Maybe Not

I take off my heels, my legs throbbing like hell. Why do I wear them, again? Then I remember that my height doesn’t quite agree with me and moreover, they are a boon for me when I am driving. I then mercilessly throw those monsters in disguise on my bed and sigh. It had been an unusually long and busy day.

I take out wipes from my purse and remove the makeup smothered on my face. It is like having a second face. I am not a fan of makeup but I have to admit, it gives me the professional look I aspire for. And for some twisted reason, I am obsessed with red lipstick.

Slipping out of my tight navy pencil dress, I change into my comfortable pyjamas and extra-large shirt. It helps me breathe normally again, the feeling of the cloth fabric squeezing the hell out of my skin going away. Gosh, thank the person who invented these pyjamas. I would literally worship them.

I finally jump on my bed, not caring the fact that it can’t just suddenly hold my weight. But who cares? I live in a hostel – not some five-star hotel. Don’t get me wrong, there are good hostels in India. It’s just the case of some of the epic colleges, like mine, who refuse to spend a dime on developing a hospitable and living environment for the students. With no AC during the summers and freezing our asses off in winters – I think after living here, I can literally survive anywhere. Hostel has taught me a whole lot of patience – considering the fact that I have to wait in lines to get my turn to the washroom in the morning, or bear with eating food without any seasoning. What do we even pay for here?

Ignoring the summer heat that instantly burns through my skin since the fan on the ceiling moves slower than a frigging turtle, I rewind my day.

It was nothing exceptional. Being a Business Management student has changed me for sure – given me the confidence that I need to give my career a boost. It wasn’t the professors – it was the great friends I made in my college who helped me be where I am right now. And of course, my excellent brain.

I check my phone, looking at the two missed calls I got from my mother and I groan loudly. I am totally going to get busted for this.

If you ask me, there are three kind of children in this world. The first kind are the obedient ones. They are the epitome of perfection – their parent’s wishes are their command and they are the ones the other parents want their own children want to be like.

The second kind are the rebels. They live their lives by their own rules and their parent’s ‘teachings’ is something they simply hear – not listen. They are a complete pain in ass for their parents. But they are the ones who don’t care and live their lives to the fullest as their true selves.

The third kind are the masked ones. They are disciplined in front of their parents – listening to them and letting them guide their lives. But they are the creatures of night, living in shadows. Behind closed doors they forget the rules and finally breathe. No one will ever mistake them for being the ‘good child’ when they are out of their parent’s reach.

And that’s where I settle in.

I am not particularly proud of it but then, being the single girl child is quite a responsibility. Especially when you come from a conservative family that believes that a woman’s true place is in the kitchen and not in behind an office desk.

My parents aren’t that narrow minded or I wouldn’t have been here, working my ass off. As the time changed, so the world’s priority. And being a girl in the house of a family of billionaire’s I have to improve my worth too – because men today expect a simple degree before they put forward their marriage talks.

I find it a pity reason for my parents to let me continue my studies. But it is what it is. I can’t change their thinking, not even if I try. It is a hopeless case. Even now, my mother fears that I will get ‘badly’ influenced by college and loose my ‘true path’. That’s the major reason why she calls everyday to check on me.

I don’t categorise myself as wife material since marriage is something I have despised for long. It is something that will cut away my wings before I could even learn to spread them. And now, the time is more crucial than ever.

I had finally bagged a job as an event planner. It is something I like the most – putting smiles on faces of the numerous people by taking away the load of everything on their special day. I have been on it for a year now, although I am still completing my degree.

I work in ‘Blue Roses’ – a company owned my father’s good friend. My parents were reluctant to let me work but after shedding a river of tears, I finally managed to let them. The condition was that I have to work where they want me to. I was okay with that, though. The fact that they are letting me is a big deal enough.

And I have to say, I pride myself in my work. My calendar has been full for every month, except of course when I first started working. But with my first job being a success, my seniors were more than willing to offer me more opportunities. And I love the hard work. It can be troublesome sometimes – like watching couples’ bicker over the theme of the wedding, or the bride crying on the wedding day that she doesn’t look hot enough. But I have made connections that I will always cherish in this line of work.

And the fact that my almirah is full of files and notes rather than clothes, simply display my workaholic ability. I can only wish that when I marry, my husband lets me work.

I sigh, sleep finally coming to me. I haven’t had my dinner yet but it wasn’t something special I could look forward to. So, I close my eyes and adjust myself in my bed.

There is a knock on my door, and I groan. Can’t I get some good night sleep? The door opens, silly me had not locked it and I turn to face my intruder.

It is my lovely roommate – my cousin sister, Ananya.

“You know the whole purpose of knocking is that you need to wait for a reply? And it’s your room, why did you even bother to knock, Anu?” I say.

She doesn’t reply, instead she walks to her closet and takes out her suitcase. The silence is unnerving and something tells me that a storm is brewing.

“And now you ignore me? Dear sister, what is up with you? Is everything alright? Why are you packing your clothes?” I ask her.

I consider me and Ananya to be pretty close. She is my cousin – from my father’s side. Her father, my chachu, is my father’s elder brother. My father literally worships the ground chachu steps on. And I don’t like my chachu a bit. He is way too strict for my own liking.

When Ananya first arrived in hostel, I was surprised by her appearance. She was your typical Indian girl with her yellow kurta and pyjama. A smile so innocent that when I first saw her, I felt guilty for being a rebel when my parents weren’t by my side. Her habit to keep everything clean and neat surely helped for my roommate case since I was stuck with her three years – thanks to my millionaire uncle. He wanted to ensure that his daughter stayed in the right group and he even asked me to keep tabs on her although it should have been the other way round.

And after three months of struggle and one party, I finally managed to crack her shell and make her somewhat like me. Now, Ananya is the girl who has broken many hearts, who hides her skirts and shorts in our friend’s closets and who parties like a wild animal when the night is still young.

You can say that I am a bad influence but I don’t mind it. It’s good to have a secret identity.

“Anu?” I ask her, again.

She turns to look at me, her fair face now deathly pale and I am sure that something bad has happened. My phone rings again – my mother calling and now the call doesn’t seem like it is for checking up on me but that she is to deliver me a news that might shake me to the core.

“Pack your bags, Shanaya. We are leaving tomorrow morning for home.” She replies finally.

I am confused, what the hell is going on? Sleep is long gone and my heart beats wildly in my chest.

“What the fuck is happening, Anu?” I ask her.

Her eyes meet mine and the words that she says tells me that everything is about to change. At least for her.

“I am getting married in three months.”