The rational physicist in him recoiled and rebelled at the mayhem his house was in when he returned home. There was no way he was going to get an afternoon nap. Or a good night’s sleep for that matter. The entire household, and then some, were busy preparing for “Mata ka Jagrata”. Some particularly blessed Guruji was going to be present for the occasion which had made it more important than numerous such other functions happening throughout the year.

“I have a headache,” he informed his mother who shook her head in disappointment. When will her son find the right path? They should never have sent him away from home for his studies. But her husband had been adamant. She looked on sadly as he locked himself up in his room with his books, journals, laptop and the newly acquired Gupta Enterprises diary. Of course, she wasn’t aware of the last one being in his possession; or even of its existence.

—

Mrinal had his breakfast and lunch sent up to his room. But by the afternoon, he felt the need for some fresh air. As if the universe was conspiring to throw Anrata Arabesques in his way repeatedly, he saw his frantic mother being calmed down by her. “Relax Auntie. I have taken up the responsibility of prasad. It will be made right. And in time. Don’t worry about it…. Yes… Yes… Flowers are also in its way… Yes. Chachiji has told me that she will herself bring Guruji here…”

‘So much hypocrisy; such dishonesty; and such piety. How do these things go together in so many people? I hope God’s justice is what it is touted to be. Fair. But it becomes difficult to believe at times…’ he recalled from her diary and suddenly felt enraged. What did a girl, who had the ability to see through the frivolity, have to do with his mother’s pointless worries about prasad, flowers, and, worst of all, Guruji? But he quickly grew aware of the absurdity of his rage. What business did he have stealing her diary, and them presuming that he knew how her life should be run… Unless…

—

The elder of his two sisters, who was married and lived with her in-laws in the same city, was home for the jagrata with her entire clan including three children. The children were fascinated with their scientist mama and Mrinal also did not mind them. Children still offered him hope that adults never could. Both the sisters were younger to him. Younger one was yet to be married. When exactly had he stopped feeling tender towards them, he sometimes wondered. Probably precisely at the time when they were shedding their girlish persona and becoming more of the women of society, seamlessly absorbing all the politics, bickering, competition for dresses and jewelry and rich husbands that came with it. The elder one still managed to coax him at times. Today too, she had managed to make him wear a silk kurta and to draw a promise that he would be at the jagrata for at least a while.

“Minnie,” he decided to take advantage of the time he was spending in jagrata and ask her sister about Antara, “Who is that girl? The one who just came in with the laddoo wallah.”

“I see,” Mrinalini grinned, “You are asking about a girl. I will have to find out…”

“I am sorry, I asked…”

“No. No. Wait. You are asking about her? Antara?”

“Is that her name?” he feigned ignorance.

“Of course. Who in the family doesn’t know her? She is Gupta Uncle’s niece.”

“Niece!” Mrinal was taken aback. Why was she being treated like dirt by Mrs. Gupta? She didn’t look like a house-help, but he had expected her to be some distant, poor relative at best.

Mrinalini was called away by someone just then and Mrinal was thankful to have escaped further grilling and leg-pulling from his sister.  But knowing that Antara was Mr. Gupta’s niece had practically closed the chapter for him. She would expect to marry into an established business family, which his was. But he didn’t want to have anything to do with that life or lifestyle. He would have to figure out a way of giving her back the diary without being discovered as the thief. Soon after he slipped away from the function to get whatever little sleep he could behind the closed doors of his bedroom. He slept with the diary under his pillow, paranoid about it being discovered by someone.

—

In the morning, when he got up at his usual time, the commotion was less. The jagrata was over, but the Guruji was still around. Even though he had a slight headache because of two consecutive nights of bad sleep, he slipped out of the house for a jog. He didn’t want to be dragged into being blessed and preached by Guruji. He was prepared for the verbal onslaught from his mother about missing the golden opportunity of setting everything right in his life. But when he came back, that wasn’t what he met with.

Mohini Agarwal was in rather high spirits, grinning from ear to ear. She welcomed his son excitedly after his morning exercise. He, rightfully, grew suspicious.

“Everything all right, Mummy?”

“Yes. Yes. Everything will be all right with Guruji’s blessings…”

“I am not wearing a stone or a locket….”

“Don’t worry about all that. Everything will be good from now on. Why don’t you take your bath quickly? Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

He came to the breakfast table wearing a white kurta-paijama. Kurta’s pocket sheltered the diary, which he had still not found a way of returning and which he was terrified of leaving in his room. The servants in his house would dutifully stay away from touching any precious items like jewelry to prove their honesty. But beyond that they didn’t have much sense of respecting people’s privacy. And having done what he had done, stealing the diary of a young woman like that, he could hardly complain about anyone else trying to violate his privacy, he thought somewhat irritably.

“I showed your kundali to Guruji,” His mother informed him at the breakfast table, while his father shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“Okay,” he didn’t want to prompt her with a question like ‘why’. But that didn’t deter her.

“And he says that you should get married within a month. It is the best time.”

“Get married to whom?” he chuckled. “Did he find a girl too, who I would magically like?”

“He didn’t. You did.”

“Excuse me?”

“I spoke to Gupta ji and his wife too. And showed Antara’s kundali to Guruji as well.”

“What are you talking about, Mummy? Why would you show Antara’s kundali to Guruji and why are you telling me about it?”

“Why? Don’t you like her?”

“I… When did I say that?”

“So, you do like her?”

“When did I say that either?”

“Then you do like her.”

“Mummy. What has Minnie told you?”

“Enough that you must give me a very good reason to say ‘no’ to this proposal.”

“What is the guarantee that she will be happy with this?” he blurted out his real worry instead of continuing to evade as he should have done to have any chance of escaping his mother.

She grinned. “That is simple, right? We can ask her.”

“How would she know? She doesn’t know me at all,” Mrinal put up what he thought was a very potent fight. But his objection as swept aside with a laughter from his mother.

“Who doesn’t know anything about you in this mohalla? Everybody knows our professor sahib, beta. Don’t worry about that.”

“Fine. But I don’t know anything about her either.”

“Then ask me. And I assure you that she is your type. The best thing about her is that she fits in anywhere. She fits in here, in this society. And she will fit in with your professor-type friends too. She reads so much. Always has her head buried in a book, when not taking care of house or working on a painting.”

Mrinal cringed. His mother was talking about a girl fitting in like she was a piece of wall hanging that will fit in with the décor of his mother’s house as well as his own. But he didn’t know what to tell his mother just then. He finished the last mouthful of his breakfast and got up.

—

To be continued