The Woman My Grandmother Loved.

Chapter Ten

Jha hadn't thought so, initially. He had thought Bhuwan was softening up and it had pissed him off. But later when he got used to Anita's presence in their car when they sneaked out in the wee hours of the night, he grew to admire her. More than admire her.

Most people assumed that Jha and Anita would end up together; they had been around each other for too long and shared a warm friendship. It had seemed natural at the time that once Anita was old enough that she would inevitably fall for Jha. But that hadn't been the case and it hadn't bothered Jha; initially. But there were times when she blew off some of their meetings once she was in college. Or when Bhuwan and he would bump into her in the arms of some scrawny twenty-year-old boy, laughing her head off as though she'd never heard anything funnier.

It had enraged Bhuwan as well and for the longest time, Jha had assumed that what he felt towards Anita had been brotherly in nature. A sense of protectiveness that Bhuwan exhibited as well. But while Bhuwan was more than willing to let her have her way once he was convinced that she was happy, Jha had been cursed to feel the overriding jealousy that overstayed its welcome and left him burning. He was sullen when he met her, mad at both himself and her but unable to explain it.

His only consolation was that she never seemed to love them or assume the sentimental air that most girls her age did. She had come across as relieved after more than one break up and it had given Jha some hope. That perhaps she wanted these people not because she wanted them for the person that they were but merely as little tokens for her to collect. Little souvenirs for life's experiences that she could someday display in front of her children and laugh at her ways. Their children, Jha was certain. Even their parents would gladly approve.

When his sojourns with Bhuwan over the globe and his studies abroad hadn't doused what he felt, he had finally decided to confess. Let the truth lie in front of his perpetrator and hope that she showed mercy.

He remembered the day; Bhuwan had been busy and it had been just him and Anita lying listlessly, the Delhi heat fading to give birth to a kinder Autumn. Both of them had been going on about the latest scandal in the news and what should and shouldn't be in Jha's next article. He appreciated her insight for she was intelligent and witty and always quick to make him see where he crossed a line.

She had been lying close, her brown skin looking browner because of the careless summer she had had. Dressed in a short cotton dress that her mother greatly disapproved of but she couldn't be bothered to change. He had been sprawled across the bed when she had climbed next to him and sighed, I wish my father would allow me to join work. I really, really do.

Their proximity wasn't something new; Jha couldn't count the number of times the three of them had lazily lounged discussing everything and nothing. It had been so innocent then; he hadn't cared for any of the things that made him feel so flustered now. It had been only her company that he had cared for just the way he had cared for Bhuwan's presence.

But now, he was acutely aware of the way her dress had slid up her thigh as she carelessly propped her knees up, unaware of his gaze. Did she want him too? Was that why she was so careless around him? Wanting him, testing him, and taunting him?

"You should sit properly." He had said, not willing to meet her eyes but already knowing he would regret the authoritarian tone in which he had said the words.

"You didn't care for it before. Why do you care now?" She had asked, more curious than offended. As if him trying to assume authority amused her more than it impressed her. Like a child wearing his father's shoes.

"Because we should care about these things." Jha had said, replacing the 'you' he had intended to use with 'we' at the last minute. We spoke of unison; as though she and he were a team who would navigate life together.