Tamasha

Her day was packed and double booked. Such days were rare but with the wedding season in December, everyone had suddenly woken up to the fact they had to book her before she ran out of slots. All the mummies and auntiejis and bridezillas seem to have congregated on a Monday and by 3 PM, she was exhausted.

She was so close to cancelling her next two appointments but she knew she couldn’t. As an independent designer, an empty calendar was her biggest nightmare and a full one her biggest privilege. She just needed a minute to breathe so she could clear her head.

Which was easier said than done. It had been two weeks since the not-date in Pizza Express and though they hadn’t stopped chatting with one another, she was plagued with feelings. Every time she opened her phone and didn’t see a notification from Chiranjeev, her mood plummeted. Every time there was a notification, her heart soared. She didn’t know what to do with these up and down emotions and frankly, she was getting a bit irritated with herself for not finding her equilibrium already.

She had told Chiranjeev three months ago that she didn’t love him. The funny thing was, she didn’t think she knew what being in love meant. Pihu had smirked at her knowingly when she had told her about the not-date. It had made her want to kick her friend which was ridiculous. Although, if there was one thing all her violent emotions were trying to convey to her, it was that something was growing between them. The question now was, should she do something about it?

Shanta di came to her studio with a tray of chai and poha, breaking her spiral. While the woman tutted at the way the studio was in chaos, she also said, “Baby you need to rest. You have such dark and big circles under your eyes.”

Chanderi rolled her eyes but ignored her. Physically she was well rested but it was her brain that was not letting her rest. Knowing she needed the big guns, she decided she’d speak to her mother in the evening, get her opinion on the situation with Chiranjeev.

*

Mrs. Chudasma knew her daughter wanted to speak to her but she also knew she couldn’t rush her. Her daughter was a grown woman in most respects but any time she tried to console her or pre-empt what Chanderi may need, she would turn into a tantrum throwing toddler.

So, she made sure she was around with a magazine to not look too busy, and waited with baited breath.

At 9, after dinner and before her last appointment, Chanderi approached her.

“Mamma, I wanted to ask you something.”

Finally, thought Mrs. Chudasma. “Haan beta tell me.”

Chanderi sat on the sofa opposite her mother. Before coming to her, she had thought of the question she would ask. She thought of asking how her mother had chosen her husband but she knew the answer already. Then she thought of asking what is love but that was embarrassing and Google had already given her enough quizzes, quotes and checklists to help answer the question. Besides, she had seen Pihu fall in love with Prachal. In theory, she knew how it worked.

What she needed was perspective so she settled on a direct question, as mortifying as that was. “I think I have feelings for Chiranjeev.”

That was not what Mrs. Chudasma had been expecting. She knew Chanderi and he were spending time together – even if Mrs. Bajaj had not mentioned it, she would have seen the signs herself. Her daughter was a sensible young woman. She did not giggle or blush or hide things. Lately, she had been doing all of those things.

She couldn’t help her anger at the statement though. “You think? What does that mean?”

Chanderi looked away, her fingers twisting in her lap. “I’m not sure.”

Mrs. Chudasma closed her eyes, praying for patience. “One minute you’re saying yes, the second you’re saying no and despite everything you befriended him. Now you’re saying yes again. You cannot keep playing with that boy’s feelings. It’s not fair.”

Chanderi felt like weeping. Her mother wasn’t wrong.

Instead of softening, Mrs. Chudasma got angrier. “What are you doing beta? You cannot be on the fence like this. What is it you youngsters say – have your cake and eat it too?”

“Mamma,” she muttered, “we don’t say that. You say that.”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped. “This isn’t a game. I did not raise you to play with someone’s feelings. Figure out what you want, where you stand before you tell that poor boy anything.”

Chanderi sat on the sofa, stunned, as her mother left the drawing room, fuming. She didn’t move until her next client was being shown in by Shanta di.

She shook herself, before going to her studio, rubbing her face aggressively as if that would wipe away the reality check her mother had just given her.

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Chapter 20 of 26 of the ongoing series Chanderi. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.