9 All in a Day’s Work #2
For a brief second, I truly felt for my poor mother.
Caught as she was between the values of two different generations, it was difficult for her to assert her own beliefs.
Her parents had taught her that girls had to get married at the right age and run their husbands’ houses.
Her daughter had exposed her to the idea of a woman putting herself first, in and outside of a marriage.
Her own life was a confusing mess of the two opposing schools of thought.
My dad and she had met in college and had been friends long enough to decide that they should get married. Their relationship was built on that friendship, but it was still not an equal partnership.
‘Sarita, can you get a drink for bhaisaab and me?’ my dad called out.
Mom hurried away into the kitchen, happy to run any and all errands that would save her from uncomfortable conversations.
Unfortunately for me, that meant Taiji’s undivided attention was now on me.
‘So, a pretty girl like you … you must have a boyfriend,’ she whispered, nudging me in the ribs.
As you may have gathered, this was a bit of a sore point for me. I didn’t care for a random aunty’s judgment about the lack of romance in my life, especially today.
‘No, Aunty,’ I said as I fake-laughed and shook my head.
‘Taiji,’ she corrected, before continuing with her interrogation, ‘you don’t have to hide it from me … I’ll convince your parents. I’m very pro-love marriages.’
I looked at her for a few seconds before answering. I had no doubt she would go back home to her circle of good-for-naught aunties and talk shit about me. So, I decided I might as well give them some real juice.
‘Okay,’ I said, sighing, ‘there is someone, but it won’t work out.’
‘Why, beta?’ she asked, her eyes glinting in anticipation of fresh gossip.
‘His family doesn’t approve of us,’ I said, glancing down at my feet.
She squeezed my arm tightly, taking a step closer to me. ‘They’ll come around. You just need to talk to them sincerely.’
‘We tried … but his wife refuses to listen,’ I said.
‘Try harder, beta, this is your life—’ she stopped mid-sentence as it hit her.
I burst out laughing as her face contorted with annoyance and hints of anger.
My mother appeared at my side just then and began dragging me away, saying, ‘Don’t mind her. She’s got a strange sense of humour.’
I had the brief satisfaction of watching Taiji struggling to regain her composure before my mom shoved me inside my room.
‘What did you have to do that for?’ she demanded.
I knew she wasn’t mad at me.
I shrugged and said, ‘It was the quickest, and most fun, way to get away from her.’
She whacked my arm with her hand, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. ‘You’ll get me in trouble someday.’
And with that, she left my room, shutting the door tightly behind her.
I did a trust fall onto my bed, bouncing a few times before sinking into the thick spring mattress. I was exhausted, and while the short exchange with my relative had lifted my spirits for a moment, I felt disheartened by the events of the day.
I looked around, wondering if Marie Kondo-ing my teenage room would offer me some solace.
I had spent two years away when I was in Bangalore for my post-graduation.
That’s where I’d met my ex, who was a senior at the time.
The first time I’d seen him, he was playing the guitar in the college cafeteria, just jamming with his cool gang of musicians.
Looking back, the thing I hated the most was that the most important relationship of my life had been a complete cliché – a naive girl falls for a manipulative but charming musician, gets her heart broken and is never the same again. What a shame.
When I got back to Delhi from Bangalore, I decided to erase those two years from my life.
I slowly distanced myself from all the friends I’d made in college, the ones I had in common with him.
I slipped back into my old routine, old friendships and old room.
I’d thought about redecorating quite a few times, but I always found a reason not to.
Today, for example, I was simply too tired.
I browsed through my contact list, mindlessly scrolling through the names. For someone who had one friend in total, I sure did know a lot of people. Without meaning to, I paused at one name. Instinctively, I clicked on it and typed out a message.
He was online. I saw him typing for a few seconds before the screen went blank.
I tossed the phone as far from me as possible, a wave of embarrassment washing over me.
Why did I have to text and give him the upper hand?
My loud groaning was interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing. I got up on all fours to retrieve it from the other end of the bed. The screen flashed his name.
I paused for a second before hitting answer.
‘Why are you calling me?’ I asked.
‘Well, you texted me,’ he responded, unfazed by the non-greeting.
‘So text back like a normal person.’
‘Texting back and forth is so much wooooork,’ he said. His voice was deep and elastic, like he was stretching in bed.
I laughed at that and said, ‘Gosh, you really are very old.’
‘How old do you think I am?’ he asked.
‘Mentally or biologically?’ I teased.
‘Ha ha,’ he said flatly, ‘I turn thirty in September.’
‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘No wonder.’
‘No wonder what?’ he asked, and I imagined him crossing his arms defensively.
‘The big “Thirty” deadline is getting to you. That’s why you’re so eager to tie the knot.’
He chuckled and said, ‘You’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?’
There was a pause. I rolled onto my side, clutching Mr Corny to my chest.
‘But seriously, what’s the update on that front?’ I finally asked.
‘Why would I give top-secret intel to the enemy?’ He was still chuckling.
‘It was your rule, remember? Plus, I’m offering you a barter with updates of my own,’ I said, letting down the competitive guard for a second before I added, ‘I’m no closer to finding a boyfriend than I was last week.’
‘Well, that sucks for you. I’m actually meeting someone tomorrow. Someone I think I’ll like,’ he said, and I could almost hear his annoying smile through the phone.
‘Of course you’ll like her. Or whatever front she puts up in front of her entire family,’ I said, rolling my eyes into my pillow.
I heard him gulping water on the other end. ‘I’m meeting her solo. For lunch,’ he said.
So it was like a date?
‘Let me guess. You’re taking her to a fancy five-star restaurant, hoping to impress her over an exorbitantly priced seven-course meal?’
He laughed at that, sounding genuinely amused. ‘We’re meeting at Café Bistro for a quick cup of coffee, actually. Although a seven-course meal does sound good … maybe I’ll save that for when I’m planning to propose.’
Café Bistro was a small, casual coffee shop in the boutique-heavy designer market of Shahpur Jat, a few lanes over from V’s store. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine two strangers discussing the prospect of marrying each other in such an informal setting.
‘So you’ve already decided you’re going to propose to her?’ I asked.
I knew he was joking, but alarm bells began ringing in the back of my head. I couldn’t lose this bet. Not to this man, and certainly not this easily.
‘I didn’t say that,’ he said, then added in a teasing tone, ‘but who knows?’