We soon reached my home. Upon seeing my father's car, sooner than I had expected, I was greeted by the aroma of freshly brewed tea as I stepped in. My father, Mahesh Sinha, was savouring his cup in the softly lit hall, an oasis of tranquility amidst the chaos of the day. Across from him, my mother sat, her presence adding a serene balance to the room.
He seemed to be in a good mood. "Where were you?" Dad asked in a gentle tone.
Before I could answer, Dolly's voice quivered slightly, betraying her nervousness as she addressed my aunt, "Aunt, I am going back home. Please tell Aruna Aunt I was with you."
Aarti, noticing Mahesh's reaction, quickly introduced Dolly. "Maheshji, this is Dolly, whom I told you about. She is our future Daughter-in-law. Dolly came to take the blessing of Ashwin’s Papa." As Dolly touched his feet, a customary sign of respect, Mahesh's face softened with affection. He gently placed his hand on her head, his blessing a heartfelt whisper, promising a life filled with joy and prosperity.
Then Dolly sat beside my Mom, and I took my place beside Dad. He looked at me, a hint of emotion in his eyes. “My dear son, I am happy for you. I have no issue with this marriage. Convincing the rest of the family might be challenging, but rest assured, I won’t disappoint you this time.”
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After a playful complaint from Dad about my need to freshen up, I made a gloomy face and retreated to the washroom. Returning to the now quieter hall, I sensed the subtle void left by Dolly's absence. Dad, with his eyes closed, had retreated to the guest room for some rest, perhaps contemplating the day's events.
The afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the front yard, now bustling with caterers weaving through an orchestra of colours as they set up the tent. Each fold of fabric and clink of cutlery seemed to sing of the upcoming celebration. My grandparents were instructing labourers on one side.
I watched Dad's lingering gaze on Mom, their history a tapestry of unsaid words and emotions. Their love, still palpable yet entangled in the complexities of their past, left me with questions too deep to voice. "I decided that at least today we will do Shagun," Dad announced. Shagun, a way of blessing with gifts and rituals, signalling the marriage's confirmation. "For the rest of our family, I will inform them after going back home, and you can return to Hyderabad for your company. It's not easy to handle your own company. I am so proud of you."
Today, seeing Dad a little emotional and happy was a rare sight. I followed his gaze, seeing him look lovingly at Mom. This always happened whenever Dad had a chance to meet Mom or received a call from her. Their divorce was a mystery to me, his love for her still evident, yet unspoken.
Feeling a bit hungry, I noticed the caterers were putting food on plates on a table as my grandpa called out, “Come on, let's have lunch. You too, Mehman.” Dad seemed pleased with grandpa’s affectionate call.
We all gathered at the table, now a canvas of culinary delights. The vegetable rice was a mosaic of colours and flavours; the dal tadka, a dance of spices in golden lentils. Each dish, from the hearty potato and cauliflower gravy to the tangy mango pickle, added to the feast's richness.
After the meal, as Mom and Dad left for shopping, their silhouettes against the afternoon sun, I felt a mix of anticipation and nostalgia, wondering what the evening would bring to our intertwined lives.