Aman paced around the house. His agitated mood made the usually stoic family pet jittery. He barked randomly as if the house was full of strangers.
“Can you stop doing that? Billu is going crazy.”
Billu! Humph! Now I have to worry about the dog’s mental health too, Aman thought.
“Remind me again. Why do we have to go?”
“They’re our neighbours. Their child has obtained a seat in a foreign university. They invited us to partake in their happiness. Shouldn’t we go?”
“There is an agenda to all this. You’ll see.”
“Agenda? What agenda?”
“The world is not as simple as you think, Shaari. People don’t do anything just like that. There are no free lunches.”
“I didn’t hear Mrs Roshan mention paying for lunch.”
Aman turned around sharply as if he heard an ‘about turn’ from his platoon commander. He stared at his wife for a full minute, the longest he would have done in recent years.
Shaari had a blank expression as she continued folding the bundle of clothes on the sofa. He could not determine whether she was being her usual ignorant self or was casually pulling his leg.
“How often have I told you not to fold the clothes in the living room? What if a guest comes in and sees this mess?”
“This is not a mess. These are washed clothes, and unless the guest belongs to a Nudist Society, I don’t think we would offend them. Everyone wears clothes. Besides, I like watching TV when I fold the laundry.”
Aman couldn’t think of a repartee. Arguing with Shaari had become difficult over the years. She was no longer the naïve, subdued girl he had married.
“Well, then, do it fast,” he said, resuming his brisk walk across the room and the veranda.
“You’re welcome,” she called out. Aman paused and turned. Shaari offered him a bundle of clothes. “You’re welcome to join in the fun.”
Aman walked away in a huff. But returned in a few minutes. He looked as if he had attained enlightenment. “I know why Roshan invited us.”
Shaari looked up from the television screen, though her hands continued to fold the clothes.
“You remember my uncle who lives in the UK? I’m sure that he wants to connect with him. His son is joining a UK university, isn’t he?”
“Not their son, their daughter, and it’s not UK, it’s Paris.”
Aman laughed out loud. “Paris? Paris! That guy must be crazy.”
When Shaari remained impassive, Aman piped down. “What’s his daughter going to do in Paris?”
“She is an artist. She’ll study the Arts.”
Aman rubbed his hands in glee. For seven years, he tolerated this guy’s one-upmanship in everything. When Aman renovated his house, Roshan added a floor. When Aman cleaned up his yard and planted a vegetable garden, Roshan got some samplings and turned his yard into an orchard.
When Aman bought a sedan, Roshan exchanged his old SUV for an electric vehicle and reminded him every day that he used sustainable transportation.
When Aman implemented rainwater harvesting, Roshan installed solar panels.
But now, while Aman’s son was preparing for the country’s most prestigious administrative services examination, Roshan’s daughter was flying to Paris to pursue a useless degree.
There was no way Roshan could rub it in his face.
“But there has to be an agenda. It’s not that simple,” Aman kept mumbling. “Ok, let’s go,” he said to his wife, who had already decided.
On the day of the party, they set out to the given address. “Why is he spending so much money on a get-together? He’ll need it when his daughter goes abroad. Imagine a young girl living in a strange, unknown land without support. With no friends, family—”
“Why do you assume that she won’t have any friends?”
“Oh sure, she will have plenty of friends. It’s Paris, isn’t it,” he said with a wink.
Shaari looked hard at Aman, wondering why she never noticed before their marriage that his mind was narrower than his face.
“Is this a resort?” he asked as he reread the address. “The GPS shows it is six kilometres from the city. Why organise the event so far away? It’s painful to drive back in the evening traffic.”
Shaari cleared her throat. “They have invited us to stay for a day,” she said in a low voice.
Aman froze. He looked at her as if she had mentioned the unmentionable.
“Stay there? I did not agree to that.”
“That’s because you didn’t know,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing. You don’t have to worry about a change of clothes. I’ve packed everything you’ll need,” Aman looked like a man who had swallowed a ball of fury. He would have stopped to let off the steam if it wasn’t for the fast-moving traffic.
As they neared the location, Aman’s curiosity got the better of his anger. The landscape changed from the hustle and bustle of the crowded city to a pleasant rural one.
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