Egbert

Let's get Asian

This is going onto my top ten list of awkward breakfasts I've had. Mother is quietly sipping on a murky glass of 'tomato' juice, staring daggers at our house guest. Preeti is munching happily on some toast, oblivious to the tension, reading an old magazine. I wanted to go straight to her house for breakfast but she insisted on remaining and thanking my parents for allowing her to stay. Mother mentioned Preeti 'staying for a bite' and the poor girl took that to mean breakfast. Obviously I'm not going to let mother bite her and now she's sulking. I'd make small talk but mother abhors it and wouldn't play along. This is one of those rare situations that would be aided by my father's presence. At least then she'd be occupied. As it is I haven't seen dear Papa for a few days now. He'll pop up bloodied and euphoric after a while, he always does. Last time he went to Egypt and made it back in time for my seventh birthday. Nice guy really."Okay let's go." I yank Preeti's arm.Through a mouthful she spurts "I'm not finished."

"Yes you are." She manages one last sip of tea before I drag her off to the front door. As I open it a looming figure barges past. I think it's the maid- no wait it's father. Right on cue. He doesn't even look at me and heads straight to the kitchen to my mother.

"Hi-" Preeti tries but I pull her away from the situation. I know she's trying to be polite but it really doesn't suit her. By the time we walk over to hers she's stopped biting my ear off about my manners and has grown quiet."I don't agree with this marriage." She states, looking at the front door but refusing to knock,"I know. But the truth is if Aaditiya is willing to marry her then it's not our concern."

"But that's just it, all he is, is 'willing'. He's not overly enthusiastic or even in love." I don't know how to respond to that. For all that I complain about my parents, their marriage is at least pretty good. That's due mainly to their love for each other. Or whatever the hell it is. Luckily my silence is kept by her mother yanking the door open. She's got that cold look. The minute we step inside the house she'll either be extremely angry or crying. Okay so it's extremely angry then. Not in so many words because it's merged with passive aggressive silence but every opportunity she gets to say something to Preeti it's with that sharp tight lipped voice with wide eyes. I guess her phone call wasn't enough to make her feel better.

"Mummy-"

"Bas!"

And Preeti is silenced once more. There will be no emotionally taxing and bittersweet hugging it out. Her mother's anger will subside in a few days but as of now it's the least of our worries. There's a wedding to plan and not much time. And the clock starts now.

There's a list of things we have to do to prepare and now seems to be the only time to do it all. Preeti runs upstairs to get ready and I follow her mother into the kitchen. She spends this time showing me as much as she's come up with; three ceremonies, a small amount. The Engagement party will be at the end of this week; The Sangeet, on Saturday and the Wedding will be on the Sunday. An incredibly short deadline. Will it even be enough time to choreograph a dance routine for the Sangeet? Lord knows Vikram's going to need all the practice he can get. The boy looks like a spasming chicken when he tries to dance Bollywood.

Once Preeti is finished getting ready we're all put on wedding preparation duty, which is hard because my mind is elsewhere. It's far away with Scarlett and our date in the evening. I'm in a trance thinking about the evening to come and I'm only half there when we pull up outside Singh Superstore. 

Inside the aisles are much too small, with the tiny little till squished in the corner. The incense beside it wafts through the rectangle layup, wrapping itself in each disorganised shelf. The little section of singing dolls on wheels with banjos burst out with chaiyya chaiyya at every slight movement from their perch besides some Imperial Leather soap packets. I come back to myself with only a few moments to spare before Aunty Ji chooses the ugliest garlands I've ever seen. Vikram's in the car, he received a phone call from a certain vampire boyfriend whom I shall not name because I dislike him very much. Hey, how about that, we've grown from hate to dislike. I'm really coming along. Indifference is probably next. Preeti was encouraging her to buy them, but she should know better than to trust her taste because she has none. She was just sucking up. They're a hideous bright pink mixed with blue fake daisies and look more like they belong on a tourist than Aadit on his wedding day.