Periods, Pyaar And Patriarchy

Chapter Twenty-two

"What's got you looking like a storm cloud today?" Bhavya breezes into the room. Well, he didn't exactly breeze, he walked awkwardly, holding onto the door frame for support as he looked at Shweta. But Bhavya's demeanor had always been easy, irrespective of what his physical condition was at the moment. Bhavya had been walking more and more; having Shweta around was enough to distract him from self-pity. Really, if you were around a girl as quick-witted as Shweta, you'd find yourself defending your attributes, enough to not have to indulge in the "oh-I'm-so-shitty" dialogues.

"That's none of your business!" She tells him, bent over the stack of visiting cards that she'd been asked to sort through. She was bent a bit too intently over a seemingly boring stack of business cards. Apparently, Shweta seemed to find them very interesting.

Shweta had actually been crying; and it had been a very long time since she'd really, truly cried. There had been some instances when she'd let her tear ducts flow, every now and then. But this time, it had been ugly crying. The feel-it-in-your-chest kind of crying where even coming up for air made her hurt.

She'd cried the night after she'd met Vaibhav; she hadn't cried the day in between, but by the time the third day rolled around, she'd found all her self-consolation from day two melting away. Which was probably why on day three she cried harder than she'd ever done. Or at least she could remember doing. The letter from her father had been momentarily forgotten; mostly because the man had faded so much from her life that she no longer cared much for his whereabouts. And the love she felt for Vaibhav, greatly surmounted every other thing in her life.

It had been a bit of a problem, hiding her puffy, cried-out eyes from her mother and her sister. So, on day four, when Shweta walked into breakfast with sunglasses on, Seema raised her eyebrows. But by now, she was too used to her daughter's eccentricities that she just raised an eyebrow, "Too much sun on the inside for you, Shweta?"

"Something like that." Shweta had said, before plopping on the seat next to her sister who had a curious smile on her face. But luckily for Shweta, both her mother and her sister did not pursue it any further.

But now she was at the Centre with her sunglasses lying on the far corner of the table. The last thing she needed Bhavya to ask was why she'd decided to bring her cat-eye sunglasses while volunteering. Unluckily, he notices the exact thing.

"Why've you got sunglasses?" He asks, "Trying to channel Marilyn Monroe today, are you?"

"No, it was just a bit too sunny today," Shweta says.

"You came in a car. I saw your mother drop you off in a car today!" He says, like one of those pugs who simply will not let go of something that's between their teeth.

"Well, it was sunny inside the car too," Shweta says, nervously fumbling through her business cards, determined to keep her back facing him.

"Was it?" Bhavya cocks an eyebrow. "You know, there's something called rolling windows down. Ever heard of that concept?"

"I'm familiar with it. It's just that all four windows of the car are broken!" Shweta says, exasperatedly.

"All four?" Bhavya asks, shocked. "What happened to the car?"

"Yeah, somebody threw stones at it," Shweta says, not even paying attention to what she was saying, going ahead with the first excuse that came to her mind.

"Oh, my god!" Bhavya says, "Are you alright? Was anyone hurt?"

"What?" Shweta asks the last part of his question causing her to hurt. Then, she realises the stupidity of the easy lie she gave Bhavya.

"Um, no. Nobody was in the car when that happened." Shweta says, shuffling the papers loudly as she says so. Hoping that Bhavya would leave her alone. Perhaps he senses that very thing because he decides to leave her alone.