Poles Apart

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I stand with my mother and Mrs Rao, waiting for the board meeting to commence.

I rub my stiff neck, as I try to fight back a yawn.

"My husband talks of you a lot," Mrs Rao shares, smiling.

I smile back, holding back comic laughter. What does he say? 'She's an arrogant, spoilt brat!'?

Heh. Probably.

"Good things, I hope?" My mother asks, jovially, when I don't add to the conversation.

"Of course," Mrs Rao insists, with wide-eyed innocence. "He keeps telling our daughter— Niharika, that she should be like Arvi; smart, well-educated, witty, intelligent, determined—" she laughs— "I forget half the words he has used to describe you, but he seems to be in total awe," she tells me.

I don't know whether to be shocked, sceptic or delighted by the revelation. I had never thought Rao would be the kind of man to point at me and tell his daughter that she should be like me.

Unsure of what to do, I only smile at the lady. "You should all come over for dinner someday," Mrs Rao suggests. "Please let me know which day would work for you."

My mother smiles at Mrs Rao and glances at me. "We're very busy with Arvi and Arjun's wedding preparations now, Veena. I certainly appreciate the invite, though."

Mrs Rao seems displeased by the rejection. "Oh," she says, evidently disheartened. "Maybe some other time, then. Niharika would've been happy to see Arvi. She really seems inspired by you."

The last comment definitely seems fake to me. Thought the conversation, I had eyed Mrs Rao with tinged scepticism, but I couldn't point at one part of the conversation that she was feigning, except for the last comment.

No one likes to be at the receiving end of lectures that involve another person, especially one within reach, and be asked to act like them, be like them, be inspired by them. I know I would hate such a conversation.

My mother nods, still smiling pleasantly. I wonder where the pleasant smiles come from; they're not around usually.

"If it's only Arvi you want, I'm sure you can see her after the wedding, with her husband—" my mother nudges me, grinning.

I gulp, uncomfortably. "The wedding is still four months away," I point out.

Maybe my mother would like to be the secretary to Arjun and me, considering that she is making plans for the both of us, for an event that is to occur after four whole months.

The duration suddenly doesn't seem too far away. What are four months? I've been alive for two hundred and eighty-eight of those. Four's not huge compared to that. Four is insignificant; minute; nearly there.

"It's not a long time," my mother reminds me, casually.

That is the final nail in the coffin. Four months? I'm going to be married in four months? At twenty-four and a half? Not even a complete half. At twenty-four years, four months and a few days, I'd be married.

Married.

I'm snapped out of my trance when someone places their hand on my shoulder. I turn to look at my mother. She grins and turns, gesturing for me to look that way.

Jacob Blake, in all his glory.

"Your boss," she comments.

My mother has special affections for Jacob Blake.

Apparently, he's the only man who knows how to deal with me, because every other male in my life melts at my innocent face.

I excuse myself from my mother and Mrs Rao and walk over to Jake, who everyone else regards with a sense of heightened respect.