The rubble that scraped my ankle, the pungent fragrance of paan wafting in the air and the kind co-passengers elbowing my side did not discourage me in the least.
My hand first found someone's nose and then slithered its way towards the rusted handrail and held on for my dear life.
The bus conductor muttered a few curses against us, the undaunted footboard travellers and upon his shrill whistle, the bus roared to life.
Using my gender card, I whispered a few demure excuses and the middle-aged men parted for me as the Red Sea did for the Israelites.
My file still tightly clutched to my chest, I squeezed myself next to a passenger seat. As usual, I wasn't part of the festivities at my house. Siya was getting her Mehendi done at home in a mini function, I was the spot boy for getting all the essentials for the preparatory ceremony wherein the groom and the bride should bathe in turmeric and fragrant oils. And then my mother patted a rupee note in my hand and gave crisp instructions to go to a University and fetch some applications for a degree. She specified that the application should be towards an undergraduate for Bachelor of Commerce and I had gone ahead and brought one for Journalism and English as well. The full realisation of my actions hit me right then and I wondered if she would scold me for wasting money.
While I was unbuckling my shoes at the pyol, I could hear the loud voices and laughter in the house.
I peered into the living room and watched Siya, her shoulder-length hair still moist from the recent shower, stretching her hand towards the mehndi wali, looking positively overjoyed. My mother fed her a spoon of soup and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked directly at me. She beamed and gestured for me to sit next to her.
I walked in with my humble file and my sun-tanned face while the others in the room turned and noticed me.
But my eyes glued onto one sight. Mr Jha on the sofa, his hands wrapped around a ceramic teacup. Mrs Jha was beside him and I gave her a bright smile, knowing that she would crack a joke in my account, but she just assessed me with cool, calculating eyes and then as if I imagined it, she immediately masked her expression with a sweet, sugary smile.
Enough to give me Diabetes.
Mr Jha, however, regarded me with a curious smile. "Now, now who's this important guest?" I didn't regard his teasing eyes.
The last conversation with Kabir popped up into my mind and I stilled on the doorstep.
The quirk of my lips was becoming increasingly brittle.
My sister elbowed me and I looked down at her sitting on the floor with fresh henna patterns in her hand and a pout. "Sit." She insisted. There were two fluffy pillows flanking her on either side to prop up her elbows and prevent the mehndi from being smudged.
I folded my legs under myself and smiled at my hosts again."I sent her to get those applications," My mother perked up, "We were so tied up with this one's marriage that it almost escaped my thoughts. Today was the last day so I remembered and urged her to go. Otherwise she herself doesn't care about her education."
I flushed slightly and willingly let Mr Jha have a look at my file's contents.
He went through the sheets and his eyebrows furrowed.
"This college, I heard, has lost its reputation years ago. The students are just vagabonds. Why don't--"
"Then we cannot let our Shyla go there and get spoilt!" My aunt cut him off, pretending to be horrified.
My father browsed through the newspaper silently as if he was nowhere related to this conversation.
"What shall I do with this girl?" My mother spoke as if I was an extra jar of ginger garlic paste which didn't fit into the kitchen cabinet. "Why don't you say anything?" My mother looked pointedly at my father whose face was buried into the newspaper.
My dad who was in deep thought, broke out of his reverie to focus his eyes on me and patted my back, "Study whatever you want! Just enjoy yourself. This is the age when you can enjoy!"
My mother scoffed silently, "Can't even find a college here."
"I know this board member from
Lloyd's, let me speak to him..." Mr Jha said.
The round table conference regarding my education was ongoing but I just sat there, critically observing my sister's mehndi patterns and asking the lady if she could complete the design in some modern floral pattern on her arm.
The lady mistook my supervision as interest and insisted I get my hands done as well. When it came to mehndi, I've always been a minimalist. It was just a random diagonal design across my palm or a weird pattern on my fingers that nobody else wanted. But now I wasn't in the mood for either. So I sweetly declined and asked her politely if she'd like some tea.
"What? Come on, you'll look so weird if you're the only one with bare hands." Siya grumbled.
"Okay, fiiine. I'll change and come."
I washed my face squeaky clean and changed into a plain blue and white Kurti that previously belonged to Siya and was inherently passed down to me or more accurately tossed into my cupboard with a remark that it was out of style.
My fingers ran through my hair and gathered it clumsily into a ponytail when I overheard an unmistakable voice in the living room I peered out. My sister's best friend was beaming at my mother and slapped my sister's cheek playfully.
I rolled my eyes. Anusha was so toxic.
There were times when Siya would narrate instances of Anusha's behaviour and anyone could recognize how two-faced she sounded.
I would've ditched her friendship in a beat but after every time she would backstab Siya, she would still run back to her as if she was an incarnation of the Messiah itself.
I warily walked out and examined the successful 23-year-old software engineer who noticed me and beamed up at me. "Arey, what's up with you?"
Whatever.
Anusha was too selfish to actually come and take part in the wedding as a friend unless she wanted a favour or something from us.
I sat down, stretching my arm for a mehndi design.
"How's Akansh? Did he drop by today?" Anusha asked excitedly.
"Harish," I amended coldly and when she faced me, I bestowed her with a chilling smile which had a warning taped on it."You didn't even know his name?"
Her smile dissolved a little and she looked uncertainly at me.
Siya admired her mehndi and glanced at my hands too.
"I like that pattern you drew for her, can you draw it here...."
I turned away from Anusha and concentrated on the designs that were expanding up my wrists. Maybe she was just trying to make up for being an unfaithful brat in college. I could tolerate her for an hour if Siya wants her around. And I would have my friends over tomorrow anyways.
"Shyla, go call Sylvia aunty and remind her about the parlour appointment. And also, listen ask her if she can come over for Mehendi if she's done with her work,"My mother instructed.
It was kind of awkward that my eyes immediately flitted to Mr Jha to gauge his reaction as if expecting him to do bhangra on the sofa in joy but he was engrossed in a philosophical conversation with my uncle.
The more I thought about the prospect of Sharad uncle and Mrs D'Souza, the more ridiculous it sounded, even to my own ears.
Mr Jha used to take tuitions for her when she was younger and he was the one who coaxed her parents into accepting Roshan D'Souza as her fiancé. I doubt if they would taint their relationship this way.
When Kabir said it, I grasped his every word immediately but now I began to feel that he was seeing the wrong side of the story.
I sighed while I sat down for dinner and realised that Anusha was not leaving.
And because we had only two bedrooms, one for my relatives and the other for my parents, Siya, Anusha and I had to pull out quilts in the living room.
I kept mine aside, where I got the view of the balcony and a pleasant night breeze while the two friends were giggling across the other side of the living room.
I just kept looking over the window, not feeling drowsy enough to succumb to sleep and Anusha's voice became more audible from hushed whispers, assuming I was asleep.
"What is wrong with me getting married to him? He has a good job, he's rich and he owns a huge tea estate in Delhi."
Typical of Anusha. What honourable reasons for marrying a man.
I didn't need to strain to hear my sister. "He's a Muslim!" My sister remarked loudly as if to get it in her head. "Your parents will behead you. You know that!"
I heard a defeated sigh from Anusha. "That's why I've decided.. To elope."
I stifled my surprise but my sister gasped for the two of us.
"What?"
"You have to help me, Siya! Please! This is the last thing I'll ask of you!"
What utter nonsense! My sister was getting married tomorrow and her friend wanted her to chalk a route for her to run away with her Prince Charming. Ridiculous. Siya would probably give her an earful.
"What can I do?" Siya spoke instead like she was a receptionist. "Tomorrow's my marriage as well..."
"Can't we get married in the same mandap? I'll call him if you want me to! It'll be so cute to get married together, a symbol of our friendship!"
I literally had to resist the urge to kick the woman out of the house.
Siya sighed and I didn't know where her patience was stemming from. "Be practical. If you want, I'll convince aunty and uncle."
"They won't care! What can you possibly say?" She sounded annoyed that she couldn't close the deal for the same marriage hall.
"Come on, lets give it a shot, then we'll see what we can do from there."
"Let's see. Whatever is in my fate!" Anusha lamented. Siya was comforting her but I could sense the wheels turning in her head.