Sweet 'n' Sour | ✔

fifty-five

55. thoda khatta, thoda meetha. (A little sweet, a little sour)

•°•

-two weeks later-

"Aditya, can you check with your mom if everything's in perfect order?" Priya asked me sounding anxious. Her eyes darted across the kitchen floor which was occupied with all the things needed for the Vastu-Shanti Puja.

"Can you gather the things close? I'll WhatsApp her the picture." I suggested. It's better to communicate with her through text rather than talk over the phone. We haven't talked much since the time Priya and I returned home. And I'm not up to pretending everything's normal again, at least not so soon.

"Oh, ha, that sounds like a good idea." She crouched on the floor, being careful of the mattress laid down. I waited until she was done before clicking the picture and sending it to my mother, asking if that's all or if anything was missing, keeping the text curt and short.

"Are you not sure though? You told me you asked the priest about it." I asked her.

She hummed. "But he told me everything on the phone. I couldn't even note it down or ask him to repeat it since he sounded busy. I'm not sure whether I've got all the things or not," she said, going through everything again. "I did check on the internet. But we can't rely on it alone. We both will be performing the puja. It'll be a hassle to get something on time during the time of puja."

I nodded in agreement. "We could have waited though. Dadi will be arriving any moment. She knows these things more than anyone."

Priya looked up at me, not saying anything. It made me awkward. "What?" I probed.

"She is trying."

She has been trying for over seventeen years now. I'm not an experiment that can be redone once failed.

"Good for her. Tell her I said all the best." I left the kitchen immediately after that sarcastic comment.

The living room looked like something out of a movie. There was a huge television on the wall, the seating area was more spacious than any average middle-class house, the floor was Italian marble, the wall holding the tv had this eye-catching geometric art, and the light glowed only around the square where the TV was fixed. On the right was the way leading out on the balcony, on either side of the glass door was a fake plant. The room extended where the glass door ended, a relaxing massage chair was placed in front of a window, beside it stood an expensive lamp. There was also a shelf, which right now had multiple show pieces and a few books. The color theme was brown and black, pretty classy I must say.

I know my description is kinda basic but bare with me. I'm not an interior designer or a lifestyle magazine editor. I'm just an average Indian man, dwelling in a middle-class family, with dreams bigger than my palms could hold, responsibilities overflowing the same. I don't think I could have afforded a house like this even if was older. My wife's definitely a superwoman.

"What are you looking at?" Priya came to stand by my side, her arm linking with mine before she rested her head on my bicep.

"Just," I whispered, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Just what?" There goes my curious little feline.

"Our future," I looked down at her. She met my eyes with a blink.

"Is it beautiful?" She asked hopefully.

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

"Then is it sad?" Her lips turned down.