‘You know I don’t want to marry for some time at least.’
Father turns away.
When our eyes meet, I see what may have triggered the rivulets that are flowing freely down his face. He has walked in here expecting me to stand my ground; he is aware the timing is off for me and that I’m determined to pursue our green dream. He’s desperate to convince me. The monarch was not only looking at a proposal from outside the community for his only son, the heir to his throne, but he has taken an extreme step in his search. He has made the first move, and he is going to hold authority – father over son, king over heir – over me.
Father pulls himself up from the chair and walks up to me,unbuckling his diamond-studded watch in the two steps he takes to get to me. (He rarely wears this timepiece but has made the effort to wear it today.) He wraps it around my wrist.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What do you say?’ he asks, ignoring my question. He steps back and looks at my wrist admiringly. ‘We go to Bengaluru in a couple of weeks?’
‘We can’t go ahead with this,’ I tell him. He is at the edge of the gazebo, and my eyes are on his back. ‘I’m not even thinking of marriage. I have stuff to do before I marry.’
Father is on the pebbled pathway of the lawn. He has called for a buggy to drive him to the rear entrance of his palace.
I return to the garden furniture and look across the lawn at the colourful crotons. Someone has to give, and it isn’t going to be me.
I pull out my phone and start scrolling before tossing it away.
Why would Aaditha Prathap want to go ahead with this proposal? An arranged match? She’s young, wealthy and supposedly successful. Why would she want to get married into something so traditional and antiquated?
I bury my face in my palms. Did someone spike the oolong leaves, or did I just hear all that?
What is even happening?
3.
Aaditha
Cue the Meltdown
it is 10 a.m., and i’m lying on my back, eyes fixedonthe ceiling. I’m in denim shorts and a cropped white tee; beside me, a chiffon salwar kurta, in a shade of milk cream, is neatly laid out, ready to be worn. My phone is on my stomach, face down.
The setting is just about right for someone scheduled to swipe in for a noon shift, but me, I’m stalling the day.
Workout:?
Shower:?
Breakfast:?
Journal:Pause.
I ticked boxes at regular speed, on schedule to get to my work desk by 8 a.m. My time to caffeinate and journal, but Amma wouldn’t hear of it.
‘Not today,’ she whispered into my ear. Her voice was hoarse with hope. ‘You can go later, after they leave.’
If anyone is wondering, yeah, they’re the Royals. And I’ve been given permission to live my life once they leave. Hurrah!
The household is on high alert, help everywhere, lifting a pot, straightening a pillow, shifting furniture around, wiping an invisible layer of dust. Every now and then, you hear them –‘idalla, adu’, ‘heccu hoova’.Every vase in the house is holding flowers,even those that haven’t held a stem since Alia’s wedding over a decade ago, which was not long after we moved here.
Even the second floor, a dead space in our home, is showing signs of life. Doors and windows are thrown open, giving the space a sun-kissed facade.
We live in a 10,000-square-foot house on Mahatma Gandhi Road. The location is not where Bengaluru’s old money lives, nor is it where the powerful reside. Our home is a statement, an announcement that garners immediate attention. The sand-coloured stucco exteriors and high-rise walls might give it a palatial air, but it is more than that. Located at that precise juncture where power meets money. Newly minted.
My first steps were on slate-grey mosaic tiles, the other word for proletariat. That patchwork composite, along with the plastic indoor plants and the rainbow-hued walls of our old home, is imprinted in my memory. Two bedrooms for four people who had time for each other. The texture of my childhood. Here, in this vast space, we run into each other sometimes.
I’m expecting Lavanya to come bursting through my bedroom door any moment, spouting a hundred words a minute in some twang or the other. She has already landed in Bengaluru from Mumbai. Her message tells me that.
