The Perfect Act

The doctor leans forward, his eyes spilling sympathy. "Do you understand what I just told you Mrs. Koreshi?" He speaks slowly. I watch his mouth form the words. What if I lean over and kiss him? Suppressing a smile I try to match Dr. Kakkar's gravity. I have just been informed I have ovarian cancer. Quite advanced. They also found some growth in my uterus that needs further testing. I suppose I should pay attention to all the details pouring forth from Dr. Kakkar. He is a nice man- and nice men are not to be taken for granted.

At least that’s what my mom believes. “Ananya you should thank god every day girl! Such a nice husband. What other man helps around the house like he does? He even makes your dinner on days you are tired- even with all his work! You lucky, lucky girl! God is kind to you.” I would smile but wonder at the inflection in her voice. Was it sadness for her lot or resignation at mine?

“Mrs. Koreshi, perhaps you need some time alone.” Dr. Kakkar is graceful in his retreat. He briefly lays a hand on my shoulder. I shudder softly. “You will be fine,” he says, misreading my reaction. Should I call him back and tell him it was a pleasure feeling his touch?


I look down at the white robe covering my length. I am naked underneath. The cold gooey lubricator is sliding down my thigh, making damp pools on the examination table. I pity the person cleaning up after me. Sliding off, I reach for my clothes. I catch sight of my reports lying on the side-table and suddenly I get it- I have cancer. Me, Ananya Koreshi, mother of two, wife of one, daughter of two, sister of none- has cancer – that may prove fatal.

God Willing- adds a small voice, startling me.

My fingers are deftly wrapping the sari around me. I am busy toying with the word ‘cancer.’ Very apt that it should have two ‘c’s in it. C is such a cold letter. Not like a sunny S or a pretty P. I get a mental picture of cancer written large in bold letters, flashing in the skies on a dark stormy sky or wavering at the precipice of a steep cliff. It comes with painful violins, a deluge of tears, a final attempt at a smile, a screeching crescendo and then --- silence. Limp hand resting still in the clasp of a loved one.

And yet, here I am - and not a single violin has sounded. Outside the doctor’s office hums with busy routines. I have to just pull open the door and they will envelope me as well. Next check-up to be scheduled, medicines to be prescribed, tests to be ordered- even death has a decorum to follow. You can’t just let go and ride to it for free.

It’s not time yet to step out. I sink back into Dr. Kakkar’s chair. What will I tell Sanjeev? When should I tell him? Nice, considerate, wonderful Sanjeev. Then why am I here alone?
Because you wanted it so –there’s that small voice again.

Sanjeev must be in office. Watching the clock. Waiting for my call. I feel irritation rising in me again. I can see his smoothly sculpted face, light handsome eyes- always kind, always expectant. How can anyone be this perfect? And why would that perfection choose to marry someone called Ananya Tallavi?

Ananya Tallavi grew up happy. An independent child- a bit lonely for want of siblings. But enjoying the undivided focus of loving, well-to-do parents. Secure in her talent of painting and acting. Proud of her slender beauty, expecting a fantastic future. Everyone in the colony agreed she was going to be ‘something.’ She was ‘going to make it big.’ And Ananya set about doing just that. She won every competition she entered, represented her school at state level and got admission to the top arts college in her city. She was well on her way to fame and adventure.

Her only shameful secret was her mother—her dull, suburban mother. With a world of good in her heart and worry in her eyes. Always a step behind Dada. Always a step ahead of Ananya. Ma with nothing to call her own- not even her husband who would often disappear for several nights, and re-appear looking smug. Ananya once caught Ma meditating at the kitchen window. It was difficult to tell if she was thanking God for her comfortable life or imagining the flight of free will. Ma had turned abruptly, before Ananya could hide the scorn on her face.

Ma was aware of Ananya’s silent contempt and accepted it. Ananya was aware of Ma’s acceptance and was doubly angered by the guilt it caused her. If there was one thing Ananya Tallavi was NOT going to be, it was her mother.

I laugh out loud at this thought. Twenty-three years later, with seventeen years of marriage behind me. Who am I? Mrs. Koreshi- the perfect wife to the perfect husband. The perfect mother to near-perfect children. In a perfect home, on the perfect street with a perfect black iron gate guarding my perfect lawn. No less a prisoner to routines and expectations than Ma had been. No more able to break free than my Ma.

It started on a sunny afternoon as I stood for an audition outside Zee TV’s corporate office. The slight heat made my hair curl and I was counting on this flushed appearance to get me the protagonist’s part. It was to be a 36 episode serial. My ticket to fame. Page 3 here I come! Lost in thought I was barely looking at my book until a brown hand gently turned it in my hands. I realized I had been holding it upside down and looked up with an embarrassed smile. My heart skipped a beat and my smile died on my lips. I saw the man’s expression mirror mine. It was the same shocked look of unexpected love.

This was Sanjeev Koreshi- assistant production manager for the show I was auditioning for.

That day I landed a part bigger than I imagined. It has lasted me a lifetime, severely tested my skills as an actress. How else can someone function day after day with bored resentment in their heart and no one come to know of it?

I have my expressions pat down. To share a few,

Surprised Delight – expressed with wide, slightly damp eyes and a slow spreading smile: to be used for birthday gifts, anniversary gifts, romantic dinners, romantic gifts …you get my drift.

Maternal Pride – expressed with a slight straightening of the back, direct eye contact, a bright supportive smile, arms stretched out to embrace and a line or two on ‘always having full faith.’

Dutiful Wife- a cup of tea in hand, softly lowered eyes, a gentle inviting half-smile. Used to lead to sex. Past few years it elicits a finely rendered ‘thank you.’ Apparently sex is outlawed once you get over the hill- I personally feel tumbling together down the other side could be fun. But Sanjeev has lost interest. Perhaps Mr. Kakkar……

I laugh out loud again. Then stop. Am I in shock? Is this how people react when they find out they have cancer? My mind is now busy trying to picture the best way to react.

That’s how I am. For every situation I flip through my dossier of responses and settle on the perfect one to display. Because people cannot survive my truth. What will happen if I tell Sanjeev how bored I am? How I hate the routine in our lives? How I resent the dependence of our children? How disappointed I am with my life? What will happen if I run away leaving all these people behind? With no note or explanation? Would anyone feel I was justified? Can I say “my life is too comfortable.” Does that count for a reason?

You could find out now- comes that small voice again. What is there to lose? You have cancer. Not many days to go. Have fun. Do what you want to do. To hell with rest.

Its tempting- but I know I won’t. I can’t. I could not bear being wrong in their eyes. NO! I stand up suddenly and knock the chair against the wall. Almost immediately Dr. Kakkar appears at the door. (Was he outside all this time? The dear man!) “Are you all right Mrs. Koreshi?

How do you feel?”How do I feel? Indeed, how do I feel? Should I tell him I feel relieved? Hopeful? For the first time in years there is an end in sight. A natural, dignified end to this life – with hopes of starting fresh again somewhere. Without fault or blame or bitterness. I will be free at last. God is kind- Ma was right.

A tear escapes me. My body is being racked by sobs. Dr. Kakkar’s arms are around me. Comforting me. He has misread me again. I turn my face up to meet his….
****************************************************************************There There is a knock on the door. My assistant pops her head in to say “Dr. Kakkar, Mr. Koreshi is waiting outside for his wife.”

Ananya straightens her sari. She turns to me and winks. I am confused by her shining eyes, her light-hearted smile.

Then she adjusts her dark glasses firmly on her nose. What’s the need I wonder. Without a backward glance she opens the door to the bustling corridor. I can see her husband’s silhouette. “Darling, how do you feel?” a concerned baritone.

I am startled to hear a teary voice answer “Oh Sweetheart! We must be brave. I am just devastated. What will you all do if something happens to me? What will I do without you? Oh Sanjeev why has God done this to us……”

The door closes shut. I am alone now – with Mrs. Koreshi’s cancer reports.
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