Page 13 of Can This Be Love?

‘They are meeting the boy’s parents this Sunday. If the parents like each other, they want me to meet him by the end of this month.’

The Goswamis meant business and we knew enough of Anu’s parents to know that it would be a very bad idea to cross their paths. Ahya’s wrath was enough, but Ahya and Govind combined were a force that even Anu shrank from.

May the force be with us.

6

Anju Aunty’s Apartment, Sarojini Nagar, Delhi, 20 January 2013, 5.00 p.m.

Most doctors have a horrible sense of humour. Anju Aunty, a gynaecologist, is no exception. My cheeks and spirit hurt as I smiled, yet again, at her attempts at humour.

Of late, I have made it a point to visit Anju Aunty at least once a month and try to call her up once in two weeks. I have reminders in my phone and little crosses on the calendar at work to remind me of these visits and calls. Protocol, Pitajee calls it. One would think that being professional women, Anju Aunty and I would have a lot of professional things to talk about … hopes, dreams, aspirations…

Sorry to disappoint you, but we don’t.

For example, the last time we spoke, Anju Aunty spent a lot of time explaining to me the various types of dal one should always ensure one’s kitchen is well-stocked with. Another time she told me how best I can manage the maid. Before that, it was a monologue about boiling milk or something equally important.

I digress again. This evening, I came to Anju Aunty’s apartment to spend some time with her and then have dinner with Purva and Vikki, who were to join us later. The conversation so far had been fairly uneventful.

She spoke, I listened.

She spoke and I smiled.

She continued to speak and I continued to smile.

This seemed to be going fairly well, until now.

‘So, Beta,’ said Anju Aunty chattily. ‘What colour would you like your wedding lehenga to be?’

‘Umm…’ I thought, frantically. Funnily enough, it had never struck me that I would need a lehenga for the wedding. ‘Umm … red, I think.’

‘Very good. I will buy it for you.’

‘Thanks, Aunty,’ I said, smiling again. My cheeks were already hurting from all the smiling I had been doing since I had entered the house.

‘Just like the one we bought for Betu’s wedding,’ she said, as if Betu were my bosom buddy.

‘Ji Auntyji,’ I said, nodding my head. ‘But Aunty, who is Betu?’

‘Arre!’ said Anju Aunty, surprised that I did not know this important personality. ‘Betu! Gilli Masi’s eldest daughter!’

‘Err ... Gilli Masi?’ I asked, hesitating. Why would anyone in their right minds name their child ‘Gilli’, I wondered to myself, as I waited for Anju Aunty to reply.

‘Gilli Masi, Lata Taiji’s youngest daughter-in-law!’

I gulped and did not voice the burning question that gnawed at my insides. Who, for god’s sake, was Lata Taiji?

‘Ohhh…’ I said, slapping my forehead gently. ‘Lata Taiji … of course! I must have confused her with someone else, I think,’ I said, seemingly disappointed with my memory.

‘Don’t worry, Beta,’ said Anju Aunty kindly. ‘I know, you must have confused her with Mala Taiji’s youngest daughter-in-law’s eldest daughter.’

My head reeled for an instant. God, please help me. ‘Really? Why do you think that happened?’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

‘Mala Taiji’s youngest daughter-in-law’s eldest daughter is called Beti! That’s why!’

‘Her name is Beti?’ I asked, disbelievingly. Really, there was something wrong with the way this family named its daughters! Thoughts of having a daughter named Bitiya Dixit, or something equally insane, struck me.

‘Of course! That’s why you must have confused the names! Beti and Betu are so similar.’

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