IPS officer, Manik Malhotra who is married to his duty and his civil services. Who has kept himself away from everything apart from work.
Nandani Arora, the girl from banaras. Who loves her freedom and food and father.
But the only thing common b...
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The house was in all festive mode since morning. And me? I was in my bathroom with toothbrush in my mouth, and keenly observing the little scar that the last weeks pimple left. Will he reject me because of this? Well it was barely visible. But still, if he did? I will crush him. Since last night I had imagined a hundred kind of conversations in my mind where I said I didn't wanted to marry him.
In some imaginary conversations I was blunt, direct, arrogant, and deepika types.
While in some I was explaining like i was giving a presentation explaining each and every aspect of the alliance with justified reasonings.
And I even imagined him being that ruthless types, forcing me to marry him, like that filmy types.
Human brain is fantastic. If my imaginations were have to be voiced, specifically the bathroom ones, I would be have been a fucking successful writer, actor, director, and not any common one, but oscar winning!
I brushed my teeth, and then like everyday. Look in the mirror. Make faces, flip hair into positions like you'll never wear out, no matter how good they look. Bathroom is a place you can be anything, from a singer to a lingerie model. I was just about give my million dollars pose , but my mom banged the door twice.
"Nandani..... kya kar rahi hai beta ... jaldi kar. It's already 9. They will be here by 11." My mom shouted.
I glanced at the wall clock, it was still 8:30. According to my mom, she had her own time and it was always half an hour ahead of the greenwich mean time. I shook my head and walked to the cubbord to choose what to wear. I am not going to wear a saree, and I don't even have one. There was no chance of wearing jeans or anything like that. My bua would get a heart attack if she sees me in them today.
So I start the analysis , An anarkali? Too heavy Just plain kurti? Too simple. The purple suit? Too worn. The red suit? No I have no long lost dream of looking like a mata. The pink one? Yuk I can't wear it. "I have nothing to wear...." and there goes the epic curse. Why don't I find anything to wear when I have to wear something. Right now I feel, half of the cubbord is filled with things I will never wear, or why on earth have I even bought those things. I feel like banging my head somewhere, but I heard a knock at the door.
It's not mom, cause my my mom doesn't believe in soft knocks, or she doesn't believes in knocks, she just brags in, or she had this evergreen line when I was in school, darwaza bandh krne ki zarurat kya hai?
I open the door and it's papa. "Nandu, take, it's for you." Papa handed me a bag and I look into it and there's some white dress to wear. "Papa..." i purr... "thank you." My eyes are already moist. And to my surprise my papa's eyes are moist too, little bit, but they are. And in no second we are in a father-daughter hug.
