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3 April 2013, 7.30 a.m.
‘Koochie Beta,’ chirped Mum. I had managed to fall asleep by five in the morning and the last thing I needed was Mum calling me ‘Koochie’ at seven.
‘No,’ I groaned.
‘No what?’
‘No, I don’t want to talk to you when you call me Koochie,’ I said, snuggling comfortably under the blanket. I knew this call would last a while.
‘You know the first word you learnt to say?’
I groaned. Not this story again.
‘“No”. That was the first word you said. There I was, sitting next to you near the potty and you…’
‘Mum!’ I said, cutting her short. I could not hear that story again. In fact, I did not want to ever hear anything that began with me near the potty.
‘Okay, tell me, what is wrong with “Koochie”?’ said Mum.
‘Mum!’ I said, exasperated. ‘What is right with “Koochie”?’
‘It’s so cute.’
‘Mum! It is not!’
‘In other news,’ said Mum, sounding a little hurt and changing the topic, ‘Anjuji called yesterday.’
‘To say what?’
‘She wants you to wear a yellow sari for the actual wedding ceremony.’
‘And?’
‘I said, behenji, the lehenga will be so expensive, she should at least wear it for the jaimala and the wedding.’
‘But Mum, in our family don’t brides always wear a yellow sari for the wedding ceremony?’
‘Of course,’ she said. I could hear her smile.
‘Mum!’ I said, exasperated, ‘Why are you uselessly picking fights?’
‘Anyway,’ she said, laughing. ‘What did you and Purva do for your birthday yesterday?’
I made a face and then realized that Mum could not see me.
‘Nothing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He did not even call me.’
Wrong. He had called me fifteen times from eleven-thirty at night to two in the morning, after which he had left me a couple of messages.
‘What?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is scandalous! Why?’
