To Reach You (A Married for Money sequel)

Chapter 5

When they entered the house, Anjali welcomed them in with the traditional aarthi and a pot of rice to push. Ani smiled at them both and when Anjali joined them, they gave a small box, neatly wrapped in bright blue paper, tied with a silver bow.

“Your present,” smiled Anjali.

Chapter 5

 He groaned. He couldn’t control it.

“Mom,” he whined, “I asked you not to get me anything.”

“This is not for you,” said Ani, smiling, “This is for your wife. Take it, Aishu.”

She received it with a smile, her excitement touchable. Carefully unwinding the bow, she searched for the cellotape and scraped it off with her nail. Unwrapping it daintily, she gave the cover to Anjali’s ready hands and opened the small cardboard box.

A bunch of keys fell in her hand.

“Congratulations,” said Anjali softly, smiling at them both.

“What are these keys for?” asked Arul, a bad feeling spreading over his chest.

“For the apartment opposite door,” said Ani, nudging him to take the keys and follow.

Ani unlocked the door and they entered the fully furnished apartment. It was painted in bright yellow with a soft cream to offset the color. The windows were left open to let the fresh paint smell escape.

A large square living room with the dining table at the very end made way for the kitchen. A small window near the dining table showed a fully equipped kitchen. A few steps inside and to the left were two bedrooms neatly tucked together. Another room with a view of a beautiful gulmohar tree was to the right. It was spacious and bright, a home fit for lots of people to develop happy memories over the years.

“Do you like it?” asked Anjali eagerly, her eyes shining.

Sensing that the question was to her than to him, Arul kept his silence. Moments ago he had told his wife that he would not move out of his parents’ house and here they were sending him away. But deep down, he knew that they are giving him privacy as well as their support. Still it was only a couple of steps away from them. He was grateful.

After boiling milk in the traditional Grihapravesa way and lighting lamps to their family deity, they settled for dinner. Anjali had outdone herself. The variety of food was simply stunning. There was the pachadis alone in five different tastes. The kheer was rich with cashews and raisins and roasted almonds. There were papads and vadas, so crisp and spicy with cashews in them too. By the time they started on the main dishes, they were just too full to tuck in anymore.

“Aishu, do you like the food?” asked Anjali.

“It is wonderful, athai,” she smiled, her eyes shining, “It has been so long that I had Indian cuisine and this is Indian cuisine at its best. My palate is happy.”

Anjali beamed and said, “What is your favorite food, dear?”

“Kesari, athai,” said Aishu with a faraway look, “My mom used to make it once a month since I kept badgering her. She said that I like Kesari as much as Lord Krishna liked butter.”

Laughter reached her ears, making her focus back on them, her face red with embarrassment.

“You remember that?” asked Arul, looking at her keenly.

She looked at him, eyes widening with realized wonder, “Oh! I just comprehended that!”

“They do say that tastes and smell are the first things you remember,” said Ani quietly, “Perhaps your memory is not too lost.”