Poles Apart

Chapter Twelve

Warning: Loooooong chapter ahead.

After a day at work, what is supposed to be a peaceful drive home becomes a horrendous drive home. Rush hour traffic in addition to the city's Friday plans sums up to a never-ending horror movie.

I wait at the red signal, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel to Sid Sriram's tune as I sing along to the song when the music cuts off because of my brother's phone call.

Pranav Anna, my multimedia screen reads. I attend the call over the BlueTooth.

"Hello?" I say into the phone, wondering why Pranav would call me now.

"Hey, Arvi," he greets. "Wanna go out?"

I know a lot of things about Pranav, and I know for sure that coming to the point is not how things work with him. "Where to?" I ask curiously. Unless it's the bookstore, I'm not going out. Oh, wait. I'll also go to the movies, or maybe even fly out, oh, no, the question should be where I will not go.

"Clubbing." Ah, there I'm surely not going.

"I don't know why in the world I'd want to go to a club, much less clubbing with my brother." Ridiculous questions, dumbarse people.

I can imagine the frown on his face as he speaks, "Who else would you go clubbing with?" The question is ill-phrased. Why would I go clubbing with my brother of all the people with whom I could possible go clubbing?

However, like a dutiful sister, that doesn't have the heart to tell her brother that she wouldn't want to go clubbing with him. I say, "I wouldn't go clubbing with anyone else." Not if I can help it, I won't.

"I am going with Sameeksha," he says slowly, in a tone so low that I wouldn't have caught it, if not for the car's sound system.

"Sameeksha is my friend," I stress, now, understanding why he called me. Shouldn't he have asked me before he asked her out?

"Right, about that..." he stretches, "I like her."

The people from behind me start to honk, making me jolt up, and straighten up at once. Loud honking ensues, making me alert. I quickly switch gears and press the accelerator.

"Are you talking on the phone while you drive?" he asks, an undertone of anger evident in his voice.

"No, my phone is connected to the car BlueTooth," I mumble.

"You suck as a driver as it is, why are you talking on the phone while you drive?"

I scowl. "I don't suck as a driver!"

"I'm the one who flunked the driving test twice?" he asks, digging up the past.

I press my lips into a thin line, "You know the Brits are too particular about their driving rules? I like driving in Hyderabad better."

"Of course. There are more reckless drivers like you in Hyderabad," he counters.

The problem with his statement, though is that; one, I'm not a reckless driver, two, not all Hyderabadis are reckless drivers. Pranav speaks spoilt NRI.

"Right," I agree sarcastically, "I drive into trash cans."

"The car was on an inclined surface, and I'll tell you it was steep."

"And I parked the car there, Pranav Anna? You did." As an afterthought, I decide to dignify his defence with a sarcastic comment and add, "And yes, it was so goddamned steep."

"Well, at least I see what's right in front of me, and don't park in handicapped parking lots. If only everyone could."

I gasp, offended by his bringing up an incident so back in the past. "That was when I first moved to London, and you'd better stop digging up the past and throwing dirt in my face. I thought we agreed on not talking about it again!"