"Why do you wear a watch that doesn't work?"
Arnav looks up from the file he was reviewing and swallowed. A colleague, a family member or a peer would have received a glare, a scathing non sequitur, a segue or even a feigned ignorance. He respects the man who is curious about the state of his watch and doesn't find it in himself to brush it off.
"It belonged to my father. My mother wore it after he passed away. It stopped working the moment she died. I have been wearing it ever since." Arnav shrugs out a nominally honest reply and goes back to reviewing the file on the table.
"That's...oddly philosophical and pathologically morbid," the elderly gentleman replies. Arnav doesn't say anything further. They both pick up the discussion on inventory. Arnav shifts his left wrist to feel the heaviness of the watch.
-----------------------------------------------
"We are hosting a charity this Saturday. All proceedings go to the city's cow shelter." Anjali is excited. He can tell. Her husband Shyam, hovers in her orbit. Arnav doesn't know if that's love or protective bubble or a voyeuristic perspective. He doesn't comment on Shyam. Shyam is one subject that brings Arnav to his knees since Anjali's affection for her husband is borderline obsessive. Probably unhealthy but Arnav never comments on that.
"Okay." Arnav replies. He doesn't have time for this. Also he is too tired to argue.
"Will you be bringing Lavanya?" Anjali asks, a teasing smile, glint in her eyes and exuding kind of hope that doesn't have a room in this world.
"Lavanya and I are taking a break. Why will I bring her as a date?" Anjali's obliviousness can be easily mistaken to childlike innocence. It isn't, he thinks wildly. Anjali doesn't want to have confrontations with messy, broken, flawed things. Even relationships.
As expected Anjali's smile falters. "But you love her." And with that, Arnav's leftover calm evaporates.
"So?" He asks dangerously. For a change Anjali is quiet. Arnav is about to breathe a sigh of relief when she begins her chagrin.
"So it is expected and wished by all your family members that you bring her into the fold whenever we invite half of city's elite. So we are all hoping we don't have to dodge questions about your marriage or your sexuality or your philandering ways and actually talk about the shelter for the cows, and the problems it is currently facing." Patches of pink appeared on Anjali's cheeks - a clear outward expression of her anger with matching thorn in her voice. And in these vicious moments Arnav truly thrives.
"Or I can donate the money you make from this charity right now and cancel the party entirely. My accounts department will have one less thing to work on for the week." Arnav rarely bluffs. Anjali never seem to remember that. She always thinks I am her baby brother and not thirty something old man, he thinks in indignation. Have I become a shadow of a man she thought I would be?
Rage reigns in her eyes. Arnav finds smug satisfaction in his. Anjali thinks it's a stalemate. Arnav knows it is his win. Even when she loses an argument, she refuses to see the problem in her thought process. She isn't oblivious. She is blind, his mind supplies. He doesn't agree with that assessment.
"Your boyfriend is waiting for you in your study," she grinds out. Arnav isn't done yet.
"You should've shown him to my room." His response is callous. The verbal barrage does nothing to him anymore. He isn't entirely immune to harshness. He simply doesn't care anymore.
-----------------------------------------------
He finds Aman with an open laptop, huge mug of tea - Arnav is sure the teabag is stolen from his personal collection, a brand new Sudoku book and a frown.
"Come on in. Help yourself to some of my precious tea collection that I thought I had hidden well." There was laughter in Arnav's voice. Aman's mere presence lifted his mood a great deal. He thanked the God that he didn't think existed for giving him a best friend he didn't believe he deserved.
"Don't be a Scrooge Arnav. Sharing is caring, boyfriend." Aman unnecessarily makes a noisy slurp of his tea. Arnav bursts into laughter. The tension in his shoulder reduces as Aman gives him a fond look.
"Anjali is hell bent on proving that you and I are dating." Arnav takes the tea mug and takes a sip. His eyes involuntarily close when undercurrent of jasmine mixed with a hint of orange bursts on his tongue. The aroma flattens the line on his forehead. When he opens his eyes, Aman is watching him with a steady gaze.
"Will that be so bad?" Aman asks, not for the first time.
Arnav's quietness is a reply that Aman has received twice in the past. The way he has been falling, Aman wonders if he will ever hit the ground.
"Let's talk money," Aman says pulling his laptop and offering a gentle smile to his friend. The relief that floods in Arnav's eyes makes Aman take an urgent breath to mollify the torment this predicament had brought him.
-----------------------------------------------
Arnav walks the streets he once walked his father. He is dressed up to his eyeballs that scream "money". The cracked sidewalk is an ugly companion to his pristine shoes. He is avoiding the party at his house and everyone there. Aman was out of country while Lavanya had politely declined. Lavanya wasn't avoiding Arnav. She was avoiding his family. He didn't blame her for that since he was doing the same.
His shoes gathered a healthy layer of dust and grime as he walked the older part of the city, its old buildings now woven with modern ones. The view settled the rattling in his ribcage just before he tripped over a crack. He chuckled at his clumsiness hoarsely as a sturdy hand reached out to study him.
"Are you okay?" A man asked, watching Arnav's hobbling feet.
Arnav nodded and smiled a thanks.
"You can sit there, in that shop, for few minutes to rest your toes. They wouldn't mind," the stranger offered a kind advice. Kindness, like compassion was a rare commodity in this world. It was probably the first time it was offered to him without strings attached in several weeks. The thought churned his stomach.
"Thank you." Arnav's absent reply doesn't bother the stranger as he walks away.
Arnav looks up from his feet and glances at the shop. A startled sob like laugh escapes his throat and makes his eyes wet.
WATCHING. That's the name of the shop that sold and repaired watches.
His wrist burns with memory of his father's watch. He ignores it as he wobbles inside.
TBC