||CHAPTER 1||
《¤》
For as long as I can remember, things had never been amiable between my parents. It was quite evident from the fact that my mother and I had to haul a taxi cab from the Delhi Airport to reach a place we had left seven years ago. You'd expect that my now divorced parents would take it easy and have somewhat civil relations with each other, but no; the bad blood was still there.
"You really don't have to do this, Vika," my mother's voice broke the silence.
I kept staring outside the window, watching the bills and hoardings advertising different brands as we passed them. Delhi's early morning life was slightly less chaotic than Mumbai's, but you wouldn't be able to draw a reasonable comparison between the two cities. The noise and pollution was still very much there.
"Beta, I know you miss your Dad and brother-"
"I don't miss anyone, Mumma."
She sighed. "Fir kyu kar rahi ho tum aisa? Unke saath agar nahi rehna, tho hamare saath rehene mein tumhari problem kya hain?"
"No, Mumma, I should be asking you that! Kyu kar rahi ho aap ye shaadi?"
"You wouldn't understand that now."
"Right back at you, Ma."
She was about to say something when the driver halted the car in a sudden jerk. I was surprised the old car didn't fall off its hinges.
"Madam, pahuch gaye," the old, worn off driver said in a gruff voice. I immediately got off the tattered seats, waiting for my luggage to be brought out of the dickey.
"Nahi bhaiya," my mother argued, "Chhesau assi bahut zyada hai. Pachsau pachas ke upar ek kaudi nahi dungi."
Indian women had bargaining inside their blood, no matter how high they were on the social ladder. I tuned out their conversation and took a look around the huge, posh, housing complex. The buildings had been repainted, they weren't cream coloured seven years ago. The society entrance was still the same though- big black gates and two security cabins on each side. Opposite our building, there used to be the huge club house and garden, with swing sets and seesaws. Arnav and I used to play them. Probably the only thing in which I didn't feel I had a competition for.
The cab left, and my mother adjusted her blue chiffon sari. "Come on, I hope you remember the floor."
I rolled my eyes as I dragged my trolley bag to the lift. Just as the elevator reached the ground floor, a middle aged man came jogging down the stairs. He stopped when he saw mother and me hauling the luggage inside the lift.
"Maanyata ji?"
My mother swore under her breath before turning around. "Rastogi ji, Namaste!"
"Namaste, Namaste!" The man smiled before looking at me. "Wow, Arvika! You've grown so tall! Well, so has your brother-"
I cut him off by stepping inside the lift. I didn't want to know how tall my brother had grown.
My mother glared at me before Mr. Rastogi cleared his throat. "Toh, aap sab wapis aa rahe ho ab?"
"Nahi ji, sirf Arvika." My mother gave out one of her clipped smiles, before stepping in.
They nodded at each other before I pressed on the seventh floor's button, waiting for the annoying elevator music to end.
"You surely know how to stay the talk of the town," I said, looking at our blurred reflection on the metallic screen doors.
"The lift is shiny," she commented instead, resting her sunglasses over her head. "I hope you don't regret your decision. If you want to come back anytime, just call. I'll talk to Raman, it won't be a problem-"
"You wouldn't have to talk to him if it wasn't a problem," I cut her off. I'm never going back to Mumbai if she is going to live with the Oberoi's.
The lift came to slow halt on the designated floor, and the doors slid open. With another eye roll, I lugged my bags out and turned right into the corridor. With the exception of a few potted plants, nothing much had changed. I stopped at the second door, waiting for my mother to ring the bell.
I was really not nervous. Just a bit overwhelmed, may be? It had been seven years that I had not seen this place. Or anyone from the Deewan family, for that matter.
Footsteps followed boyish chuckles from the other side, before the door opened to reveal a tall, dark haired teenager, with the same dark black eyes as mine. No shocker, he was my brother.
The laughter stopped as he took in the scene before him.
"Arnav," my mother broke the silence before she hugged him. Arnav's eyes met mine, so I looked away. I could feel his friends watching us from the couch, confused and curious.
When she released him, he opened his mouth. "Wow, uhm... I didn't know you guys were coming today."
"Of course, Binoy is too busy to let everyone know," our mother replied.
He turned to me, but before he could greet me, I stepped in through the door. It was my house too, I didn't need his permission to come in.
Our old Ratan Kaka came rushing in through the kitchen. "Maanyata ji, namaste! Binoy ji ne parso kaha thha aap ane wali hai."
"Namaste Kaka. Ye bags Arvika ke kamre me rakh dijiye," she smiled at him. "Binoy kab ayenge?"
"Woh to shaam ko ayenge," he replied, taking my bags. "Aap baitthiye na, thak gaye honge. Mai abhi aapke liye kuch banata hoon."
I observed the big hall, slowly walking towards the intersection of the living room and the dining hall. The wall that was once decorated with pictures of our once-upon-a-happy-family, was now full of awards and recognitions and things that had replaced emotions. I couldn't care enough about who they belonged to.
"Arvika." Hearing the same voice that welcomed us at the door, I turned around with a raised eyebrow.
Arnav nodded towards the couches, slightly tilting his head to the right. Mother was talking to three of his friends.
I made my way towards the empty couch, and plopped down. Their gazes turned to me, and Arnav cleared his throat. "Guys, erm... this is my twin, Arvika."
Donning superhero pajamas and game consoles in hand, they nodded at me. Clearly, they weren't dressed for the occasion. Three awkward faces murmured out a greeting, and I responded with a tight smile. They were probably gaming all night long. I doubt any friend of Arnav's would show up at our house dressed in boxers at eight in the morning. Mr. Perfect dare not have non-perfect friends.
My mother smiled fondly at him, before turning to me. "Vika, do you remember him?" She pointed to the guy sitting on the sofa next to her.
Tousled hair guy wearing Captain America stared back at me. No flash of recognition was exchanged.
Mother continued excitedly, "This is Vansh, beta. Vansh Mehra!" The slight modulation in her voice was an indication that I needed to remember the name.
"We've been friends since we were kids," Arnav supplied.
The person in question stared at me, expressionless. I hadn't really forgotten Vansh. He was my first best-friend. I had not expected him to remain Arnav's best bud. I looked away before it could get anymore awkward, because I knew my face was also devoid of any emotion.
"And this is Karan," Arnav introduced the person beside Vansh. "And that is Ritwik."
Scratching my temple, I responded to their awkward waves with a nod.
"Won't you introduce yourself?" Mother smiled her devious one. This wasn't one of her subtle client parties, of course I wasn't going to butter up to anyone.
The silence stretched, forcing me to glance at each of them. I repositioned my headphones back on my ears, tuning them out as I stood up. "I'm kinda hungry. Didn't Ratan Kaka say he would make something?"
"Excuse her," I could hear her say. "She seems to be in one of her moods. Anyways, would you guys stay for lunch?"
My room had been cleaned, but unused. The pictures that Arnav and I had drawn when we were seven, were still stuck on the three door cupboard. Ratan Kaka had kept my bags near the closet, while the small bag with my toiletries rested atop the bedside table.
My eyes skimmed over the furniture and stopped at the window seat. It used to be my favorite spot. Naturally, my feet moved over the now wooden floors to gaze through the window.
The sound of the door clicking made me turn around.
"Daadi!" It was the first smile I gave since we landed here. I ran into her open arms. The only warmth in the mini-Antarctica I had newly housed myself in.
"Mera baccha," she hugged me back. "Apne haal chaal to tum sunane wali ho nahi, kuch kha-peelo. Na kiya to maar khayegi!"
"Kya daadi," I disentangled myself from her. "Mujhe bohot neend aa rhi hai. Khaane ka mood nahi hai."
"Tumse pooch kaun raha hai?" She dragged me out, and thankfully, Arnav's three musketeers were gone.
Mother was already sitting on the chair she used to sit at the dining table. Beside him, was the golden child.
"Maanyata," my grandmother called out. "Kuch khilati ho kya ise?"
The only relation that hadn't been disturbed by my parents was the one they shared. Facebook was their connection.
"Isi liye shayad ye ayi hai," she replied, filling a glass of water. "Aapke banaye aloo ke paratthe bohot miss karti thhi."
"Tumse kabhi paratthe theek se bane hi kaha thhe," Daadi digged on her. It was true anyways. The reason Ratan Kaka was hired was partly because my mother couldn't cook.
But they were the only two who laughed at the feeble joke.
"Ratan," Daadi called out, "khana lana zara!"
Ratan kaka brought in some bread pakodas. I wasn't exactly hungry, but daadi was feeding me, and even years after leaving this place, I couldn't say no to her.
"Subah subah aajkal morning walk pe jaati ho aap?" Mother asked Daadi, and she nodded.
"Summer vacation shuru hua nahi ki Arnav ke saath wo launde subah subah aa jaate hai shore machane. Pata nahi kaha-kaha se dost banakar lata hai yeh."
"Daadi, they are my friends. Bachpan se unke saath khel raha hoon." Arnav replied.
"Chup kar," Daadi retorted. "Kya kya games khelte rahte hai! TV par logo ko maarna, khoon kharaba," she had a disgusted expression on her face. "Chhi chhi chhi. Thodi sharam kar, ab tho teri behen bhi yaha aa gayi hai."
Mother laughed along with Arnav. I didn't.
"Aur tum batao. Koi nayi hobby hai, Vika?"
The spotlight had fallen on me, but my mother was the one to answer. "Aap toh is mohtarma ko jaanti hi hai. Har din koi nayi hobby. Dance karti thi, beech me chhod diya. Guitar bajati thi, band toot gaya. Agar koi hobby bachpan se ab taq maintain ki hai tho logo ko ignore karna."
"You still dance?" Arnav asked. He didn't mean to, I know. But when I looked up from my plate, he held my gaze.
I cleared my throat and stood up. "I'm really tired now. I shall now perform what I do best- ignorance."
Mother opened her mouth to say something. But I didn't wait for her. "Don't wake me up for lunch."
_____
Namoshtaii!
Back in the game of letters and words. Feels nice. Because I never left xD
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~chaashnee.