Arranged marriage was an age-old story that Khushi, the youngest of the infamous Gupta family, who revolutionized and dominated the trading market for generations, knew well.
For it was the only thing she heard growing up.
But that neither prepared...
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Arnav watched his namesake wife retreat out of the bedroom, probably back to her trusted sofa in the living room. And yet, her surrender in their argument was not enough to calm the fire raging inside of him.
Her cutting words opened up so many wounds he thought he had long ago buried.
- April 2009 -
"How many times did I tell you to be careful Chote?!"
"Maa, it's nothing-"
"Chup! Yes, I can see it's nothing! You can't move your leg and you're saying it's nothing!"
A fifteen-year-old Arnav groaned in frustration and threw a pleading look at his eldest sister, begging her to put an end to the torture. He had just returned from a football match, having secured first-place for his team, but also incurring a rather severe kick –by accident, of course– to his shin by an opponent player. Although he was confident it wasn't a fracture, for Arnav had way too much experience with sports injuries, his leg had swollen up to twice the normal size, making it impossible for him to hide it from his ever-panicked mother.
As soon as he limped into the house, proudly carrying the cup he had been awarded by his school, Satya brought the heavens down and dragged him to the hospital, ignoring all of Arnav's protests. His father was informed immediately, and he had arrived, rather gravely, just a few minutes ago. He was now consulting with the doctors while Arnav waited to be discharged. Sweaty and mud-soaked, he desperately needed a shower.
"I may as well admit myself too," Satya continued, shaking her head. Her exasperation at her son's antics was at the breaking point nowadays.
Too bad Lavanya was out of town on a school trip, Arnav mused. She was missing out on a golden opportunity to make fun of their hysterical mother, who had started tidying up the perfectly clean room.
"Maa give it a rest," Anjali finally said. "It's not his fault. Injuries happen in sports–"
"So who told him to play so hard?!" Satya fired. "He is going to have to give board exams next year, why is he still running after this stupid football–"
"It's just a hobby Maa, you can't expect him to study all day every day! His grades are coming up too–"
"Stop supporting him Anjali, I know perfectly well how his marks are. At this rate, he will have to give all his exams in the hospital! Weren't we here just last month for a broken arm?!"
"It wasn't broken!" Arnav cut-in, impatiently. It had been a sprain, thanks to some good-natured wrestling in school. He was yet to hear the end of it.
"Don't you start Chote–" Satya snapped, but before she could continue, his father appeared.
Arnav thanked his stars. "Can I leave now?" he asked, disgruntled.
