12- “My interests are like a chameleon: changing and adapting.”

AHANA

“Tell me why I'm doing this again?” I asked my friend as I concentrated on stitching the fabric of the dress with a stitching machine.

Nisha was marking some measurements with a piece of cloth with a tape between her fingers and a pencil in her mouth. Upon hearing my question, she removed the pencil from her mouth without turning to me. “Because you're idle, you literally cocoon yourself to bed all day unless you have to go outside, you keep overthinking everything... Most of all, I'm saving you from falling into the severe case of depression.”

“You make my life sound so depressing, I'm already depressed,” I told her. I ran the length of the cloth under the machine, stitching up the black lace to its ends. I took a good look at the finished product before throwing it away to her. “See how perfect it is.”

“I know because you're good at stitching. Remember the Barbie doll dress you stitched back in school.”

“I still have it locked in my closet,” I admitted with a funny face.

For the past few days, I had been sort of volunteering myself to Nisha's upcoming project. She worked for a boutique that mainly focused on designing women's kurtas and other traditional clothes. She mostly worked in the studio but if she didn't find the need of professional equipment, she continued her work in her overly, messy bedroom. I happened to visit her one day, just to see her PMS'ing because she was near the due date. Like a loyal best friend, I offered my hand (I had nothing better to do anyway) which ended up with me staying the night. I even Googled a few niches from the net and suggested my own ideas in between. It was fun. At one time I was helping her while at other, I simply observed. So here I was, wasting my time by giving her time.

We decided to give our hands and eyes a a coffee break after a while. I let my eyesight bask in the dim sunlight as I seated on a chair besides the balcony. For the sake of passing time, I began fake shooting my surroundings with the help of my palm gun, while humming a tune, all at the same time. Nisha entered, carrying a plate of cookies on one hand and a tray of two cups on other. She situated herself on a chair opposite mine and stared at me weirdly as I played my shooting game. “Was your conversation with Vansh that good? You had been on cloud nine ever since. It's already been a week, missy. Wake up.”

“Shut up!” I said, pouting and lowered my hands to fetch a cup of coffee. “It wasn't a conversation, but a date. A proper date in Vansh- Ahana style. Go, dump your jealousy somewhere else.” I waved a hand in dismissal. His face and voice was still fresh in my mind, like it just happened yesterday. We didn't have a date like that afterwards but we never lost contact either. We would still catch up through messages and short duration phone calls. As long as there was a connection between us— no matter how faint— it was okay.

“I ain't jealous, babe. It's just strange watching you smile like a creep. I don't even feel like saying I'm happy for you anymore,” she teased and took another sip. “Now that you consider it, your relationship with Vansh doesn't seem like a huge hurdle like before. I remember how you came crying to me after he left Boston. I wasn't in favor of your choices, but now, I think you two made the right decision.”

I straightened up, “Ha, so you finally agree with me. I told you so. After all that happened, I think it was good he went to Boston. The long distance sucks but maybe that's what we needed all along.”

“You could have just gone for a long distance relationship then.”

I shook my head, “That wouldn't have been beneficial either. We would be compelled to contact each other everyday, just for the sake of formality. I think doing this releases us from that burden, making room for genuine feelings. Vansh and I just discussed about this, the other day.”

“You're so level headed, girl. I like how you two are handling this. Let's hope for the best,” Nisha said and I smiled, knowing that she meant it. I don't think our relationship should be a problem now. Things should be fine. I'm positive.

For a while, we sipped our hot coffees in silence until Nisha spoke again. “Are you free tomorrow?”

I regarded her suspiciously. “Are you taunting me?”

“Yeah, I know, silly question,” she said, showing her tongue. She kept her half empty cup between her thighs. Something was up, I could feel it. “You know, I'm wondering if you can visit our studio tomorrow.”

“Visit your studio. Sure...” I agreed along until her words registered in my mind again. “Ho- ho- hold up right there. You do know the literal meaning of 'visit' right? Like touring around and coming back after sometime. Just coming and going, nothing else.”

“Puft, what else could it be for?” she retorted with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, I don't know, but knowing you, you might throw me to a random internship programme or something.” I knew her well enough. She had a habit of offering free advise to other people problems while sometimes, helping them out, even if the other person didn't need it. She was helpful and naive just like that.

She held my hand, surprising me. “I'll do no such thing... Erm, hopefully... Weren't you curious about how studios and professionals were like? I even talked about you to Maitree, my boss so you better drop your ass tomorrow to save my prideful ass.”

I let out a meek sigh. “Do I even have a choice? I'll visit.” I gave in.

The conversation then shifted on to other mundane things though I would be lying if I say I wasn't looking forward, even a bit. Ever since my jobless period, this was the first time I was excited about something. Maybe Nisha knew that deep down. I was lucky to have her.

~

“So 'ow wash or fifit tu da fafon tufio? (So how was your visit to the fashion studio?)” Aman asked while I scrunched my nose at his audacity to ask with his mouth full. It was a lousy Sunday afternoon and I would have added 'normal' but there was nothing normal when you were having a noisy lunch with four misbehaved brats. I don't even recall inviting them today. Because they invited themselves, remember? Right. Vishal called my Mum this morning asking if my family was busy today because they wanted to visit me. The conversation smoothly moved on to inviting them over lunch. Of course I had to help my Mum in preparing a grand feast for my bukkad (hungry person) dogs. “Oi, I auf ou sumfin. (I asked you something),” Aman added, still insisting to talk like that.

“It was good,” I answered after I had finished chewing my morsel. “It wasn't very big but it looked fancy enough...” And then I began to describe the kind of clothing, embroidery and design that were there, not realizing that I was going way into detail for those poor boys to understand. I couldn't help but be stupefied at the kind of dresses I saw, especially the ones worn by mannequins. The outlines of various outfits on the sheets of paper, the sounds of the stitching machines, the shaping and designing the fabrics— It was creativity all around. The crew seemed friendly and glamorous enough. It didn't look like a professional workplace. To say I was a bit envious would be a lie, I was jealous.

“Ahana,” Vishal called, all eyeballs turning to him now. “You do realize that you don't necessarily need a three year designing degree to go into fashion, right? There are other ways too.”

At that, my mother sighed dramatically and pointed her spoon in my direction. “Tell him, beta. She doesn't listen to me. We've been telling her to go for it since she's obviously interested. Even Nisha is ready to talk about internship with her manager.”

“Remember Mrs Seema, my distant  Aunt? She got into fashion by working under a well known fashion designer for a whole year. I can talk to her if you want.” Xander offered and I rolled my eyes.

From then on, everyone talked about whatever little they knew about the fashion industry like they had done PhD on it. They lured me to go for it while I stated my reasons. I wouldn't deny, I knew I was interested but I don't think that interest was big enough to make me leave my previous career that I worked years for. I mean, wouldn't it be a waste to the three year course I did at Toronto followed by two year job? That road wasn't easy if I remember. I cannot trample on all those efforts, just because I was having an eye for something else.

I often looked upto Vansh. He always wanted to pursue Architecture. He worked his ass off it and now he had a stable job, that too, at Boston (even if it was temporary). It was a one way route for him, unlike the haphazard route of mine. My interests were like a chameleon— changing and trying to adapt to its surroundings. In the end, I shut them all by saying I'll think about the intern. Maybe.

About quarter to four, the boys left. That's what I previously thought until Piyush requested to stay back as he wanted to watch a football live match with Papa. 'I promise I'll leave after this.' he insisted. Since it was the second half anyway, I let him stay.

A little while later, I settled down with them while bringing four cups of tea along. Mum also came back from her afternoon nap. Just then my ears picked on a conversation Papa was having with Piyush.

“Now look at Ahana, she's already becoming twenty four. She'll be twenty five next year but is still yet to marry.”

Oh God, not this shit again. “Seriously, Papa?” I voiced out in distaste and looked at both of my parents now. “Do you two have to start complaining about me to my friends? Male friends. And my birthday is like a year away so I'm still twenty four, thank you very much.”

“Then have you two sorted out whatever problem you were having?” Mum asked and I froze, knowing exactly what she was talking about. When I eyed her wide against speaking further about me and Vansh, she simply added, “Your father knows.”

So much for fake promises. Thanks a lot, Mum! “I'm not in a position to give a  proper answer right away but things have been greatly improv—”
 
“You mean she's having issues with her boyfriend?” Piyush, who was pretty much absent from this whole scenario, voiced out, sounding a little too excited for his liking.

“Yeah, she mentioned like that but she said, they had an agreement of some sorts and they will resolve their issues.”

“Were you two still having problems when he visited us?” Papa asked, his voice stoic. I didn't feel like saying out loud so I simply nodded a feeble yes. I regretted opening my big, fat mouth in front of my mother. It was one of those quiet evenings that soon turned into a heartfelt one. Mum was complaining about something that Papa did, but later on, she moved on to talk about the blissful days of their relationship and how he proposed. In the midst of it, she asked about Vansh for the first time ever, making me grow flustered. Seeing her extremely positive mood— let me repeat— extremely positive mood, I spilled out some of the decent things that Vansh did for me. She could sense something wrong as I was talking in past tense, so she questioned about it. I didn't tell her the whole story, nor told her about our break. I simply threw some hints here and there.

Papa nodded, understanding something on his own. “I wasn't wrong in my assumption, Neelu. I saw the lack of conviction in his eyes when I asked him about her marriage.”

“That wasn't lack of conviction, Papa. He was just taken aback since you asked him so suddenly,” I defended for Vansh. I felt like I should add something more but didn't know how to put it, without making them know the whole truth. Why? Because I was sure they wouldn't understand.

Papa rubbed his chin, growing more thoughtful by the second and honestly, it was starting to scare me. “Maybe we should find other suitors for you, just in case your relationship doesn't work out.”

If that wasn't enough then Mum spoke too, adding fuel to fire. “You remember Sweta, Mr Kumar's daughter? She waited for her partner hoping, he'd tell about his relationship to his family and convince them to marry her but it never happened. Four years later, he married some other girl of his parent's choice. Beta, what if— ”

“Mom!” I cut her off, my heart beating anxiously now, “just because he dumped her brutally doesn't mean everyone will copy him. It certainly doesn't mean that the girl will face the same fate. And Papa, I'm not going to look for anyone else, sorry,” I said, crossing my arms, defiant.

We were arguing back and forth as Papa kept saying that he only had two years left before his retirement and it was his duty as a father to send his daughter off in grand style. All the while forgetting the awkward third— sorry, fourth wheeler, listening to our discussion like he fucking belonged here. Well, until he opened his grand mouth.

“I think Uncle is right, Ahana. It's possible that you'll marry your boyfriend but you cannot guarantee it one hundred percent, can you? You should consider other options too.”

Papa patted his back, pulling a fake crying face, “Atleast someone understands. Thanks for siding with me.”

Was Piyush out of his goddamn mind?Marriage wasn't like career choices where you considered 'other options'. I was a person, not an object for Godsake. “Shut up,” I told him while glaring at him. I would have given him an earful but restrained since we were in front of my parents.

Either his ear holes were filled with ear trash or he forgot the literal meaning of 'shut up' because he kept blabbering. “No problem, Uncle,” he said, smoothly and fell further to the sofa. “Infact, I can arrange a few suitors for her if you like. Two of my known people are currently looking for a girl. Without any form of dowry, I must add.”

If this was his way of teasing me then this certainly wasn't funny in the least. His smile dropped a bit as he glanced at my angry face before looking elsewhere. “I actually have one boy in mind. He is twenty six. He comes from a reputable Rajput family and works in Samsung.”

Knots formed in my stomach at his words and no, it wasn't the good kind. What was he...? “Works in Samsung? Mum interjected him and my madly running thoughts. My head was starting to spin now. “But you—”

“Yes, I'm a Rajput and I also work in an IT firm. The guy I was talking about is sitting right in front of you three, talking about this. It's not a bad side option if you consider it, right?”

.

.

.

A biscuit just fell to the floor, diverting everyone's attention to the poor, fallen biscuit. It fell from my hand and it didn't fell by accident, oh hell no! I deliberately made it fall. Why? Because his words were THAT shocking. Along with my jaw that almost threatened to fall off my face.

Why? Because it was that shocking!!

“Here, take this one instead,” Piyush offered another biscuit from the plate like he was only offering a biscuit and not his bloody hand in marriage.

The house fell into a pregnant silence once again until Papa cleared the throat and found the courage to break the spell. “Were you serious, son?”

“Absolutely!” Piyush answered with a bright smile while joining his palms resting on his leg. I knew he wasn't joking because he certainly wasn't the kind to joke about something as grand as this.

“Do you like her?”

It came from Mum, who was assessing him with mild curiosity. Her question froze me to my freezing bones, while this motherfucker still smiled like he suddenly possessed three pairs of balls.

“What's there to not like about her? She's the kind of person everyone adores. Her partner would be insanely lucky to have her, not the other way around,” he said, holding his gaze and that was when I saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. The kind that made me believe each and every word he said. It stole my breath away. My eyes were downcast as I felt my ears grow warm with embarrassment.

It only lasted for a moment following which, my embarrassment turned into fury. More so, when I noticed my parents sharing a mischievous smile at each other and then at us, like those shipping fandoms in anime community. Maybe idiocy runs in my family. God, what if they have already started dreaming about his role as their future son in law?I was in real, deep shit. Fuck, fuck, fuuck, noooo!

I stood up from the seat, taking matters into my own hands. “Piyush, come with me. I wish to talk in private for a moment.” My heart was beating over the roof as I said this without looking him in the eye. I shot a side glance at my over exaggerative parents. “Hope you don't mind.”

The moment the two of us were in my room, out of my parents radar, I lunged towards Piyush by pulling his ear. He screeched in pain. “What were you thinking back then?! Do you realize what you fuckin did?! Huh, do you? Answer me!” I lashed out, my breaths coming out faster than normal. I wanted to wipe off that grin he was sporting for the past minutes now.

“Ow, ow,” He groaned in pain (while still grinning) as I let his ear go. “God, so much for complimenting you. Why are you girls so ignorant? You should be falling in my arms by now,” he said, spreading his arms jokingly.

I zeroed my eyes on him, “What is wrong with you?!” I shouted at the top of my voice. I closed my eyes momentarily and took a deep breath, calming myself down even if it was becoming difficult.

Piyush gave me one of those 'what the fuck' looks before dropping himself to the chair. “You're right, Ahana.  Something is wrong with me,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair before turning his gaze towards the window. “But damn fuck, it feels so good. I never thought I'd be able to feel like this. Like I got rid of a bug that was living inside me for years. Goddamn, even this evening sun is looking brighter to me now.”

I facepalmed. It was useless arguing with this man. I was asking him something while he was too busy losing himself in his euphoria? How could he just claim me like that?

A minute of silence passed until he spoke again. “You're really insensitive, you know that. You just...” he trailed off, his eyebrows creased. Eventually, he stood up, shooting a helpless smile at me and headed towards the door.

“Uh, wait, what are you...?”

He turned back to me but didn't meet my eye. “First of all, you need to chill pill, girl. It's not as serious as you are making out to be. Fine, maybe your parents want you to marry early but they definitely wouldn't do anything against your wishes. Even I can tell that.” he turned around. “Besides, I know that something like this will never happen. Never.” 

“Huh?”

But he was gone like a wind before I could think about something intelligible to say. I dumbly followed him to the living room to hear him apologize to my parents and even taking my side, telling them to go by my wishes. Soon after, he made his exit without looking back.

It felt like deja- vu. Something like this had happened before, didn't it? Precisely when Vansh confessed his earnest  feelings to me. He looked so vulnerable and hurt back then. I could sense the same hurt in Piyush's voice too, before he parted. Speaking of Vansh, I wonder how he will take this piece of news. Maybe I should hold back from telling him for now.

I went back to my room and sat with a million thoughts running in my head.

Just why was I so insensitive?

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A u t h o r' s   N o t e

Ha, ha, ha *cue in dramatic music* 😈

Hope you're glad to see an Ahana based chapter after so long. The thing is you're not going to see much of Ahana's pov chapters now but there will come a point where you'll mostly see Ahana pov chapters. Just be patient, guys. Although the next chapter might also be in her pov. You'll see.

Oh wait, seems like our dear Ahana wants to ask something. *Passes her thoughts to me* Okay, fine... She wants to know what she should do about her job/ career? Should she look for a graphic designing job or try her hand in fashion designing? It could be permanent, or not-- As she said herself, her interest are like a chameleon lol. Comment your opinions below.

Chalo mudde pe aate h... Thoughts about this chapter or specifically the last scene. Was it expected? Or Piyush really did possess three pairs? 😉😉

Don't forget to vote and comment. Look forward to the next chapter. It's going to be entertaining. Very entertaining! *laughs*