Haanji, mom!
I think you should wear the old rose Ritu Kumar printed one with the churidar, it would show off your calves and plus its this seasons. It is very important to give the right impression said the doyen of page 3 of the fashionable matrons of Chandigarh. Mrs Sandhu, herself was dressed in the best cashmere sweater with her trademark black tights and her favourite socks. Mama had a trademark style, she was perfect from her pearls to her soft hands and the subtle diamonds glinting here and there and the immaculately done salt and pepper hair caught in the silver clip at her nape. Simran wondered where did the spiralling corkscrew hair of hers come from? Yes, Mom, I will wear it. She kept on saying yes that was easier and simpler than putting up an argument.
And, maybe the guy who was coming to see her was also coming in the hope that they would hate each other and they would both say no. In fact, all she wanted was this evening to get over. Ma, do I have to do the tea and Niks sandwich routine or are we serving biscuits and coffee? She knew she was irritating her and she walked off without an answer.
In the last few encounters with the idiots who passed off as Adam’s progeny were all nincompoops, some were big and muscled living off steroids, one was a mousy guy who wouldn’t even meet her eye and talk to her, one wanted to know her bank account and had even started talking about the flat they would buy and the down payment and loan instalments. One was an obnoxious slimy guy whose hands just had a life of their own and wanted to slither over her. No one asked her what she liked or what her plans were, or why did she choose forensic criminology and why she thought Gryffindor was the best house.
All these guys saw the bank balance, the lineage, the fat goose that would lay the golden egg and increase their standing in the Jat community. And when she talked about all this, she was told off that she was being over dramatic, what was wrong with these guys, they belonged to good families and to the same background as theirs and it was all about settling down and all that mattered now was settling down as if she was a hen who wanted to roost and hatch eggs .
Was she dust that she should settle down?
She was a true blue Punjabi and had a best friend who was from across the border and lived in Lahore! Simran facetimed but she didn’t pick up and she needed the calmness of Ayesha and her soothing voice to guide for the evening, but with the time difference, she knew she would be busy with her kids coming back from school and would be wrapped up in her maids, tea time and the drama and histrionics.
Ayesha had married young, just out of college and all the dreams and aspirations had been buried.
Simran had the funniest thought, maybe she could just say she needed to kiss the guy to see whether their noses didn’t bump into each other and they kissed right. Suppose they kissed and it was all wrong and was brotherly …
She shuddered and looked in the mirror and started cleaning her face. One thing that her mother had taught her and had instilled in her like an army general was that she had to clean her face first with rose water and then splash water, tone, moisturise and then get about to applying makeup.
