Periods, Pyaar And Patriarchy

Chapter Thirteen

"Honestly, those look absolutely identical to me!" Seema says, exasperated. She had the afternoon off from the hospital that day and Shruti had decided she needed to go shopping. Now her daughter was standing in front of her holding two pairs of black jeans of the exact same colour. For the life of her, Seema couldn't figure out the difference.

"Maa!" Shruti says, "They're not identical. One is high-rise and the other is low-rise. I'm going to try it on and you'll be able to say."

"Honestly, Shruti." Seema says, knowing she wouldn't be able to notice the difference even if she used magnifying glasses. "The only rise I want for you is rising early!"

The sales-girl who's been looking at them with curiosity and then quickly hides her laughter by pretending to be busy with a selection of shimmery tops that are hanging on the holder. Seema laughs as well and Shruti flushes in embarrassment.

"Maa!" She pleads again, "Please be serious!"

"Alright," Seema says, very pleased with her joke. "Maybe she can help you out." She says, beckoning the sales-girl and Shruti isn't very convinced.

"I should've brought Shweta with me." Shruti sighs and Seema replies, "That's exactly what I told you to do!"

"I didn't want her to skip yoga class! I knew it was going to be late!" Shruti says, turning back to answer her mother.

"Late? Shruti how long is this shopping session going to go on for?" Seema asks, her eyes widening. "I want to reach home before the sun sets!"

"As long as it takes for me to find a perfect pair of jeans." Shruti says and Seema sighs, "Just stop answering back and please go change. At this rate, you'll be here tomorrow as well!"

Shruti sighs as she heads into the changing rooms and finds one that sits empty. Opening the little cubicle, she latches the door. Her hands are sweaty and clammy and her belly is fluttering. She hasn't even consulted Shweta about it; all of this is her own decision. And nine out of ten times, she knows what Seema is going to say. But she owes it to her mother, to be honest.

Unlike Shweta who went head-on with her mother, Shruti is never very confrontational. She understands her mother- the irrational, the rational and the in-between. The shopping trip had just been an excuse to get out of the house alone with her mother where the conversation can happen. There isn't a lot of time left before she leaves for Belgium; she needs to give her mother time to prepare.

She looks at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are rarely bloodshot and patchy these days, her face is healthy and glowing. Maybe it was the yoga classes, maybe it was the soul-satisfying food that Shweta had been cooking lately. She takes a deep breath. The ring sits in the pocket of the dark-blue jeans she's currently wearing; the importance of it she'd waived off with Shweta. She'd pretended it was casual, a decision she'd taken lightly. Maybe she'd done it because she herself was afraid of how important it was to her.

She hadn't lied to Shweta; she really hadn't said yes. Ashish had known enough to know that Shruti wouldn't be jumping straight into his arms screaming "Yes, a thousand times!" Right when he'd broached the subject, he could see the practical glimmer in her eyes. Not the part that was freaking out, the sturdier, more stable part of her. The one that would refuse not because she was afraid of commitment as she always joked about- she'd been steadfastly loyal to him for over three years now, he knew she wasn't afraid. She would refuse because she knew she had to build herself up, prioritize herself first. She was fiercely independent.

But she hadn't insisted on no, either. She'd made a few of her jokes, trying to wiggle out of the situation and laugh it off. But when he'd pulled the ring out; he could see her eyes widen in genuine surprise. It wasn't all talk, all flirt as she had expected. The fact that he had followed through with the action, he'd had the guts to do that surprised her.