12-08-2026, 01:57 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-09-2026, 02:06 PM by Authorsunny.)
Chapter 2 – New Clothes, New Hours
14 July 2025 – Monday
I came home at the usual time and found the flat smelling different. Not the usual mix of dal and floor cleaner. Something lighter, almost sweet. Ma was standing near the almirah with the doors wide open. Clothes were spread on the bed — two of her older salwar suits, a couple of nighties, and three new things still with the tags.
She turned when she heard me. Her hair was open and slightly damp, as if she had just washed it again.
“You’re early.”
“Manager left early today.” I put my bag down and looked at the clothes. “What’s all this?”
“I went to the market in the afternoon. The old ones were looking tired. I bought two kurtis and one pair of jeans.” She said the last word carefully, as if testing how it would sound in our house.
Jeans.
I picked up the dark blue pair. It was stretchable, the kind that sits close. The kurtis were longer, one black with small embroidery near the neck, the other a deep olive green. Both had sleeves that ended above the elbow and necklines that sat lower than anything she had worn in the last five years.
“They look nice,” I said. It was true. They looked nicer than the faded things she had been rotating for years.
She smiled, a little shy and a little pleased. “I tried them in the shop. The girl said they suit me. At this age I don’t know.”
“They suit you.”
She folded them carefully and kept them on the top shelf of the almirah, separate from the older pile. That night she wore the olive kurti with an old salwar while we ate. Every time she leaned forward to serve me, the neckline shifted and I could see the soft beginning of her cleavage and the edge of her bra strap. I kept my eyes on the plate.
After dinner she sat on the chair near the window and scrolled through her phone for a long time. I heard her murmur once, “This colour is also nice…”
I didn’t ask what she was looking at.
---
19 July 2025 – Saturday
She went out at eleven in the morning and came back only at four-thirty.
I had finished my office work by then and was sitting with a cup of tea when the key turned. She walked in carrying two shopping bags and a small packet from a cosmetics shop. Her face was slightly flushed from the heat. She was wearing the black kurti with jeans.
It was the first time I had seen her in jeans in years.
They fit closely around her hips and thighs. The kurti was long enough to cover her properly, but when she turned to close the door the cloth pulled across her seat and I could see the full round shape of it. Her hair was open and she had put a thin silver chain and small earrings.
“Traffic was bad,” she said, dropping the bags on the bed. “I went to that bigger market near Lokhandwala. Prices are higher but the clothes are better.”
She pulled out another kurti, this one maroon with three-quarter sleeves, and a pair of simple black leggings. Then she opened the cosmetics packet — a bottle of body lotion, a small compact, and a lipstick in a muted pink shade.
I watched her arrange everything on the shelf.
“You spent a lot?”
“Not much. I still have some savings from the parlour days. And you said we can manage now.” She looked at me quickly. “It’s okay, no?”
“It’s okay.”
She went behind the curtain and changed into a nighty. When she came out she sat on the bed and started applying the lotion on her arms and neck. The smell filled the small room — mild, milky, a little sweet. She rubbed it slowly, taking her time over her elbows and the soft skin of her upper arms. I tried to focus on my laptop.
Later, while we were having tea, she said, “The salesgirl kept saying I look younger than my age. Silly girl. At forty-seven who looks young?”
She laughed, but she was watching my face for a reaction.
“You do look fresher these days,” I said honestly.
She smiled and looked down at her hands. The gold bangles made their soft sound.
---
24 July 2025 – Thursday
Something small happened in the corridor today.
I was climbing the stairs because the lift was still not working. On the second floor landing, Mrs. Desai from the corner flat was standing with her shopping bag. She looked at me, then looked past me as if checking whether Ma was with me.
“Your mother has started going out a lot, hain?” she said in that sweet-sharp tone older women in the building use.
“Sometimes. She has free time now.”
“Free time is good. But these days one has to be careful also. Building has all kinds of people.” She smiled and started walking down. “Tell her I said hello.”
I didn’t reply.
When I reached home Ma was already there, sitting on the bed with her legs folded, painting her toenails a light pink. The bottle was new. She looked up and smiled.
“Mrs. Desai was asking about you,” I said while removing my shoes.
“That woman asks about everyone.” Ma blew lightly on her toes. “She saw me yesterday near the gate. I had gone to buy milk. She asked where I got the kurti from. I told her. Then she started giving advice about how women our age should dress simply.”
She laughed once, short and dismissive.
“I didn’t say anything. Let her talk.”
I sat down on the chair. The smell of the nail paint was sharp in the closed room. Her feet looked different with the colour — softer, more cared for. She had also started shaping her eyebrows a little. Nothing dramatic. Just cleaner.
While we ate she told me she was thinking of going for a second movie next week. An evening show this time.
“Evening?” I asked.
“The afternoon ones are full of children. Evening is quieter. I’ll take auto both ways. Don’t worry.”
I nodded. The word “worry” sat strangely in my mouth.
---
29 July 2025 – Tuesday
I saw the landlord for the first time in weeks.
His name is Azad. Everyone in the building calls him Azad Bhai. He is somewhere in his late forties, keeps a short salt-and-pepper beard, and usually wears simple cotton kurtas. He lives on the ground floor with his mother. The building belongs to his family. He is the one who collects rent and handles repairs.
I was coming in at seven-fifteen. He was standing near the entrance talking to the watchman. When he saw me he nodded.
“Sunny, right? Your mother said you got a good job. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Azad Bhai.”
“If anything is needed in the flat — tap, fan, anything — just tell. No need to wait.”
I said okay and went up.
When I told Ma, she was in the kitchen heating milk. She didn’t turn around immediately.
“He is helpful,” she said after a moment. “Last month when the bathroom pipe was leaking he sent someone the same day. Didn’t even charge extra.”
“He spoke to you?”
“Sometimes when I go down for milk or vegetables. He asks if everything is okay. Normal landlord things.”
She brought the milk and sat opposite me. She was wearing the maroon kurti again, the one with the slightly lower neck. The tube light made the skin of her throat look warm.
“Mrs. Desai was talking again today,” she said suddenly. “She told me I should not wear jeans at this age. I asked her why. She had no answer. Just made a face.”
I stayed quiet.
Ma looked at me over the rim of her glass. “You also think I should not wear them?”
“No. Wear whatever you want.”
She smiled, satisfied, and finished her milk.
That night I heard her on the phone with someone. Her voice was low but lively. She laughed twice. When I came out of the bathroom she ended the call and said it was an old friend from the parlour.
I didn’t ask further.
---
2 August 2025 – Saturday
She left at twelve-thirty and came back at seven.
Seven.
I had started checking the time after six. The flat felt too still. I made tea and drank it alone. At six-forty I almost called, then stopped myself. At seven-ten the key turned.
She walked in looking tired but bright-eyed. She was wearing the olive kurti with the jeans again, and a thin black stole. Her lipstick was a little faded. There was a small shopping bag from a store I didn’t recognise.
“I went to the big mall,” she said before I could ask. “Watched a film, then walked around. There was a sale. I bought one more top.”
She pulled out a soft grey top with a wider neck and shorter sleeves. When she held it up against herself I could already see how it would sit on her chest and arms.
“You were alone the whole time?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just asking. It’s late.”
She looked at me for a second longer than usual. Then she came closer and put her hand on my cheek.
“I’m not a child, Sunny. I know how to come home. Auto was easily available.”
Her palm was warm. She smelled of the new lotion and something else — maybe the air-conditioning of the mall, or perfume from the shop.
She went to change. I sat on the bed and stared at the grey top lying there. The neck was the lowest she had brought home so far.
When she came out in her nighty she sat next to me and showed me photos she had taken of herself in the mall trial room. In one of them she was smiling at the mirror, head tilted, the new top fitting closely over her full breasts and the jeans holding the curve of her hips. She looked… different. Not like the woman who used to come home exhausted from the parlour with oil stains on her clothes.
“The salesgirl said I should take it. She said this colour is good for my skin.” Ma zoomed in on the photo a little. “What do you think?”
“It looks good on you.”
She saved the photo and put the phone down. Then she leaned her head on my shoulder for a moment, the way she sometimes does when she is happy.
“I’m trying to live a little, Sunny. That’s all. After so many years.”
I didn’t move away. The weight of her head was familiar and strange at the same time.
Later, after she fell asleep, I opened her phone (as I know her pattern lock) and looked at the same photo she had shown me. The way the cloth stretched across her chest. The slight smile. The open hair.
I locked the phone and put it face down.
Outside, a scooter passed in the lane. Somewhere downstairs a door closed. The building settled into its usual night sounds. But inside our small room the air felt slightly altered, as if the new clothes and the longer hours had already started changing the shape of the silence between us.
I turned on my side and listened to her breathing.
It was still steady.
It was still home.
But I could no longer pretend that nothing was moving.
14 July 2025 – Monday
I came home at the usual time and found the flat smelling different. Not the usual mix of dal and floor cleaner. Something lighter, almost sweet. Ma was standing near the almirah with the doors wide open. Clothes were spread on the bed — two of her older salwar suits, a couple of nighties, and three new things still with the tags.
She turned when she heard me. Her hair was open and slightly damp, as if she had just washed it again.
“You’re early.”
“Manager left early today.” I put my bag down and looked at the clothes. “What’s all this?”
“I went to the market in the afternoon. The old ones were looking tired. I bought two kurtis and one pair of jeans.” She said the last word carefully, as if testing how it would sound in our house.
Jeans.
I picked up the dark blue pair. It was stretchable, the kind that sits close. The kurtis were longer, one black with small embroidery near the neck, the other a deep olive green. Both had sleeves that ended above the elbow and necklines that sat lower than anything she had worn in the last five years.
“They look nice,” I said. It was true. They looked nicer than the faded things she had been rotating for years.
She smiled, a little shy and a little pleased. “I tried them in the shop. The girl said they suit me. At this age I don’t know.”
“They suit you.”
She folded them carefully and kept them on the top shelf of the almirah, separate from the older pile. That night she wore the olive kurti with an old salwar while we ate. Every time she leaned forward to serve me, the neckline shifted and I could see the soft beginning of her cleavage and the edge of her bra strap. I kept my eyes on the plate.
After dinner she sat on the chair near the window and scrolled through her phone for a long time. I heard her murmur once, “This colour is also nice…”
I didn’t ask what she was looking at.
---
19 July 2025 – Saturday
She went out at eleven in the morning and came back only at four-thirty.
I had finished my office work by then and was sitting with a cup of tea when the key turned. She walked in carrying two shopping bags and a small packet from a cosmetics shop. Her face was slightly flushed from the heat. She was wearing the black kurti with jeans.
It was the first time I had seen her in jeans in years.
They fit closely around her hips and thighs. The kurti was long enough to cover her properly, but when she turned to close the door the cloth pulled across her seat and I could see the full round shape of it. Her hair was open and she had put a thin silver chain and small earrings.
“Traffic was bad,” she said, dropping the bags on the bed. “I went to that bigger market near Lokhandwala. Prices are higher but the clothes are better.”
She pulled out another kurti, this one maroon with three-quarter sleeves, and a pair of simple black leggings. Then she opened the cosmetics packet — a bottle of body lotion, a small compact, and a lipstick in a muted pink shade.
I watched her arrange everything on the shelf.
“You spent a lot?”
“Not much. I still have some savings from the parlour days. And you said we can manage now.” She looked at me quickly. “It’s okay, no?”
“It’s okay.”
She went behind the curtain and changed into a nighty. When she came out she sat on the bed and started applying the lotion on her arms and neck. The smell filled the small room — mild, milky, a little sweet. She rubbed it slowly, taking her time over her elbows and the soft skin of her upper arms. I tried to focus on my laptop.
Later, while we were having tea, she said, “The salesgirl kept saying I look younger than my age. Silly girl. At forty-seven who looks young?”
She laughed, but she was watching my face for a reaction.
“You do look fresher these days,” I said honestly.
She smiled and looked down at her hands. The gold bangles made their soft sound.
---
24 July 2025 – Thursday
Something small happened in the corridor today.
I was climbing the stairs because the lift was still not working. On the second floor landing, Mrs. Desai from the corner flat was standing with her shopping bag. She looked at me, then looked past me as if checking whether Ma was with me.
“Your mother has started going out a lot, hain?” she said in that sweet-sharp tone older women in the building use.
“Sometimes. She has free time now.”
“Free time is good. But these days one has to be careful also. Building has all kinds of people.” She smiled and started walking down. “Tell her I said hello.”
I didn’t reply.
When I reached home Ma was already there, sitting on the bed with her legs folded, painting her toenails a light pink. The bottle was new. She looked up and smiled.
“Mrs. Desai was asking about you,” I said while removing my shoes.
“That woman asks about everyone.” Ma blew lightly on her toes. “She saw me yesterday near the gate. I had gone to buy milk. She asked where I got the kurti from. I told her. Then she started giving advice about how women our age should dress simply.”
She laughed once, short and dismissive.
“I didn’t say anything. Let her talk.”
I sat down on the chair. The smell of the nail paint was sharp in the closed room. Her feet looked different with the colour — softer, more cared for. She had also started shaping her eyebrows a little. Nothing dramatic. Just cleaner.
While we ate she told me she was thinking of going for a second movie next week. An evening show this time.
“Evening?” I asked.
“The afternoon ones are full of children. Evening is quieter. I’ll take auto both ways. Don’t worry.”
I nodded. The word “worry” sat strangely in my mouth.
---
29 July 2025 – Tuesday
I saw the landlord for the first time in weeks.
His name is Azad. Everyone in the building calls him Azad Bhai. He is somewhere in his late forties, keeps a short salt-and-pepper beard, and usually wears simple cotton kurtas. He lives on the ground floor with his mother. The building belongs to his family. He is the one who collects rent and handles repairs.
I was coming in at seven-fifteen. He was standing near the entrance talking to the watchman. When he saw me he nodded.
“Sunny, right? Your mother said you got a good job. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Azad Bhai.”
“If anything is needed in the flat — tap, fan, anything — just tell. No need to wait.”
I said okay and went up.
When I told Ma, she was in the kitchen heating milk. She didn’t turn around immediately.
“He is helpful,” she said after a moment. “Last month when the bathroom pipe was leaking he sent someone the same day. Didn’t even charge extra.”
“He spoke to you?”
“Sometimes when I go down for milk or vegetables. He asks if everything is okay. Normal landlord things.”
She brought the milk and sat opposite me. She was wearing the maroon kurti again, the one with the slightly lower neck. The tube light made the skin of her throat look warm.
“Mrs. Desai was talking again today,” she said suddenly. “She told me I should not wear jeans at this age. I asked her why. She had no answer. Just made a face.”
I stayed quiet.
Ma looked at me over the rim of her glass. “You also think I should not wear them?”
“No. Wear whatever you want.”
She smiled, satisfied, and finished her milk.
That night I heard her on the phone with someone. Her voice was low but lively. She laughed twice. When I came out of the bathroom she ended the call and said it was an old friend from the parlour.
I didn’t ask further.
---
2 August 2025 – Saturday
She left at twelve-thirty and came back at seven.
Seven.
I had started checking the time after six. The flat felt too still. I made tea and drank it alone. At six-forty I almost called, then stopped myself. At seven-ten the key turned.
She walked in looking tired but bright-eyed. She was wearing the olive kurti with the jeans again, and a thin black stole. Her lipstick was a little faded. There was a small shopping bag from a store I didn’t recognise.
“I went to the big mall,” she said before I could ask. “Watched a film, then walked around. There was a sale. I bought one more top.”
She pulled out a soft grey top with a wider neck and shorter sleeves. When she held it up against herself I could already see how it would sit on her chest and arms.
“You were alone the whole time?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just asking. It’s late.”
She looked at me for a second longer than usual. Then she came closer and put her hand on my cheek.
“I’m not a child, Sunny. I know how to come home. Auto was easily available.”
Her palm was warm. She smelled of the new lotion and something else — maybe the air-conditioning of the mall, or perfume from the shop.
She went to change. I sat on the bed and stared at the grey top lying there. The neck was the lowest she had brought home so far.
When she came out in her nighty she sat next to me and showed me photos she had taken of herself in the mall trial room. In one of them she was smiling at the mirror, head tilted, the new top fitting closely over her full breasts and the jeans holding the curve of her hips. She looked… different. Not like the woman who used to come home exhausted from the parlour with oil stains on her clothes.
“The salesgirl said I should take it. She said this colour is good for my skin.” Ma zoomed in on the photo a little. “What do you think?”
“It looks good on you.”
She saved the photo and put the phone down. Then she leaned her head on my shoulder for a moment, the way she sometimes does when she is happy.
“I’m trying to live a little, Sunny. That’s all. After so many years.”
I didn’t move away. The weight of her head was familiar and strange at the same time.
Later, after she fell asleep, I opened her phone (as I know her pattern lock) and looked at the same photo she had shown me. The way the cloth stretched across her chest. The slight smile. The open hair.
I locked the phone and put it face down.
Outside, a scooter passed in the lane. Somewhere downstairs a door closed. The building settled into its usual night sounds. But inside our small room the air felt slightly altered, as if the new clothes and the longer hours had already started changing the shape of the silence between us.
I turned on my side and listened to her breathing.
It was still steady.
It was still home.
But I could no longer pretend that nothing was moving.
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