Chapter 3 : I'm an independent woman, and I'd like to pay.

"Bye Dia di," Alekya, the seven year old waved at me as she took her mother's hand. Aarti Sharma, little Alu's mother, gave me a friendly smile and walked away from the activities building, animatedly talking to her daughter.

I looked back to find the room empty, all art camp kids having returned home, leaving me with the cleaning up. I guess I still had time before I had to head up all the way to the 'Y-block' for dinner with my parents. Seems like my parents, my elder sister and her husband were all free today. Did anyone bother asking me if I was free before making plans? Nope. After all, I just do odd jobs, what could I possibly be busy with?

I let out a sigh. I don't think they are ever going to understand me or what I do and why I do it. I have a feeling that dinner is going to be a lengthy and tiresome affair tonight.

After returning the pencils, crayons, watercolors, erasers to all its assigned places, scrubbing off paint stains from the benches and tables and rearranging the furniture, I lock up the kids activities room and deposit the keys at the lobby reception desk, and throw a quick greeting at Ganesh, the guy manning the desk today and head towards the Y-block. Though the walk is a little long, I decided to not use my scooty. Anything to delay the dinner.

I pass through the beautiful gardens of the gated society, and then walk by the children's playground, the constant hum of children's shrieks and laughter a soothing background and then by the grassy extension to the gym for yoga doers. It was a nice walk, with the last bit of the setting sun's pink hues turning a nice blue and a gentle breeze in my hair.

My short moment of bliss came to an end at the sight of the Y-block. Well, let's do this! They are my family, that I love dearly, how hard can it be?

I power walked to the elevator, which luckily for me was on the ground floor and entered the iron box. I pressed 14 and long pressed the 'close door' button. I know that pressing once is enough, but like most people I can't help the feeling that if we press hard enough it'll close faster. It's just one of those things that people just do, I guess.

Just as the doors were about to close I heard a "wait!" and instinctively stuck my hand between the closing doors, but unfortunately I wasn't fast enough or clever enough, as the odd angle at which I stuck my hand in caused the door to close on my wrist bone causing a jolt of pain to shoot up my wrist. I immediately withdrew my hand with a hiss, but I guess my embarrassing move did the trick.

As the doors slowly opened back again, the well dressed guy stood on the other side gave me a grimace, "sorry about that," he said and stepped into the elector. "It's okay, not your fault," I assured him with a small smile and looked ahead, trying to look calm instead of a like a clumsy fool who stuck her hand between a closing elevator instead of just pressing the 'open door' button.

Though I reassured him, I could still feel his stare on me. Was he looking at me out of concern or ..?

It was getting unnerving after a few moments, so I turned towards him, "look, it's really fine, you don't have to worry, it doesn't even hurt anymore. Though you can try not startling people into stopping the elevator with their hands on instinct," I added the last bit as a joke so as to show him that I really was fine, but then I noticed that his smart clean shaven, spectacled face held an even more awkward grimace.

That's when I knew that it was going to get more awkward, and somehow I knew that it was on me and my big mouth. "I'm sorry, but could you please press the 15 button, and I'll keep what you said in mind, sorry again," he released in a single breath, somehow looking like he was the one embarrassed when I was the one doing all the embarrassing stuff, like assuming that he was looking at me when clearly he was trying to look at the floor number pannel, that I was blocking, to press his floor so he can reach his home!! Stupid! Stupid!

"Oh right! Right! 15, right here, got it! 15 is what you were looking for! Your home! Penthouse! Awesome!" I rattled on incomprehensibly. Shut up Dia! What are you doing? It seems like I don't handle embarrassment well and embarrass myself further.

"That's my friend's house, actually," he muttered, awkwardly. "Oh okay! Great! I'm going to stop speaking now before I embarrass myself further," I gave a laugh, or more like tried to. It probably came out forced.

"Oh no, no! You are fine! I'm the one doing all the embarrassing stuff," he grimaced out again. Oh! So we both are being embarrassing because we think that the other one thinks we are embarrassing. Okay! I'm gonna stop using the word embarrassing now. Get a grip Dia! You are a charmer!

"It's fine, we are fine," I reassure him, this time with my big bright charming smile, and in return, I get back one grimace-less smile too, and that is exactly when the door opens with a 'ping' on floor 14. "This is me, have a good day," I say and step out of the elevator, and just before the door closes, I give the gentleman one last smile with a wave.

After a knock on the door number 1408, it opens to reveal my smart and beautiful mother. "Good evening mother! What's for dinner, it smells amazing?!" I ask her, as I close the door behind me. The amazing smell of our cook and care taker, Prema's cooking beaconing me.

"Go and wash up first! Prema is making naan with some kaju side dish, I haven't asked the name of yet. I asked her to make the mushroom fried rice, you both sisters love, too," my mother replies, ushering me to the bathroom to wash up. The doctor side of her is always wanting everything neat and tidy and germfree.

Once I've washed my face and hands and have dried them, I follow the sound of chatter and enter the dining room to see everyone settling down and take my seat beside mom and across from my sister Varna.

We soon dig in, conversation flowing easily among us, my lawyer dad telling about his recent case, without disclosing confidential details of course, while my eager brother in law asked questions and passed comments as usual. It has been two years since their marriage and he is still sucking up to my father.

Though Varna's was an arranged marriage, Manav just fell for her as soon as he saw her profile and heard about her. So, though Varna was being pursued by many suitors, Manav just tried to impress each one of us family members, so that we'll anonymously choose him for her, and he has been sucking up to all of us ever since. There is also the fact that he's generally a good guy and is nice to everyone. I couldn't be more happier for my sister though, she is blissfully married and is expecting her first born in less than half a year! I'm going to be an aunt!

All thoughts of my sister's bliss flew out if my mind, the instant my father asked, "so Dia, what antics have you been up to lately?" he asked, disapproval clear in his tone. Time to face the music, I guess.

"Well the art camp is a regular, made a few dresses this week. I'll probably be making more of those as the festival season is fast approaching. I finally got the approval from the association for the common terrace garden at my apartment. I worked at David's, decorating cakes last week. It was fun," I listed out all that's happened in my life since I last saw them.

"You did what?" my mom asked exasperated as soon as I finished talking, "It's bad enough that you work for that friend of yours at his restaurant, now you are working for strangers too? That too for such trivial jobs? Goodness! You have a degree with a gold medal from the top fashion Institute of the country! Why do you do this?" my mom cried out, shaking her head. The table went silent, all silently disapproving of my choices. Well, nothing new there.

"You know, we can help you open a boutique right? You can even branch out into franchise stores. People really seem to like your stuff," my father suggested, possibly for the hundredth time, "I received this month's money, you don't need to pay the rent and the extra! You earn so little as it is, doing odd jobs," he said, again.

"Dad, I'm 26. Of course I'm going to pay, I'm an independent woman, and I'd like to pay. The house is yours, not mine, so I need to pay the rent. I went on the Europe trip with the money you loaned me, and bought my scooty also with the money you loaned me, so I'm just paying back my generously given non interest loans. Nothing wrong with that. Besides, I earn plenty enough for me," I tried to explain the same things I explain at every dinner. Varna and Manav probably know these lines by heart by now, "as for the boutique part, I love designing dresses, I don't want to add the pressure of deadlines, profits, demands, maintenance, marketing and hundred other things to it. I don't want to make something I love into a chore. I like creating custom pieces of art. I love seeing the first hand reaction of my customers to my creations. I won't get to do that if I open a boutique. I'll probably be stuck in the office doing numbers," I added again.

My parents still not convinced, as usual, gave my doubtful looks, so my sister stepped in, not so helpfully, "You can work at my firm, you know! I can put in a good word for you. The party you planned for all my birthdays have been absolutely wonderful so far, and last year's my anniversary was just on another level," she suggested trying to please both mom, dad and me. She failed though, cause I wasn't pleased, at all.

"Varna, you know that I just did those, cause I love you, and I wanted for you to enjoy a party instead of planning it every once in a while, right? I have no interest in tying myself to a single thing and forcing myself to do it. Art shouldn't be rushed or forced. It only comes out when you are inspired, and a routine job and loads of money just doesn't inspire me," I emphasised each word, desperately trying to make them understand, but from their expressions, I guess, I was not very convincing. It seems I'll just have to try harder on the next dinner.

Just when I thought that after the two minutes of silence filled with disapproving gazes, the conversation would move on to the next topic, like usual, but instead my mother leaned sideways, and instantly every pair of eyes were on me, filled with anticipation. I instantly knew to my very core that I wasn't going to like what was to come, and I had a pretty good hunch as to what that was going to be. Still I hoped with inhaled breath.

My mother gave me an overly sweet smile, making my stomach queasy, and dropped the bomb, "we think it's time to find you a good match and get you married."

OH HELL NO!