All Strings Attached

Chapter Nineteen

At my expense?

She never said to call her Athayya.

"Yes, Sita," she says, "you should call me Athayya, and Mahendra Mamayya."

"Okay," I agree, and quickly add, "Athayya," when I see Thathayya's frown lines becoming more prominent.

The family bursts out into chuckles at my reaction, with Thathayya laughing the loudest, his frown line quickly disappearing. "I was just joking, Bangaru thalli," he says. "But you should call your husband's parents Athayya and Mamayya. These relationships exist for a reason, yes?"

I feel my face heating up as I realise I had fallen for Vilakshan Reddy's prank. "Yes, thathayya."

"Enti Nanna," Mahendra Uncle disapproves, "Sita ni bayapeduthunaaru, thanaki nachinattu pilavanivandi. You don't have to call us Athayya and Mamayya if you don't want to, Sita." [Why are you scaring Sita, Nanna? Let her address us as she pleases.]

"Naa manavaraalu tho ela maatlaadaalo nuvvu naku nerpisthaava?" His father responds to him, only short of rolling his eyes as he entirely disregards his son, Mahendra Reddy. [Are you going to teach me how to speak to my granddaughter?]

The funny feeling of being among people who others might feel be inquisitive or curious about, hits me, at once.

It's so... normal and different, all at once.

Do other people have the same awareness? Do they realise we were born into this world, and that means an accident of birth? We are more privileged than others because of our parents, and different from people who are not in the same circles simply because we were born to our parents. And that makes our entire life?

"Sita, have some more of the pulao," my mother-in-law's voice brings me out of my reverie.

Oh, my god. "Athayya," I plead. "I physically cannot stomach anymore food."

Sarika Reddy smiles, almost fondly, unlike her usual pleasant smiles. "Okay," she says, "but you must have dessert."

"After a break," I negotiate, eagerly. "give me half hour, at least."

The table breaks out with chuckles, even my father-in-law gracing us with a slight smile.

"Mom, Sita's never going to come back for a meal," Dhruv jokes, serving himself with more rice.

"Of course she will," his mother tells Dhruv, with an offended frown, before turning to me, "won't you, Sita?"

I hesitate for comedic effect, looking down at my plate and up at my mother-in-law, before breaking a chuckle to let her know I'm only kidding. "Of course I will," I assure her. "But I might prefer tea next time."

"You can have tea now," she says, looking up as if to call for a maid, but I quickly interrupt her.

"No, please!"

Sarika Athayya chuckles. "I was just kidding, darling. Relax, you don't have to have anything you don't want to," she assures me.

~.~.~.~.~

With nothing to do after lunch, Dhushyanth and I return to his room.

"You seem tired," he comments, making himself on the bed next to me.

I sigh, holding my stomach. "I never knew I could feel tired from eating," I tell him. "No one's ever fed me like this."

He chuckles, putting his phone down. "You must be feeling sleepy from being full," he suggests.

Just this proposition causes me to yawn, but I shake my head, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. "I won't be able to sleep early tonight if I nap now."