‘Marwari. I’m Riya Somani.’
‘Ah,’ my mother said. ‘They let you come to Bihar and work?’
‘They don’t let me do things. I wanted to. I can decide for myself,’
Riya said, her feminist feathers beginning to flutter.
‘You can?’ my mother said. I sensed a tinge of sarcasm in her
voice. Riya did too.
‘I mean, those decisions don’t always work out so well. But I do
like to make my ovvn decisions,’ she said.
'They have a big business in Delhi, Ma,’ I said.‘Infrastructure.’
‘Marwaris are a rich community,’ my mother said. ‘Why are you
working?’
'I want to be independent,’ Riya said.
I realized this whole conversation was not flowing like the river of
inilk and honey I had hoped it would.
‘Riya loves litti-chokha. In fact, I called her home for that,’ I said.
My mother’s frown vanished at the mention of her favourite
cuisine.
‘Really?’ she said. ‘When did you have it?’
‘Here in Bihar. Madhav takes me to Maurya Complex in Patna all
the time.’
‘All the time?’my mother said, one eyebrow raised.
‘Well, a few times,’ I said, my tone guilt-ridden again. 'Twice or
thrice. Classes keep me so busy, I don’t get the time.'
Ma took a big sip of her nimbu paani.
‘I thought you go there to study,’she said. ‘Is the speech ready?’
‘Going on. Riya is helping me,’ I said.
‘Is she?’ my mother said. I wished 1 had told her more about Riya,
but I could never gather the courage. I decided the only way forward
was to change the topic.
‘Should I ask Savitri tai to lay the table?’ I said.
‘I can do that,’ Riya said.
My mother looked at her.
‘If it’s okay? I know the kitchen. I can help Savitri tai.’
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