Marigold Petals
Ananya
I flung a curved stone into the Ganga. It skipped four times before sinking in.
It had been nine days and twenty-two hours since the breakup. I’d been home for about four and a half of them. Every morning, I’d wake burdened by the past and fall asleep worn thin. The guilt of my actions ate away at me so much that I felt empty from the inside.
I tried to muster up the energy to act normal around my family, but it was futile. They saw through me within hours of my arrival. Maa and Bhabhi tried to ask me what was wrong, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
I attended the Assi Ghat aartis with Papa in the mornings, spent most of the day in bed and evenings on the steps of the ghat.
Today, Maa sent Bhaiyya and me to get some groceries.
I didn’t have it in me to go into the crowded market and risk running into people I knew, so I asked Bhaiyya to do the shopping himself.
I didn’t know what it was, maybe he’d gotten older or he knew I was upset about something, but he uncharacteristically agreed.
‘Anu, chal, it’s time to go home,’ Bhaiyya called.
I turned. He was carrying two bags. One was full of fruits and veggies, and the other was from Rajshree Sweets. That meant we had guests coming over.
My phone dinged. I shoved it in my pocket before walking over to him.
He put his helmet on before straddling his bike.
‘Who’s coming home?’ I asked, putting a hand on his shoulder as I lifted myself up and sat behind him.
‘The Sharmas.’ Wind carried his words away as he pulled onto the street, but I caught them.
‘What?’
Of course, he didn’t reply. He knew better than that.
Dread prickled my skin. They were coming over to see me. For Parth.
Anger and frustration bubbled inside me.
Maa and Papa were giving me space, treating me well and feeding me good food to fatten me up for slaughter. And I played right into their hands like a na?ve little lamb.
The moment Bhaiyya stopped in the veranda, I hopped off the bike and barrelled inside. I went straight to the kitchen, where I knew Maa would be. She was frying samosas. I turned off the stove.
‘Ananya—’
‘You invited the Sharmas?’ I snapped. ‘Are you serious? I haven’t been here for five full days, and you pulled this stunt? How could you do this to me?’
‘We tried to ask, but you didn’t tell us how long you were home for,’ she said calmly. ‘Parth has come all the way from Delhi to see you. Again. Just meet the boy and then—’
Her careless, heartless actions struck harder than usual. ‘I’m leaving. I never should have come back home.’
‘Ananya, beta—’
I exited the kitchen and froze.
They’re here.
Papa was at the door, inviting them in.
Uncle and Aunty stepped inside, followed by a man I didn’t recognise.
He had broad shoulders, a groomed beard and was not half bad-looking.
Was that … Parth?
‘Ananya, come back inside,’ Maa whispered sharply, grasping my wrist and pulling me back into the kitchen. ‘They’re here now. For God’s sake, don’t make a scene. Just meet him once. If you say no, I promise we won’t even mention him again.’
‘Fine,’ I said through gritted teeth.
She thrust a tray at me, piled with steaming samosas and chutney. ‘Go take this outside. Sumita and I will be right out.’
Pressing my lips together, I carried it out and placed it on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary.
‘Arey waah,’ Uncle said with a smile. ‘You’ve gotten so big.’
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and smiled tightly, taking a seat.
Within minutes, Maa and Bhabhi joined us with chai and more snacks. Conversation carried on around me. I fiddled with the hem of my kurti, talking only when spoken to and not making eye contact with anybody.
After some time, they pushed Parth and me out on a walk.
The sky had turned inky black in a way it never did in Mumbai. Temple bells rang in the distance. A street dog growled at us before disappearing down an alley.
My phone had been going off for the last hour.
I took a glance at it. It was an Instagram notification. Rhea was sending me memes, no doubt. I put it on silent mode.
‘I take it it’s a no from you?’ Parth broke the silence.
I looked at him.
Time and Delhi had done him well. He wasn’t the scrawny, awkward teen anymore. He was a well-put-together, confident man now.
I remembered being twelve, sitting on my front steps after failing a math exam, face buried in my hands. Parth had appeared and sat down next to me without a word.
After a long silence, he said, ‘My dad says failure’s just practice for the next attempt.’
I’d looked up. ‘That’s terrible advice.’
‘I know.’ He’d grinned. ‘But it made you look up, didn’t it?’ He stayed until I stopped crying. Brought me chai from his house. Made stupid jokes until I forgot why I was upset.
That was Parth. Always showing up. Always there. The problem was, I’d never liked him the way he’d liked me.
A part of me felt sorry for him. Unrequited love was one of the saddest things in the world. On top of that, he had travelled hours to see me at a moment’s notice.
‘I’m sorry.’
A sad smile played on his lips.
‘I wish I could have saved you the trip,’ I added. ‘But my parents have a mind of their own. A stubborn one at that.’
He slid his hands into his pockets. ‘I’m sorry, too. Nothing romantic has ever worked out between us. I shouldn’t have agreed to the meeting in the first place.’
‘If your parents are anything like mine, they wouldn’t have given you a choice even if you’d said no.’
‘Probably.’ He laughed lightly.
I looked at him. Even though I’d never reciprocated his feelings, Parth was a kind person. He was sweet and always had been. ‘I hope you find someone who deserves you. You’re a good man. You’d make some girl very happy one day.’
‘Good-guy-zoned, hm?’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Guess I’m doomed. No girl’s going to want me.’
For the first time in days, a real smile tugged at my lips. ‘Not true. Good guys do get the girl.’
Jai’s face appeared in my mind’s eye. He was a good man. But I ruined it – I ruined us.
‘Hey.’ He frowned softly, his thumb lingering on my cheek. My gaze lowered to his touch. ‘What happened?’
‘I … um … I recently got out of a relationship. I’ve had a rough few days.’
‘Wow. The guy must either be the stupidest or the worst person in the whole world to lose someone like you.’
I exhaled. ‘No. It was my fault.’
‘Ananya Tripathi doing something wrong? That’s a little hard to believe,’ he said. ‘We haven’t spoken in years, but I know you have a good heart. That doesn’t just change. If he has half a brain, he’ll realise that and come crawling back to you.’
I could tell that he really did want me to be happy. But that wasn’t going to happen, not with Jai. I didn’t have the heart to say it to him. ‘Thanks. That’s … nice of you to say.’
He pointed at himself. ‘Good guy,’ he grinned.
Later that evening, right as I was getting into bed, Maa came in with a familiar steel bowl in her hand. ‘I heated some oil. Thought you would appreciate a good champi.’
As she had done all my childhood, she sat on the edge of the bed, and I took a seat on the floor right between her legs.
‘I’ve missed this,’ I said as I took my hair out of a bun.
She sectioned my hair and began massaging my scalp, the oil’s coconutty scent thickening in the air. ‘I did too,’ she replied gently, then laughed. ‘Do you remember you used to hate it and make me chase you around the house?’
‘Yeah. Because I didn’t want to go to school like that.’ Even though oiled and braided hair was a rule, the cool girls ignored it. I wanted to be like them.
‘And look at your thick, long hair now. It’s all because you followed my advice,’ she said, moving on to a different section of hair.
My eyes lowered. Of course, Maa didn’t come here to give me a champi out of the goodness of her heart.
‘Parth is a nice boy, Maa. But I don’t like him,’
I whispered.
‘Okay.’
Wait. Was it really that easy? ‘Okay?’
‘Banaras has always been small for your big dreams. We know you need someone who loves you and understands you. And frankly, you living with in-laws will be a nightmare for you, them and us,’ she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
‘Parth just fit perfectly in what we thought would make you the happiest. It’s all we want for you.
But if your heart is not with him, then that’s that. ’
A prickling ache built behind my eyes.
All my life, I thought that my parents didn’t understand me. They probably still didn’t. But they knew me. And in this moment, Maa’s words felt enough.
Maybe … I should be more honest with her. ‘Maa?’
‘Yes?’
‘I … got fired from my job. Ten months ago. I’d been working at House of Advani as an assistant. But …’ I swallowed. ‘That’s over now, too.’
‘What?’ Her fingers stilled. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
‘Because I didn’t want to come home. I didn’t want to get married. And I really, really wanted to become a fashion designer.’
‘You lied to us to become a tailor in Mumbai?’ she asked, her voice incredulous.
‘Designer, not a tailor. And if I had told you the truth, you’d have made me come back home. I wanted a chance to fulfil my dream,’ I said.
‘We sent you there, supported you because you wanted to have a career. You can be a tailor from here if you want to.’
‘I can’t. Mumbai is the place to—’
‘Is this about a boy? Are you staying in Mumbai for a boy?’ she asked, her voice sharpening.
‘What? No!’
‘Then who keeps texting you?’
‘What do you mean?’ My eyes flew to my phone.
The screen kept flashing every other second with an Instagram notification. I grabbed it. I paused, momentarily stunned: a 1,000+ notifications? What the hell was going on?
I opened the app.
Oh my God.
Navya was a nano influencer with 7k followers, but that count now sat at 30.4k.
The posts and reels she uploaded while wearing my sari had gotten millions of views. I tapped on a get-ready-with-me video that had over 14 million views. It also had 892k likes and over 20k comments.
Navya had gone viral.
I opened the comment section.
Oh my God, I love your outfit!
YOU LOOK GORG ??
THAT SARI ??????
This look is everything!!!
I tapped on my profile.
My jaw slackened. Yesterday, I had 248 followers. Today, I had 16.3k.
My DMs were flooded with strangers praising my work. Asking about prices. Some even begged me to design an outfit for them.
I stared at the screen, barely processing what I was seeing.
This was real.
This was happening.
A chat notification from StyleInTheCity lit up my phone. My stomach flipped. With over 7M followers, Naina Kashyap was a leading fashion influencer and had walked on numerous runways.
I rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating. The name didn’t disappear. With trembling hands, I opened her chat.
The phone almost slipped out of my hand. I clutched it tighter, my heart hammering so loudly that I could hear it in my ears.
‘Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.’ I leapt to my feet, pacing in frantic circles.
This was it. My big break.
‘What happened?’ Maa asked.
‘StyleInTheCity messaged me!’ Electricity raced through my veins. ‘She wants to wear my design for a movie premiere!’
‘Who messaged you?’
A grin took over my face. ‘Naina Kashyap. She’s a fashion influencer and model.’
Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. ‘Fashion inflier? What?’
‘Influencer, Maa,’ I hissed. ‘She has seven million followers. And if she wears my design … it’s going to be huge for me.’
For a long moment, she just stared at me, her hands shiny with oil. ‘Will she pay you?’
‘Yes!’ An image of Naina in one of my outfits popped into my mind. There was so much I could do. The possibilities were endless. And from there, more and more people and influencers would follow. ‘I’m going to be famous.’
Then slowly, a smile formed on Maa’s face, warm and proud.
She rose to her feet. ‘Chalo phir. We don’t have a lot of time.’
I blinked. ‘Where? For what?’
‘To pack your bags.’ Her hands brushed my hair one last time, her voice soft. ‘Dreams don’t wait, beta. And neither should you.’