23. Sona
SONA
M y body shuddered against the chill of the night as I walked back to the mandap. I took my seat next to Sneha aunty, my teeth suddenly chattering wildly.
“Kya hua beta?” she asked with concern, throwing a glance over her shoulder to see if she could spot her son. He was nowhere to be found.
“Nothing happened, Aunty,” I said, trying to gain a control over my shivering body. “I’m cold for some reason.”
She pulled an intricately embroidered wool shawl resting on the chair beside her and draped it on me. “Here, this should make it better. Let me grab a coat for you.”
I held her hand. “It’s alright, Aunty. I think this should be enough.”
She patted my hand before I pulled the shawl snugly against me, hoping to regain some self-composure.
Had I just ended it with Mihir?
He had ended it with me!
I had let the insecurities stemming from my past push away the only man who had truly seen me for who I was. Yes, we were different people—as I had dramatically declared—but he still understood me better than any other man I had met.
The fear that he would cast me away when he was bored always seemed to loom over me. Hearing Anju’s caustic words reignited the dread, spurring me to push him away yet again. If he had cast her away without second thought, why wouldn’t he do it to me?
Except I had not expected him to give up on us this easily. I had wanted to take a small step back, not sever the relationship altogether. I had wanted him to reassure me, to yank me into his arms and tell me to not be silly. I had wanted him to take my mouth into a frenzied kiss and assure me that whatever qualms I harbored about us were unfounded. I had wanted him to fight for me, even if it meant fighting me for it.
Instead, he had pulled away as if he was waiting for the opportunity to drop me from his life.
Then, of course, there was the flaws thing. If he really saw me as flawed, could I ever live up to his expectations? He was a multipotentialite, he had said. Were my indecisions and insecurities too much for him to handle?
I saw Aunty reading my face with a concerned look. “Is everything alright? Where’s Mihir?”
I pulled out a bright smile, as sunny as I could manage. “He was talking to Mike,” I said, not wanting to lie but not willing to divulge the truth either. “I think he’ll return in a bit.”
At least, I hoped he would.
I looked forlornly at the empty chair next to me, then focused on the glowing faces of Tara and Sameer instead. They looked spectacularly happy, and it warmed my heart to see the love they shared. Some of us were luckier than the rest.
The couple stood and began the pheras, the circles around the pious fire, while the priest officiating the wedding recited vows. Some of them were dated, as Tara had told me during one of our pre-wedding chats. She and Sameer had paid the priest extra to change the vows to something that suited them both. Instead of saying that Tara would be devoted and obedient, they both promised their love and trust to each other. Instead of Sameer vowing to provide for the family, they both promised to work hard in their own capacities to care for their family.
I smiled at the thought. Despite Mihir’s staunch conviction, sometimes you needed honey to trap the flies. Tara and Sameer knew they would have displeased their families if they didn’t agree to a “proper” wedding—a grand and lavish one. They worked around it with two conditions: one, that they would pay for the wedding themselves. And two, that they would either forgo the rituals that were antiquated or change their tone to their liking. It had worked, apparently.
I looked at the happy faces before me. Then my eyes drew back to the empty seat by me.
“What’s weighing on your mind, my child?” Sneha aunty asked. “Is it Mihir? Did he mess it up like he always does?”
I fake smiled again. “No, Aunty. We had a small disagreement, that’s all.”
She put her hand on mine. “You’ll tell me if he bothers you, yes?”
I laughed aloud. “I definitely will. Will you scold him for me?”
“Oh, I will,” she said just as I smelled a familiar cologne with distinct tobacco notes and felt a sudden warmth near me.
Mihir retook his seat without a word, and a gush of dejection deluged me.
“Hi!” I braved a tentative smile.
But he threw me a disinterested glance and returned his attention to the wedding.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered quickly, knowing full well that Sneha aunty had her eye on us.
I reached out with my pinkie to caress his arm. “I didn’t mean to—” I attempted.
“Yes, you did,” he interrupted gruffly, his eyes still on the ceremony unfolding before us.
I sucked in a breath at his allegation. Maybe I did , but so did he! I fumed.
I leaned toward him. “I’m trying to apologize,” I said with a smile for pretense in case anyone was watching us.
“And you aren’t doing great,” was his curt reply. He saw his mother watching us both and responded with a quick death glare. “I hope you are not tattling on me to my mom.”
“If you don’t accept my apology, I will. She said she’d reprimand you for me,” I threatened.
He ignored my words to gaze lovingly at the newly married couple, now on a tour around the mandap, touching the feet of all the elders and seeking their blessings. When they came around to us, Aunty stood as they touched her feet, and she showered them with kisses and blessings.
Tara grabbed me in a warm hug, and I offered them my congratulations.
“You better touch my feet too,” Mihir said with every bit of sincerity as they turned their sight to him.
“In your dreams, dude,” Sameer teased.
Then, as he hugged them both, Mihir got the most magical look on his face. It was all the love and tenderness I’d seen before, when he was feeding Riya the previous evening.
But I was determined not to let my emotions get the better of me. I was mature. Of course, I was capable of resisting a handsome, charming, considerate man, who was currently mad at me. Surely.
Mihir did his best to avoid me for the rest of the night until we gathered around the dinner table set up for us. Sneha aunty sat beside me, enjoying her chaat items. She hadn’t bothered with the main course at all.
An American friend in grad school had once asked me to explain chaat to him, and I was at a loss. How might one explain something so amorphous and tantalizing? Primarily a street food, chaat is savory, sweet, tangy, and spicy perfection that comes in all shapes, sizes, and textures.
I watched as Aunty relished her pani puri and papdi chaat with pure delight. By this time, I had clearly developed a girl crush on her. I admired the woman so much. She enjoyed her food like one really should.
“Chaat, then dessert,” she had declared while also warning her husband. “I better not catch you with more sugar than you’re allowed.”
Uncle had nodded and exchanged a sly look with Mihir. As we took our seats at the dinner table, Mihir slipped beside his father. When the desserts arrived on special platters, I watched him smuggle the contraband desserts from his platter onto his father’s plate when his mother wasn’t looking.
Quick as a flash, I retrieved a pen from my clutch. At the next available opportunity—when Sneha aunty was busy talking to Amrit aunty sitting on the other side—I scribbled I’m sorry! on a paper napkin I had snagged.
Next, I dabbed my lips on it, successfully transferring a stain of a seductive pout on to it. Now, I had to wait until I caught his eye.
I watched him work his way through a bowl of gulab jamun that sat between the walnut halwa on one end and rabdi cozying up with hot jalebi on the other. Oh, what I would give to lick the sweet syrup off his lips!
As if I had spoken my thoughts aloud, his gaze turned to me, and I took the opportunity to slide the napkin to him across the breadth of the round table. My arms delivered it just short of the center. I waited, hoping against hope, that he’d gather it eventually. He did. Smoothly and discreetly. With bated breath, I watched as he unfolded the paper and looked at the contents.
Then he did something that made me want to jump from my seat, stride over to him, and bite his mouth off right there in the presence of everyone. He tossed the napkin away on the table.
My eyes grew wide first, then narrowed in a threat as he scalded me with a glare. He leaned in slightly and said, “You need to do better.”
Sneha aunty heard him. “What, beta?” she inquired with genuine curiosity.
“The kalakand,” he said, pointing to the milk fudge on his plate. “They could have done it better.”
Aunty nodded and returned to her conversation with Amrit aunty. Tara and Sameer sat a few seats away flanked by his cousins, who were having a ball messing with their new Bhabhi. Except the Bhabhi had a few surprise shots of her own.
I tried a different approach. My mother always said that my father and I were utterly transparent. Try as we might, neither could hide the true emotions affecting us at any moment. I decided to leverage that superpower. I let the regret inside me show on the outside. I sat shrunken-faced pushing the food with my spoon. I gave it a while before I looked up expectantly, hoping to see concern on Mihir’s face.
Instead, I was met with a smirk and a shake of the head. “Do better,” he mouthed, and I glowered at him with a scowl. Completely satisfied with my miserable condition, he returned his attention to the plate of desserts before him.
I moped as I considered if I had any other weapon left in my arsenal, but came up empty. Clearly, I wasn’t him. Then a perfect one landed in my lap, courtesy of Sneha aunty.
As the wedding wrapped up, I tagged alongside a resentful Mihir, only because he was supposed to drive me back to my hotel.
The four of us started back after Sameer and Tara had left in their car. Sneha aunty and I sat in the backseat while Mihir drove.
“I hope you’re not planning on leaving soon, Sona,” Sneha aunty said. I had planned for a longer stay, but given how things had unfolded that evening, I wasn’t sure Mihir wanted me around him. I would leave as soon as Tara left for her honeymoon, I decided.
“I haven’t booked my return tickets yet,” I said.
“Good. You must come to ours for dinner.”
I hesitated before agreeing. “Sure, Aunty. If I stay, I’d love to come.”
“Mihir, maybe we could have Grant and Mike over too. Grant told me the other day that he has missed my food. And Mike is always so busy. It was good to see him today.”
“Sure,” Mihir said with a gruff look at me, and the goose with the golden egg, aka Grant, landed right in my hand. I decided to torment Mihir for stomping on my apology.
“I’d also like to see Grant again, Aunty. We didn’t get a chance to talk much.”
“Then it’s settled. I’d love to cook something special for all of you.”
“Alright,” I said and smiled at her. “I can come help you. What’s Grant’s favorite thing that you cook?”
“He likes my chicken curry. But then he also likes every vegetable dish I make.” She gave a light laugh.
I glanced at Mihir, expecting him to growl and grumble, but he remained unperturbed. His eyes were straight ahead on the road, driving like nothing at all was transpiring in the car at the moment, but I wasn’t done.
“Mihir brags about being an expert cook. What will you cook for Grant and me, Mihir?”
This time, I got the response I was looking for. He glared at me with enough fire to scorch me, but I tossed a big bucket of ice on his fire in the shape of a big, happy grin.
“Mihir makes wonderful aloo parathas. So professional even I can’t beat them, and I consider myself a good cook,” Aunty said.
“I love aloo paratha!” I squealed with delight. “Do you make it spicy, Mihir?”
“Extremely,” he said through clenched teeth. “Only the bravest can survive them.”
“Then I bet Grant enjoys them a lot,” I said to anger him further, and it did.
He threatened me with another fiery glare through his narrowed eyes.
“How did you know that, Sona?” Aunty cried in surprise. “Grant does love spicy parathas.”
“He looks like someone who can handle spice. Unlike other people.”
Obviously, I was goading him into a conversation, but he continued to ignore me.
Aunty clapped her hands. “They are way too spicy for a white boy, but then, Grant has been our child since he was little. He’s an honorary desi, isn’t he, Arvind?” she asked her husband, who had been sitting quietly, reveling in his sugar coma.
“Indeed! So is Mike,” Uncle said with a grin, but his wife wasn’t smiling.
“Absolutely. And if you think I don’t know how many sweets Mihir snuck in your plate, you’re grossly underestimating me, my dear,” she threatened with love. She was so Mihir’s mom!
When we arrived at my hotel, Aunty said, “Walk her to the room, Mihir.”
Mihir had already put the gear into park under the portico and was half way out of the car before she finished the sentence. Grateful that I’d get a moment alone with Mihir, I bid his parents goodbye.
“I hope to see you soon, beta,” Aunty said with love.
“Me too, Aunty,” I said before I stepped out of the car and closed the door with a soft slam.
“Are you not going to talk to me at all?” I asked in a quiet voice as Mihir and I walked in through the automatic doors.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He stunned me with his curt reply. “Do you have the key?”
I nodded.
The hotel lobby was deserted and quiet, barring the gentle sound of the indoor fountain. I watched him, looking regal in his green sherwani, like a king sauntering through his kingdom, as if he owned every piece of land that he was treading on. We took the elevator, its soft roar gliding us up to the fifth floor.
Mihir was adamant about holding his silence, and I gave him no pleasure by trying to initiate another conversation. As we neared my room, I pulled out the keycard from my clutch.
He waited until I had stepped in and flipped the master switch. Multiple dim lights illuminated the room all the way to the balcony beyond the bed.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to avoid looking at his grumpy face.
“You don’t need to. I did it for Mom,” he retorted.
“Enough with the sulking. I apologized, didn’t I? And may I remind you that we both agreed to reassess the relationship if it got messy? In fact, you were the one who suggested it. It doesn’t get more unwieldy than your ex calling me names, does it?”
“Again, if you had stayed, you would have heard my response.”
“So I don’t even get the benefit of walking away with a bit of my dignity intact?”
“But you did walk away. Without giving me a chance to prove that you didn’t need to in the first place.”
This conversation was going nowhere, except hurting us both.
“Mihir—”
He stepped closer, leaving but a few inches between us. “One thing you should know, Sona,” he said, the warmth from his body catching me off guard. “I will allow nothing and no one in this world to hurt you, and that includes me. So if this is what you want, you’ll have it.”
What I wanted was for him to stay, hold me in his arms, and tell me that I meant just as much to him as he did to me. If I allowed him to walk away today, I knew I would never have him back. I couldn’t let him walk away. If he wasn’t accepting my apologies, maybe there was one chip I could cash in.
“You said we could go back to the way things were if this didn’t work out. You said there would be no hard feelings.”
He raked a hand through his hair and heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do you want to go back to the way things were before?”
I frowned at the question. Did he think he was doing me a favor?
“Not with that attitude, I don’t. Plus, don’t forget, I have all my flaws.” Darn, that flaw thing had finally bared its fangs.
“That’s right,” he said in a gruff voice as he bent into my face. “Because this time, I won’t be gentle, Thomas. I will fuck you hard, complete with all your flaws .”
I lurched backward, and it took me a moment too long to gather my wits. He was already reveling in the knowledge of having rattled me.
I fumed, my forehead deeply furrowed. “Is that a threat or a dare? Because I don’t bow down to either. Come back, and we’ll see who does that to whom.”
He capitalized on the smug smile that had already made a home on his lips. “You can’t even say the word, Thomas. It doesn’t take a genius to know who’s fucking whom.”
I pulled myself upright, nose high with righteousness. “I can say it. I choose not to.”
He put his hand on the thick wood and said in his deep voice. “I’ll be back in an hour. Keep the lights on and prepare yourself to lose gracefully.”
With my heart bubbling with hope, I slammed the door on his back.