Nasaza

XXXII

As I mingled with a few of Sanskriti's father's friends with my dad by my side. the conversation quickly turned to familiar territory — achievements, successes, and aspirations. They were particularly interested in my 'youth days'.

"So, tell me, young man," one uncle began, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "You're quite the scholar, I've heard. Top-ranked in your previous school, weren't you? Your father had mentioned that."

Wow. Real smooth dad.

My dad chuckled, patting my shoulder with a proud smile. "That's right. Aadesh is a model student. Top of his class, and he has big plans for the future."

I tried to keep my expression neutral, though internally I cringed at the praise. I had always hated being the center of attention like this, especially from adults who seemed to have a strange fixation on educational achievements.

The uncle nodded, his eyes narrowing approvingly. "Ah, ambitious and bright. Just what this country needs more of. What do you plan on pursuing once you go to university?"

I could sense my dad nudge me slightly, a silent cue to respond. I inhaled deeply, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable boasting I was about to spew.

"I'm planning on applying to Cambridge for an Economics course," I answered simply. What a load of bullshit. I mean, I was gonna apply, but saying it out loud sounded weird. I was more inclined towards studying in India.

The uncle's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Cambridge? That's quite impressive, young man. You must have a knack for numbers, eh?"

The corner of my lip quirked involuntarily. Numbers aren't the only kind of 'knack' I have, I thought, but wisely kept that snarky remark to myself.

"You could say that," I responded with a shrug, trying to appear humble and modest. My dad, on the other hand, was practically beaming with pride. He always had a hard-on for showing off his 'achiever' child.

I liked words better than numbers. Just because I was good at something, didn't mean I had to like it.

Words were much more fascinating and interesting than numbers. The way words could be strung into sentences, into paragraphs, into stories. The way they could express emotions and thoughts and convey so much more. Words were the canvas that artists of literature and poetry used to paint masterpieces.

Numbers, on the other hand, were just...numbers. They were objective, linear. They had no emotion, no meaning, no depth. They were just there, cold and calculative.

And yet, it seemed that others didn't see it that way. People always valued logical thinking, rationality, and numbers. Emotional intelligence was often relegated to the sidelines.

I sighed, pushing aside my inner monologue and focusing back on the conversation. The uncle was still talking, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Have you always been good at Economics?" he asked, his interest piqued. "Or is it something new you're interested in?"

I shook my head. "I've always had a natural inclination towards economics," I replied, not entirely lying. "It comes naturally to me."

"Naturally, he says," the uncle nodded, a proud glint in his eyes. "Your parents must be incredibly proud of you." My father beamed beside me, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "I'm beyond proud," he said, swelling with pride. "Aadesh has been a constant source of joy and achievement for our family."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. I loved my parents, but they could be a bit overbearing at times. Especially my dad.

During our transfer, I had been snappy towards mum and dad, and they were snappy towards me. But now I realized where they were coming from. Mum had even apologized to me for being insensitive towards my feelings. I kind of felt guilty for my earlier thoughts. My parents weren't perfect, but they loved me. They just had a strange way of showing it. Besides, I wasn't the only one leaving behind my friends, acquaintances and all I'd ever known. Shifting to a big city was necessary for profit, I had realized later.