One Cuppa Chai

°18°

When Kabir talked about commitment, that was smooth.
And then there was me, with the fanciful imagination in my mind, with the expression of a constipated kangaroo.

My eyes flitted around the audience until I caught sight of the brown sherwani and the familiar face. Taller than the average person, he wasn't hard to pick out from the crowd.

He already seemed to be gazing at me or- I don't know.

Our eyes locked and an after an immeasurable moment he tore his gaze away and turned away so that he was facing away from me.

Okay, thank you.

Finally, my gift piling task was over and Siya literally ignored me when I popped up next to her on the stage for a picture. I linked my arm with hers and she immediately looked down at me and the familiar Siya Kumar's grin came back on her face. The grin I was so used to.

Yet, I felt as if her smile wasn't directed at me. She was genuinely happy and I was too, but then I felt a little pinch in my heart. Siya was not only my sister anymore. She had grown up and was moving on with her life... As she should. But it was unsettling. I was her shadow, imitating her and bickering with her before we were old enough to settle into a companionable bond.

The camera flashed and I realised that my eyes were brimming up.

I excused myself from her and staggered down the stairs, thanking my stars that I was wearing a silk bronze gown, that was supposed to contrast with my sister's gown-instead of that blasted slippery lehenga.

To my right, was the impromptu dining area, where a large colourful red cloth was supported by steel poles and tented around the mattresses and benches where the food was to be served piping hot.

Few people began filing in while the speaker crooned a soft romantic melody.

As instructed, I stood in the arriving area, almost scarring my fingers because I idiotically lifting a super hot jar of lentil soup and plonked it down before an empty banana leaf and examined my hands.

My mother was right behind me, "Vegetables on the right, rice in the middle, condiments at the top and gravy-wherever the guest asks you to put it,"She said in a low, firm voice. I knew that if I somehow jinxed this, there would be a question of The Kumar's half-baked upbringing of their female offspring.

As if we girls just keep cooking and serving pots of food to by-passers every day. So much pressure on the desi girls, I tell you.

What did she say anyways, rice on the left and vegetables on the top? Oh, never mind.

Carefully I knelt down with my pot and began scooping chunks of Brinji rice, and judging by the guests' uncaring expression, I was probably decent enough.

But kneeling in a gown is a bad idea.

It was the last batch of guests, then we could be done with this fiasco. I stood up and huffed, beads of sweat had already built up on my forehead.

My father, who was enquiring the guests about the food, forwarded his striped hanky to me.

"Who told you to do all this?" He muttered. "Go sit down or go to your sister and give her company."

My lips quirked up. Siya needing my company. What a laugh. I suspected that me sitting behind their love seat and grabbing their gifts like a ninja itself was somehow invading their private moment. And so I'm magnanimously letting her enjoy her day. Go chatter away with Harish. I bet he likes to talk about asbestos sheets and door handles.

"Did you have something to eat or drink naana?" I asked my father instead, "I can get you a cool drink."

My father smiled and patted my back. "Go get me some water alone."
A flash hit my eyes while I was picked a mini plastic water bottle from a carton and I mentally thanked the photographer for attempting to ruin my eyesight.

The last batch of guests was, of course, our close relatives and the star attraction of the day, Harish and Siya.

Siya lifted a little chunk of cottage cheese and the photographer went wild, snapping from angle to angle.

"Feed each other," He suggested with a big, fatherly smile and then backed up, clicking a snap again.

David and Kabir just came in from the seated themselves at the end of the table, folding their sleeves up to their arms.

"Rice?" I asked Kabir eagerly.

"Yes for both of us," David replied brightly.

I rolled my eyes and scooped out the food on their plates anyway.

Kabir didn't seem to lift his head while I presented each dish as if I had invented it that morning and offered it as nicely as I could.

I was pissed now, holding a box of ice cream cups in my hand, watching Kabir and David eat patiently.

Time for a straight shooter. "Do you need anything else, Kabir?"

Kabir who was pretending to be interested in the label of the ice cream cup took his time to chew and swallow his food and then looked up at me blankly.

"Nothing, thank you."

And then went back to his food. David looked between us for a moment longer before bowing his head down.

I wanted to reply but I could feel
Mrs Jha's laser eyes studying my actions curiously from the other end of the hall.

"Okay," I mumbled under my breath and picked up the carton from the table and walked away, miffed.

"Look into each other's eyes, fast!" The photographer was saying.

Oh, what a bother everything is.