She wraps her arm around me, letting me know she gets it. ‘We are all twisted in our own ways. Guess we are looking for people who can accept us with that twistedness.’
‘And you have found that person.’
She heaves a sigh and hugs me tightly.
‘My parents are going to be after my life now that you’re married,’ I complain sadly. ‘It’s all going to be your fault. When everyone around was getting married, I kept telling them I would get married when Vanita did, and then you stabbed me in the back. If you had held out, I could have said, “See! Even she’s not married.”’
She rubs my hand. ‘You will find someone. Who knows, you might just find someone in the US. Though I expect you to come back here, okay? Don’t become a US citizen or something. Do aSwades,earn some money and come back.’
‘That’s the plan,’ I say. ‘Also, Maa–Papa won’t be able to put pressure on me to get married.’
‘Good plan.’
‘My body is now itching to dance again.’
I make her get up. She clasps my hand. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
11.
Aanchal Madan
Daksh and Gaurav are ready and waiting when the cab pulls up to the front of the Atlantis. I piece together what must have happened. Daksh would have asked Gaurav to go to his room, but a drunk Gaurav would have insisted on coming to meet Maa–Papa. And so he’s here, eyes rolling, slightly swaying, smiling stupidly. Gaurav rushes to open the door while Daksh heads to the trunk of the cab to unload the suitcases.
When I hug Maa–Papa, it doesn’t feel like I have been away for just a few hours. Gaurav’s hug lasts longer. He spends less time at home and more at his office, the gaming conventions, the Instagram shoots and his apartment. He wants Maa-Papa to move in with him, but I won’t allow it. I have categorically toldhim that our parents will not move out of the house I paid for because I am the elder kid after all. And yet he keeps pitching.
But that’s only part of the reason I don’t want us to move out of where we live now.
The other reason is that Daksh lives in the same building as Gaurav and the last thing I want is to bump into him regularly. Worse still, I don’t want my parents to get more reasons to like him. Like right now, he has touched their feet, asked them about their flight, his voice rich with empathy, told them not to worry about their luggage, already has the key to their room and has chai waiting in the room.
So needy. So clingy. So Daksh.
‘I am so happy to see you here,beta,’ says Maa, cradling Daksh’s face with a gentle touch, as if he’s a precious piece of her own flesh and blood. ‘I will see you in the morning?’
‘Aunty, you have my number. If you need anything, just let me know,’ he answers, as if he’s not a wedding crasher but a wedding planner. ‘And you know I never miss breakfast. Who knows who I might meet there?’
Maa–Papa laugh at this often-recounted joke. I hate it when they do that. Treat Daksh as one of us.
‘We are also here,’ I remind Maa, hooking my arm into hers and walking away from Daksh and Papa.
Gaurav interlocks his arm with Maa from the other side.
As we walk towards the room, I overhear Daksh and Papa talking animatedly about the weather, the last cricket match between Pakistan and India, how petrol prices have risen again since they last spoke, and how the country is broken but no one talks about it. Papa talks to Daksh more often than Gaurav. Papa believes Gaurav would be in the wilderness, lost and struggling, without Daksh’s guidance. Blah. If Daksh is so good at taking care of Gaurav, why isn’t he whisking him away fromMaa–Papa who have literally shrunk at the stench of vodka coming from Gaurav and frowned at his wasted, unsteady steps?
Daksh leaves us at the room door wishing all of us good night. Gaurav turns away from us and pulls Daksh into a long embrace. I think Daksh gets a kick out of my family loving him more than they love me.
‘I will see you in the room,’ Daksh tells Gaurav and walks away.
‘Drink only as much as you can handle!’ Papa scolds Gaurav.
Papa is the only one among us who has remained unimpressed by Gaurav’s newfound success and all the flashy trappings that came along with it. I know, in Papa’s heart, he wants him to put on a white shirt, a blazer, a tie and go manage a small team of people in a bank or an FMCG company. He’s proud of him, but he doesn’t understand it. Just like he doesn’t understand why his twenty-five-year-old daughter refuses to even start meeting boys for marriage. I have lost count of the times Papa has slyly tried to put the idea of Daksh and me together.
As we settle them into the room, we look at each other and memories flood back of our first stay in a hotel like this seven years ago. I distinctly remember the fear and hesitance we had while ordering room service. In those days, we couldn’t have afforded room service, let alone staying at a hotel. I remember distinctly the nagging feeling that everyone, people like Daksh who were paying customers, were looking at us and murmuring how out of place we were. We constantly wondered if the hotel staff judged us because we were the only ones who weren’t paying for the holiday but had won it in a freaky lucky draw.
Just then, the bell rings and Vanita walks in. She has changed into her pyjamas, her make-up’s all smeared. Normally, Maa–Papa wouldn’t bother showing up for the wedding of any of myother friends. But Vanita is a whole different story. They love her and keep telling me to be more like her.
‘Aunty! You should’ve come earlier!’ complains Vanita, pulling Maa into a hug.
She touches Papa’s feet.
