‘It’s peak hour rates.’
‘I don’t care.’
We walked to the STD booth near Vijay Char Rasta. I called home. ‘Hi, mom, it
is me.’
‘Krish, we should book tickets. I am coming, Shipra masi wants to come, Rajji
mama and Kamla aunty, too.’
‘Mom, is dad coming?’
‘No,’ she said and fell silent.
‘It’s my convocation,’ I said.
‘He said he has work.’
‘He’s retired. What work?’ the meter rode up twenty rupees.
‘You talk to him, he expects a personal invitation,’ my mother said.
‘I won’t. Doesn’t he want to come by himself?’
‘No, why don’t you ask him to?’ She prepared to put me on hold.
‘Mom, no. I don’t want to call him if he doesn’t want to come.’
‘Fine. Can masi and mama come?’
‘Don’t get any relatives,’ I pleaded.
‘Why? They love you so much. They want to see you....’
‘I want you to meet someone, mom.’
‘Who?’
‘You’ll find out,’ I said.
I came out of the booth. Ananya and I walked back. Which father needs an
invitation from his son to attend his convocation? Screw him, I said to myself.
‘You invited him?’ Ananya asked.
‘Dad’s not coming,’ I said.
‘Why?’
nora
(Nora)
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