Chapter 6: Your side of the family must be so Proud
I wake up to my mother “Chandani! Hai, I thought you were going to die!” she over exaggerates as usual. “Mom, I’m ok.” I let out. She looks at my wavy hair, groggy eyes, and drained face. “Oh, you don’t look it, didn’t they have a mirror in that boys house?” she throws me a curious look, “Mom, I’m fine.” I sigh and plop on the couch. “Radhika!” My father moans “She’s barely in the house and you already ask too many questions.”
My mother turns to my father, “And you Mr.Bilgrami, don’t ask enough! Did she find a nice boy? How many times did she dance? And why did she decide to go swimming in the middle of October?” that last one was aimed at me, and now both of my parents are waiting for an answer “I-I fell in.” I protest “You don’t think I’m that stupid to try and go swimming, in this weather, in my sari!”
They both are still staring at me “I’m serious! I fell in!” I roll my eyes. “What was the boy doing there?” my mother puffs “I didn’t know he was there mom! He was on the other side of the dock” I start to rub my head. “Ok,” my dad says opening a book, and leaning back in his chair. “Ok, Ok? That’s it!” my mother shouts placing her hands on her hips “Radhika, what else can I say?” my father grumbles still reading his book.
“Nothing, you say nothing!” my mother turns and storms out the room. “Papa,” I begin, “Chand,” he puts his hand up “I believe you.” I smile at my dad, get up, and slowly walk upstairs to shower.
After a long warm shower, I throw on some jeans, a green shirt, and head back downstairs. On my way I hear a man’s voice, not my fathers, its familiar though. “Oh, Mohan you are so funny!” I hear my nani laugh, and in that instant I freeze on the staircase. Mohan Varma is my grandmother’s favorite person in the world, and one of the most annoying people I know.
Since we were kids he was always following me, and asking me to go out with him. I shriek at the thought of a date with him. Its not that he isn’t good looking, he’s medium height, has straight black hair, light brown eyes, and has a manly presence. However once you speak to him, his entire looks fade into the distance, and you wish they took you with them.
His family and him have lived across the street for as long as I can remember. He would always run over, bringing me his mothers samosas, and telling me a story of how he would someday inherit his home. “Me and you can live there with my parents, and yours right across the street!” he would boast.
“You should be glad he lets you eat all those samosas.” My nani would often tell me. “Don't be picky. Your pretty but nobody wants a moti for a biwi!” Thanks for the boost of confidence grandma. I was a little over weight as a child, okay, a lot. But still, just because of one physical flaw she expected me to settle with
“Nani,” he starts “where is Chandani?” “Up stairs, she wasn’t feeling good, she went swimming or something last night silly girl!” I can see my grandmothers face in my head, she probably rolled her eyes. “Really? In this weather, why would she do that?” he asks “Who knows.” My grandma laughs, and so does Mohan. He has such a distinct laugh, its high and sounds like lawn mower.
I quickly yet quietly turn back around and head back to my room. I grab my phone and text my friend Neelam, I tell her to meet me at the Starbucks down the street in about an hour. She responds with a “K”, I grab my keys, tossing them and my phone into my purse, I slide on some flip flops.
My hair is still a little wet, but I don’t have time to spare so I brush it out and add some styling gel. I walk out of my room and slowly shut my door behind me. I take a deep breath,
I slowly walk down the stairs feeling as if each step is louder then the one before. I pause just to check if any of my family is coming, I can see my father in the living room by the bookcase, still reading his book.
He looks up and spots me, he can sense the terror in my face, and cracks a smile. He loudly clears his throat, and I glare at him. He shakes his head, mouths the word “Run”, and goes back to his book. With his consent I head straight for the door, and slip out. After I close it I let out a long sigh, lean back and close my eyes.
‘Um,” I hear a deep voice let out, I immediately open my eyes and stand up straight. Before me stands a tall, muscular, dark brown eyed, straight jet black haired, man. “C-can I help you?” I try and catch my breath. “Hi, I’m Wahid,” He extends his hand to me, and I meet his hand shake. “Chandani”, “Ah, Chandani, Mohan has told me a lot about you. I’m his cousin,” he smiles at me.
I giggle a little in all my awkwardness, he smiles again and laughs. “Well, I was just coming to get him, we’re going to lunch, would you like to join us?” his deep gaze catches me off guard, and I blush “Um, I’m actually meeting a friend, but thanks for the invite.” “Oh, ok, well next time.” He gives me a big smile, “It was nice to meet you” he finishes. “you too” I smile back at him. “I'll give you a few minutes to leave before I get Mohan.” he nudges me. I laugh and head for my car, jump in and drive to meet Neelam.
As I pull into the parking lot, I see Neelam already seated in our favorite corner spot. Neelam is the closest person to me besides Kiran, she’s always a phone call away. She’s two years older then me, and has always taken care of me. When I need someone to vent too, to hate the world with, to cry too, or to simply gossip with she’s there. She’s a lot like me in many ways, but she’s very different too.
She’s an only child, and doesn’t have a huge family of cousins, and aunts, and uncles. She works in her mother’s flower shop, and seems like she enjoys it. She has light brown, curly hair that’s always in a bun. Her glasses block her pretty hazel eyes, and her fair face has never been touched by an ounce of makeup, but it works for her.
If you asked my mother what she thinks of Neelam she’ll tell you “That girl is going to bring flowers and shame to her mothers grave, she should worry about getting married, and doing something with life.” But I think she’s happy with her life, and that’s what matters.
I look at her sitting there, sipping on her latte, legs crossed, reading a magazine and I wonder what its like to be her. What does it feel like to be twenty six and alright with not being married? Why is it that I’m twenty four to some people, but to my family I’m twenty four and not married?
I get out and walk into Starbucks, and with the biggest smile on my face say “Neelam, its been two whole days since I’ve seen you!” She smiles “and three whole hours!” I give her a crazy look and in a high tone say “stalker!” we laugh and I take a seat.
I never really order anything from Starbucks, if I do I always seem like a child with my preferred grande hot chocolate, drizzled with extra chocolate and whip cream. “No hot chocolate?” Neelam asks closing her magazine “Not right now.” I lean my chin on my hand.
“Oh, what’s the matter?” she leans forward “Well, ok so there’s this guy I met,” I shrug my shoulders “he’s such a jerk, he thinks that because he’s rich, he’s some hindu god, and normally I wouldn’t let it phase me, because I don’t care. But He saved my life yesterday, and I feel bad for not thanking him properly.” I breathe heavily. “So, you like him?” she winks at me. “Oh god no! Don’t get me wrong he’s cute. But he’s too into himself for me. No, I’d choose Mohan over him.” I laugh.
Neelam looks at me “Wow that bad huh?” she looks at her latte. “Speaking of Mohan.” She bits her bottom lip. “What?” I sit in anticipation of the next joke. “well I wouldn’t count him out just yet.” She looks up at me for my reaction, which as expected is terrified. “Wha-what, are you trying to tell me you like him?” I’m breathless.
“No,” she laughs, “but he’s a nice guy, and deserves a chance. He may be a bit goofy, some might say dorky, but he’s nice.” I cant believe my ears, “But its .” Is all I can manage. “Hai mera dost, but sometimes you don’t get the handsomest, most intelligent, affectionate guy. You get reality, and reality is Mohan.” I don’t know what to say, we sit in a moment of awkward silence.
She breaks it with “Atleast you have him as a choice.” I’m at a complete loss for words, since when did Mohan become a choice? “What are you talking about?” I scoot my chair in closer to the table. “Some of us aren’t so lucky to have a guy run after us, some of us long to just see their parents happy that they’ve found someone. You know my mother looks at me in disappointment every day?” she shakes her head “And I see the way your mother looks at me too, she doesn’t want you to be me in two years. The sad thing is I’m only twenty-six! But I feel like I’m forty.” She breathes out loudly.
“Neelam, I- I didn’t know you felt this way. You always act as if it doesn’t matter.” I put my hand on hers to comfort her. “You are so beautiful, anyone would be lucky to have you.” I tell her, she looks out the window, and for the first time I see that no one has told her that. The tears in her eyes that she’s holding back only confirm that, and I feel that for all these years I’ve been oblivious to my friend’s pain.
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