The strong steel doors closed with a satisfactory ‘ping’ in front of her face. Sheetal had managed to enter the elevator in the last moment, even as she saw Rahul waving to hold it from a distance. Before she could react, the man on the right had hit the close button, and now they were on their onward journey. She looked at the man with mock irritation. He was tall, well built and dressed in a suit. ‘Oops’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a slight smile. He had a strong jaw and a nice smile. Sheetal forgave him. She smiled back.

As is the norm, she then proceeded to ignore the rest of the packed lift and began to fumble for her phone. Twenty floors was a long way to go. It had been a hectic morning and the work schedule for the day seemed cruel. She had worn her new red top and black heels to combat Monday morning blues. Now she didn’t even have Rahul for company in the lift.

As she looked down to her phone and the empty gmail inbox, she could not help but peep into the glowing LCD on her neighbour’s screen - ‘you look hot’. She just had to look up. The man was very obviously chatting to that girl next to him, all demure in a salwar suit, replete with sindur. The girl giggled and gave him a slight punch, oblivious to the remaining 7 rather interested individuals. The lift pinged 3, and the couple walked out.

‘Ah! Interesting anecdote to tell Rahul’

Getting some more room, Sheetal swept her eyes around the lift, checking out its inhabitants. She found herself staring at a near-teenage boy with headphones plugged in. She could almost hear the noise emanating from them as he stared dazedly at the lit up display.  He couldn’t possibly be working! She thought. He looked way too young. Probably an intern, she concluded.

‘Good morning!’ Ah! Her white haired ex-colleague.  ‘Morning! How was traffic?’ she added. ‘Usual...usual’ He replied and smiled while nodding his head slightly. He was at a loss to say anything more and she hurriedly looked back at her blank screen.

‘Se-venth floor. Ping!’

The headphone-boy stepped out. Sheetal gratefully moved into the empty space next to the lift wall left by him. She now felt secure with the lift behind her, and people in front of her. A couple of noisy men walked in, hitching up their pants.

‘Haan, and then he walked out of the meeting!’ to which both of them laughed loudly, shook their heads, and chuckled.  They were identically pot-bellied, in white shirts, engrossed in their conversation of office politics. One seemed to be the boss – the other was laughing too loudly at the joke.

‘Ping!’

‘Accha, you co-ordinate with Suman and send me...’ they got off on the next floor, talking, busy with each other, deep into the fresh Monday morning. She found them obnoxious.

Sheetal followed them out with her eyes. She noticed the tall man near the buttons looking at her. Immediately she looked away. Had she met him earlier? Was he a business acquaintance? She couldn’t decide. She let her eyes continue moving right.

She noted the familiar face next to his. ‘Hi’ they both said. She had no idea who he was, but they almost always caught the same lift every morning. He went to a floor above hers. They were lift-buddies.

A chiffon dupatta grazed her arm. ‘Ugh!’ she pushed it aside. She hated the feel of someone unknown’s clothes on her, especially chiffon dupattas. The lady on her right looked at her, smiled perfunctorily, said ‘Sori’ and went back to her important gossip to the lady next to her. The other lady was matronly, in a skirt with untucked shirt, curly hair, and dark, red lipsticked lips. She was nodding understandingly. It seemed the matter was very important. Their voices were hushed and their hands were moving fast. Sheetal eavesdropped.

‘Arrey, Mr. Mehta was called to the cabin, but he looked horrible when he came out...’

‘I am telling you, no, there is something about salary cuts in the office’

 ‘Twel-vth Floor. Ping!’

‘You never know now. It might be his...’ The two rushed out, still talking, clutching their jute lunch bags and bulging handbags. Sheetal mused about the poor Mr. Mehta and wondered about a salary or worse, a job cut.

‘Thirteen-th Floor! Ping!’ Apologetically nudging past, her white haired colleague went ahead. ‘Bye’ he smiled and shuffled out. ‘Bye’ she replied belatedly, smiling back.

‘Your friend?’ She heard a deep baritone voice say – it was the man next to the lift buttons.

Sheetal politely smiled and nodded slightly. Was he in her office? Not knowing she concentrated on distraction. She clicked some buttons on her phone. No one was online on chat. Darn.

‘Traffic is horrible today’ that awesome voice wanted to continue the conversation

‘Hmm.’ She acted busy. Why didn’t anyone call her? She opened her calendar application in desperation – did she have a meeting lined up? Was he a client?

‘Are you, by any chance, Sheetal Mehra?’

‘Oh shit! He is a client!’ Alarmed, she looked up at him. ‘Yes, yes’ she replied stupidly with a hesitant smile.

‘I read the name tag on your laptop bag’ and he gave her the most dazzling smile she had ever seen.

‘Oh’ He was hitting on her. He was not a client. He was good looking. This is her office lift.

‘Twenty-th floor. Ping!’

Sheetal slowly started walking out of the lift. ‘I’m Sunil. Will you be free for coffee sometime?’ He handed her his card, as he held the door open. Her lift-buddy was smiling. ‘You can call me. Or mail me.’ He pointed to his number on the card. The lift-buddy was grinning now.

‘Um...‘ She turned the card in her hand and walked out of the lift, savouring the situation. She was conscious of his height as she passed him, even with her heels. She turned back. And looked at his smile. That clinched it. ‘I’ll call you.’ She turned on her heel and walked into the crisp, new, delightful Monday morning, dreaming of cappuccinos.

So a cousin has come to stay with us for a fortnight. He is, what I ruthlessly informed N, exactly half N's age. That makes him a teenager. A true blue young teen boy of the year 2012. A true blue young teen boy of the year 2012 with a blackberry, an ex-girlfreind, a will-soon-be-girlfreind (two different young ladies, please), a passion for football (soccer, as some call it), an unhealthy passion for facebook and his curly, over-long hair.

Our household, as of date, consists, on a regular basis, of four adults and an adult turtle. All of us have been teenagers at some point in our lives, but either that is a far distant memory or at least a respectably distant memory. Our average age is 44.5yrs, and we are all very safely far away from even the age 25, OK, even the age 28. The poor turtle Goofy, is probably younger, but as far as we understand, he is old too. He understands when we talk to him. He likes his peace and quiet. He likes his habits.
Basically, in our house, a teen boy is a new phenomenon. You see, N is an only child, just like me. His family has been a nuclear family, clear from pestering cousins around the year except during summer holidays, just like mine. We have both seen ourselves grow up, and not anyone younger - except from a distance.
Perhaps I have a little better immediate experience of modern day teenagers because of my sister and the girls who are now my sister-in-laws. THat only helps me in the 'modern-day' sentiment type. My mother in law, on the other hand has had parenting exposure to a teen boy - but without the modern angle.
It is a very interesting mix. For us, I mean. As far as the boy is concerned, well, he has his world on BBM, including music, a nice cozy bed where he can plonk on for 18-20 hours when needed and food. The 5 moments of nothing to do but sit with four adults is a little excrutiating to him, but I think he can live with it.
To us, however, he is a very interesting creature. (italics are his responses)
'How much does he eat? Shall we ask the cook to make 2 rotis or 8?'
'He is STILL sleeping??'
'What will we occupy him with when he wakes up?'
'Uh, do you mind if I work out and then sleep some more?'
'He has not spoken since morning. Is he upset about something?' 'No, he is smiling on his BB'
'Will he really eat a WHOLE pizza?'
'How will we entertain him this evening?' 'Dont worry either he will sleep or chat on phone'
'Popcorn? Pepsi?' 'No, Ill wait for protein at lunch'
'Sunday is family time! I will be with you' 'Oh great, what shall we do?' 'Um, I plan to sleep, of its ok?' *Proceeds to sleep all day*
'Shall we wake you for lunch?' 'Yes please. Breakfast was good. *Burp* Definitely please'*snore*
'Hi A, so what is your plan for today?' *silence* "A, whats your plan' *Silence* 'A? You there? Are you home today?' *looks up slowly* 'Hmm?' *looks down again* *Exchange of glances between adults* 'Yay!! My ex-girlfreind is probably coming to town! I will probably be meeting her in four days! cool' *goes off to sleep*

And so on. The only thing that sparked his interest for 2 mins - To me: 'you've really heard Dub Step?" me: 'yes' Him: 'cool!' *proceeds to play the same tune on loop in car for next 20 mins, unheeding to - 'next song pls' from us.

Of course, I have grown up seing my cousin brothers eating 20 parathas for lunch, each, and then some snack (past). And my sister not looking up from her BB when I visit Calcutta (present) and looking equally dazed. It prepares me a little. But I have never hosted a teenager and planned on the cooking of those 20 parathas.
As for my Mom in law? Well, my husband was a very poor eater when young, someone eating more than 3 rotis and staying reed thin can stun her, and she has never met anyone with a dedicated relationship with their phones. He counfounds her. She is therefore, constantly worried about what he will do in his 'spare time'.
Typical conveersation - 'You are very quiet'. Yes. 'Kuchh hua kya beta?' No-no! 'Are you this quiet with your frnds?' Hmm? No. 'Then why are you qiet with us' *silence* 'Kya hua? Getting bored?' Hmm? oh, my tutor is on BBM ill just respond and then talk, OK? *she sits there tense, she is on tenterhooks. I chip in - 'I think he has nothing really to discuss with us.' He suddenly wakes up, gives a big grin - Yes! Exactly. Goes back to BB. My mother in law, is plunged in confusion and doom.
My husband finds him entertaining. His thin structure, his steel-hard abs, his ability and freedom to sleep, his girlfrnds. Of course, when he doesnt talk back, he starts by being supportive, humorous, and ends up being bugged. ('Oy! Look at me while Im talking' - while explaining card Monopoly's nuances). This non-response stops when there is 'girl gyaan' being given though.
My father in law wonders about very few things in life. An addition to that list now is, how can he not follow cricket? Why doesnt he talk? Does he do as many adventures as my dad in law did, when he was the same age? Afterall, all Delhi-iites should be the same no matter the era, right? Right. So go bang up a few cars, wont he? This earns him dagger looks from his loving wife.

This gives us a lot to talk about on a daily basis.
And that leaves A with his favorite response - 'huh? Sure.'

It rained last evening. The first rain of the season. After blistering heat, unbearable humidity and severe test of human endurance.
The sky turned cloudy as the sun started setting, reflecting off into the horizon myriad hues of pink, yellow and orange. The wind picked up. In the busy streets of bombay, people smiled and looked up. Nature demanded attention.

We got into the car and rolled down the windows. It was still warmer outside than in the AC of the car. The wind was strong, but dusty. We rolled up the windows. After a while we stopped at a shop and when we emerged, fat drops began decending in a leisurely, slow manner - scattered into the small garden in front of the shop. The dust welcomed the raindrops and gave off their approval with the distinctive after-rain smell.

We ran into the car, but the windows couldnt be let down - it was raining too hard. Everything was getting wet. Our minds and eyes refreshed, our stomachs seeked warm Maggi. And we stopped yet again. Rushing into a shop getting wet in the pelting rain. Perhaps we wanted an excuse.

Home and all windows were left open to let the cool, lovely wind come in and refresh the months of heat stifling the apartment.

Morning, and everything seems so peaceful. There are clouds, yet its not dull. Though it has rained, its not enough to bring the 'freshly washed' look out of everything. But everything looks more peaceful. Even the sun peeping in. Birds seem to fly about everywhere, and the wind is cool. The roads empty with Friday and the first rainy evening giving enough reasons to many to stay home. It is extremely pleasant.

I come to office and cannot sit still. I open the window blinds in front of me, and stare at the building in front - half of it cool and reflecting with dark glasses and the white part shining in reflected sun. I feel like going on a picnic.

The people in office seem happy, smiling and casual, and I am not sure if it is only because it is the end of week or the plans of watching the first day showof a highly anticipated movie.
I want to pack my bgas and go off on a long drive, N in tow, sandwiches on the back seat. Maybe a walk around the office compound will help. I look down at the small patch of greenery, with a thin road for cars, imagine sitting there staring at the sky. I know work will call me back soon. But I take the time to go down and enjoy the first day amongst many - of calm, peaceful weather. The monsoons, have arrived.