All Strings Attached

Chapter One

"I want to marry Dhriti, and I want all of you to be there," Dhruv insists. "Do you think I didn't consider just signing a piece of paper to marry her? You've been no help over the last three months, Anna. Don't talk to me like you care two bits—"

"Of course I care two bits and I'm telling you to marry the girl you love. I'm sorry you have parents who have conditions for you to marry her." Dhushyanth was never too fond of Dhruv playing the abandoned younger kid. They'd all brought Dhruv up together, and there was nothing under the sun Dhruv wanted and didn't have. There was no reason for him to act as if he were bruised from an ignored childhood.

"Of course we have conditions!" Their mother raises her voice, Dhushyanth's traits shining in her. "Why are you both arguing as though we're not here?"

"Because you're ignoring what we're saying," Dhushyanth makes his point, "I'm not going to marry to make people believe I'm a good political candidate. I am a political leader, and anyone with two wits about them will know I'm a good one. I don't think I need to be a married man for people to believe it. There's no reason you should link Dhruv's wedding to mine."

"Of course there is, because despite what you may think— people will not take a single man seriously, and your younger brother cannot get married before you do."

"Sure, he can. He's surely not a minor, nor is he below the age of 21— you should know this, Amma. Dhruv's old enough to marry, and there's a girl he wishes to marry."

"You think you're too smart," their father comments, taking his attention away from the newspaper and folding it in dramatically deliberate motions, letting the rustling sounds produced by the paper silence the rest of the family. "Your mother has said what she thinks," he says. "Now I will tell you what will happen: in the next six months, Dhushyanth will find a partner and marry her— should you have any trouble, your mother and I will have no problem finding a girl for you to marry."

He turns to Dhruv, pinning him under his gaze. "Dhruv, we are not against your wedding, and you have decided what you want, but Dhriti's parents will not easily agree to the wedding. We are happy for you to marry her, but make sure her parents are okay with your plans, and then we will talk."

Bullshit, Dhushyanth thinks, doesn't Dhruv know that Dhriti's family would not be fond of the alliance? Isn't that the reason he's been having the same conversation for the last two months, hoping to convince their parents to make the first move and talk to Dhriti's family?

As diplomatic and calm and serene their father sounds, Dhushyanth is aware he is a man of pride that rides well into the lanes of ego faced with certain situations.

"But do not forget that we do have customs that we must adhere to, and your wedding will follow Dhushyanth's."

"What customs?" Dhushyanth scoffs. "Naanna, you cannot have customs when convenient for you. Both of you had a full-term baby within six months of your wedding please don't give us a lecture on customs and culture."

"Dhushyanth!" Their mother glares at her insolent elder son. What if one of the maids heard? "You were a premature baby!"

"In which world?" Dhruv mutters lightly under his breath, causing Dhushyanth to cover up his smile behind a glass of water.

"Yes, we made mistakes," their father agrees, clearly insinuating his sons, "And we have two sons to show for it. But I don't want to make anymore mistakes or give you the chance to make any of your own, so you'd better find a wife soon."

"I know we've given you everything you want since you were a child, but that does not mean your obstinacy today in the family's matters will work." Bullshitting is clearly a politician's birthright. "You know as well as we do, that Dhriti needs time to settle into work, find a routine and plan her wedding— she's a doctor, not just an ordinary person. Do you not have a career of your own to be concerned with?"