Courting Fiction

How It All Began

April, 2007.

Anshula Pearce was breathing heavily and her heart felt like it was beating at least two hundred times a minute. She had sweat on her brow and her leg muscles were throbbing.

She had been running, you see? Running to the only curio shop in the whole of Brooklyn which sold the item that she was looking for. An item which was just as inconsequential to Americans as the gods were to atheists-the new Hindu calendar.

Her mother had given her strict instructions. She was to purchase the new Hindu calendar before sun-down, or else, the melodramatic Mrs. Khurana would stage a 'dharna' and refuse to eat as well. In fact, that's what she blackmailed her daughter with all the time, in order to get things done her way.

Anshula remembered what a fit her beloved mother had thrown when she'd informed her that she'd fallen in love with an American while attending college in the U.S.

"Daniel? Yeh kaisa naam hai?! Yeh sab sunne se pehle main mar kyun nahi gayi?!"

These were the first lines to pop out of her mouth. She'd always known it would be difficult to convince her mother to accept Dan as her son-in-law. Frankly, there were quite a few times that she wanted to just give up and elope. If her father had been alive, then there wouldn't have been a problem at all. Her father had always been a liberal thinker and she knew that he would've supported  her decision. However, the year before she'd left for college, Mr. Khurana died of lung cancer.

Before you ask, no, he wasn't a smoker or a paan masala enthusiast like 'Mukesh'. That's just it though.  Sometimes life does shitty things to good people, who don't deserve it.

It was only due to Dan's perseverance that they'd finally emerged triumphant in convincing the vociferously hostile Mrs. Khurana to be party to their marriage. Honestly, over the years, Dan had embraced Indian culture in a way that even Anshula couldn't. He had learned to speak Hindi and conversed in the language fluently, especially with Mrs. Khurana. He watched Bollywood movies and knew all the latest songs. So, when her mother requested if she could move in with them permanently, Dan was the first one to agree despite Anshula's apprehensions.

And now, whether she liked it or not, she had to keep her mother happy, which meant giving in to all her whims and fancies.

"Mommy, mommy, why'd you run off so fast?" A thin voice echoed in the background.

Anshula looked to the side and spotted her seven year old daughter, Maya, beside her, a curious look on her face.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was just making sure we reached the shop before it closed for the day. And thankfully, we have!" She exclaimed in relief.

Anshula had just picked Maya up from school on her way back from work and all Maya wanted to do was go home and watch her favourite cartoons on television.

"But, I wanna go home!" Maya complained, stomping her feet.

"We will, baby, we will. Just a few more minutes." Anshula tried to pacify her.

She held Maya's hand and pushed the door to the shop open.

As usual, the salesperson at the desk was snoozing on the job. Honestly, it wasn't as if customers swarmed to the shop, anyway. She had a pretty niche clientele.

"Excuse me, do you have the new Hindu calendar?" Anshula asked the saleswoman impatiently, waking her up from her slumber.

"Oh...yes, ma'am, I'll bring it right out!" The saleswoman in the gypsy's attire responded.

Anshula sighed and turned around, only to be greeted with the sight of Maya playing around with the antique showpieces and books.

"Maya, how many times have I told you that you can't play around with things in a shop?! What if you break something?" She yelled in annoyance, using her typical mom voice.

Maya turned around, stuck her tongue out at her mother and continued to fiddle with the artifacts, as if nothing had happened. She was transitioning into that phase that nearly all children went through and all parents dreaded. Anshula had informally christened it the 'opposite' phase. Whatever the parents asked their children to do, they'd invariably end up doing the exact opposite.

"Here, you go ma'am. That'll be three dollars. Anything else?" The hippie saleswoman asked.

"No, thank you." Anshula replied promptly as she handed her the money.

"Mommy, I want this book." Maya declared as she walked up to her mother using her stubby legs.

Anshula shook her head in frustration as she saw the book in Maya's hand. It was just an ordinary scrap book, with seemingly empty and worn out pages. However, she knew that it would be a mammoth task to convince Maya to abandon the book. Maya was an excruciatingly stubborn child.

"How much for the notebook?" Anshula asked the shopkeeper.

"That...um...that's twenty dollars." She replied.

"Twenty dollars? Isn't that a bit steep for a silly old book?!" Anshula exclaimed in alarm.

"That book is special ma'am. It's an antique piece from Asia. It's several years old, but the pages are still as good as new. Many archaeologists have even taken samples of the pages over the years in order to study its constitution. It's thought to possess magical properties!" She replied proudly.

Anshula didn't believe a word of what came out of the woman's mouth. She immediately came to the conclusion that she was being conned.

"Maya, baby, I'll buy you another scrap book from somewhere else. Not this one. Is that okay?" Anshula said gently as she caressed Maya's hair.

"No! I want this one! I'll hold my breath and count to a thousand if you don't buy it!" Maya declared, angrily.

Anshula marveled at the similarity between Maya and her own mother. Both of them were drama queens of the first order.

"Fine!" Anshula conceded, as she handed the shopkeeper an extra twenty dollars.

She was already exhausted after a hectic day at work and didn't have the patience to reason with a seven year old.

"Yay! Thanks mommy!" Maya exclaimed with joy as they exited the shop.

Anshula rolled her eyes at the fickle nature of children.

As they walked home from the store, Maya said. "Mommy, I'll store all my secrets in this book."

"That's great, honey. I'm sure it'll be special." Anshula nodded to her daughter, perfunctorily.

At the time when these words slipped out of her mouth, Anshula had no idea of exactly how special the book would be. She was blissfully unaware of the fact that one day, the book would send her daughter's life into disarray, in a way that she could've never imagined.

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