Crossing The i's And Dotting The t's

(XVI) Festive Flirting

The following evening, our dining table, around which my family usually sat down to have happily serene meals, turned into the battleground of a soundless emotional warfare.

On one side were my parents, a united front, strongly facing me, their adversary on the other side. It was the perfect example of a virtuous, law-abiding couple trying to peacefully discipline their delinquint of a daughter, in an attempt to make her see sense.

The only difference was that their daughter was herself too decent, boring and a total wuss to be a delinquint.

Aarna, on the other hand, was rapidly snapping her head back and forth, mischief dancing in her eyes. Pinning her stare at our parents and me again and again, she noisily slurped her milk, which she always insisted to have with dinner instead of breakfast.

It seemed as if my epiglottis had taken a wrong turn and lodged itself over my oesophagus, making it physically impossible for me to swallow. Pushing my plate away, I finally forced myself to address my parents.

"So," I began, attempting to disguise the quiver in my voice, "can I go?"

Their reaction was so instantaneous, it was almost as if they'd been stung by a bee. While previously ma and papa had tersely listened to me narrate the plan, growing stonier with each word, now they chose to show their disagreement by ignoring my question completely, loudly clanking the cutlery as they ate.

I waited patiently, the heel of my left foot tapping the floor. A part of me felt a twinge of guilt for forcing my parents to allow me to do something they clearly disapproved of. I couldn't remember an occasion when my parents had directly refused me, their refusal was always subtle. Not saying that happened often. My creators had perfected the art of parenting. They never failed to get me anything I needed, usually a bit more than what was absolutely necessary. Yet, they didn't always get me everything I wanted, unless it was my birthday, but even then there were exceptions.

Over the years, I had learned to recognize the signs of their dissent. My father would become restless, continuously wiping the growing bald spot on his head, while my mother would plaster an enormous, toothpaste commercial-worthy smile on her face, one that never reached her worried eyes.

I had the pleasure of seeing my imagination come to life once they finished eating. Papa looked longingly at his empty plate, as if he was wishing for more food to apparate so that he could postpone the inevitable conversation for a few more minutes. Realising that was not going to happen, he leaned back on his chair, running his white, scented hankerchief over the back of his head. At the same time, ma leaned forward, folding her hands on the table, her lips stretched so wide that I was afraid I'd spot chunks of semi-digested food in her stomach.

Oh no! Not the good cop, great cop treatment please!

"We thought about this...trip of yours," she slowly said, in a strangely deep voice. "How would you go again?"

"By train..."

Papa fake-gasped loudly, forehead creasing in exaggerated concern, "it is the most dangerous mode of transport! Trains get into accidents all the time!"

"I'm sure I'm not that unlucky..."

"We can't simply let you go based on your luck." Ma sighed, her tired eyes creazing at the corners, "what if something happens?"

"Well, something can happen right now too!" I said, starting to grow annoyed, "there can be an earthquake in which our building might collapse right at this moment. Technically, I'm not safe anywhere."

"Okay, point taken," my father grumbled. "How about you travelling with so many boys? I'm not quite onboard with that idea."

"You know all of them, you've met all of them!" I cried, exhasperated. "Aryan and I have grown up together, if something happens with me and him, it would be incest and I'm really not into that. Let's just directly cut Vivaan's name from the list okay? He's with--I mean I hate him," I said, quickly correcting mh little slip up about Radhika. If ma comes to know about Rads and Vivaan then she'll tell her mom and Radhika would kill me. "As far is Aditya is concerned," I continued, "well, he's practically an old man. And Karan's the most nauseatingly well-mannered person I know. For Gods' sake, if a building's on fire, he'll still hold the door open for all scampering women!"