"Mi, tu, tumhi, apan. Mi, tu, tumhi, apan." I do a quick revision in the lift of Nandu's building.
Personal pronouns done, now I am supposed to revise the two sentences I had asked Nikhar to translate.
"Mi tula awadte....no wait it was t m a....ah yes, tu mala awadte."
For the last seven days I have busied myself by going to Nikhar's place for quick lessons on Marathi and then to Nandu's place for checking up on Sri uncle. And as Amma says, a close knit circle of friends can warm you through any gloomy phase of your life.
The doors of the elevator open and I already feel my nerves calming down as my eyes fall on the familiar Nair nameplate.
Nandu opens the door with a cautious finger on his lips gesture, telling me that Sri uncle is sleeping. I nod. We meet a tired but smiling Anitha Aunty in the kitchen and volunteer to help her with the dinner.
After a lot of persuasion and puppy eyed pleading, she allows us to make dinner and retires to her bedroom to watch her husband sleep peacefully. When I catch her pat Sri uncle's forehead, her tenderness reminds me of Rutu. I wonder how tenderness flows through the veins of some people. And I sigh. Time to refocus before it gets too melancholic.
Nandu. I ask him about his day. We exchange pleasant experiences with a light in our eyes and forgettable ones with receding heaviness in our hearts.
"It's strange to think that when I was young I had never thought that I would go on to pursue law."
"Yeah I can imagine! I remember all your excited talks about becoming a bigger household name than Sanjeev Kapoor."
He chuckles at that and I can't help but pause and watch him closely as he kneads the dough. He always wanted to be a chef. Always.
Some childhood dreams wither with time but some aren't so fickle. I can see the twinkle in his eyes even today. Cooking has always been therapy to him. His muse. His escape. His first love. Is he truly happy as a lawyer?
Before I can ask the question, his phone rings and he laughs at his dough clad hands. I smile as I move close to hold the phone for him. Its a call from work and he looks at me apologetically as he is forced to explain certain things on the spot. I assure him with my eyes, it's okay, I can hold the phone for as long as you have to talk.
I leave the Nair house with a full stomach and a fuller heart. Nikhar and Nandish haven't acted as distractors but gatekeepers. Gatekeepers of how much sadness and pain is allowed in their friend's life. I find myself smiling as I enter my house.
Appa is sitting in the living room with a newspaper today. Like the usual times. Strange.
"Ponnu...." He calls me. I doubt if I've heard right but when I look at his face, all my doubts vanish. There's sadness in his eyes but a smile on his lips. The dichotomous look of a parent significant of their sacrifice.
I approach him slowly. At each step, I wai to see if he changes his decision.
But he opens his hands for an embrace and I run to him.
"You love him a lot. And I love you. Now I've only got to see how much he loves my little girl."
I can't speak through the snot and tears. But he understands. I hug him tighter. This is it. I no longer have to fight and pretend to be okay.
Because right at this moment I am a little girl who has her Appa's support. And with his support, she can fight every damn demon in this world.
*******
A/n - Dedicated to all the fathers. And their daughters. May you always find strength in each other.
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Match Made In Hotel | Ruturaj Gaikwad ✓
RomanceOne of the tales about love finding you in the most unexpected of places, at the most unusual time, with the most unstoppable flow of emotions. Witness the journey of Kriti Pillai and Ruturaj Gaikwad falling in love. © All rights reserved