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I…I still remember the naïve timidity in her tan eyes. It grabbed me by the throat and pulled me into a slow daze. I couldn’t help but stare at her. She briefly looked at me, then dropped her eyes to the floor.
She turned to smile into the eyes of her love and saw the wealth of understanding there. The hand in hers squeezed, telling her, let me continue.
“So Meera, tell me, how did you guys meet?” asked the reporter on the eight o’clock special.
Meera smiled, “I come from a very conservative family. I was never allowed to stay for an extra hour, either after school or work. I never participated in any events that required me to stay back. I wasn’t too close with the people at work for these very reasons.
They would all make plans to go out somewhere after work. To decompress, they called it. To have fun. I had to come back home so that my parents didn’t worry about anything untoward happening to me. But it was more to satisfy the wagging tongues of the many aunties in the family who were appalled that my parents were ‘letting me work’ instead of getting me married.” She shyly ducked her head, “In the second year of my work, I was shifted to a new project. At first, I was very skeptical because I was comfortable working with my earlier team. They never called me for any extra hour or on the weekends. They never even questioned the oddity of my insistence of leaving work at five every day.”
She turned to smile into the eyes of her love and saw the wealth of understanding there. The hand in hers squeezed, telling her, let me continue. She nodded, and the deep, heavy voice chuckled, “The first day Meera entered our bay, it felt like a cat had lost her way. Oh, she is fierce. Don’t mistake that! But that day, she looked everywhere and nowhere, all at once. I was on a call, but one look at her, and the receiver slipped to the floor.
I…I still remember the naïve timidity in her tan eyes. It grabbed me by the throat and pulled me into a slow daze. I couldn’t help but stare at her. She briefly looked at me, then dropped her eyes to the floor. With the bout of jitters, her dark curls danced all around her pretty, pretty face. That smooth, dark skin! All I could do was grin because, by God, I had fallen in love! I quickly pulled down my ball-cap, straightened my hair into some semblance, then looked down at my shirt. The creases on them were beyond repair. So, I just tugged on my leather jacket and stood up. Since my desk was the nearest to the entrance, she approached me and asked – “Hello, where can I find Pranali Ravindran, please?”
It took me a whole minute to understand what she was saying because I was lost again. Then Meera – ha ha – repeated her question a little louder, and my mind snapped to attention. I gushed like a fool- “Me. I…I am Pranali Ravindran!””
The newly married couple laughed into the camera.
This short story had been shortlisted for the March 2021 Muse of the Month short fiction contest.
Image source: a still from the web series Little Things
Manasi Diwakar is the author of 'Tea for Two' and a professional editor. Her work has appeared in North of Oxford, Melbourne Culture Corner, Impspired, Literary Impulse, Wingless Dreamer, The Rainbow Poems, among other places. read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Women today don’t want to be in a partnership that complicates their lives further. They need an equal partner with whom they can figure out life as a team, playing by each other’s strengths.
We all are familiar with that one annoying aunty who is more interested in our marital status than in the dessert counter at a wedding. But these aunties have somehow become obsolete now. Now they are replaced by men we have in our lives. Friends, family, and even work colleagues. It’s the men who are worried about why we are not saying yes to one among their clans. What is wrong with us? Aren’t we scared of dying alone? Like them?
A recent interaction with a guy friend of mine turned sour when he lectured me about how I would regret not getting married at the right time. He lectured that every event in our lives needs to be completed within a certain timeframe set by society else we are doomed. I wasn’t angry. I was just disappointed to realize that annoying aunties are rapidly doubling in our society. And they don’t just appear at weddings or family functions anymore. They are everywhere. They are the real pandemic.
Let’s examine this a little closer.
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