To Taran: A Short Story (Ours #5)

Part One: Roots

"Ama, I don't want to," I groaned as she pulled me off to wherever.

If I had to greet one more auntie tonight, I would scream. Maybe screaming like a boksi would get these sari-draped demons away from me. I don't know why I haven't done it yet.

It's always the same old questions, but by questions, they're actually comments and inputs of their opinions on what I should do with my life. Already Ama dragged me to meet them a while earlier; some who were familiar to me, some new, some related to me, some who were just friends in the social circle.

And this is how it went:

"You've gotten so dark, don't go outside so much. It's not good for you."

"Don't smile so much, people will get the wrong impression." That was contradictory to the "You should smile more, or people will get the wrong impression." Advice given by a different auntie.

Then finally, my favorite. "Are you going to eat one more? Careful, girl, or you'll look like this," the auntie puffed out her cheeks, and bending her arms so that they were at an angle, raised them to her side. It was a common way of saying that if I didn't watch what I eat, I'd end up lookojg like a maadal. I glanced down at the momo in my hand and wanted to laugh. Staring her up and down, a comment of my own was forming, but before the words could have left my mouth, Ama put her hand on my shoulder. I felt myself exhaling the anger and inhaling coolness, but I had enough of this pagalpan. Just as I turned to leave, a different auntie spoke.

"She's already so big, nanda." Although she was talking to my mother, I still wanted to listen. "Try to find her a nice boy before they're all snatched up." I easily recognized the voice as Mala kaki, who was notorious for playing matchmaker. It was so considerate of her, suggesting that my mother finds me not just any boy, but a nice boy. Huffing, I popped the momo into my mouth and tried to find sanctuary at the catering table. The aroma of choila, dal bhat, and samosas were almost enough to make me feel relief. Almost.

Ama found me by myself, and regardless of my protesting, took me away with her. "Ama, I don't want to," I groaned as she pulled me off to wherever. "Chup langu," was her response. "Just come."

She took me to a nearly empty table, which was not what I was expecting from a desi auntie. Except there was no desi auntie there. Only one chair seated a person, and he stood up when he saw us coming. Immediately, he folded his hands in greeting. "Namaste, Rima Auntie."

My left eyebrow raised, and I started inspecting him. If I were to scan the place, confidently I could say that there were more women my age here than men. And the reason for that was once a guy turns "old enough," he stops coming to gatherings simply because he does not want to go. And the mothers let them, gladly. Whereas not just me, but my cousin, Shristi had to come. I glanced around for her and found Shristi at a table with her phone and earbuds in.

"Aditi, this is Taran, Aabhishkar kaka's cousin's nephew," Ama said, introducing us. I had absolutely no idea who Aabhishkar kaka or his cousin was. With her grabbing onto my one arm, I used the other to say hi. He raises the arm diagonally from mine and cast a smile my way. Now both of my eyebrows rose. This. Guy. Has. Dimples! If I hadn't given him points for showing up to a party and greeting my mom, I was giving him one now.

Ama had this weird smile on her face, and it didn't take me long to figure out what was happening. She actually listened to Mala kaki. I freed myself from her arm, pinning them awkwardly at my sides as I continued to watch Taran.

"You know, Taran enrolled in law school," she said. He didn't glow with pride at this. Instead, he offered a smile, this time with no dimple. "And you...?" he nudged in my direction.

"I'm in med school right now. Second-year." I squared my shoulders, forcing myself to look at him and not pay attention to Ama's expression. She left us right after, and I quickly sat down on the chair next to him. "How do you know my mom?"

"I don't know her, actually. Mala Auntie told Ama about her and she wanted me to meet Rima Auntie."

I searched around for Mala Auntie and found her staring right at us. This woman is really something. "And apparently me." Taran gave a sheepish smile, glancing at Mala Kaki. "Follow me," I said, and giving him a minute to process, walked the other way, pointedly looking at Mala Kaki, whose smile wiped off and eyes widened.

I took Taran to the staircase, and we stood there for a while. "You don't want to be here, do you?"

"Is it so obvious?"

He laughed, and I tilted my head. There are two words to describe his laugh; earthy and deep. He laughs as he means it. He caught my eye and stopped himself. No, keep laughing, I wanted to tell him. But it would have been weird, especially at the first meeting.

Did I want there to be more? "Not really. But if I were neighbors tossed back and forth between the aunties, I wouldn't want to be here either."

Oh, wow. I noticed how his mouth set straight earlier when Ama pointed out about him being in law school, and although I wanted to ask why he didn't have the reaction to it like I would have thought, I didn't. "Do you speak Nepali?"

"Ho, ma garchu."

I smiled, and he did too. There were those dimples again. "Do you... do you actually want to try this out?" I don't know why I asked this. "If you aren't already seeing someone, of course." Argh! What was I doing? Both of my hands were at my front, and my fingers were twiddling with one another.

"Let's try it, then."