Sweet 'n' Sour | ✔

two

2. Total Siyapaa (Total Chaos)

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Vikram is my best friend. Not by choice, of course. I will have to be reborn again and get an Alzheimer's to even consider this good-for-nothing piece of breathing furniture as anything more than a passing face. So you get the gist. It was on pure accident. He was my senior in school, older than me by two years. I was on the school ground, heading for the library to prepare for my finals when he excused himself from his not-so-loud friend group saying he needs to help this chashmish nerdy with some revisions. That was me by the way. The chashmish nerdy. He needed to get away from them and used me as a scapegoat. I haven't forgiven him for that, will never do. I'm petty.

"This one's good, but she has a long nose." He said, discarding another photo. I already have limited options and he has already rejected five of them for the stupidest reasons. I wonder how he fell for Nisha, his wife. She also has a long nose. Selective blindness, maybe.

"Okay," he scrutinized the next photo. Mr. Sir has the looks of Nawazuddin Siddiqui and the standards of Hritik Roshan. "She is good. Her hair...." I snatched the photo from him, took a careful look, and approved it.

"She is in," I said, putting the photo on the nightstand.

"Her name," he scrolled through my phone. "Preeti Mathur," he looked up with a smile. "She is pursuing her master's-" I grabbed my phone, cutting him mid-sentence to read about my potential wife with my own eyes. "Compatible?"

I shrugged. "She has the looks. Let's see if she has the personality to compliment them." I answered.

"Mil gayi ladki? (Found the girl?)" Meghna sprouted in my room out of the blue, just like her existence. "Let me see," she bent to take the picture, shooting me a glare when I snatched it from the nightstand before she could get her dirty paws on it. "Show me!" She demanded.

"Nikal na, (Get out)" I scowled, waving her off with my hand.

Instead, she flopped down on my bed with a pout. "I just want to see,"

I tsked with my mouth, denying her.

"Adi!"

"Meghna!"

She gasped. "How many times I've told you to call me Di! I'm older than you!"

"Yes, it can be seen on your face. Didn't I refer you a cream for those wrinkles?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

She gasped louder. "Kamine! (Rascal!)"

I ignored her. Just like always. I think at this rate I'll be a pro at it, ignoring any and all inconvenience in my life. After all, don't they say, ignorance is bliss? Meghna's presence proves the phrase.

"You're so disrespectful to women-"

"To you!" I corrected her.

"I'm a woman!" She grumbled.

"No, you're a headache. Tujhe Didi kehne se accha mein raste ki kutiya ko didi bol lu! (Rather than you, I would prefer a roadside bitch as my sister!)"

Her mouth fell agape before she made a face of crying. Horrifying. A real terror.

"Fine, you dog! Next time, get that roadside bitch to tie you the rakhi then!" She snapped and left, her heels stomping on the floor.

"Are you siblings or enemies?" Vikram shuddered.

"I don't see the difference." I rolled my eyes.

My attention gravitated toward the smiling face of Preeti Mathur. I wonder what's her reason to get married so early. She is only 23 years old. Or is it the family pressure? Everyone should have a mom like mine. She believes in getting settled first. Financial security and emotional stability she calls it. I like that about mom. She thinks about us before everyone else. Maybe because she knows how it feels to be dependent on others in all aspects of life.