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Chapter 27: Whistle
In another part of the world, the light was a dying yellow, petering though a murky glass pane. With the checkered tiles disappearing into the stacks of books strewn everywhere, she wondered how her uncle navigated the small space in his wheel chair. The room hadn't changed in years; not even the smell of his cigarettes had left the high chair she was seated in; the air stale and thin. The ipod plugged into her ears, voiced short bursts soft drumming, before the sweet rasps of Zaz epitomized her 100 year long wait in black and white streets.
Her bangs dropped in-front of her eyes. One breath. And she reminded herself that she'd only held back for six years in ancient Parisian cafes, living away towards nothingness.
"Ca va, mon cherie? (How are you, my darling?)" the blackened screech of his wheelchair entered the false stillness of the room; his eyes a crisp slate onset into tired english wrinkles.
"Uncle!" she cried, her voice disappearing into the depths of all that she missed about him.
"I didn't think you would come," he said, as she lowered herself to hug him.
"Pa was insistent," she said standing upright. "You look fine. Ready for our date, old man?"
"Look at you! curls, eh? Has Paris turned you into another lost hippie?" He had an easy smile, his eyes too glad to express she was finally one step closer to him than she'd ever been.
"Ah! not yet." Her uncle continued to hold her hand, as she sat back in the chair. "Not until I have my answer. I promised you dinner only if you agreed to the whole package."
"You should perhaps sweeten the deal." She crossed her legs and made a fake attempt to appear serious. "How about movie marathons and popcorn following those dinners? Chanel refills, of course. Beer by Old Keg pub. Oh! don't forget that I get the Healey baby and not him."
"Vasundhara," his voice held a trembling request; this time it was her professor who addressed her; not the uncle he'd fondly become after he'd turned out to be her father's high school chum.
"I don't want you to feel this is an obligation," he continued, slightly pressing his grip around her wrist. "Its perfectly ok, if he no longer interests you."
Getting up from the chair, she walked towards the dirty window that framed the late evening sun; her hesitation like a thorn tearing at her throat. "Its just that he doesn't know I exist."
"Marriage will reveal different sides to both of you anyways," he added after a long pause. "Aren't you glad you are all grown up before he gets to meet you?"
She turned around and smiled. "It wasn't like I had glasses and bunny teeth when he was around."
"You were 21 then. Seven years younger than him too," her uncle countered, pushing his chair closer to her.
"He is still sever years older than me, uncle," she gently reminded him with tepid sarcasm.
"Yes, but now he will see you as you. Not as my student," the professor answered.
It was difficult to tell what bothered her more. His silent rejection then or her easy acceptance now. The reality of a wedding with him felt painfully surreal when she'd never bothered professing her affections, although her feelings had been obvious to everyone, except him.
J't'ai attendu cent ans dans les rues en noir et blanc
Tu es venu en sifflant
I waited for you 100 years long in the black-and-white streets
You came over, whistling.
What had started out as playful peeks from behind the pillar had remained hidden forever. Even a week ago, she'd thought she had obsessed enough over him, for all the time he'd not acknowledged her. Something about that incomplete emotion had felt sufficient.
The possibility that she might always love him a little more than he would was still there. That is, if he grew to have anything at all for her.
Her gaze dropped to her threaded fingers. The scene from the day her father had called her tiny Paris apartment, came back to her. "Nash uncle has a proposal for you. Aditya gave in to his nagging. He just might agree for an arranged marriage, if you are still open to it."
Kneeling, she placed a hand over her professor's open palm for the last time. A smile and another flicker of confusion swiftly drew her brows in. "Well, does he know to whistle, uncle?"
Note: I know I have been away for a while, but I will slowly make a comeback - bear with me. Thank you for all those who have patiently waited.
Ye Hai Mohabbatein
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