10 Love Stories by IndiBlogger

Author:IndiBlogger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperVantage
Published: 2015-07-08T06:34:07+00:00

Her mother brings up the topic casually the following Sunday as the two women are getting the afternoon family tea together, a weekend ritual that her parents still observe.

‘So? What did you think of the visit to Ila-Ma’s?’

‘Mmm-hmmm.’

‘Is that a yes?’ her mother’s tone shows surprise. ‘You’re okay with this?’

Pallavi cuts in thoughtfully, ‘Ye-e-s.’ And then jerks upwards. ‘Oh God. No.’

Her mother looks completely bewildered, ‘Whatever can you mean, child?’ Pallavi smiles at her mother and explains. As she talks, the older woman’s face freezes into incredulity and indignation, ‘Have you gone out of your mind? Is that a joke? You don’t know where to draw the line.’

‘No, Ma. I am very serious. But I do realize that you might find it difficult to relay my answer to them.’ Pallavi pauses for a minute and then flashes her mother a million-watt smile. ‘I’ll do it myself, don’t worry.’

‘You will do nothing of the sort! I am sorry I ever asked you to go there at all. I will tell Ila-Ma that we can’t go ahead, she doesn’t expect you to say yes anyway. Hopefully, they will find someone else.’

‘No. I realize how difficult it is for you all. Heck, it’s difficult for me as well. But a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do, Ma.’ There is not a trace of the smile left on Pallavi’s face, she is deadly earnest. She leaves the kitchen with the tea tray and her mother follows her out with the snacks.

The meal passes with both preoccupied. Her mother makes no mention of the subject at the table, the talk is kept to the usual mundane chit-chat – the effectiveness of the cricket team, the difficulty of getting reliable household help, the shenanigans of political figures – really what do the leaders think they are doing? Her father and sister remain unaware of the undercurrents. How blind we are to other people’s inner workings, Pallavi thinks privately, how used we are to assuming that what is on the surface is the same as what is below, incapable of imagining anything that upsets our own concepts and applecarts. The tea things tinkle, the conversation drones on, as soothing in its tones as the buzz of a wandering bee.

Later, her mother does find time to acquaint her father with the situation, and there is a full-fledged family showdown, with her father and mother both involved and her teenage sister hovering outside the room with a pinched and anxious face. Terse words and voices clipped with anger and bafflement wisp out from behind the closed doors like acrid charcoal smoke. But Pallavi doesn’t change her mind. It is no longer hers to change, she says. Nothing her parents tell her makes the slightest difference.

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