Out of context

T H R E E

"Brother, I feel you've been down
Tried to raise the rain from the ground
Can you hear my voice through the wall of sound?"

-( Blood's thicker than water)

Sahana

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To the last was Shuvro's fuppo, a woman in her late forties. A middle-aged woman in good health, with a hint of orange in her grayed hair, henna. Relief surges through her as she spots her nephew. Approaching the hurdle, she ushers her middle one to follow along. Noting the urgency in her tone, Shuvro proceeds to get up, earning a round of protest from his peers.

"Later." He swats them dramatically before despairing with a two-finger salute. Shuvro muses how children are so easy to please, certainly more than adults. It's sad to think that one day those bubbly kids will grow up and become boring adults, inevitable as it is.

"Fuppo." Shuvro softly calls out to the older woman, noting her weariness. He also notes how his fuppo is wearing a saree today. Rarely does she wear one these days, mainly because of her increasing weight. Whatever is going on must be very important to convince her otherwise."Well, you remember your Surya Khala, right?" Does he? He couldn't put a face to it, though. Yet he nods, impatient to get to the point. "She bought an alliance the other day... for Sahana. They stopped by today." Though he has already connected the dots in his head, he wanted to hear the story from his fuppo's side. Everyone has their own set of reasons and trails to run. Hence, he ushered her to continue-

"And...?"

"They want the engagement within this week." His brows knit together as he squints his eyes. Shana, his fuppo's firstborn, was two years older than him. That would make her twenty-four. About time a woman settles down; it's not the first time they sought a suitor either. But the time seemed to be too fast-paced for him."Wait, so all this happened within... within today?" She nods wearily. It was strange how the child that squirmed under her stern eyes and gave off a sheepish smile now reeked of authority. When did so much time pass by? she questioned herself as she glanced at her nephew towering over her.

"And you'll agree to this in... in one day!?" Shuvro flickers his hand with an amused chuckle.

"That's not how it works, Shuvro," she defends, trying to reason more to herself than to him. He could see that. To think the so-called bride-to-be was the most authoritative woman in this household. He shakes his head. "Yeah, that's why you guys are like, got that sheep. Just hook her up before they run!"

The terrace they stood on was on the other side of the house, under the sparkling star lights. The blooming white roses deemed tint of yellowish gold, majestic as they were. With his hands loosely hanging by his pant pocket, he looked far beyond the glass edge, at the people below, probably some of Sahana and Zaids uncles, cousins.

He remembered how Sahana made the two of them, Zaid and him, carry the rose pots all the way from downstairs. It was her constant nudging that made him get them up, accompanied by an annoyed tsk of his tongue. How awfully stubborn he was to stick to his "No" till the very end.

He felt bad, though-a tiny, tiny bit-for putting his fuppo in such an odd place. Guilty as she fidgeted, he sighed, putting up his words lightly in his most casual sarcasm.
"I mean, she's hobotic; she's probably going to be a pain for her man, but still... we are her family. We can't just say that."

"Shuvro, she agreed to it. You know the whole incident. People talk, my dear." Her tired face softens ever so lightly as she looks up at Shuvro with such tenderness. At that moment, Shuvro feels the weight of it, the hope she held for him. To be a parent must be a tiresome task, he muses.

"The world digs into your worst rather than applauds your best. We can't just be okay with it... Are the arrangements in motion?" At the very end, a bubbled chuckle parts her lips. "That's my boy!" Shuvro almost snorted at that; she looked awfully similar to Sahan right now, or was it the other way around? Crazy in both ways. Still, with his hands tucked in his pockets, he hunches his back when his fuppo tugs on his sleeve. "I don't like to talk bad... but don't tell stuff to anyone, especially Rubbi or others." Yet she goes on and on about the family drama. The never-ending bucket of complaints toppled over. So much for not talking badly. All the while, Shuvro earnestly listened to his fuppo, noting to meet his sister in the back of his mind.

So, here's the third chapter. I wanted to expend it more cause those short chapters make the story clipped. Then I opted against it, it wasn't worth ruining what I worked on for years. This book is meant to be happy one and I have been depressed af for days after reading the kite runner.

Oh God to be a writer is such a sinfully beautiful curse.

03 November, 2024.