Poles Apart

Chapter Twenty-Two

I stiffen in my seat when I see my father walking down the stairs towards the dining table. As the sound of his slippers slapping against the marble becomes louder, I find my control over emotion wavering.

Clenching my jaw, I look at my mother with a glare. She glances between my father and me, nervous trepidation clear on her face.

My eyes find Karthik's, and he gives me a look that says he doesn't know of anything that is to come.

"Arvi," Amma starts apprehensively. "About the engagement..." she stretches, as if I would understand the unsaid.

I shove the food on my plate down my throat. "Do whatever you want," I tell my mother, restraining myself from toppling my chair over as I stand up. "Who needs my opinion about my life, anyway?" I ask sarcastically with a tight-lipped smile before walking off briskly into the kitchen to leave my plate and then running up the stairs without sparing another glance at the dining table.

I close my door with a bang, knowing no one would hear it. The harsh sound of the wooden door slamming against the wooden threshold helps my nerves, even if at the slightest.

Every time I feel the slightest bit positive about my impending wedding, I get thrown back by something. Like the day before the unfateful announcement when I saw Arjun mingling with my friends and thought we might have a chance; or yesterday when I thought things would fall into place with some effort.

The engagement wasn't unexpected. I had been expecting to receive an invitation to the ceremony only a day before.

An engagement, though not as big a thing as the wedding itself, is still a commitment. But it wasn't that, that disturbed me as much as the familiar impassiveness on my father's face.

I had seen him after fifty-nine days, one day less than two months. I hadn't seen him following that night. I was used to not seeing my father for months at a time; he wasn't exactly the kind of parent that would fly down to London every chance he got. My mom wasn't that type, either, but it never bothered me.

However, following that night, the least I had hoped to find in my father's face was guilt, remorse, regret. In the brief, fleeting glance I had of my father, I encountered none of those. He looked as he always did.

My father never told me he loved me, but I always knew-- thought he did. But as each day passes, I find myself questioning my understanding of my father.

An hour later, my mom finds me in my balcony, overlooking the lawn. "Arvi," she calls my attention softly.

I look at her tiredly. I don't have the strength to fight anymore. I manage a sad smile, seeing her distressed face.

"Avni and Savitri will be going back to their college. That is the only reason we want to have the engagement in a week. But if you don't want it, we can have it after a month or so," she offers.

I look away from her, refusing to show my tears. I nod, trying to gulp down the pain in my throat. "I meant what I said. Do whatever you want."

~.~.~.~.~

The next morning, I wake up to a wet pillow, and the familiarity kicks in. I receive a grant for a leave that I hadn't applied, and my mom takes complete advantage. Shashi Dhar; a big-time designer takes up the challenge of making a lehenga for the apparently difficult Arvi Ravichander.

Shashi sits down with me for a whole day, trying to understand my preferences and satisfy my three mothers-- my two aunts and the one that gave birth to me. Add to it, the Kona co-sisters that won't take any less than the best for their latest daughter-in-law.