It was strange, to be so close to Chanderi and yet behave as if he wasn’t crawling out of his skin. Though he had spent two hours in her company, he had barely spoken two words to her.
Why had he thought it would be a good idea to join his parents on their weekly brunch date with the Chudasmas? Oh right, he had thought it would be a slow and easy way to reintroduce the concept of them being together to both sets of parents.
It had royally backfired. First, he couldn’t hug her when they had arrived. He was half afraid his mother and her mother would faint if he was so bold. Then, his mother had hijacked her attention, talking about tulle or taupe or tapestry or something or other.
She had smirked at him, smirked, throughout the conversation and if he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would have been flat on his back. The most difficult part of it was, she was flirting with him. Looking at him slyly, smiling at him, winking at him, touching his arm for absolutely no reason, passing food bowls to him for no other reason than to see him almost drop the gravies in his lap…it was ridiculous. He had never had so much fun in his life! And he was a primary school teacher. Fun was part of his job description.
Just when he thought he would scream, his parents bowled a googly.
They were sitting in the Chudasmas drawing room. The parents were sitting opposite each other and Chanderi and he were on chairs. He kept glancing her way and he was sure she was not faring any better than him. It somewhat made the ordeal bearable.
The six people were in a nice food coma when his mother said, “Beta, why don’t you and Chanderi go for a walk. I’m sure you would be tired of sitting with us oldies. You two must have a lot to discuss.”
He opened his mouth to say no for politeness’ sake but Chanderi shot up from her chair and he could only agree.
He had to wait seven agonisingly long minutes before Chanderi came out of her room and led him to the podium floor of her apartment complex. Since it was still late afternoon, the podium was hot but blessedly empty.
She said, “I think they know.”
That statement, with no context, still sent a chill down Chiranjeev’s spine. “Is that good or bad?”
Chanderi stopped, whirled around and hit him right in the chest. He winced.
“It was only a question.”
She hit him again. “I don’t care that they know. You were the one acting all shy and like you were embarrassed…”
“Woah, woah,” he said, walking into her personal space. “I am not embar…that is not what was happening. I was trying to give you space.”
Chanderi didn’t respond, crossing her arms across her chest and looking away, “We’re dating. I don’t need space. I’m in this, I’m not going to change my mind.”
Chiranjeev mimicked her posture. “I’m not embarrassed.”
When neither said anything to break the tension, he said, “I think we just had our first argument.”
She scoffed. “That wasn’t an argument. We just need to…learn how to communicate beyond WhatsApp.”
He laughed. Now he was looking at her and he was pleased to note, she was looking at him too. “Well, uh how do we end an argument?”
She said, “Huh. Mamma just starts serving papa food again.” Her forehead crinkled as if she was deep in thought. “I don’t think papa even knows what food he likes if mamma wasn’t serving it to him.”
He said, “I don’t know if that is cute or sad. Anyway, I don’t want you to serve me food. And I definitely don’t want to do what my mother does. She gives my father the silent treatment. I won’t survive after that brunch.”
She giggled. It made her inordinately happy that he cared so much. She took his hand and started to walk.
“Let’s go for a walk and talk. That can be our tradition for ending arguments.”
Chapter 25 of 26 of the ongoing series Chanderi. You can read all posts here. Written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z.
tales of Suchita 
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