Katha Ankahee Flash Fiction

Waistcoats

"What's all this?"

Katha was stood in their bedroom amidst a sea of clothes and half-filled boxes.

"I promised Ma we would contribute to her donation drive," she said sheepishly.

He chuckled. Ever since Aarav had gone off to summer camp, they were in a bad way. Just cooking up ways to occupy themselves.

"Oh! By the way, I found this in our closet. There was a box full of them..." she unfolded the garment in her hand, holding it up for him to better see.

A cream waistcoat.

It was as if his mind unlocked a trap door, hurtling him back to what felt like a different lifetime.

"Wow! I used to be obsessed with these. The cut, the fit, the colour. Everything had to be just right."

"Why don't you wear them anymore?"

"I realised something."

She raised an eyebrow in question.

"I was 19 when I had my first meeting with a client. Everyone thought I was ready. I'd been in architecture school a while and Jeetu Bhai had been training me on the business."

"There were so many things I could have been nervous about. But somehow, I became convinced that what I wore would make or break me. I wanted to be taken seriously. I needed to be more than Mr. Viraj Raghuvanshi's son."

"In all my teenage angst, I drove down to the beach. To brood by the sea and all that. Suddenly, a little girl comes by selling magazines. I couldn't say no, so I bought one. And when I turn it over, right on the cover–"

"A model in a waistcoat?" she guessed, laughing.

"Not just any model. Amitabh Bacchan! The manliest-man of them all."

"The first time I buttoned up a waistcoat cemented it. I felt ready, prepared to take on anything. It became the armour that saw me through each day. And then..."

"Then?" she asked softly.

"When I met you, when I fell in love I started to rediscover what it meant to be happy again...what it felt to be free. It was heady. I found myself wanting to feel that way all the time."

"But I realised what you...what life had given me was just a seed. The rest was up to me. To take that kernel of love and plant joy, gratitude and hope in every corner of my life."

"Suddenly, those waistcoats felt less like shields and more like walls, you know? What did I need armour for, anyway? Work was not war. It was the opposite. Creativity and purpose and connection–" 

He stopped short. Was he even making sense?

"Hmmm. If that was your case for donating these, you can forget about it. This drive is for a children's shelter. Imagine those little bodies in one of your checked waistcoats," Katha said flippantly. Smiled. Easing the moment for him, like always. 

"No more waistcoats. Message Received."

They shared a nod.

"How about one last try for the road?" she suggested.

When he made to take the coat from her, she danced away, "Wait, not this–" she rummaged around in a box by her feet,"–this one!"

His Scottish waistcoat.

"Tell me something," he said, as he moved to the mirror to try it on. "What did you think of my waistcoats back then? Be honest."

He watched her face screw-up in the mirror's reflection.

"Well...I wondered if you wore them so tight they were cutting off the circulation to your head-"

That cracked him up.

"-why you dressed like a Count, while Ehsan like he was on a cruise. And..."

She paused, suddenly bashful. Took a breath, "How despite all your terrible and awkward behaviour, a part of my brain could still think you looked handsome."

Viaan froze. He couldn't have looked sillier in that moment–wearing a waistcoat paired with a T-shirt and lounge pants–but one word from his girl was enough to make him feel sexy as all get out.

"Handsome? Well Katha, if you feel that way, I'm sure I can find it within myself to reconsider–"

He felt her arms slide around his waist. The gentle weight of her press into his back.

"I'm so glad you chose to let down your walls," she whispered.

He caught up her hands in his, "With your help my love, it was only a matter of time."