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Chapter 8
Chinese Whispers

I took utmost care not to step on my relatives' bags and crossed the hurdles over to the bedroom.

My mother served me dosa which went limp and cold which was probably her passive aggression towards yours truly but I didn't let that deter me.

My sister generally was one to crash into the bedroom with me for some inconsequential gossip but then I noticed her standing by the verandah and clutching one of the bars of the window, looking like a 90's Bollywood heroine with a flushed face and a phone in her hand.

Siya passed the phone to her left ear and spoke softly, so softly and politely that I felt as if she was a clone of my sister from the nether world.

But I didn't like it that Siya spent so much time with him, either on the phone most of the time or him coming to whisk her away on a date to a freaking planetarium.
She was going to have to put up with that man for the next four or five decades without a choice so she might as well spare us some attention now before she settles into a nuptial life.

I fluffed my pillow on my lap. "Siya, pssst!"

Siya's eyes darted to me and she held up her hand gesturing me to wait and then turned away giggling.

I couldn't believe that guy could actually make her giggle. He looked so boring.

"Psssst!"

I was busy trying to get my sister's attention and hardly noticed my aunt entering the room with a packet of namkeen in her hand.

"Shyla, what are you doing sitting here alone? Come there, the movie is coming on TV."

I obliged my facial muscles to form a respectful smile, "Of course, aunty, you go ahead. I'll come with Siya."

"Siya went out, no?"

I pointed at the dark figure in the balcony and my sister giggled again.

"Who's on the mobile, Harish?" My aunt whispered with wide, starstruck eyes.

"Must be that boring--I mean, yeah, it's him for sure."

"Then, you don't disturb their private talk. You come out." She ushered my reluctant self out of the room.

My uncle's booming laughter ricocheted across the living room when I entered and the noise of their chatter almost drowned out the actors' voices on the television.

"Where's amma?" I asked her.

"Your parents slept off early, Saritha had a headache it seems."

I peeped into my parents' room just to make sure and my mother was fast asleep with a notebook cradled in her arms.

I stealthily picked it from her hands. There was a list of financial figures for the wedding pomp.

I kept it by the nightstand and wrapped a blanket over her and dimmed the lights.

My relatives were highly engrossed in my conversation. My uncle already retired to the bedroom. My aunts will surely sleep after watching the late-night matinee show on TV.

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