Part 2
Dedicated to our own Sammy, an Iron Lady and our own Superwoman. Love,
Arnav sat on
the recliner in his room, his head in his hands. The pill he had taken for his headache
would take at least 15 minutes to act and his head was pounding. Regret that he
had hurt his nani burned a hole in his heart like drops of acid falling on
tender skin.
There was a
knock on the door.
Di. It would
be di. It was always up to her to keep the peace at home.
“Come in,”
he grunted.
Anjali
walked in with a tray of food for him. She placed it on the low table by him
and limped back to close the door. She uncovered the tray to take a plate of
food in her hands and then walked to sit by him.
“Chotey,
your dinner,” she murmured.
“I am sorry,
di,” he murmured.
She brought
a spoonful of food to his lips.
He turned
his face away.
“I—I didn’t
mean to hurt nani,” he admitted. “It is just that...”
“I know,”
she whispered. “Eat. We can talk later. You need to take your diabetes pill
too.”
He ate, too
tired and too upset with the incident earlier to have an appetite. After a few
minutes, he took the half-full plate from his sister and left it on the tray.
He poured a glass of water and quickly swallowed his medicine.
He then
returned to sit by his di.
“She means
well,” Anjali said, her voice soft and placating.
He nodded.
Anjali
hesitated and then said, “When we lost our mother, she lost her daughter,
Chotey. Never forget that.”
He looked at
her, his eyes hurt.
Anjali had
to look away. He reminded her so much of the 14-year –old boy who had hugged
her on the day of their parents’ cremation and promised her, “I will always
take care of you, di.” That boy was still alive within him. Life had ended for
him the day their parents had committed suicide and their chachaji had thrown
them out of their own home. Though he had grown physically into an adult, he
was emotionally still arrested at that point, unable to move ahead with his
life. She turned to look at him with wet eyes.
He looked away.
She cupped
his cheek lovingly. “Talk to her, Chotey,” she murmured.
He nodded,
his heart heavy with grief.
She slowly
got up and left. There was only so much she could do and it was never enough to
heal the gaping wounds in his heart.
A feeling of
inadequacy filled her heart. If only their parents had behaved more maturely!
If only they hadn’t chosen death over their children!
***
After a
wakeful night, Arnav walked down the steps early in the morning. The house was
silent but he knew his nani would be awake, tormented by the memories his words
had unleashed in her mind.
And he was
right.
Nani was in
her room, praying. Her face looked drawn. Clearly, she had not slept last
night. He winced.
“Nani,” he called.
She looked
up.
He walked in
to sit by her.
They stayed
silent for a while. The old clock she had brought from her home in Lucknow
ticked, marking the seconds.
“I am sorry,
nani, for being rude to you,” he managed to say.
“But you are
still stubborn about not changing your life?” she asked, a wry smile on her
lips.
He drew in a
deep breath. “The business has a life of its own. Delegating is not an easy
task.”
“What about
shaadi, Chotey?” she asked.
Arnav shut
his eyes, begging for patience from a God he didn’t believe existed.
“No,” he
replied shortly.
“Are you
sure, Chotey?” nani asked quietly.
“Yes,” he
replied.
“Why?” she
asked.
Arnav was
confused. Surely she knew how his parents and their tempestuous marriage had
embittered him!
“Other than
the mess Aravind and Ratna made of our lives, do you any other reason?” nani
asked coolly.
“Isn’t that
reason enough to avoid marriage for a few lifetimes?” he asked shortly.
“All people
are not Aravind and Ratna, Chotey,” nani replied softly.
Arnav turned
away. “I have to be at the office early today, nani. I will get going,” he
murmured, standing up to leave.
Nani stopped
him as he reached the door. “Chotey, how old are you?”
Arnav
replied, “30” without turning to face her.
“And how old
is Anjali bitiya?”
“34.”
“Have you
ever wondered why she refuses all the proposals we bring for her?” nani asked
quietly.
He turned to
look at her with sharp eyes.
“Because her
Chotey is alone. When I insisted that she get married, she told me that she
would marry only after her Chotey married,” nani said softly but clearly.
His eyes
widened as he looked at her in shock.
“Now you can
decide how long you want to cling on to the past and be selfish while your di
stays a spinster, praying all the hours God gave us for a brother who is so
preoccupied with his past to give attention to his present and future.”
The
matriarch sat back. Her job was done.
***
ASR called
Anjali from his office.
“Di, please
inform nani that I am ready to marry,” is all he said.
Anjali
gasped and almost fell down in shock. “Chotey, yeh tum keh rahe ho? Are you
sure? What made you change your mind?”
Arnav
sighed. “She is right and I was wrong. It is time I looked to the future
instead of back at the past. Aap nani se keh deejiye.”
Anjali
slumped in her chair in pleasant shock.
“Kaa hua,
Anjali bitiya?” mami asked. “Ijj Aiswarya Rai coming to our housewaa?”
“Even
better, mami. You are going to get your first bahu. Chotey has agreed to marry,”
Anjali managed to say through her tears.
“Hello Hi
Bye Bye!” mami exclaimed.
“Mami, I
need to call the Pandit after we share the glad news with nani. This calls for
a havan!” Anjali exclaimed.
“It does, it
does,” mami seconded her. “Chamatkaar hui gawa. Hamre Arnav bitwaa, who used to
run from marrijj like people from snakewaa, ijj now ready for varmaala?”
“Kaa hua,
Manorama?” nani asked, joining them. “Did you find a new makeup shop online?”
“Naahi,
Saasumma. Your grandsonwaa ijj ready to be dulha. Badhai ho!”
Relief
spread across the elderly lady’s face. After a moment of hugging Anjali and
mami, she said with tears in her eyes, “Light ghee lamps at the goddess’ feet.
This decision will change Chotey’s life for the better.”
***
“Chotey, I
have left a few photos on your table. Go through them and select the girl you
like. We can arrange to visit them,” nani said with a smile as Arnav walked in
late at night from work.
He nodded.
“Did you
have dinner, Arnav bitwaa,” mami asked.
“A
sandwich,” he muttered as he climbed the stairs. He still had work left. It was
going to be a very long day.
He entered
his room and placed his laptop bag on the low table near the recliner, not
noticing the covers of photos on which he had placed the bag.
He quickly
grabbed his nightclothes and went to the washroom. After a refreshing shower,
he returned, swallowed his pill, and took his laptop from the bag on the table to go
out into the garden by the pool to work.
Aman called.
He called Aman. Aman messaged him. He messaged Aman. The hours fled by, his
focus entirely on the deal that had to be finalised.
Exhausted
beyond words, he finally decided to call it a day.
Early in the
morning, nani knocked on his door.
“Chotey,
have you decided?” she asked.
“Decided?”
he asked. “About what?”
“Your
shaadi,” she cried, exasperated. “Didn’t you look at the photos I left on
your...” Her eyes fell on the laptop bag sitting on the photos she had left for
him in a few covers.
Hiding his
impatience, Arnav lifted the bag from the table with more force than required.
One cover
fell to the ground.
He threw the
bag down and bent to pick up the cover. Sliding his fingers under the flap, he
pulled out a photo and stood transfixed.
Sparkling
hazel eyes filled with laughter, shining hair, a creamy complexion, plump rosy
lips curved in a smile, colourful earrings, and a nosepin....she looked like a
dream, a happy dream that Arnav Singh Raizada had never even dared to dream.
