Chapter 20

2 years ago

varshaoforange

@varshaoforange

Neither Arpita nor Narmada mentioned the morning’s events at the breakfast table. But both of them shared a silent conversation over the almost magical attitude changes from Imlie and Aryan this morning.

Imlie and Aryan weren’t fighting, nor did Aryan tell Imlie to shut up every few minutes. In fact, Arpita raised her eyebrows at Narmada when Imlie joked about her frustration with an editor at the newspaper, and Aryan laughed and told a story about that editor lying about breaking his wrist to get an extension on some of his work.

Narmada felt like she was dreaming. She didn’t know exactly why or how, but it felt like her old Aru was back. Her childish but hardworking, funny but responsible son was back.

Arpita decided to test the waters, “Aru, I know you have a lot of work these days, but will you be free Friday evening? Maa and I want to throw a party.”

Narmada almost gasped, because Aryan didn’t immediately say, “No, and don’t bother me with these parties, I hate them.”

Instead he asked, as if he would really consider going, “What’s the party for?”

Arpita stumbled in making something up, she had assumed she’d have more time because she thought Aru would have said no immediately.

Narmada jumped in, “All the other women and their daughters in my monthly bhajan group have been wanting to do a get together for a while now—maybe you could meet some of them?” Narmada winced, she might have gone too far.

Aryan took a sip of his coffee, still looking through a file on the table, “Maa, if you want me to meet them, I will. But yeh rishte aur shaadi ke baat phir se mat uthaiye, please” (But don’t bring up these topics of relationships or marriage, please.)

Arpita’s eyebrows raised even further as she looked at her mother.

Narmada jumped on the opportunity, “No shaadi ke baat, promise.” (No talk of weddings).

“Fine, tell me the time, and I’ll be there. Imlie, too.” Aryan said, as if Narmada had only asked him to bring her something from another room.

“Kaki Maa, tell me one thing, why haven’t you managed to find a wife for this ABP yet? Aren’t there any women in India who want to spend their lives with someone who doesn’t say more than two words at a time?” Imlie asked, her eyes twinkling at Aryan, goading him into a reply.

Before Narmada or Arpita could reply, Aryan shot back, “Tumse matlab? Aur, Imlie Ji, aapki jaankari ke liye main bata de ta hun, mujhse shaadi karne ke liye ladkiyan ke line hai. I am Delhi’s Most Wanted Bachelor.” (What’s it to you? And, Imlie Ji, for your information, I’ll let you know, women are lined up to marry me.)

Imlie nodded sagely, “Of course, of course, there are hundreds of women out there who are just waiting for a man like you,” she looked at Arpita and winked, “I forgot to tell you all,I was just nominated for a Nobel Prize!”

Aryan looked up from his file and glared at Imlie, “Very funny. Yeh joke tha?” (Was that a joke?)

Imlie shot back, “Tha toh?” (If it was?)

Aryan caught on quick too, “I don’t like jokes.”

Imlie smiled, “I don’t like you!” [this is a reference to Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Ghum]

It was subtle, but Arpita noticed yet another smile creep up on her brother’s face.

After Imlie and Aryan had left for work, Arpita and Narmada sat in silence for a couple minutes, just looking at each other. Then they burst out laughing.

“Maa, what do you think Imlie said to Aru to make him like this today?” Arpita asked her mother, in between giggles.

Narmada smiled, “Mujhe nahin pata ki usne kya kiya, lekin mujhe pata hai ki main kabhee nahin chaahati ki Imlie humhare ghar ya humhare Aru ke zindagi se door jaye.” (I don’t know what she did, but I do know that I never want Imlie to leave our home or our Aryan’s life.)

The day’s work was going by relatively quickly, and Imlie’s mood hadn’t dropped. She’d managed to finish the three interviews and articles she’d been assigned, her editor had suggested an interview and write up on a famous author and her new novel, and she’d set up a meeting with Shiv, his boss, and a few of the plaintiffs in the case he mentioned.

“Imlie,” Anjali, another junior reporter, “Do you want to grab lunch with us?”

Imlie swiveled her chair to face her, “No I have lunch from home, but you all enjoy.”

Imlie took out the lunchbox from her bag that Kaki Maa packed for her every day, even after a few hours it still felt warm, and she could smell the mixture of spices even with the lid closed. Kaki Maa had packed aloo parathas, one of Imlie’s favorites. She then looked over to Aryan’s office, the window blinds weren’t closed, and she saw he was clearly working on something important with the sheer number of files she could see spread over his desk.

Without really understanding why, Imlie got up, with her lunchbox and walked into Aryan’s office.

“ABP, lunchtime, you want to eat with me?” Imlie asked. She didn’t bother to knock on the door, because she could see he hadn’t even registered her speaking to him right now.

“ABP? UNB kahin ka? Aryan? Former Mr. India Runner Up?” With every new name she used for Aryan she took a step closer. Either he was purposefully ignoring her, or he really was too immersed in his work.

She put her lunchbox on his desk, with a slightly harder than necessary smack, and Aryan looked up.

“What the hell? When did you get here?” Aryan asked, taken aback, “Tujhe knock karni nahin aata kya?” (You don’t know how to knock or what?)

Imlie put on a wide smile, not at all hiding her frustration, “Even if I had knocked you wouldn’t have listened to me. Stop this and eat your lunch. Kaki Maa ithne pyaar se tumhare liye roz dabba pack karthi hain, aur tum ho toh unki effort ko kadhar hi nahin karte.” (Kaki Maa, with such love, packs you a lunch every day. And here you are, not respecting her effort at all.)

Aryan glared at her and went back to the earnings report of a certain subsidiary he’d have to talk about at his board meeting, “I have a lot of respect for my mom’s love, and her cooking. I’m just not hungry right now, and I need to finish reading all this.”

Imlie didn’t want to give up. “Nope,” she grabbed the file and put it to the side, walking behind his desk and grabbing his lunchbox from a shelf, and put it in front of him, “Eat now, and finish your work after.”

Aryan looked at her, how in the hell had this girl managed to become so casual with him?

“Tum” Aryan started, getting frustrated.

“Yeh sab baten, tum mujhe udhaar de do, aur abhi khana kao. Varna main Arpita Didi ko phone laga fungi.” Imlie said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. She started to open the lunchbox and take out the parathas, a tin of achaar, some curry, and some dahi.

Aryan rolled his eyes, “Fine. But not because Arpita Didi scares me. But because tum itni pagal ho ki agar maine dubara naa bola, tum toh mere pure desk aur papers ko bigad dogi.” (You’re so crazy that if I say no again, you’ll end up destroying my whole desk and all my papers.)

Aryan opened his lunchbox, and to his disappointment he found that just the scent of Maa’s aloo parathas made him feel hungry. He tear off a piece smeared some achaar on it and took a bite, looking up at Imlie as he chewed.

She smiled, “See, was that so hard? And now I know that you’re not scared of Didi, but you are definitely scared of me. Big mistake, ABP.” Imlie chuckled and took another bite.

Aryan, in between bites shot back, “Listen, main kisee se nahin darata, aur tumse toh bilkul nahin.” (I’m not afraid of anyone, and definitely not of you.)

Imlie nodded, “Sure sure, just eat.”

In the span of thirty minutes the two of them had finished their lunches, and Aryan marveled at how easy it was becoming to talk to her. She’d asked him about the work he was doing, and without hesitating he started explaining what he needed to prep for the board meeting. Without meaning to he started talking about the problems he was dealing with, his plans for one of the subsidiaries, and somehow had started asking her for her thoughts on a new hiring plan he’d been considering. Imlie conversed easily, Aryan knew this wasn’t anything she had direct experience with, but she was unafraid to share her thoughts, and she asked smart questions.

The conversation topic moved from Aryan’s work to Imlie’s. She excitedly shared the ideas she had about pharmaceutical lawsuit she was working on, the other big lawsuits she’d found that were on going in the city at the moment, and why she thought they’d be important stories for the paper. Imlie brought up Maa’s party on Friday and Aryan’s face suddenly soured.

“What? You don’t want to go to the party?” Imlie asked, knowing full well his answer would be no.

Aryan sighed, “It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just that Maa won’t be keeping her promise. She’s going to end up inviting all those friends of Arpita yet again, I bet you anything.”

 Imlie looked at him for a few seconds, making it very obvious she was staring. Aryan became uncomfortable, “What are you staring at?”

Imlie dramatically tapped her finger on her chin, “Nothing, I’m just trying to ## why someone who gives out so many lectures on being fearless and tackling every problem head on, is so afraid of getting married? I mean you had to know this was coming for years now, it’s not like Kaki Maa is any different from any other mother in this country.”

Aryan shot back, “I’m not afraid, I just don’t want to do it.” He straightened his jacket and collar, avoiding Imlie’s gaze. He was afraid, he was afraid of adding anyone to his family, because he knew it wouldn’t matter if he loved his potential wife or not, Didi and Maa would love her to bits. And then he would be responsible for yet another life. He was never the kind of person to run away from responsibility, even when Arvind was managing the business. But thinking about bringing another person into his family, seeing how Arvind’s entry had completely upended their lives, it was unthinkable for Aryan. Aryan didn’t need a therapist to tell him that he was traumatized from Arvind’s death. He saw the effects of his trauma every day when he looked in the mirror. He used to spend hours in front of the mirror every morning getting his hair the right amount of tousled, he could remember looking at his smiling face in the glass reflections of club and bar windows late at night, he could remember the ridiculous pictures he took with Arvind and Arpita every time he decided to upgrade his smartphone. Now when he looked in the mirror, even though it had been four years, sometimes he couldn’t even recognize himself. If he married someone, if he took on the responsibility of a new relationship, he wouldn’t only be a horrible husband, he’d become completely unrecognizable when he looked in the mirror. At least now, even though hid mother and sister didn’t see him smile often, they could see how much he loved them. If he damaged the equilibrium he had built for himself in any way, he was afraid he’d completely break apart.

In his worst moments, he didn’t blame Aditya Kumar Tripathi for Arvind’s death, he didn’t blame the realities of the work Arvind was doing, he didn’t even blame the b*stard who’d set the car on fire. In his worst moments, he blamed Arvind. He cursed Arvind for coming into his life, for making Aryan care for him, for promising never to leave his or Didi’s side. In his worst moments he blamed Didi too, for falling in love with Arvind, for bringing him to their home, for convincing Maa and him that Arvind would protect her all his life.

If he could think like this in his worst moments, he knew he was little better when he wasn’t at his worst. He was afraid both of being incapable of loving another human being, and afraid of the possibility that he was capable.

Imlie finished up her lunch, and leaned back in her chair, “No, I think you are afraid. I just don’t know of what.”

Aryan didn’t meet her eyes, “I told you, I’m not afraid…I don’t have time to get married, or be married, I have no interest in it.”

Imlie laughed, “You may not have an interest in it, but Kaki Maa definitely does. And it isn’t about making the time for it. It’s about needing someone. That one person in your life you can talk to for hours on end about everything and anything, that one person who understands you even if no one else does, that one person who you can share your problems and happiness with. Everyone needs that.”

Aryan rolled his eyes, “My mother and sister understand me fine, and I just shared my problems with you for the past half hour, did we have to get married to do that?”

Aryan knew immediately he’d gone too far, he looked at Imlie, waiting for her to blow up at him. She didn’t, she just sighed.

“ABP, I don’t think you’ll get it now, but you will some day, sabki ek jeevan saathi Sita Maiya khud deti hai, tumhe bhi milega.” (Everyone gets a life partner from Sita Maiya herself, you’ll get one too.)

“Wow, tum dono ne shaadee ke baare mein baat karana shuroo kar diya hai, itnee jaldi?” (You two have started talking about marriage, so soon?) Aditya sneered.

Imlie turned around and Aryan looked at his door. Aditya Kumar Tripathi was standing there, and who knew how much he’d heard.

Imlie stood up, she’d been hoping to get through just one day of work without seeing Aditya’s face, but it looked like fate was not on her side today.

“Imlie, Aryan Ji, sorry to interrupt your cute date, but I assumed we were at work. I think next time you want to plan your future lives together, you might want to do it outside the office. Yahaan acchaa nahin lagta.” Aditya said, with mock concern. (It doesn’t look good here.)

Aryan clenched his fists and stood up, this imbecile seemed to be hell bent on destroying Imlie’s life.

Before he had a chance to shut Aditya up, Imlie shot back at Aditya, “Thank you for apologizing, but we just finished lunch. You can have your discussion with ABP now.” She looked at Aryan and smiled, “Oops, sorry. Not Aryan Sir, not ABP.” She winked at Aryan and left the office with her lunchbox. Aryan looked at her retreating figure as she skipped back to her desk, her braid dancing left and right. He genuinely didn’t know how this girl managed to take every insult life gave to her and throw it back with double the force, but he wanted her to never have to do it again. She deserved so much better.