Kalpana
First, a wolf's pack, and now, a lion's den.
Must I suffer being chased like prey by everyone just because…
Just because of what, exactly?
As if someone heard my thoughts, a voice spoke in the dark. A voice like nature. Like thunder from afar.
"You don't need to know. Better a well-fed lion than hungry wolves. And the swan keeps mum with granted comfort."
The gentle song of Kanmani Anbodu woke me up, but terror crept over me all at once, and he noticed.
"Good morning, Kalpana. Thought I'd play some songs to soothe your mind subconsciously.”
I shook my head, reaching for the Next button. "No. Change it. I hate this song."
"That's...strange. It's hard to hate this song....that's what my parents say because that's what my brother said."
I used to like this song too. Until a while ago. Now the things I remember are not pleasant. Nowadays, whenever and wherever it plays, I am not there anymore. I am forced to relive my past briefly. An old radio, a barely-built cottage in the middle of eerily ethereal snow, deep in the nowheres of Jammu and Kashmir.
There’s a man. A savior to protect? A serpent in disguise? Maybe both? I didn't know then, nor do I ever want to afford the luxury of curiosity.
But why are his brother’s songs playing in his car?
"And what about you? Do you like this song?" I asked him.
If the YouTube buffer symbol were a person, it would be him right now.
“...I am not allowed to dislike it,” He said as if even he couldn’t understand his answer.
“That’s not what I asked you. Are you so timid you don’t even have a taste of your own?”
“That’s not it. I was…no…I don’t like this song either. This and every other one on the list. It’s not even my playlist. It’s my brother’s. My mother likes only these songs.”
“Because your brother likes them?”
His was a simple nod but it showed the gesture of defeat rather than a sign of affirmation.
Damn, these brothers seem like day and night.
“Narcissist much?” I invited an elaboration of his thoughts.
“Much more. He’s much more than that. Much more nefarious.”
The sound of his hold tightening on the steering wheel’s leather cover spoke whispers of family issues to me. It becomes easy to listen to such music when that’s all your ears have known.
He continued, “He’s the reason I’m under a lot of pressure to get married. If only he hadn’t talked my mother into this, neither of us would have to go through it.”
The audacity of this man to say such a thing to my face while taking me out on an overnight trip? Oh men oh men. All of this, and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.
“So you wouldn’t have considered this union if it weren’t for your brother’s mysterious manipulation tactics?” I questioned his morals which sent him into a mild, visible state of panic.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t ready for marriage. I wasn’t brave enough. And I know myself, so I didn’t want my future spouse to suffer for me even in the slightest bit. My brother was supposed to get married first, but he coaxed my mother into pushing me ahead of the line while he got to do whatever he wanted. I’m only used to doing things my brother can’t. I look like something but my life in reality is something else. I’m not a person to my parents. I am my brother’s replacement - his shadow that is ordered to do whatever the elder one doesn’t do.”
At least he’s honest about it. I scoffed as I recognized an asymmetrical similarity between him and me.
“How convenient. Welcome to the people pleasers club,” saying that earned me his first smile of the day.
“But that was my mindset before I met you. You are…something else. In a good way. In a way that strengthens people and shows them your power as well.”
Again, I’ve heard enough compliments but I like how he said it to me. It was a fresh approach.
“And you established this after meeting me twice?” Now it was my turn to smile.
“That further proves my point about your energy. Dare I say, you might be someone to question my brother’s guts, even.”
I was pleased with the gradually increasing levels of his confidence.
“Can we not talk about your brother for once, please? This is about you, Dhruvan Prakash,” I chided.
He took an awkward pause but the sound of his breaths took a higher notch.
“Sorry, I’m used to making everything about him. You’re right. We have no business talking about someone who’s not here and thankfully won’t be here soon either.”
“Exactly. Now, focus on finding the best dhaba, Mr. Dhruvan Prakash.”
He took a deep breath. Deep enough to flare his nostrils. “I like that,” he declared.
“You like what? Dhabas?”
“No. The way you say my name. It’s different. I can read the details of your lips more vividly than anyone else’s. The split-second pout when you say Dhruvan and the imitation of a sharp shh in a library when you say Prakash. It’s somehow…I find it very…I don’t know. It excites me. I’m still not sure if it’s your lips or your voice.”
I was utterly shaken by his words, but I am not one to back down from potential banter.
“What if it’s both?” I asked, with useless courage. Boy, if only there were a manual on sensing tension.
Dear reader, I honestly don’t know what the heck came over me to prolong this discussion with him. Pardon my obsession with wanting to throw men off guard.
He gently brought his throw to cover his lap and adjusted himself in his seat. He still looked visibly uncomfortable though, as if trying to find an appropriate position. His thighs were like see-saws, undecidedly going up and down looking for some unknown posture.
Before my dumbass could comprehend the reason for the discomfort in his lower half, he turned his head to answer me with the sun hitting his olive skin and earthy eyes in the right places.
“I’d be in a lot of trouble then, Kalpana. Because then, I would want to explore both.”
Well. Uhm.
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