He asked me if I’d go to Sangli, Satara or Ahmednagar. I was quick to respond with a yes. He thought for a while. Ten minutes later, when I had already forgotten the question and my subsequent response, he retorted, “If you go there, how you will get your favorite cheesecake?”
I flippantly said, “I’ll return to Bombay every weekend. Or even better, you can come visit me under the pretext of delivering cheesecake!”
We left it at that. But the conversation hadn’t left either of us. He asked me much later if I’d really go. And I was surprised at myself for being so casual.
Maybe the casualness was a mask that I was hesitant to take off. Or maybe I felt that it was none of his business to know.
It’s a little unnerving when family members stop being family and turn into spectators.