‘You could become blind,’ I said with a serious face.
‘Really? He said, ‘how is that possible?’
‘Be careful,’ I winked at him and left.
‘’Welcome, welcome,’ greetings had started at the entrance even before I could
leave the house.
A crowd had gathered at the main door – Ananya’s dad and mom, Shobha
athai, three other Kanjeevaram-clad aunties and two random uncles in safari suits
became the welcome party. They received Harish like an astronaut who had
returned from the first Indian lunar mission. The only time grown-ups get excited
about young people is when young people are getting married and the old people
control the proceedings. I had come to Ananya’s house several times, and I had
received a welcome no better than the guy who came to collect the cable bill. But
Harish had it all. Aunties looked at him like he was a cuddly two-year-old, only he
was fifty times the size and had a moustache that could scare any cuddly two-
year-old. He wore sunglasses, quite unnecessary at seven in the morning, apart
from showing off his sense of misplaced style. He had come with his parents, a
snug Tamilian family who walked into the room with their overachiever in shades.
Fortunately, he removed them when he sat on the sofa.
Ananya’s father noticed me with a confused expression.
‘Uncle, I was leaving,’ I said. ‘Sorry. I came for Manju’s tuitions.’
‘Had breakfast?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Then sit,’ he said. The firmness in his voice made me obey instantly. I wanted
to wriggle out of it, but a part of me wanted to see the drama unfold. Uncle’s
attention shifted to the new guests. Maybe he had made me stay intentionally. I
perched in a corner chair like a domestic servant who is sometimes allowed to
watch TV.
The taxi driver came in to ask for his bill and Harish’s dad stepped outside to
settle it. They couldn’t agree on the price and their argument began to heat up.