The rain was pouring in a slanted fashion as if it wanted to soak her purposefully on the way back home, but it wasn't wet enough to make her feel the cold weather because the rain wasn't the only thing she was drenched in. She was also enveloped in glee, and nothing would wear out that feeling for the rest of the day or weeks if possible.
Not even this storm-like downpour.
She crossed the road when the traffic light glowed in a green similar to the color of her coat, which looked a deep shade of olive. In truth, it was somewhere along the shade of sage when dry and crisp. She even took time off work that she loved so much just to be able to dwell on her feelings as much as she wanted to. She deserved that much is what she believed, just like any other love-stricken girl.
The suitor she picked had been waiting with his family at her place after all. How could she even fathom being late to an occasion she'd been looking forward to for months?
"Leave your footwear outside the house. Don't want to make yourself look like a wet rat in front of the guests now, do you? Hurry."
Her mother's light pat was heavy on her shoulder. She almost flinched at the contact, but she knew Mrs. Kumaran would wreak havoc in private if she noticed. Kalpana wanted to wait till her previous bruises faded before she could muster the courage to rebel against the woman who birthed her.
Without sparing a look at the guests, she hurried inside, but one couldn't tell if she was red
from flushing or the cold weather outside.
She didn't know what to feel. Sure, the horizon of a secure and affection-filled future filled her with yearning, but what was this uncertainty, this void-like absence she found herself forcing in the corner of her mind like shards of glass swept under the carpet?
"The boy is everything you have wanted in a prospective suitor. He should be good." Her mother rubbed her wet hair with a towel a bit too hard, but Kalpana couldn't complain. She shouldn't complain.
But yet...
"He might be good. But is he good enough? Everyone is good at the end of the day, amma. Good is basic. Good is the bare minimum."
Tears stung Kalpana's eyes when her mother 'accidentally' pulled some strands from a sensitive part of her scalp yet continued to rub away the wetness of her hair. Kalpana stayed still. More movement meant more pain.
"Enough with your nonsense. Don't expect high standards from men. No man bears all the qualities you seek in a husband. Such a person doesn't exist, Kalpana. Forget washing up," her mother ordered and placed a long, folded strip of cloth in her hands.
"Cleanse your face, drape this saree, wear the jewelry, and be out in ten minutes. Don't make us wait."
Her mother shut the door softly. Her muffled, sweetened voice telling the boy's parents she'd be out in a while spiked Kalpana's heart rate.
Of course! The man of her dreams was just a few steps away from her. How could she not even look at him when he was seated in the hall?
Was he looking at her when she walked by? Was he waiting for her to look at him? Did his heart sink when he saw her disappear into her room without even greeting him? Did he sigh in a little longing?
A week's worth of preparation for a conversation had gone to waste in a frantic moment of a hurry, and it put her in more emotional turmoil.
Disregarding the beginning of a mild tremble in her bones, she draped the heavy beige saree carefully. She was careful. Sure, the safety pins pricked her now and then, but she was careful.
After all, 'careful' is just doing exactly what your parents say, isn't it? Nothing else matters. Careful is not a safe drape. Careful is a modest, fully covered drape. A drape that doesn't make your mother call you a whore.
She didn't bother with band-aids. The bleeding would stop in a few seconds anyway.
"Here. Serve them tea."
As soon as she was out the door, her mother gently shoved a tray wider and heavier than her laptop into her hands and went back to her spot on the couch.
With grace, she smiled and walked to every person sitting in the living room, to the prospective groom's mother, the father, and then to the groom himself.
The hot saucers activated the pain in her pricked fingertips but of course, her mother would have her head if she spilled as much as a drop on her guests.
She realized he wasn't photogenic upon glancing at his face, that was for sure, but this view was all the more pleasing to her.
He will do. He's...fine. Looks are on the list but not on the top, she thought.
"Our son loves his work too much. It's almost annoying how much of a perfectionist he is. We got tired of his behavior and decided that only marriage can fix him."
Huh?
"I believe that's the appropriate reaction, Kalpana dear. I find my son as absurd as you do," Mrs. Prakash commented her unintentional exclamation, unaware that she had reacted for a completely different reason.
"She didn't mean it, Mrs. Prakash. Forgive her manners." Her mother swooped down to clean her mess like the dedicated verbal vulture she was and Kalpana understood what her look had meant when she laid her eyes on her.
Strike one. Be careful.
The boy was looking everywhere but at her. She didn't let that affect her. Not many people like being displayed in the matrimonial market like you were a sirloin at a store.
This is fine.
Kalpana happily dissociated from that place and drifted into her thoughts where everything was colored gray with shades of teal. Much like the weather at that moment.
Doubtful thoughts were brimming somewhere in a corner of her mind. She wouldn't let them build tide. Not now. She simply wants to imagine resting at the moment. She was great at it.
"My elder son is a wayward rascal who only does what he wants. He's thrown marriage off the table no matter how much we try to persuade him. He doesn't even visit me often anymore because he knows I'll try to coax him into marrying someone. I'm so glad at least my youngest will fulfill my last wish. Once I see him get married, I can die with peace."
Kalpana's fidgets and daydreams reached an abrupt intermission when she heard those words come out of Mrs. Prakash's mouth, now bare of the burgundy lipstick that stained her teacup.
Her mother sighed. "I cannot even fathom what you must be going through. Cancer is such a painful thing to have."
Kalpana noticed the man now. His head hung low as if his favorite show was playing on the floor tiles. It was not easy to notice but she did see the small erratic breaths he was taking before it dawned on her.
A cancer patient, and a son with probably undiagnosed anxiety.
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