A Sew Through Time [Bandbudh And Budbak]

12: Karan's evening party

It was a quiet, ambient hotel room carrying a sweet scent. Yellow light draped over velvet curtains and the foamy bedsheet. Karan continued buttoning up his shirt next to the mirror, humming his favourite Weeknd song. Impeccably spraying Versace Eros near his collarbones, he blew his hair and exhaled softly.

The door rang.

He rushed and opened it, discovering his mother standing there impatiently. She walked in and checked around, then put up a surreptitious smile near the mirror while adjusting a rope of pearls around her neck.

"You look beautiful mom!" Karan raised his arms.

"You delayed again"

"I'm almost done" he grabbed his phone off the vanity, "Did the chief guest arrive?"

"Much earlier than you I'm afraid"

"Oh okay" He whispered, wishing her to talk a little gently. Not that he was not used to such mannerisms. He walked towards the door and asked softly,

"What have I done again...?"

"My dear" she smiled gaudily, "If your Papa was here instead of me, he wouldn't have been pleased"

"It was a last minute flight to India. You knew it would had been much better if you called earlier"

An aspiring woman of fifty, Karan's mother wore a black gown for the grand night, a rosy pearl necklace and a diamond ring. Her hair was tied neatly, leaving a strand fall over her cheekbones. Her face was polished with sincere amounts of makeup, following with a frivolous stare when she looked at her son.

"I care about this meeting as you guys do" he put on his Rolex watch, "That's why-"

"When will you learn to hold you life together? You still have this chance and yet you're exploiting it!"

Had his mother this sour all the time? Karan could hardly find the difference.

"My dear" she talked gently, "You need to realize that one day when you'll return, there will be strange faces waiting for you here" she held his shoulder, "Feel proud you're put up for this y'know?"

He took her hand off politely, "Bother to tell me what's going on tonight?"

"Just listen to Papa"

"Would Papa tell me?"

"What can I say my dear? Business is business"

Luminous doors of the grand hall opened with grandly manoeuvre. The ceiling held the delicate crystal chandelier, it's lights cascading into a thousand stars over white marble floors.

Karan walked in, hearing glasses clink and low chuckles all around. There were prestigious people in tailored suits and gaudy dresses holding figures of influence. Businessmen with silver hairs discussed deals over whiskey. When they saw him heading towards the front table, they smiled at him. The way their lips arched up regulated how much they liked his character.

He had to smile too, not because it was kind or elegant, but powerful: it needs to be perfect despite your cheeks stinging or your face boiling from pain.

Soon he was pulled into circles of elegant women. They held his arms and cooed and asked almost about his life and especially about his Papa.

Karan had learned how to interpret such signs. He must remember every name and face by heart, like a child carrying a bottle with names on paper strips. Qhen someone could say 'Do you remember us? Back when you were small...' he could force the name out of his memory and say yes.

The chief guest was present at the end of the table, sipping wine and looking around. His golden rings and glasses sparkled when he adjusted them and said,