tamilian. And I am a Punjabi, so they would give me Delhi. Something yelped inside me. I read the letter again and again until I fell asleep.

One week later, I received a call at home. Mother picked it up and said it was from a guy who sounded like a girl.

*Hello?' I said.

*Hi Krish, it's Devesh from Citi HR.'

*Oh, hi Devesh. How are you?'

*Good, I just wanted to give you your joining date and location.'

My heart started to beat fast. *Yes,' I said, excited and nervous.

*So you start on June 1.'

*OK.'

*And we are placing you in Chennai.'

Imaginary fireworks exploded all over the Delhi sky. I felt real love for Devesh, the HR department and Citibank for the first time in my life.

Act 3: Chennai *

15.

My flight landed in Chennai at 7 p.m. we had a six-hour delay in Delhi because a psycho called the airport and said the plane had a bomb. My bag took another hour to arrive on the conveyor belt. As I waited, I looked at the people around me.

The first thing I noticed, excuse my shallowness was that almost ninety percent of the people were dark complexioned. Of these ninety percent, eighty percent had dabbed talcum that gave them a grey skin tone. I understood why Fair & Lovely was invented. I couldn't understand why people wanted to be fair so bad.

Most women at the conveyor belt looked like Ananya's mother; I couldn't tell one from the other. They all wore tones of gold, but somehow it looked more understated than Pammi aunty's necklaces that had precious stones and pearls hanging from them like shapeless dry fruits.

I came out of the airport. I had to find an auto to go to my chummery. I fumbled through my pockets to find the slip of paper with my new address. I couldn't find them in my jeans and almost panicked. I didn't know any place in Chennai except T. Nagar. And I knew t. Nagar as I took Brilliant Tutorials once upon a time.

Somehow, I didn't think they'd shelter one of their lakh of students from eight years ago.

I opened my wallet and found my address. I heaved a sigh of relief. I came to the auto stand. Four drivers argued with each other over the next passenger.

*Enga?' one driver pushed back three drivers and asked me. *Enga hotel?'

*No hotel,' I said and took out my wallet. I opened it and the drivers saw the ten hundred-rupee notes my mother had given me before leaving Delhi. He smacked his lips. I pulled out the slip with the address.

*English illa,' he said.

I looked around. No one proficient in English seemed visible. I read the address.

*Nung-ba-ka-ma-ma?' I said.

*Nungambakkam?' the driver laughed as if it was the easiest word to say in the world.

*Yeah,' I said and remembered a landmark Devesh had told me. *Near Loyola College. You know Loyola College.'

*Seri, seri,' the driver said. My stay with Ananya had told me that *Seri' meant an amiable Tamilian.

I loaded the luggage. *Meter?'

He laughed again as if I had made a bawdy joke.

*What?' I tapped the meter.

*Meter illa,' the driver said loudly, his personality taking on a more aggressive form as he left the airport.

*How much?' I asked.

*Edhuvum,' he said.

*I don't understand. Stop, how much?'

He didn't stop or answer. I tapped his shoulder. He looked back. I played dumb charade with him, acting out *How much money, dude?'

He continued to drive. After ten seconds he raised his right palm and stretched out his five fingers wide.

*Five what?'

He flashed his fingers again.

*Fifty?'

He nodded.

*OK,' I said. He understood this word.