The Perfect Abode

Suhasi had just started to work from her home office when the housemaid called out, “Ma’am, there is water all over the living room.” A feeling of déjà vu engulfed her. She glanced out of the window, wanting to avoid the problem for as long as she could.
***
Suhasi had shifted to this upscale apartment fifteen days back with her family and entourage. She and her husband were fed up with the city life. The tall buildings, shiny arcades, the aroma of cuisines from the countless restaurants had enticed them at the beginning of their marriage. After a point, the returns from the glitz and glamour diminished.
Then in the Covid-19 pandemic, when the world got confined to homes and their home became the world, Suhasi’s long-dormant desire to own their place of living resurfaced. It was not that their previous address was insignificant. She and her husband worked in separate rooms, her daughter had a room to herself for her virtual classes, and their full-time live-in help had space to rest.
Yet, the place didn’t feel inviting. Two tiny balconies on the same side of the house looked out into the traffic. Whenever her nine-year-old daughter went to the balcony, she invariably came inside scared, both her hands covering the ears on either side.
Sensory overload had always been an issue with her autistic child. The pandemic with its stay-at-home compulsions and online classes requisites had made her grumpy. As the period of restrictions prolonged, the meltdown episodes became more frequent and intense.
Suhasi was overwhelmed with the jugglery of managing home, office and her daughter from the same place. With the blurring distinctions between home and work hours, and weekdays and weekends, she got all the more worked up with their residence.
“I wish that we had a big airy house far away from the maddening crowds, with lots of balconies for Sonali to play,” she had whispered to her husband one day.
The Universe paid heed to Suhasi’s desire. It was her better half who had spotted the front-page advertisement in the daily newspaper.
“Look, Suhasi. A ready to move in 3Bhk house with servant quarter and a private garden. It says ‘Actual Image’ at the bottom of the picture. Do you want to check it out?”
This particular advertisement had led them to the new area of Gurugram, on the other side of the toll bridge. They didn’t like that specific house but ended up falling for the vicinity. The wide roads, intermittent traffic, clean air, and all-encompassing greenery were stark contrasts to the concrete jungle of the central city.
The area was much less isolated and much more developed than they had thought. National Highway 8 provided access to the mainland while the completed Dwarka expressway led to New Delhi, the capital of India. There were neighbourhood stores everywhere. A couple of new malls had opened, with a few more were at various stages of construction.
More importantly, all the houses they saw there were spacious, airy and well-ventilated. Pre-fitted air-conditioners, modular kitchens, utility balconies and connected servant quarters were common to all the apartments.
Suhasi had felt at home in this particular society when they had set foot for the first time here, three months ago.
“Cayyy-cayee-cayeee.” The sounds of the peacocks had pricked her ears. She could not believe the spectacle in front of her; half a dozen peacocks were roaming around in the vast expanse inside the premises, comfortably at ease with the surroundings and the people feeding them.
“I would like to live here,” she had told her husband on their way back. That had settled the matter.
***
“Ma’am, what to do about water in the living room?” The maid’s insistent voice startled her out of her reverie. Three months seemed to be a long time.
Suhasi reluctantly got off the chair and went to the living room. She stared aghast at the silhouette of water on the ceiling of her lounge wall. The trickle of two days ago had turned into a torrent. Water had percolated the gypsum wall tiles and was flowing down the Italian marble floor.
She glanced at the living room AC, which was switched off. It was the AC from the adjacent bedroom which was causing the problem.
She went to their boudoir, where her husband was busy with his office work.
“Please switch off the AC or work in some other room. This AC’s pipe is leaking, and water has flooded our living room.”
“Why don’t you complain to the AC vendor?” He didn’t look up from his laptop.
“I had, two days ago. He cited labour shortage as the reason to expect a service delay. I will call him again today. But for now, the water flow needs to be controlled.”
Suhasi waited. Her husband remained silent.
She walked to the opposite side, picked up the remote from the side table and switched off the AC.
“Something or the other is always wrong in the house,” her husband muttered. Gathering his laptop and accessories, he left for the guest room without looking at her.
The deafening silence of the empty room reflected the current state of Suhasi’s married life.
***
They had come for the second time to choose their apartment in the society.
The vicinity of their choice was located at a crossroad of developmental transition. Ten shiny tall glass buildings majestically preened in the twelve-acre gated community. A vast tract of farmland surrounded the gated location from all sides.
Suhasi found the fifth-floor apartment perfect for their requirements when she stepped into the living room balcony. From a vantage position, she admired the golden strands of the morning sun that kissed the freshly ploughed brown sands, showering its blessings to peasants and their brethren hard at work. The vast open space was punctuated with brown, green and yellow colours of varying heights and stretched beyond what her eyes could see. She felt the gentle morning breeze stroking her body. The ensemble of peacocks, peahens and peachicks further enhanced the heavenly vision.
On the other side of the apartment, the balcony opened to the view of twenty-odd palm trees resting firmly on the green grasslands, intersected with a pool’s blue waters. The verdant garden with children play areas, temple, courts for various games, jogging track, and sitting spaces appeared soothing for the soul.
In all, there were four balconies, seven rooms and four bathrooms in the house- bounteous space for all three of them to work, study and play in concert without stepping into each other’s toes. Sonali would have a field day with all the open spaces.
“I have found my dream home,” she had proclaimed to her husband. “I will make it the perfect one for us.”
***
Suhasi dialled the Helpdesk number from the intercom.
“There is a deluge of water in my living room. When will the AC guy come and fix it? Further, the geysers are yet to be repaired, and the bathtub awaits fixing. Every day something or the other comes up! Should I work, look after my home or be after you to solve these issues?” She was furious.
She listened without being attentive to the voice on the other end of the line.
“Make sure that all the teething troubles of our house are sorted today, else I will make a detour to the sales office to see your seniors tomorrow,” she threatened before slamming the phone down.
Suhasi glanced at the wall clock and rushed to her study, deciding to again skip her lunch today to meet the deadline at work.
The study room was her sanctuary. The work table, replete with notes and photocopier-cum-printer was at the first line of sight. On the left, an elephantine Mahogany bookshelf stacked with books of eclectic taste was the corner’s highlight. She sat on the chair and peered up from her laptop to take in a clear, uninhibited view of the countryside from the window.
A wooden partition on the right side of her table drew the line between her work and her daughter’s den. A side table adjoining the divider accompanied Sonali’s double bed to the other side. Soft toys and pillows of all shapes and sizes adorned the bed. A smaller blue coloured study table and chair, more of a holding place for the laptop, study books and the Alexa smart speaker, rounded off her daughter’s corner.
Suhasi’s eyes ventured further. A treadmill brought up the right side of the bed. The cupboards and storage lofts opposite the equipment enclosed all her daughter’s clothes and toys. A football, yoga mat and a folding child study table found their space on the oak-panelled floor.
Suhasi had set up the room such that she could work and keep an eye on her daughter at the same time.
“Ma’am, the kitchen door handle has broken.” The maid stood behind her, holding a broken latch.
Suhasi gave her a frustrated smile.
***
It was 7 pm. The blue horizon had turned black. The last of the workmen had left after finishing the repairs. Suhasi gave instructions to the maid for dinner. Her husband was still in the guest room; she wasn’t sure whether he was working or playing his favourite video game.
Between supervising the labourers, attending to the maid’s complaints, and paying some household bills, she somehow managed to finish her proposal and send it within the deadline. It was a miracle that her boss had not found any mistakes in her work.
Suhasi switched off her laptop and slowly got off the chair. She peeped at the double bed from the partition’s opening.
The bed was neatly organised. All the toys and pillows were prim and proper. Not a single thing in the room was out of place.
The room bore all the hallmarks of space devoid of the presence of a boisterous child.
Suhasi looked at the photograph of Sonali on the far-right side of her work table.
She had tried to plan all to perfection for her little one, but fate had other plans. Covid had taken away the apple of her eye.
The dreaded disease struck her daughter three days before they were to shift to their new abode. Her daughter developed a cold and cough in the morning. By evening, she was running a high temperature and making faces while eating her food.
Did she lose her sense of smell and taste? Was she in much pain? No one knew. Her autistic daughter couldn’t speak.
Sonali’s face was all blue the following day, and she was gasping for breath.
They ran from pillar to post to get a hospital bed, oxygen concentrator, remdesivir injection, anything and everything to save their daughter-all to no avail. In a city ravaged by the second wave of the pandemic, even funeral pyres were in short supply.
In the same evening, Sonali took her last breath in Suhasi’s helpless arms. She had not got a chance to set her eyes on the abode that her mother had painstakingly set up for her.
Suhasi blinked as moisture filled her eyes.
She picked up Sonali’s photograph, strolled to the colossal glass door sequestering the room from the spacious terrace, and pulled open the door to step barefoot on the grass carpet.
The orange ball of fire was gloriously spreading its hues in the paradise. The palm trees were dancing to the tune of the evening breeze- their leaves twirling in perfect coordination. The twinkling artificial lights on the ground dazzled the grassland. The potted plants on the side of her terrace revelled in the surreal atmosphere.
Suhasi sat down and hugged her daughter close to her chest.
“Darling, you have left us for a perfect home,” she whispered.