The Mute And The Reader [#YourStoryIndia][#Wattys2015]

Two

My mother is adjusting my dupatta as I look into her eyes. She looks excited for the first few minutes. Then her face scrunches in irritation.

"Where's your bindi?" She asks, looking at my vacant forehead.

"Didn't put it on." I reply.

"Why?" The level of irritation has increased.

"Didn't find one." I lie.

She sighs and peels off the ugly red dot off her forehead to paste it on mine.

"There!" She smiles with satisfaction, "Better!"

I want to groan but then I realize that I can't exchange that urge with my mother's vibrant and uplifting smile.

"You know, you still have time, Anushka." She says eyeing me from top to bottom, checking for any loopholes in my attire.

"Amma, I've already told you. If I wear a sari, I'll trip and fall and there goes my first impression."

As expected, this works on her.

"Right." She says.

"So, are you done staring at me?" I ask with a smirk.

She smiles back and gives an affectionate pat on my cheek.

"Now, go."

I exit my bedroom with slow steps. Just as my mother instructed me to do. I'm bloody nervous. She also told that my gaze should be towards the floor. I try to do that but can manage it only for the first five seconds of my long and excruciating journey. My eyes automatically lift and land on an unknown yet known man sitting on my favorite spot of the couch. I clench my fists, trying to hide them behind the hem of my kurta. I can't help noticing the well-ironed, blue shirt he's wearing. Beside him is a middle aged couple, among whom, the male has a striking resemblance to the one in the blue shirt. Only the one in the blue shirt is way younger. All of them are looking at me with welcoming yet perceptive expressions. I can see my father sitting on his favorite spot of the couch and he's looking at me with an expression having an adequate ratio of joy, caution and love.

Twenty seconds into entering the living room and I've done well. I'm starting to relax a little as I keep walking. I unclench my fists very slowly, breathing out in an attempt to calm myself. On reaching the spot on the couch where I'm supposed to sit, I sit. I'm still looking down.

"Namaste, Uncle. Namaste Aunty." I greet the couple.

"Namaste, beta!" They reply.

"Your father told us a lot about you!" The elderly man of the couple says.

My father laughs softly.

"So, what are you doing now?" He further asks.

My fists clench again. My fingernails are digging into my palm. There's a gut feeling in me, an indication of a voice that succeeds.

-She seems a little-

"Masters in psychology!" I reply in a voice louder than normal as if trying to interrupt something.

Everyone except my father is a little surprised at the decibel of my voice. I can see my mother appearing in the living room.

"Nice!" He replies after ignoring my weird behavior.

"Ankush is a computer engineer!" The middle aged woman says proudly pointing to the man sitting on my spot.

I'm still looking down. I'm sure there are deep and scary marks of my fingernails on my palms by now. Not to mention they are sweating badly. Since I've been in this room I've not looked clearly at the man in the blue shirt. And I know that now is the time to do that. Or his parents might think that something is wrong with me. But isn't everything wrong with me already?

I slowly raise my eyes and as soon as his blue shirt comes in view, my fists clench tighter (as if that is even possible). I gulp discretely and continue to raise my eyes. His lips, which come in view first, are curved into a smile and finally my eyes meet his. His eyes are pitch black and quite large for his face. And before I can comprehend any other feature of his face, another voice in my head interrupts my thoughts.

-Why is she-

"STOP!" I shout, startling everybody in the room.

Everyone is looking at me with horrified expressions. My father has a disappointed and worried expression on his face. I stand up from the couch with force. My fists are no longer clenched and my breaths are shallow and fast. I have let go.

-What the hell is wrong with her?

-Is she crazy?

-She was so nervous when she entered.

-What a waste!

I want to cover my ears but I know that it won't help. All those voices won't stop.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this!" I say as my eyes start getting filled by tears. I look at my father who is staring at the floor in dismay.

"I'm sorry, Appa!" I say in between sobs.

I turn around and start walking towards my room. I can hear curious questions from our guests. My father is speechless and my mother is constantly apologizing to them. The middle aged woman is cursing our family and claiming that her son wasted his precious time to see me and I turned out to be crazy. I want to cry endlessly and I can think of only solution.

I enter my bedroom and lock myself for the rest of the day.

**********

A/N: Okay, so for all those who didn't understand a few words.

Duppatta is a piece of cloth worn along with the Indian attire

Kurta is another one of that. It's like a really long T-shirt which reaches your knees.

Sari is yet another one but I hope you people know how it looks.

Bindi is a piece of dot Indian women put on their foreheads.

The protagonist calls her mother Amma and her father Appa.

I hope you could understand. For details, Google it! (Not that it really matters to the story.)