Courting Fiction

2. The D-Day

January, 2018.

Mrs. Sushma Khurana scuttled hurriedly to the settee in the midst of the Pearce residence's living room, mimicking the locomotive actions of an Australian platypus.

It was nearly six-thirty in the evening, which meant that it was time for her plethora of Hindi television soaps to start airing. She was thoroughly excited for the upcoming confrontation between the 'bechaari bahu' of the show, who in her opinion could never do anything right, and the 'sadu saas' whom she supported whole-heartedly in her repeated berating of the former.

Mrs. Khurana plopped her heavy bottom on the couch, as she adjusted the pallu of her sari. She flexed her arms, resulting in a loud cracking noise which clearly indicated the depleted calcium and zinc content in the aged bones of the septuagenarian. She picked up the remote from the center table, and threw the rough antimacassar aside as she switched her beloved idiot box on.

She didn't understand the purpose of placing a silly old cloth on top of a couch. What purpose was it supposed to achieve anyway?

Quite frankly, I've wondered the same thing for a while now. Is it supposed to keep your luscious hair free of dust? To me, it just seems like an added way for lice to spread! Anyhow the merits and demerits of an antimacassar can of course be debated later on...let's not miss Mrs. Khurana's reaction to the first major scene of today's episode!

"Bahu, chaabi kaha hai?" The generic 'sadu saas' asked her cowering daughter-in-law.

"Pata nahi mummyji!" The stereotypical 'bechaari bahu' whimpered in response.

"Jhoot mat bolo, bahu! Mujhe pata hai ki chaabi tumne hi chupaai hai!" The 'sadu-saas' screamed.

Mrs. Khurana clapped her hands together, enjoying the proceedings thoroughly, cheering on the raucous mother-in-law, who seemed to be another Phoolan Devi in the making.

However, before she could listen to the next insult meted out to the bahu, she heard Maya's voice in the distance.

"Mom, where's my dress?! I have to start getting ready, or else I'll be late!" She heard Maya scream from her room.

"Uff! Yeh ladki! Whenever I watch T.V, har baar shor machaati hai!" Mrs. Khurana muttered to herself.

Mrs. Khurana liked living in the states well enough, but there was one thing that'd always bothered her. It was Maya's complete dissociation with Indian culture. She'd always wished for her granddaughter to grow up in a traditional Punjabi household, with the same values that'd been inculcated in her ever since she was a child. Mrs. Khurana loved Daniel with all her heart and knew that he was a good man, but Anshula's marriage to him had confirmed that her wishes would never be fulfilled.

So, it was fairly obvious that Mrs. Khurana disapproved of Maya attending any sort of school dance where the 'tharki gore ladke', as she liked to call them, would be ogling her in her revealing clothes.

"It's in your second cupboard Maya! The one with all your art supplies!" Anshula yelled back, as she shook her head.

In this respect, Maya was exactly like her father-always forgetting where she'd kept the most important things.

"Found it! Thanks!" Maya screamed in response, a few seconds later.

Anshula smiled to herself as she heard Maya. She was happy to see Maya finally attending a school dance with a date instead of her friends. For the past few years, she'd been a bit worried about Maya's hyper fastidious attitude when it came to socializing with others. She'd never really mingled with anyone apart from her kindergarten friends.