Marriage?

Marriage??

Maya sat numbly on the sofa. The kettle she had put on a while whistled sharply and she was aware, well aware of it all and she knew. The numbness, the thought processing, the matter of events that just took place in the living room. Her mother was distantly sobbing, in her room away from her but the loud sniffles meant that she was calling for her.

The Gama was a different person altogether, her life was different altogether. Somewhere someone is calmly pouring the hot water out of the whistling kettle and making coffee. She lived in a different society; the word ‘different’ may be overused but it fitted perfectly. They were the Resistors— a community that is separate from the normal society. They descended from people who scrambled to preserve the old practices in the age of the onslaught of change and modernism. They refused to wither and conform, rather grew in number and power leading to a divide among the population: The Politicals and the Resistors.

The Gama stood as the ultimate power among the Resistors, he stands in command of a large number of militants and illegal processions of the country. The Black market and roads of trade were under his power and thus indirectly, he controlled the government.

‘The Gama has arranged a system of alliance with the Government.’ Pavi began as he settled himself with Maya and her mother. He placed a set of embroidered feet sandals in between them and Maya felt herself harden as she knew what that meant, it was a signal of something forbidding; an espousal, a symbol of bethrothement and sending a girl away. Maya felt a bitterness sprouting in her throat and she felt the urge to throw up whatever she had had for breakfast.

‘What do you mean?’ Maya demanded, quietly thanking that fate that Pavi was the messenger, rather than the Gama requesting their presence and commanding this news directly to her pawn of a mother who seemed to do whatever the Gama told her. She felt her mother tense up beside her at her choice and tone of words.

‘The Gama solicits that the alliance with the Politicals may be sealed with a mariage de convenance.’

‘Mariage de convenance?’ Maya felt that certain disgust and bitterness to turn against Pavi at the moment, why was he trying to decorate this?

The calm old and delicate man merely smiled at her softly.

‘Hideo of the UCU Political Party.’ Pavi said and slid a photo next to the embroidered feet sandals which, Maya realized, were laden with spun gold threads. Maya cast a brief glance at the photo, a typical look of someone from the Government. Prim and proper, all that getup. He was giving a promotional smile as they do on an election campaign. Wait, the picture was just taken from a campaign poster itself. His hair was slicked back and he stood in a classic campaign pose, smiling a little too wide with his head turned away from the camera. He had it all, straight nose, straight teeth, straight jaw, whatnot, whatnot.

‘He’s the next candidate for the President. As informed by the organization.’ Pavi set a file on the table next. Where is he getting all these from? He continued, ‘Remarkable set of characteristics I must say, for a man. He has been exclusively singled out from his peers and competitors early on and trained for his position. A prized possession of the Government.’ Pavi gave a noted look and stopped as if he’s pondering on his next words.

‘Maya, this,’ He started, looking already regretful as he speaks, ‘is not an imposition. Rather as you are of age now, the Gama regards this as a rational decision for the sake of your future and for th–’

‘Pavi.’ Maya softly interrupted. She reached over to push the gold embroidered sandals slightly in his direction. She continued,

‘I won’t do it.’

‘Maya.’ Her mother gasped immediately, and turned to Pavi in haste, amending for her daughter’s action with some sort of complementary words,

‘She didn’t mean it.’

‘She’s just not feeling well.’

‘I shall have a proper talk with her.’

Stop. Just stop talking Ma. Shut up.

Maya refused herself from turning and looking at the fear-stricken eyes of her mother. Something sickening tugged at her stomach and it went up to her throat, the Gama was sure to put this straight with her mother in the evening ‘audience’ and she knew.

She knew her mother feared the Gama. It seemed so.

‘I won’t do it.’ Maya repeated. Her voice was raised and her eyes unfocused. In her mind, she was enacting what the Gama would say to her mother during the so-called audience. But she didn't know.

Maya didn't know what they actually did during this 'audience' and she didn't want to.

Maya looked at the files that Pavi had left on the table before he left. She remembered his prodding look from his aged eyes, his face youthful but wrinkled at the corners. Pavi always seemed like he grew younger as the marks on his face increased.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

She considered chucking the file and the photo in the trash but she knew that would not simply put the matter to rest.

‘The Council of Members of Parliament believes that an agreement can be brought if the Head of the Resistors, that if you concede of his unconditional factory ban that restricts the movement of the Government to bring three states to potential urbanization.’ The words came out of the dry lips framed with vertical lines of old age. A truly distasteful sight, the Gama thought as the man in front of him prattled off on and on. It never seemed to end.

The Gama looked over the dining table and sighed, so much for a peaceful dinner. He looked at the man in front of him. Dinner with the Representative of the Council of Members of Parliament with a side of shady negotiations regarding the national economy. A mouthful lot of people for the Gama, both their names and diction.

The Gama ran his eyes over and checked out the Representative; the usual old political leech with signature seedy eyes and an aging blotchy face. Ugh, and those revolting wrinkled lips. It was just twenty years too late for him to size up and ‘negotiate’ with the Resistors. The Politicals really needed to get new band members. Wrinkles, The Gama believed, don't win you any hearts.

‘I hate this as much as you do, my friend but I would have to refuse. After all, it is, unfortunately, an unconditional clause. I couldn't possibly think of any circumstances that would force the removal of an unconditional clause.’ The Gama spoke slowly. Almost insulting and well deliberate on his part that the Representative incoherently stammered and maundered down on his half-eaten dinner plate.

Pretentious sycophants. The Gama stared ahead at him, at the flabby stretches of skin tucked in by the collar of his shirt. He imagined pinching it, pulling it hard, then snipping through the elasticated skin with a smooth sharp blade. Of course, not without the blood. He chuckled softly and suddenly frowned, what was his name again? Jameson? Thomson? He fixed his white suit coat.

Motherfuckers with westernized names acting as if they care about the nation. Not a shred of originality.

‘I understand that it’s the election season. But pardon me, I see no point in taking up a perfectly resourceful fifty acres of land and degrade it down to mere toxin. By lord, and it’s a mineral ore factory and you call it advancement?’ The Gama smiled, his eyes a bit too close to pass for friendly,

‘It is just that green always looks better than grey, at the very least to my people.’

‘It’s just…’ She sniffled lightly, ‘a bloody pain.’

The wine sloshed around and he followed the red liquid with his eyes as the glass rose and slipped into her red lips. Her throat moved. Pavi smiled lightly, trying to remain sympathetic, but his lips' languid stretch mimicked his stretching patience. The smell of wine had drenched the room and teamed with the perfume that usually hung around her room, he was feeling nauseous. The white room, decked with her choice of ‘interior décor’ seemed to sway slightly and Pavi disliked feeling disoriented which he always did in this god-forsaken room. The smell and stuffiness always seemed to linger around.

‘If it wasn’t for Ehan.’ Sunka whispered and she looked up at Pavi. ‘I wish...I don’t know what I wish for but if not for my son…’ She sniffled and coughed, and her head drooped alarmingly.

‘Madame, I think that’s quite enough for today.’ Pavi informed and lifted the wine bottle. Chateau Lafite 1787, it read and as he stood up, suddenly Pavi felt himself jerked forward by his wrist and she came into his face and stared at him blankly. He was barely balancing himself on the low white table where she often had her meals, he glanced down; the wine had splattered red on her arm and her nightgown.

It’s only seven pm, only.

He suppressed the rising lump of emotions in himself and swallowed. She was still staring through him and hoarsely it came, her voice:

‘Where is my husband?’

‘Well, enjoying yourself?’

Sunka whipped her neck to the side, towards the door; it was his voice. The white sliding door was open, and he stood there, looking as he always does, stern and observing, maybe a bit magnetically masculine in her eyes. He was wearing a white suit that merged with his white hair slicked back and a cream-colored tie but barefoot; he must have just returned from his dinner with the Representative. Her chest swelled and swirled, He’s just returned home and he’s here.

He looked so insolent and she wanted to be in his arms, under him, feel his definite weight on herself. His weight on her life, solid and physical. A comfortable suffocation.

Pavi had straightened himself up, well he never did look out of sorts. His long straight hair was never a strand out of place and it seemed to always dance as he moved.

‘Pavi.’ The Gama looked at his soisidai: his aid and then to his wife. He seemed to be raising a challenge in his eyes when he smiled tauntingly at her. He continued,

‘Make my usual arrangements with the former madame.’

A second of silence.

‘Understood, sire.’ Pavi breathed, bowed and as he left, he took a glance at the Madame. Her eyes glowed, not in anger but madness and she seemed to have turned into marble in all her glaring beauty, her fair skin seemed to be turning green and her red lips trembled. She kept her eyes on her husband, as though trying to desperately communicate. Don’t.

Don’t do this. Please.

The Gama and his wife stared at each other, and then he looked away as if brushing her aside. He loosened his tie and turned to walk away.

‘Oh wait.’ He looked back, over his shoulder, ‘Pavi.’

‘Yes?’

‘Inform her that she shall be staying at my quarters until the morning meal.’

Pavi nodded and bowed. He tried to speak but it was drowned away by Sunka's sobbing.

***