When No One Watches

The Sen family was the kind which spent many happy moments but seldom talked about them. Mrs Sen was a teacher, Mr Sen was actually Dr Sen, their son was in his final year of schooling, and their daughter was… the youngest. 

Even the nine-year-old girl of the family could recollect many memories which would make her smile. But the notion of being nostalgic had not been introduced to her by her family or friends. School still taught them about fairies and phonetics and numbers, which her father would help her out with. Her mother did the same on the weekends. They talked about dinner, about school, about the news, and about sports - she would be lying if she said she understood half of it. But she liked being alone, which was why she also liked being on peaceful beaches and in peaceful resorts during the family trip. 

They had gone to Goa during the summer breaks. The three family members associated with school found free days during this time, while the doctor managed to find a rare one-week holiday himself. The hospital would transfer all visits and phone calls to a new doctor in his department while he was gone. 

The trip had been as happy as the rest of the child’s memories - she enjoyed looking at the waves, even though she was upset for a while about her brother being allowed to go near them while she wasn’t. But soon, she had become lost looking at the other members of the beach. Everyone was relaxed, and none was bothered about anyone else around them. In all probability, none of the separate families on the beach would meet each other again once they returned to normal life. This lent them a certain freedom they wouldn’t have felt otherwise. Thus, it was at an early age when she realised people acted differently when they thought no one was watching them, nor judging them. 

She was thinking about the same when the taxi from the airport stopped in front of the address her father had provided the driver with. Mr Sen thanked the man, tipped him, and got out with the rest of the family. Suitcases were taken out and handed to those who would be allowed to carry them. Then, they made their way to the house. 

They travelled a few steps when Dr Sen stopped in his tracks. Mrs Sen was busy looking for the keys in her handbag. On seeing Dr Sen, she looked up to see the cause of disturbance as well. No key would be required, as it turned out to be - the front door was already open. 

The patriarch of the family gestured towards his son to take care of the young girl. He took their mother along with him as he walked through the door. A few moments later, their mother came back. “Come inside,” she said, taking two suitcases, and leaving one for the son to bring inside. The smallest member of the family walked in last, with only the slightest of awareness about why her parents could be scared, but with no awareness why they were. 

The aura of rejuvenation in their movements and joy on their faces after a relaxing trip were quickly replaced by frowns. The girl’s own fanciful thoughts continued. She wondered how it would feel like to live on a beach. It would be a few years before the textbooks taught her about high tides and low tides. For now, the only thing the moon attracted was her wanderlust on nights she finished her homework early, or the serial she watched with her mother took an absurd turn, which she could reflect upon through the balcony. 

She was left alone in the living room, where she sat on the sofa after taking off her shoes. It looked exactly as it had been left a week earlier. She was in charge of closing the windows, and she remembered having done so for each one in the house. On her second round of the home, she realised she had forgotten to close a bathroom window, which she rarely did. By the time she completed her third round of the house, it was time to leave - and she was sure no window remained unopened. 

“Did you leave any of the windows open?” Her brother asked, suddenly standing in front of her. 

“I did not,” the girl said. 

“Are you sure?” 

“As sure as the fact that you shouldn’t wear the shirt you bought on the beach to any social event.” 

The brother stood upright, with his hands shifting from his knees to his hips. “Come on, it isn’t that bad,” he said. 

“As bad as the time you decided it would be stylish to shave just the right side of your beard.” 

After a pause, the now clean-shaved teenager asked - “It looks that bad?” 

The girl nodded after a pause, and offered her condolences. “It does.” 

“I used all of my month’s pocket money to buy it!” The boy threw his hands up in the air. 

“All of it?” 

“I got only a fourth of what I usually did because the last time we went on a trip, I might have spent it all on whacky hats.” 

“So this time, just the whacky shirt. An improvement I suppose?” 

Before the brother could respond to her quip, Mrs Sen called out his name. He walked out of the room. The girl was sufficiently curious now - she got up from the sofa to see what was happening in the household. This came more out of a place of curiosity about why hadn’t been included in the discussion rather than concern about her home, because with the exception of the front door, everything seemed to be as it had been when they left. 

She slowly walked up to the bedroom of her parents. She peeked in through the semi-closed door. Her brother’s back was facing her while he faced his parents, even if as a silent spectator. This ensured she remained covered herself from the view of any of the three as she eavesdropped on the conversation which followed. 

“Are you sure?” Dr Sen asked. 

“How could you even ask me that?” Mrs Sen asked in a tone which was not appreciated at the dinner table. 

“Come on, don’t dismiss it out of hand, maybe you just forgot to close the door before we left.” 

“I am pretty sure I closed the door. Moreover, if I hadn’t, don’t you think the breeze and thieves would have made a mess of the house by now?” 

This logic was met with the silence of the two other members in the room, and approval from the member just outside the room. 

“Maybe the door’s lock malfunctioned.” 

“When I closed it after entering the home, it was locked in a moment. And it hasn’t opened up even once since then.” 

“Give it some time, maybe it will.” 

There was an uneasy tension between the elderly couple which the daughter was too young to detect. She spent the time thinking about what could be the possible reasons for the door opening up. 

The gathering in the room concluded their discussion after the exchange of a few more implausible theories. The young girl quietly slipped away to the living room. Soon, her mother made her way to the kitchen and passed her by. “You must be feeling hungry,” she said. 

The young girl nodded. 

“Thought so. You can have two cookies from the jar while I make lunch… but not more!” The mother said so with a knife in her hand, but in a jovial manner - the knife was for the onions she was dicing, after all. 

The girl got up and walked over to the fridge. She opened it, put her hand inside, and found the cookie jar where it had been. The pleasure of laying her hands on the ones her mother baked - which were clearly the best in the world - distracted her from the conversation she had been a secret observer of. 

She duly replaced the jar from where it was taken after having taken two and a half cookies. If anyone asked why she had taken the extra half piece, she would reason she did so for the greater good - it was already broken and lying in a corner, which would make for an unsatisfying serving after dinner. 

Lunch was cooked under an hour. The family was called to the dining table without ceremony. Mrs Sen and Dr Sen preferred to stay quiet in between their meals, but today there were abstaining from conversation with uneasiness. The daughter would have noticed this, if it hadn’t been for the ladyfingers on her plate. She had an unexplained affinity for the vegetable. Unlike other days, she found herself to be the first one to finish her food. On requesting her mother, she her plate was filled with a second serving too. 

After lunch was completed, everyone washed their own dishes, as ritual in the household dictated. Then, everyone went to their rooms - the boy would have to catch up with his homework, while the doctor would have to catch up with his patience. The mother fixed up the household as much as a tidy one required after being left unattended for a week. The daughter took out one of her favourite story books and went to bed. Soon, the illustrations faced her belly when she turned the book upside down and fell asleep. Air travel was even more exhausting for young kids. 

It was at half past five when she was woken up. She washed her face and sat down with her own homework. Most of it was done when her snacks arrived - a half cookie, and a milkshake. 

“Why only half a cookie, mom?” she asked. 

“It seems like someone already ate the other half,” Mrs Sen said with a hint of perplexity in her voice. “Must have been a ghost!” she reasoned out loud, but the hyperbole betrayed where her suspicion laid. She shot a knowing glance at her daughter, and walked out of the room. 

At seven in the evening, she got up from her study table, having completed the last bit of her homework just in time for the starting of the show which her mother watched. She made her way to the sofa. Her mother already sat there with the remote control in her hand to adjust the volume control. 

“Your homework’s done?” the mother asked. 

The girl nodded and sat down beside her. 

It was nearing the climax of the episode when the mother had to get up and go to the kitchen to prepare dinner for her family. She was a good cook and took pride in the meals she prepared. Tonight would be no different. She listened to cathartic conversation between the mother-in-law and the new bride in the family over the noise of the frying pan, but found herself lost in her work before long. The girl switched over to the cartoon channel when she knew this was the case. A further forty minutes passed like this. 

When dinner was near its completion ten minutes before time, she called her son to help her set up the table for dining. On seeing her daughter looming at the edge of the table without work, she told her - “Please call your father.” 

The girl walked over to his study. It was a small room, and the last one a person walking down the corridor would come across before the storage room itself. The door was closed, but if one peeked, one might be able to look at what was happening in the room without being detected. The arrangement of the room had been done in such a manner that the back of the occupant of the study table faced the door. She thought of knocking it and pushing her way inside to invite her father to an early dinner, but a familiar voice stopped her from entering. 

“What do you mean?” it asked. The girl calibrated her position and looked at the table. A laptop sat on it. The screen was occupied by a familiar woman. On squinting, the girl made her out to be a colleague of her father. She had always been nice to the girl whenever she came home to meet him for work. 

“You heard me correctly. Did you enter my house?” Her father spoke in a tone which bordered on losing its temper. It was one which he pursued when she couldn’t solve a sum despite numerous attempts at an explanation of the procedure, but she hadn’t heard it for a long time now - she was a good girl. 

“I… might have,” the colleague replied. 

“Why?” 

“I thought I left a pair of socks when we met the night before you left. Your wife and kids had already gone to the airport but you had stayed back for work…” 

“I remember the night very well, darling.” 

“I came over in the early morning just before you arrived. It was indeed there beside your bed, having laid there for a week. I picked it up and went on my way. How did you know?” 

“You left the door open.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“You did. Luckily no one entered our home in the couple of hours the door was left open.” 

“I was very nervous. I’m sorry. Truly so.” 

“It’s okay. I understood it was you. The only other person except for the family living in town with spare keys to our house is you. Luckily for us, you remembered about the…” Dr Sen trailed off. 

“We have got to be more careful from next time.” 

“Yes. As long as it’s worth it…" A few moments of silence followed. “I could be called to dinner any minute now. We’ll talk later tonight after my wife’s asleep.” 

“Sure thing. Love you.” 

Dr Sen smiled. Then he said, “I love you too.” 

And as the girl stood there, she now knew how one of her own behaved when he thought no one was watching.