Posted: March 01, 2021 | Edited: July 10, 2022
3.8 Key to Future
Arshiya
[Year 2 - March]
[Location: Udaipur]
There are easily over a hundred people here - not counting the staff or my family and close relatives. And, thing is, I know most of them. Generally, business associates are present when its birthdays or anniversary celebrations or holiday parties hosted for everyone else in the family. That is not the case for mine. My birthday has always been kept intimate.
Fact is, it's how I prefer it. It may not fit with my style. Bigger than style though is spending the day with people I care for. People my parents have met in their personal life. People who have influenced our lives.
Deep inhale. Slow exhale.
Another year to add.
In my life's dictionary, eighteen years are a lot. Especially considering that doctors had placed the odds on my survival even before my birth. It didn't help matters when I was born premature and spent my earlier weeks in an incubator. Or when I was diagnosed with leukemia and spent a year in the hospital and another after that recovering at home and taking things slow.
With all these health scares, I have only allowed myself to take things one day at a time, leaving myself no chance to think about my future. I live each day like it would be my last, and no, I do not think it is a sad way to live life. Or even a pessimistic way. For me, it's the best way to live life because it gives me the opportunity to live fully with no regrets. If a thought or desire passes my mind, I follow through with it. I live every moment in the present rather than being stuck in the past or worrying of the future.
Though, lately, my parents have been telling me to start giving my future a thought because I am growing up and I can't keep living as I do. I have to take responsibilities. I have to pick a career path. I have to start doing things that normal teenagers do. Or well... what normal adults do.
It's not that I don't want to live a normal life. In fact, I yearn for that kind of life that I never get the chance to live because of who I am - or more specifically, my last name. It's the entire reason I applied to universities outside of India where I can blend in and be treated equally as others. I have been accepted into a couple of universities as well. I plan on sharing the news with my family at the party tonight. They don't know yet that I have heard back from the universities I've applied to.
Once I tell them, it is set in stone.
The next four years of my life will be called for. The thought that it's such a long commitment is unnerving. The thought of staying in one place for that long even more so. I don't even stay home for more than a couple months at a time. Even when I do, I am always leaving for some surrounding place or the other for a weekend getaway.
I have never been the best at staying.
Inhaling deeply to settle my nerves and gather confidence, I make my way towards my parents who are chatting with a friend of theirs from the shelter, Jennifer. "Hi, Jenny."
She grins back at me, putting a hand to my back and giving me a side hug, "Hey, sweetie! Happy birthday! I got you a present and you are going to love it."
"Thank you," I reply warmly. She has been a friend to my parents since their college days and always makes it a point to catch up whenever she can. I always love her gifts given she'll almost always have made something with her own two hands. "Mind if I steal them for a moment?"
"Please do! I'm going to help myself to another piece. It's delish." She takes off to grab more cake.
Mom rests her hand at my back, "What is it?"
Dad adds, "Why do you look like you are about to tell us you've wrecked something that's going to cost us a bit of a fortune to fix?"
I try humor. "It probably will cost you a significant amount." When they stare at me, probably debating on how to react, I retrace. "Never mind. Let me start over. Usually, you guys are giving me the gifts on my birthday."
Dad comments, "That is how it works."
"Right. This year, I have something for you. Can I have my phone? I want to show you something."
"Yes, sure." He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls it out. Given I had no pocket in my dress - and of course, I do not carry a clutch - I had asked him to hold it for me while I was on the dance floor. It had been with Aarav before that when he had escorted me down the staircase for my grand entry into the ballroom.
Tapping on the screen, I open my outlook app and scroll to a specific email I had received earlier last week. "All right. Uh... don't freak out, 'kay? Or make a big deal of it." With that brief request, I turn the screen in their direction so they can read the content of the email themselves.
"You're kidding," he lets out - quicker than mom in catching the bigger picture rather than reading the fine print.
Mom moves the screen so she can read better. Her tone is full of disbelief, "When did you do this? How? I mean, Aarav mentioned you had brought it up to him, but then I never heard it again. We assumed you dropped the idea of going to college."
I shake my head, correcting their assumptions. Because obviously, this acceptance letter says otherwise. "No, no. I didn't drop the idea. Ishaan helped me write my personal statement and submit the applications. There are a couple more acceptances. This is the university I am thinking of attending. I don't know what major. I can't deci..."
Abruptly, dad pulls me to him in a hug. "It doesn't matter what you major in," he says before parting. He places his large hand on my cheek, wishing. "Congratulations. I am so proud of you."
Mom adds, butting in to give me a hug as well, beaming herself. "And I am so happy you've started making plans for your future."
They know too. I don't make plans and commit to them. So, this. Applying to colleges. Getting accepted. Deciding which one I want to go to. If that doesn't scream commitment, I don't know what does. At least, it's a start.
I throw in a little warning, "I am not promising anything, got it? I mean, four years is a long time. And school was tough enough. University? Phew! Also, don't expect flying grades like Sanya and Rihaan. You should know your daughter is not that smart."
Mom chides, "Psh, you are too. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
I raise a brow at her expression and dad laughs. "GPA doesn't define anything, Aru. It's the knowledge you gain that makes a difference. Now believe in yourself. You got so far on your own. We'll help you get through the rest."
Mom seconds, "One hundred percent, but if by any chance you decide to major in anything remotely related to math's, then sorry sweetie. You are on your own."
With a laugh, I assure her, "Figured; don't worry, I've got Ishaan and Sam for tutoring. Any other help I need, you are my number 1 speed dial." Dad takes my phone from mom's hand and I question, "What are you doing?" Not because I don't want him doing anything on my phone. I am simply curious.
"Sending this email to myself so I can have it printed and framed."
I should question his theatrics. Only, I know who this man is and how crazy he gets over anything related to his children. No matter the businessman out there running a tight ship, at home with his family, he is a complete softie who does adorable things like this. A father who couldn't be prouder and isn't shy in announcing it either. Though I don't question how serious he is about framing it, I do point out. "You do realize they've sent a physical acceptance package as well that should arrive in the mail anytime now, right?"
Ergo, he did not need to waste an extra page in printing this. He could frame the one already on its way. If he wants to keep a digital copy, he is - of course - more than welcome to keep this email as a copy on his Cloud.
Midway, he stops typing his email address in the 'To' section. "Oh," he lets out, making it obvious that the thought hadn't crossed his mind.
Yes, he can get silly at times.
When mom attempts to hide her snicker, he narrows his gaze in her direction. "Hey, now, you were planning on doing the same thing so don't be laughing at me."
"Whatever," is mom's only defense and I laugh at both of their adorable selves.
"You guys are cute."
Cue the simultaneous argument, "We are not cute."
Define them by any other word that does not include the word cute. I don't know what it is that they hold against the poor, simple term.
Mom adds, "Oh, did you tell Aarav?"
"I can't seem to find him, looked for him to bring him over so I can tell you three at the same time. I can only imagine which corner of the palace he's found with Annie to hide in."
Mom sighs, leaning into dad's shoulder, "Ah, to be young and in love."
Dad defends, "Excuse me, but we are still young."
"You know what I mean."
Dad opens his mouth to argue when I cut in, "You two carry on. I am going to find myself some more cake."
"All right," and "okay," are their responses before they get right back to their banter. With that, I walk away from them, leaving them be.
That went better than I was expecting. Not that I thought it would end badly. No. Just, you know, knowing my family, I had thought there might have been a tear or two shed here or there. They can get easily emotional. During tough situations, they'll hold back their tears till they are alone. During happy occasions, they'll outright tear up coupled with hugs and kisses and more hugs... and more tears.
Just as I am ready to walk out of the ballroom, I turn back to look at them. And... wait. I spoke too soon. There goes the waterworks.
I find mom and dad both already looking at me from across the room. Even with the distance, I can spot the watery eyes of my mom and my dad swallowing to fight them away. Both, looking at me with pride in their demeanor.
I shake my head at them and mom presses her fingers to her lips before sending a flying kiss my way. I wave at them to imply I was going to turn in for the night. They wave back.
I do love them.
There was a time when I used to get irked whenever they or anyone said I was lucky. In my dictionary, fighting the first few months of my life in an incubator and then years later, battling cancer did not equal to lucky. For years, I hated it whenever anyone said you are lucky to be alive or you are lucky to have survived cancer or anything along the lines. Because what did luck have anything to do with it? There are many out there who do not survive. So, me? I didn't see my odds a reason to celebrate.
Now... I suppose I am warming up to it. Maybe, there was some truth in it. Not for their reasons, however. I say I am lucky because I have the family that I do. Because I have these friends in my life. I have everyone's support and love.
What else does one need?
I could win everything with just those two things.
It took me 18 years to figure that out. It might seem like a late realization, and yet, many people go through their entire life without seeing it. So, if you ask me, I am still ahead of the game.
Because, my life?
My life was just starting.
And, there is a lot I have left to do.
. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .
[Year 2 – March, One week later]
Roshan turns a chair around and sits across from me during lunch break. This is the last week of classes before exams start. Two weeks of that torture, then there is a farewell dance, and it finally ends. He places a silver gift box on top of my textbook I had been reading, a white bow on it. I raise my brow questioningly, "We do gifts now?"
In all my years of knowing him, you can say that we aren't your traditional 'friends'. Now, we tolerate each other with both of us occasionally getting on the other's nerves.
Seated next to me, Ishaan comments, "This should be interesting."
Ignoring him for the time being, Roshan speaks to me, "I heard you're going to U.S for university. So, a congratulatory gift."
I open my mouth, ready to question how he heard this news given outside of family, no one knew yet. Then, from my peripheral, I catch Ishaan bury his head in his books. Ah, there is the culprit. I fold my hands across my chest, "You know, I think I preferred it when the two of you didn't get along."
Ishaan is quick to defend himself, his voice thinning a pitch, "Hey, don't blame me. He's a manipulative little... jerk."
Roshan laughs for Ishaan couldn't bring himself to curse. "What's it going to take for you to curse, man?"
"I don't curse. It makes you sound..."
Roshan fills in, "...unintelligent. Yeah, yeah." His eyes flicker to me, "I've heard the spiel from your girlfriend."
Rather than rolling my eyes and kicking him for calling me Ishaan's girlfriend simply because we are joined at the hip, I smirk to myself recalling the moment when I had given him that lecture.
He had been in a mood and giving someone a hard time. I don't recall who. Again, I had made it my mission to teach him a lesson for it. So, when he had been walking towards the school gym, I had grabbed his arm pulling him inside an empty classroom.
Roshan freaks out at first, "Yo, what the fuck?"
Hearing his foul language, I pinch his ear and he only curses further. "Raizada, are you fucking insane? Let me the fuck go. Ow, ow! What the actual..."
The forth time, I warn, "If you say what I know you are going to say, then I won't be held responsible for any bodily pain you might find yourself experiencing."
"What is the matter with you? Let me go!" He exclaims trying to peel my hand off his ear.
Deciding he suffered enough for the past thirty seconds, I release him. He rubs his bright red ear, pampering it. While he does that, I take the second to say, "Doesn't anyone at home tell you it's bad to use such crude language?"
He squints in annoyance at my habit to pick on his bad habits, "What do you care?"
"I don't. You should though. Cursing so much isn't going to make you sound intelligent. You might think it's a form of expression."
"But?" He questions when I pause, mentally trying to think of a way to frame this without using the word 'but'. It is one of my quirks. I dislike using or saying the word 'but'. As my mom says, adding 'but' to anything makes things complicated. Why do that when you can live a simple life?
For a second, I wonder if he knows of this habit of mine. No one can know that, right? One would have to be around me 24x7 and a keen observer to note that I never say the word 'but'.
Whatever be the case. Since he's said it for me, I finish the rest of my thought. "It's not attractive."
Roshan subtly touches his ear, as if that burn from last year still lingers. Or, at least, he remembers it. The smirk fades from my lips, deciding to not put weight over that small meaningless moment, and taking the gift box in my hand.
"Go ahead. Open it now if you want."
I don't need to be told twice. I would have opened it even if he hadn't said it. Pulling at the end of the ribbon, the bow comes undone. Lifting the cover, I put it on top of my book and hold the object between my index finger and thumb. I lift my gaze to find him already looking at me, waiting for my reaction. "A key?"
"Mhmm."
I wait for him to provide more details. Sadly, he remains tightlipped forcing me to question, "What does it lead to?"
"That's for you to find out." The smugness that oozes off him makes me want to twist his ear again.
I drop the key back inside the box. "You know, I hate riddles."
"Good thing it's a treasure hunt then."
"You little..." I reach across the picnic table ready to wrap my fingers around his throat. Laughing, he leaps back while Ishaan has his hands around me, pulling me back to plant my butt back on the chair. I fight against Ishaan's hold, "I am going to kill him, Ishaan. Let me go."
The smartass points out, "Then you'll never learn what the key is for."
I turn my head sideways to glare at him. "Are you my best friend or his?"
"I am simply stating a fact."
Roshan adds, "Listen to him. The guy is known to be a genius."
I jerk my arm out of Ishaan, "Get lost. Both of you." Throwing that little tantrum, I leave by myself. Stop two steps away. Rethink. Return and grab my book as well as the stupid, stupid box. Resting my hand on the table, I lean over to look Roshan in the eye. "You are going to regret it when I find out what this is for." I switch to Ishaan, "And you... ugh, I don't have a smart comeback for you right now. Just you wait."
I am sure I will come up with the perfect one liner when I am not thinking about it.
The ends of his lips fight to tug up in an amused smile. Sparing a glare at Roshan, I notice he is having his own entertainment as well at my misery. Stomping, I walk away in a huff. It fared better for me when they disliked each other. Now they were teaming up against me and that simply would not do.
Walking across the cafeteria where Kriana, Sanya, and Rihaan sat with their group of friends, I announce. "I am enlisting your help."
Kriana startles with her hand on her chest, "Ah, geez. Way to scare me, sis."
Rihaan gets excited, "Oo, what prank am I executing this time?"
Yup, the guy loves getting his hands onto a good prank. That is usually his role when I band our merry team together.
I nod my head to the table where Roshan and Ishaan are seated. "It's for those two idiots. Think you can come up with something?"
Kriana grins the second she realizes I am against Ishaan this time. "With pleasure."
I shake my head, "Oh, no, missy. That was for Ri. I have something else for you." I point at a familiar face seated across from her, "And you. What's your name again?" I have seen him around before.
"Girish."
"I don't promise I'll remember it. Anyway, you and Ana, meet me after school in the field behind the bleachers." I switch to my youngest cousin, "And Sanya. Sweet San."
"No, no, please no." She begins to chant right away with a cute pout begging to be spared.
"It's a simple task. I promise."
She timidly shakes her head, "No... please." She points behind me as if finding her savior, "There. Shreya. Get her help instead."
I turn around to face her as she places her lunch tray on the table, nudging Kriana to scooch over. "Help for what?"
"Getting back at Ishaan and..."
She speaks too quickly, "Count me in. I miss some good ole' fashion sibling rivalry. Lately he's too caring and understanding and what not." She shudders for effect as if being nice to your sibling is a bad thing.
I grin because this is perfect. She is personally invested. What could be better? "That's my girl. Now then, you'll bring Ishaan and Roshan to..."
"Huh? Roshan? I thought you said this was for bro?"
I narrow my gaze at her momentarily for the color drains from her face hearing Roshan's name. "It's for both of them. Any problem?"
"Nope. No. No problem." She smiles back assuring, "Consider it done. Text me the details."
. . . ∞ . ∞ . ∞ . ∞. . .