“Yeah… I can. It’s hurting but I can.”
“Is MM crying?”
“No, that’s why I am worried. I need to go and see.”
Ritu glided out of the carved wrought iron gates and slipped onto the blessedly empty stretch of road. It was a holiday for most of Mumbai. She still did not press on the gas.
“M!”
“Maasi, G is here.”
“Oh good, hand me to him…”
“M, what happened?!”
“Talk to Maasi…”
“Come, get up…”
“Gautam,” Ritu stopped him. “First go check on MM. If she is ok, then let Maya be for a while. She fell and I am on my way. Ok?”
“Yes, ok.” He ended the call in panic. Ritu let go a quiet breath of relief, driving smoothly down the wide, canopied stretches.
“It’s open, accelerate!” Nilay urged.
“I’m good.”
“Seriously? Maya is hurt there and you are going at…” he pointedly eyed the speedometer. “40?”
“Sit back and relax.”
“Doctor, park on the side and let me drive. I know the shortcuts.”
“Keep quiet.”
“What’s the problem withyou?”
“You.”
“Right. Put it on me when you cannot muster the courage to speed.”
“Your resting heart rate will shoot up, keep quiet.”
And then he went silent. Ritu glanced at him from the corner of her eye, certain she was looking at a completely different man. He was staring ahead, quiet like a good boy.
“Wear your seatbelt.”
He blinked, realising he wasn't wearing it. He reached for it, smirking — “God keep me safe.”
Ritu bit the insides of her cheeks, pushing the speed to 60, then slowing again to 40, taking the turns slowly and carefully, weaving through the wide green lanes she had spent her childhood in. His body relaxed beside hers, and one part of her brain, the one that was focused on his heart, finally concentrated on navigating. She did not need Google Maps. Mumbai was hers. She knew its lanes and by-lanes and shortcuts like the artery map of a human heart.
“Are you from Mumbai?”
Ritu nodded.
“When did you leave the city?”
“It’s been a while.”
