Just the Way You Are Page 11

  She rubbed the back of my head.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah, nothing. Just office work. They have assigned me some new responsibilities,’ I lied.

  ‘Don’t lie to me. I know you are thinking about what happened.’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘You know your dad and I were ready to talk to her parents. Who knew this would happen. Everything is fate and destiny, beta.’

  ‘No, it’s all about my fate, that of unrequited love. What do I lack? I am good-looking, earn handsomely, I’m caring. What else does a girl need? But it always happens with me. I can’t understand this.’

  ‘Don’t be upset, beta. Things happen for a reason. Probably you will find the reason very soon. It’s all a matter of time.’

  ‘Time? Huh. A decade has passed since I have been in a romantic relationship. People have made fun of my affection and honesty. I never cheated on anyone but nothing has ever been in my favour,’ I vented my frustration.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said as she stroked my hair. She knew that it always made me feel good. She pulled out a chair and sat beside me. ‘Why don’t you go and meet your friends? You will feel better.’

  ‘I am not interested.’ I knew if I went out, everyone would ask me when I was getting married. It had started to irk me. I didn’t want to answer such questions. It always reminded me that I had been deprived of love. I was a man of unrequited love.

  ‘You should go out,’ Mom interrupted my reverie. ‘You will feel better. I know everything will be fine. You have made everything better for us and you know what, you will get the best girl who will respect you and love you for what you are.’ I could feel her reassurance in the way she smiled at me. Her belief gave me solace, if not strength.

  ‘Okay.’ I shrugged.

  ‘Now don’t get upset. Dinner is ready. Your dad is already at the dinner table, hogging! Let’s go otherwise he will finish all the rotis, even without any gravy. I have made chicken for you.’

  I smiled.

  As per Mom’s prediction, Dad already had started chewing on his roti without any gravy.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Mom snapped at him.

  ‘Eating roti. Come son, sit here.’

  ‘Can’t you wait?’ she scolded Dad.

  ‘No. Don’t listen to your mother,’ Dad said to me, ignoring my mother, and put a plate in front of me.

  Mom laid out the dishes on the table and we started eating.

  ‘I will have two more rotis today,’ Dad announced.

  ‘Why? By the time you finished discussing how the world had gone to dumps and how the politics of this country is a sheer waste, with your so-called old mates, you weren’t hungry at all. And now, what happened suddenly?’ Mom commented.

  ‘Yes. That was a one-hour-old story. Now you have cooked chicken. I know it’s for your son but being your husband for the last many years, I can hope for two more pieces.’ And we all laughed together.

  ‘So how is your job going on?’ Dad asked.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I replied briefly.

  After a few minutes of silence, I made up my mind and said cautiously, ‘Dad, Mom, I was thinking for the last couple of days that I should go out somewhere. It has been a long time since I have gone anywhere. What do you say?’

  ‘I have no problem at all.’ Dad never said no to my decisions and wishes.

  ‘I also just suggested to you to go out somewhere. Life becomes boring living in the same place for a long time. So where do you plan to go?’ Mom asked.

  ‘I am planning to go to Shimla. People say April is a good month to visit Shimla. So I guess I will be there for around two to three days.’

  ‘It’s fine. When are you thinking of going?’ Dad asked.

  ‘This weekend. I will apply for leave on Friday. So it will be a three-day weekend.’

  ‘That’s absolutely fine,’ Dad said, munching on the chicken.

  ‘Oh god!’ Mom exclaimed.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  ‘Just look at your dad. He dropped gravy on his shirt again. I am tired of this man.’

  ‘Where?’ Dad asked casually as he looked at his shirt and wiped the gravy, which spread. Mom rushed into the kitchen to get a wet cloth.

  I returned to my room after dinner and slid into bed. I allowed my mind to be trapped again in the web of my past to unravel the mystery that had been plaguing me for so long.

  10

  NEXT DAY, SEEMA AUNTY CAME with the picture, as promised. When I came back from office, Mom showed me the new photograph. Without arguing with Mom, though her face was beaming as if she had hit the jackpot, I didn’t ask or say anything but took the picture out of the envelope.

  As expected, she was standing beside a flowerpot. Typical rishta-type picture.

  I looked at the photo. Of course she looked beautiful, though it was evident that she had on half a kilo of makeup.

  ‘So … she is beautiful, isn’t she? I told you yesterday also but you didn’t believe me,’ Mom said.

  ‘Hmm. She is beautiful but I hope she has some brains too.’

  ‘Yes. She has. I have met her. She is religious too and goes to the temple every Saturday unlike you who keep yourself miles away from the temple and call yourself a nastik.’

  ‘Why Saturday only? God is happy with her all other days or the temple’s priest has banned her from going there every day?’

  ‘Nice. You keep making fun of everything. Just see your age. It is zooming on. When will you get married and when will you have children?’

  The same melodrama was about to start again and I would have to do my best to avoid the shenanigans.

  ‘Mom, I am going to change. Call me when dinner is ready.’

  Ignoring me, she asked, ‘Then shall I fix a meeting with them? I have to send a message to her parents. They are ladki-wale. So, they might have some arrangements to welcome us.’

  ‘Whatever suits your fancy,’ I said curtly, and went to my room.

  Later, while at the dinner table, Mom informed that she had fixed the meeting and all of us would be going to meet the girl on Thursday evening. I would be leaving for Shimla the next day.

  On Thursday morning, Mom said as I was leaving for office, ‘Please be early today. You remember we have to go to their place.’

  ‘Mom, you have already told me four times since the time I have woken up. I remember perfectly. Why don’t you inscribe it on my forehead?’ I said in a mocking tone.

  And I left for office. She called me thrice even there to remind me and messaged me five times. I cursed myself for teaching her how to send SMSes. Every time she called, I just replied that I remembered and would be home early.

  I reached home around five in the evening. To my surprise, Mom was already ready, wearing her best saree, and had loaded herself with all the gold she possessed. Dad was also ready in his designer kurta and smiled at me as he opened the door. I knew it was Mom who had forced him to wear traditional attire.

  ‘Beta, get ready soon. We are getting late.’

  ‘Why the hurry, Mom? We have to get there by seven, right? It is still five.’

  ‘Yes, but Seema Aunty is also coming with us. She will be here any minute.’

  ‘Why is she is coming? In case I reject this girl, then would she try to set up her own son with her?’

  Dad laughed. Mom gave Dad a glare that made his laughter vanish in a matter of seconds.

  ‘No, she is coming with us because she knows the ladki-wale very well and she will be introducing them to us.

  ‘Okay. Chill. Tell me what to wear,’ I asked Mom.

  ‘A kurta is fine, the kurta that I bought for you along with your father’s. The one he is wearing now.’

  I took around fifteen minutes to get ready, by which time Seema Aunty had arrived with her paraphernalia. The moment I came out, all three of them stood up as if they were waiting to accompany me to a war.

  Herself draped in a heavy designer sar
ee and more jewellery than Mom was wearing, it looked like it was her son’s wedding! She also had a three-inch thick layer of make-up on her rotund face.

  I greeted her. She smiled as if someone had smacked several gulab jamuns together in her mouth. Her redderthan-blood lipstick hid her teeth.

  We left for Kajal’s place. I wanted time to speed up so I could leave for Shimla and get a break from my routine life. After half an hour of driving, we reached their home. From outside it seemed to be simply built, but I was utterly mistaken. The interior was extremely polished and magnificent.

  My mom winked at me. And as usual my father had no comment to make about the interior. Nor about me.

  Kajal’s mother was waiting for us. She too was dressed in the best of her attire, a big smile pasted on her face and her eyes beaming with zest. It was evident that she wanted to get her daughter married off before the sun went down. I went ahead and greeted her. She exchanged pleasantries with us and asked us to sit. The greetings continued for several minutes as she hugged Seema Aunty and then my mom. I was already getting bored. The table was heaped with delicacies—sweets and namkeen.

  With a perfunctory smile, Seema Aunty said, ‘Ah! What was the need for all this? We’ve already had our evening snacks.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing much! How can you go from our house without having anything?’ and she looked at my mom.

  My mom smiled. She was happy. In between this stupid conversation, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I sat quietly, staring at their jubilant faces and seething at my mom.

  After a few minutes, when Kajal’s mom saw that I had not touched the snacks, she asked, ‘Beta, why are you not eating? Have some snacks?”

  I smiled and said, ‘Sure, Aunty.’

  ‘Aunty? She might become your mother-in-law, son! Seema Aunty joked. And all of them started laughing as if they had cracked world’s funniest joke. I suddenly became her son-in-law when I hadn’t even seen her daughter. What silliness!

  I started munching on the namkeen. I looked at my dad at the other end. He was busy eating and was indifferent to the hustling, animated conversation happening all around him. He was hogging on almost all the food items and was busy having his samosa, when Kajal’s father came in. He greeted him with a piece of samosa in his hands. I greeted him too.

  I noticed some girls frolicking in the other rooms and glanced at them. All of them looked more beautiful than Kajal. Swiss author and businessman Rofl Dobeli’s statement was absolutely correct that when one has so many factors in front of one while choosing a girl, one ends up looking for physical attractiveness. That was perhaps the simplest way to pick up a girl. Because I was in no mood to select anyone where I overlooked this factor also. But one question still lingered in my mind. Why had so many girls come over to a prospective bride’s place? I was ruminating on the question when Kajal’s father interrupted my thoughts. He started asking me about my job and what I did on a day-to-day basis. They asked my salary and when I told them, the whole room suddenly went quiet and Kajal’s parents looked at each other.

  Mom said, ‘We would like to meet Kajal now. What do you say?’ She looked at Dad, who was busy cleaning the sauce he had spilled on his kurta.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he managed to say, smiling meekly.

  ‘Yes, sure, why not.’ And Kajal’s mom called for Shweta.

  ‘Yes, Aunty?’ She came running. She was stunning and looked like she was the bride.

  She went off to summon Kajal. I just wanted to meet her, wrap up this drama, and leave the place. I was waiting for the next morning to leave for Shimla. I had never been so excited about going to a new place and travelling but this was probably the last hurdle to cross.

  Kajal was taking some time. Seema Aunty, to lighten the moment and fill the silence, said, ‘It seems she is getting ready. Girls take time to get ready and moreover this is a matter of marriage.’

  So that she can cheat the groom’s parents by covering herself in tons of make-up, hiding her real identity, I thought.

  Kajal came slowly from the other end of the room along with a friend on either side supporting her as she carried in a tray. Then I saw that there was no teapot on the table. Only then did I realize that something had been missing from the table. It was all getting so filmi that my irritation knew no bounds. Why does everything that’s got do with Indian marriage need to be so quintessentially pretentious? Why don’t girls and boys meet and fix up a marriage like a contract and sign it, if at all arranged marriage was supposed to be an official association without prior knowledge of both the parties. It would have been simpler and people like me could be saved from such mindless drama.

  Her friends helped her sit on the empty sofa seat before she kept the teapot on the table.

  She greeted everyone and at last looked at me. I nodded slightly to acknowledge her greeting. She was in a blood-red sari with dots all over it. She was fair, with a good height. It was clear that she had on tons of make-up but the red mark that she had drawn between her eyebrows made her really beautiful.

  Everyone turned towards her and started asking her questions. After a short interview, my mother beamed and looked at me to suggest that her quest to find a suitable girl for me had finally ended. She had the face of a winner. I always wanted to see this winning smile on her face but I knew this time I was going to disappoint her. It was not because Kajal was either a good or bad girl or suitable for me but the point is that I never wanted to marry someone who didn’t know me properly because many a time my mom and dad themselves had difficulty in understanding me even though I had stayed with them for so many years. There were thousands of differences between us and it was difficult to address and solve all of them. I did not want that to happen with at least my partner. If at all there were differences, I wanted us to be able to come to the root of them. Which was only possible if she knew me. The idea of marrying someone and being bound to her for life without having known each other somehow did not fit into my system. Ever. In fact, it was horrifying to think of such a thing.

  Mom knew that until I decided, there was no chance of finalizing the girl. So she was a bit apprehensive and gazed at me hopefully. I smiled at Kajal and soon everyone left us to talk in private. An HR interview! A technical interview was remaining to confirm if she knew how to cook, and so on.

  I didn’t know what to say and how to start. I had avoided such meetings many times in the past. Once when I decided to meet a girl, she didn’t come as she wanted to marry her boyfriend. At that time, I just drank a cup of coffee alone and came back and told Mom that it was all fine but the girl wasn’t ready and that she had explained her situation to me.

  But soon Kajal solved my problem. And started the conversation.

  ‘So you are a banker?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied briefly.

  ‘A money man. It must be an exciting job. Money all around. Hai na?’

  ‘Umm. Initially it looks good otherwise it’s not as exciting as it looks from the outside.’

  ‘When you have money then what is left to think about, tell me.’ Our conversation had started on the wrong note. Kajal seemed more interested in my money than in me.

  ‘Probably true. So what you do? I mean, any job?’

  ‘Not yet. Searching for a job, actually. My friends were saying there is a vacancy in a bank. You have an idea about banks. What do you think?’

  ‘I haven’t much idea. I am not with a commercial bank. I am in mergers and acquisitions. If your friends are saying so, it must be good.’

  ‘Yeah, I too am thinking the same. So where should we go for our honeymoon?’ she asked.

  ‘Honeymoon? Sorry? We are not married.’

  ‘Yes. But we will be. No? Don’t you like me? I mean, look at me. I am beautiful, am I not?’

  ‘Yes. You are.’

  ‘Then what else do you need? You have a girlfriend?’

  ‘Hmm. No.’

  ‘Okay. Then your life must have been boring so far. Don’t worry, onc
e I marry you, I will make your life exciting. I am a fun-loving girl. So what’s your favourite country?’

  ‘Haven’t thought about it. Probably New Zealand, I guess,’ I said. I really had no idea where this conversation was heading. But I really New Zealand and kept it on the second position of my dream destinations after watching the Lord of the Rings movies.

  ‘Oh, great. I love Paris.’

  ‘Have you been there?’

  ‘No, but Eiffel Tower is the most romantic place for me.’

  ‘Good choice, I must say. Do you read?’

  ‘Ah, that’s boring. I tried reading a book once but kept it aside after a few pages, and returned it to my friend!’ she exclaimed as if exhibiting a prize.

  ‘Oh. Great.’

  ‘Do you read?’

  ‘Yes. Sometimes.’

  ‘Means you are not interested in having girlfriends?’

  ‘What makes you assume this?’

  ‘Because people who read generally have a lot of time on their hands and they wouldn’t want to spend or waste time with a girlfriend, doing all sorts of things.’

  ‘Oh. Wow. By that logic, it must mean that you don’t read because you have a boyfriend or boyfriends,’ I said sarcastically.

  She laughed. Probably she didn’t notice my last words and continued, ‘I had. Every beautiful girl has to have a boyfriend. It’s a status symbol, you see.’

  ‘Oh. Pity on me that I am last in the race.’ I had reached my height of irritation now and wanted to leave the room as soon as possible. Perhaps this city, if I had to deal with such people on a daily basis. I wondered if I should gulp down my tea so that I could leave sooner. I didn’t have any idea of how to stop this conversation. Think, Sameer. You give so many financial solutions to clients, you can surely think about this too, I encouraged myself but she blurted out another question that really shocked me.

  ‘So what do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘You know very well why we are here. For our marriage. Aren’t you? Or are you lost in some dreamy book?’ She laughed. I didn’t like that.

  ‘Ah. I am not in any dream. Isn’t it too soon? It’s a matter of our lives, isn’t it?’