“Which picture did my mother send you?” My stomach rumbles thinking of all the embarrassing memories imprinted on paper.
There is a pop up in Skype messenger which displays two options—Accept or Decline. I accept and double click.
Just as it opens, chagrin covers my face, and inadvertently, I utter out loud, “No! No…no!”
Raag looks baffled. “What happened?”
“Are you serious? Are you sure you, said yes to that??” I ask, embarrassed, and my tone is apologetic.
I look up at the screen, and it’s still there. There, a young girl—Ms. Bhatt—is barely managing a yellow banarasi silk sari, thick golden jewelry, long brown locks hanging to one side. I don’t think I ever looked good in sari, specifically that one! Oh, why did I let my mother convince me to wear that for the special day celebration at my college? That was a mistake.
“What? What’s wrong with that? You look like a stunner. Look at your innocent smile and a cute silver bindi on your forehead. And the sari! It’s perfect.” Raag brings me out of my chain of thoughts.
“Raag, you need to know this. I never ever wear sari or bindi or any of that,” I confess.
“You don’t?” he asks, looking puzzled yet smiling. Now he slides back with his laptop and rests his back on the pillow.
“Don’t you feel robbed?” I ask, and he laughs.
It is quite a sight to see this handsome man laugh.
“Do you have any other pictures of mine?” I have to make sure if there is more to this.
“The one in your biodata,” he replies, and I quickly open the file in my private folder named MayuBio. Just as it unfolds in front of my eyes, all hell breaks loose.
Sheepishly I whisper, “This is my passport picture.” I slump back in my chair quietly, close my eyes, and start tapping my forehead with the back of my knuckles. I think my father prepared this particular document.
“You look like a well-written poem, in your pictures and right now.” Raag’s voice changes, and as I look at him, he runs his long fingers through his disheveled black hair and takes a deep breath, his black eyes intense.
Raag is looking straight at me through his webcam as if he could see beyond the reflection, as if he could see through my soul. “Clothes, jewelry, appearance does not matter if one doesn’t have the basic essence of life: a beautiful heart and soul. You have both.” He pauses and tilts his head to the side. “Mayuri. You are like a stream of life that enlightens my life,” Raag says, and there is a silence that I use to digest what he just said.
I must have done something right to have this amazing man who thinks I have a beautiful soul.
“Okay, if you think I have a beautiful heart and soul, I might as well believe it. In the future, I am going to remind you this when we fight like a regular couple, okay?” I say playfully. There it comes, breaking the etched lines on his forehead—the heart-shattering laughter—and I too laugh along with him.
“Wow, Jiju! You look very handsome!” Bansari startles me squeaking from behind. I didn’t sense her arriving at all, though the table and chair lay by the entry door. She must have some skills of the fairy that I don’t know yet.
Raag doesn’t look startled at all, but at the same time, he seems amused. “Thank you, Bansari. Or, Bansi, correct?”
“You could call me Bansi,” my sister says, smiling. “And yes, of course! I am the Bansi, your one and only future sister-in-law,” she squeals, lifting her hands in the air. I wonder if there would be a solution to my studious yet annoying sister invading our privacy. “By the way, an awesome gift! You should have seen the drama it stirred at the dinner table. Pappa went thermonuclear!” She speaks like a tornado.
You mean the drama you started? I don’t say it out loud. I am worried now. She has a big problem keeping her mouth shut. Amusement from Raag’s lovely angelic face disappears. He looks puzzled as creases appear over his forehead.
“Bansi! Don’t you have reading or something?” I snap at her and scowl. “Anything?” I signal with my hand for her to zip it.
“Oh, come on. It’s not a big deal. All right, Jiju, I have to go. Obviously, you two love birds won’t let me read here, I will have to read in some other room. The sacrifices that young ones have to make for their elder siblings!” Bansari says sarcastically, struts toward her bed, and starts pulling her school bag from the drawer under the bed.
Like that, she drops the bomb and wipes her hands like it was nothing. I wonder if all younger siblings are like that. I wonder if I was like that at her age. Definitely not.
“Bansi…you don’t have to move to a different room. Stay here. We could talk over the phone,” Raag offers.
“Oh yes, the shiny new phone…but no. Thank you. That’s fine,” she replies while searching for something through the drawer. “I don’t think my big sister is going to like that.” Still so careless.
“Bansi, please. I insist!” Raag says in a tone no girl could deny, and he has Bansi’s full attention. She stops her manic search and peeks at Raag. She sits on the floor, silently staring at Raag and thinking.
Wow, I think she liked that.
Then Bansi smiles like a little girl and looks at me. “You heard your gentleman. I guess I am staying here.” She looks at the screen, at Raag and says, “Thank you so much, Jiju. You are awesome!”
Awesome? I didn’t know we used that word in India. It’s more of an American thing. I am sure she has done her research. Kids are advanced these days.
Reluctantly I switch off the system after ending the Skype call. I use a quick bathroom break to brush my teeth before he calls again.
Just as I come out, my sister starts, “Wow, Mayu darling! Your future husband is very charming. I never thought our parents could find someone that good-looking for you. Since you look fabulous yourself!” She raises her eyebrows, pointing at me while sitting on her side of the bed. “I think you two would make a gorgeous couple.”
I frown at her. It is surprising to find out that my sister thinks I am good-looking. She is usually the one pointing out my endless flaws. “Since when did you change your mind about my looks?”
“Oh, my darling big sis. Look at you.” She pauses, pointing at me, yet again. “Look at your dark brown hair, brown eyes, and golden skin tone. Sassy with your perfect curves…” she says, and I am awed looking at her.
My mouth pops open, and I frown at her in disapproval. Not sure disapproval of what—of her using that word at this age or calling me that.
She utterly ignores my reaction as usual and continues, “Frankly, you two would look great together. I don’t think our parents could have found anyone better,” she elaborates, and I wonder if she is joking.
I sit next to Bansi on her bed, bringing my legs closer to my chest and wrap my hands around them. “You think so?”
“For sure.”
She has a study book of physics in her hands, and she is staring at it through her slightly red thick round glasses. I wonder if pixies wore glasses, they would look just like her. Precisely, with her latest pixie cut short hair that suits her.
“How come you agreed?” She bumps my shoulder.
“As in…?”