A wayward strand slid over her forehead and she tried to puff it into place; the mehendi on her fingers had nearly dried, but she was advised by a dozen women on the dock to retain it for another hour to darken the stain.
"Sariga mokku (Focus while praying,)" Sunitha athaiya nudged her forward and she made a face, before lightly bringing her palms together in salutation and titled her face up to the moon.
Seriously?, she thought. Why would anyone think that the moon hundreds of thousands of feet away from earth ran a marriage bureau? Or that it had a in hand in extending the life of the women's husbands?
In reality, the sarcasm stemmed from a long wait that had morphed into sullenness, but she wasn't the one to give into temptation and visit the lower deck. To add to her vexation, Advait had permanently camped there, after the little one had found an iPad in his duffel. If that hadn't been enough, he'd won over Sunitha athaiya too, often calling her downstairs seeking her opinion for the jewelry ad his company was getting ready for.
Once the pooja was over, the women started downing the elaborate dinner that had been prepared. She, however, decided to forgo her dinner to keep appearances. After all, there had been that hour long scene, in the morning, when she'd repeatedly issued a threat that she wouldn't eat all day, if they weren't going to feed her that very second.
"Koncham thinamma. Na thalli kadha. (Why don't you just eat a little bit? Won't you listen to me?)" Her ammamma came behind her, holding onto a silver bowl filled with white kesari (halwa) and her favorite buraelu (balls of jaggery goodness coated with rice flour batter and deep fried.)
"I said, no! No! No!" She said, whipping her head so fast that the length of her plait hitting her waist felt like a whiplash. Meow! A kitten's brain and with the lesson learnt from the tantrum she quieted. Ammamma gave up too and left to have her own meal. With no one to indulge her, she wandered off to the same spot where the family had lazed that afternoon.
For a night of celebration, the laanchi felt quiet with the men and the women separated on different decks. With atla taddhi being the occasion, she had no hopes of meeting anyone of the opposite sex until the next day. However, Advait didn't count. The little one shuttled back and forth between the two decks and now, she found him perched on her cot, zip zapping through the virtual roads of a race course in his red Ferrari, he would be otherwise forbidden to drive. If she wasn't already jealous from all the fun he was having with his iPad, the brat had his own plate of cut fruits, courtesy his overbearing mother - Sunitha athiya - that he popped one after another, at calculated intervals.
Looking up at her through his long lashes, Advait gestured what she was regarding at with scrutiny.
Rolling her eyes at his un-childlike nautaunki, she tread past him to proceed to her room, when she heard heavy footsteps climb up towards them.
While she did pause inside the narrow hallway that would lead to her quarters, she neither turned or gave away her presence, her hands tentatively bracing against the walls. Delaying gratification hadn't been a new game she played; there was a pulsing pleasure in eating the cake bottom up, in anticipation of the butter cream that would hit her tongue, the sweetness that dissolves without notice. This instant, to her, was no different.
"I have to check my mails, Mr. racer. Can I have the iPad for a few minutes?" She heard him say, his voice congealed with the right mix of pleading and drawl that would have any child yield to his request.
There was some movement which she couldn't map in her head, but her form alerted upon hearing him address Advait again. "I did underestimate you quite a bit, Mr. racer babu, but look at you eating so healthy...and these..."
Her brows drew together, intrigued over whatever that had caught his curiosity.
"Neredu pandu." Advait spoke struggling to have his letters not bump into one another.
"Nere what?"
"Neredu pandu." Advait repeated; perhaps, his youngest linguistics professor, she thought. "Kushi atha's favorite and mine also. My amma left so she eat, because she not eat. This four hers. This five mine."
"Oh! but that's one less than your share?" he countered.
"I ate one already." Advait said and she could visualize him shaking his head vigorously, without a morsel of guilt.
"But that's her share, isn't it?" His response brought a smile to her lips.
"Yes, but she not eat."
"So, why not eat from your share?"
"No, she not eat no. This I eat tomorrow. I eat Kushi atha's share now."
Her interest peaked, wondering if he would bow down to the the six year old's insistence. A moment or two passed and she nearly held her breath, from peculiarly sensing her wait draw to a climax.
"Well, how about we ask her?" he posed, his words solemn amidst the tepid silence that surrounded her.
"Sheesh!" she let out, rushing into the only door that would do little to hide her.
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