Nee
-used after a married woman's name to identify the family name that she had when she was born
Smrita could not deny she was drawn to Viveka’s individuality. She was doing her best to hate her, but every interaction in private with the 30 year old had been very riveting and intriguing
“KAISE?” Smrita wondered as the car sped across South Delhi
Smrita tried to recollect every conversation she had had with the young woman
She was smart, articulate, though not successful by Smrita’s standards, but she realized she was far more knowledgeable and well read than most women entrepreneurs Smrita knew
“HOW?” she wondered
“If only I knew as much as she does, when I was 30, I dropped out of college for Satya, and life with him… ab dekho mujhe, I have not established anything of my own”
Smrita stared out the window
Lekha’s text popped
“THIS?”
“OR THIS for the plane”
Two pictures popped
It was a private jet, with a bunch of 55+ year olds why was Lekha so eager
For a brief second Smrita was miffed
Viveka had never asked her what she should wear or how she looked
This morning she was wearing a grey Kanjeevaram cotton with a neon pink blouse
She wore the bracelet Raanav had given her along with a bunch of bangles her Dadi had insisted she wear at Varsha’s ceremony
Nothing was designer nothing was high end
But something about her made heads turn
Including her son’s
Why didn’t Rakshit choose someone like Viveka
Smrita pulled out a piece of gum from her purse
She had made plans now to stay back in London to teach Satya a lesson for mobilizing a rebellion against her and urging Raanav to leave home
“Satya this is not fair babe, I am going to be mad at you” she mumbled growling
“Why didn’t Rakshit choose someone like Viveka”
“OH… I get it… I get it” her mind cooed… “Even though you nurtured and coddled Raanav did went off on his own and fell in love with who HE thought was the right fit for him. Though Rakshit didn’t hang to my saree pallu he ended up choosing someone like me”
Smrita looked up pictures of herself from 35 years ago… 37 years ago….
Her face colored in self awareness, heat crawled up her skin
LEKHA WAS HER… from 37 years ago
Glassy eyed, no originality just a poster child of the 90s designers Guess Jeans Versace and Karl Lagerfeld
Smrita “returned” to today’s pictures of Lekha… accidentally stumbling upon Lekha’s Rome and Vienna pictures
“HUHH?” she was a bit angry even
There were a few selfies Lekha had sent to her from trips to places, where she was posing EXACTLY like how Smrita has posed at those very same places.
Smrita looked at Lekha’s pictures from pre-wedding even those looked like Smrita Parashar’s
“I like her because she is ME” “Mini ME”
“Ma’am… pehle Saket, ya Emporio Mall?”
The driver distracted her
UMMM? Saket?”
She went back to finding pictures of Viveka… she altogether had 50, or even less maybe?
Most were at Shrivastavs or Mathurs, a few from the wedding
The professional photographer that she had hurriedly summoned when Satyen was in ICU had sent some rushes, she had chosen to save Lekha’s on her phone not Viveka’s
She went to his last text and looked up his website and scoured for the atrium wedding pictures, it needed a User ID and password… just like all wealthy women in Delhi she had a couple of assistants too she called one of them and, got the details and looked at Viveka’s wedding pictures
She had not seen a more beautiful bride
She was reminded of herself BEFORE Satyen
Face scrubbed clean, with kohl and fuller and with genuine smiles
She looked at every picture, every facial expression, every hand gesture
She looked at how Raanav stared at her in videos
She looked at how Raanav yearned to touch her for no reason, hold her hand and, and just BE by her
She lifted her head up
“Aapko Viveka ka NGO maloom hai?”
The guy was shocked to hear that
He never heard anything about the chhoti bahu, always always always about the badi
“Jee Ma’am Rathiji se pooch leta hoon
“Umm.. koi baat nahi”
He received texts during stop lights and he drove her there by himself
The gully smelled like dirt and drain, the brick facades exposed with no cement or plaster or paint
“6th dahine mein Ma’am… lekar aaoon unko” he paused
“OH… aap yahi le aaye mujhe? Umm…theek” she said tentatively stepping out
She was not thinking through what she was feeling
The encounter in the bedroom had triggered Smrita Dhamija-Parashar to act in strange ways
She felt a sudden surge of irritation for Lekha Tandon-Parashar’s endless texts, and selfies
She felt this need to go see what Viveka Mathur was upto
She hadn’t changed her last name, she didn’t announce it
The Tandons were affluent, maybe not as much at parashars but close… 90th to a Parashar 100?
But lekha was always needy to label herself a Parashar
Smrita hobbled along the unpaved gully, over bricks and drain covers, one rain storm could turn this all into a slush
She shuddered wondering how the NGO office was going to be
Well.. she didn’t have to speculate
There it was…
The doors were open and there were a bunch of men and women in laptops and sewing machines all seated on dhurries
She recognized her DIL’s saree she was bent over what seemed like a mirrorwork shawl picking on some irregularity in the weave
“Didi” a girl nudged her
She turned around and was startled to see her MIL
“Hi! Viveka” Smrita was truly nervous
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