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Nurugu residence was a two-storied mansion with a beautiful enormous lawn and a big pool facing the beach. The Burma teak-wood and ivory-coloured interior of the mansion furnished with artefacts and paintings Tsering and Leela collected over the years during their trips blended extravagantly with the eclectic interior of their dream home. The chandeliers and warm lights glistened brighter than the morning light as the loud- happy noises of relatives of the Nurugu family echoed loudly.
A few children were swinging on the wooden swing bench on the eastern corner of the house as Siddanth walked in. Siddanth waved to his nephews and nieces, masquerading his inner panic with a polite and warm smile, and they smiled back jolly.
“There comes the birthday boy, finally." Siddanth heard his uncle's loud and rackety voice across the living room, "Do we have to make appointments to meet you beforehand, young man?” Madhav, Siddanth’s maternal uncle, joked as he laughed, rocking his pot belly before Siddanth gave his uncle a timid hug, “ How have you been Siddu?”
“I am good, Mamu. How have you been?” Siddanth smiled, waving and smiling at the others as his Mamu held his hands.
“How is the business doing? All good? Are you running for profit?” Mamu’s direct question landed daggers on Siddanth’s heart, and he gulped down the day's tension down his throat. He was resolute that he wouldn’t be discussing his business condition at home, definitely not on the premise of his relatives. It wasn’t because he did not like them. It's just that not everyone understands the idea of your career like you. However, it would have been different- if he had taken up music, become a doctor, or become a renowned swimmer, like his initial plans. However none has happened in his life, and the current career choices all seemed unsatisfactory to everyone, including his parents. Hence, to break the news of his firm having a threat of folding can be like inviting Shakespearean Tragedy for a lifetime, and he wasn’t quite ready for it when he hasn't made peace with that concept. Thus, he was awfully grateful when his aunties and cousins with their children all interjected them, sharing their news as well as asking about his health and harmless questions regarding his relationship outside his career, which sometimes paparazzi took pleasure in when they ran out of news on their favourite celebrities, which of course over the period Siddanth learnt to ignore.
“Why are you pecking on your food? You have made us wait this long to see you peck at the ten varieties of dishes your mother has been preparing since yesterday. This table is full of your favourite dishes. And you have no interest at all?” Tsering, Siddanth’s father pointed out with a chuckle in his beautiful voice while peering through his white-rimmed square glasses, and Siddanth felt his heart punctured by this white-pun.
“Thank you, Ma, everything is delicious,” Siddanth smiled, taking a spoon of Vegetable Pulao and munching on it as Leela served him mutton kofta balls. Even though he was exhausted, anxious and apprehensive mentally, the delicious feast before him with Gulab Jamun served him strength, and he thanked the universe for this while he felt his father’s eyes on him. And he wasn’t wrong about that judgement as post lunch when Siddanth was supposed to head back to his office, he got ushered to his father’s study where the men of the family including his uncles, and brother-in-law, all chewed on sweet-paan. They offered one to Siddanth and he took one for himself and got sucked into various conversations until Tsering eyed Siddanth towards the corner. He followed his father towards the grand emerald green piano inside the 18th-century Victorian-style study room.
“Something troubling you son?” Tsering crossed his hands over his chest while his small-round-hooded eyes, like Siddanth's stared straight at him.
Siddanth stuttered for a second at the impeccable diagnosing sensibility of his father, and he continued to chew on the paan, letting the sweetness and tanginess of the betel leaf refresh his mouth, before swallowing the sweet juice and tried replying, “No.”
“Then why did you raise your voice against your mother?” Tsering pressed on the issue, and Siddanth squirmed in discomfort.
“Ahh. That!" Siddanth felt embarrassment shoulder him as he recollected yelling at his mother over the phone, and his cheeks flushed pink, “ I am extremely sorry for that. It wasn’t intentional. I had a hectic day, and Ma was behaving indifferent towards my work, so it just irked me,” Siddanth explained, feeling all eyes in the room on his back and if there was even a 1 % chance to dig a pit for himself and bury himself in that room forever Siddhant was ready to take that chance. However, it seemed he did not have a chance because Tsering’s face twisted with worry.
“What happened at work? Is everything alright?”
“Don’t worry about it. I have everything under control,” Siddanth lied again, and he knew his father saw through it, just like how he had seen through him after that tournament, and they both stood facing each other, staring in silence.
“Come on, Siddu, share it with your father. There is nothing he can’t help you with. After all, he is the living legend, Mozart of India. Tell him and see if your problem isn’t solved in an hour,” Mamu spoke, displaying his pride for his brother-in-law, and Siddanth smiled at his Mamu, knowing how real those words were.
“Tell me, son, I am your Baba, your father. Share with me,” Tsering whispered- almost like a request. Siddanth, who always saw his father as Mozart and felt himself fall short in every aspect compared to his father, felt that today, he was not staring at the living musical legend of his country but at his father, who was just as eager as all fathers, ready to help their son in trouble. At that moment, Siddanth only wanted to be that four-year-old boy again who wanted his father to help him as his friend’s fathers did with riding their first bicycle and appreciating them for their ride even through their terrible start. He wanted to be them, father-son, just them without the baggage of past or success, and thus unexpectedly, out of the blue, Siddanth shared about his worry and the problem with Linco Movies to Tsering and like a doting father, Tsering listened in silence and questioned, only when needed and let Siddanth dump his worries on his shoulder.
It was unusual for Siddanth to share his worries with Tsering, and both knew that. After living most of the years apart, Siddanth and Tsering though had so much in common, from looking alike to sounding the same to having similar behavioural actions that make many people compliment and comment that Siddanth is the younger and more handsome version of Tsering. However, far away from the public, they were in distance, like that of Ladhak and Trivandrum. But that afternoon, in the presence of three other grown men, and with rain drizzling outside the room, Siddanth felt more bonded to his father in ages, and it felt good, good to have someone older standing there looking at you and telling you, its okay I got you. It felt good to lean and let himself be vulnerable, knowing there was someone wiser to support him.
Siddanth knew he didn't need his parent's support. He was too old and capable to handle his own responsibilities, but the reality of being an adult is- it is difficult. One day, you are in primary school, a life of twelve years, which feels like an eternity, and then suddenly, you are twenty-three and are left to be on your own- your own mentor, advisor, and guardian. Be a mentor for the younger generations, as well. You are supposed to be good at finances and make choices with no repercussions. Balance work-life and personal life like eating a piece of cake, while achieving all your goals in the timeline prescribed by society, maintaining health and wealth, and not looking more than your age while also being rational, logical, and practical. You are expected to be excellent in many things when you are just trained to be a good student and qualified with a degree, a degree that helps you with your job and nothing much more than that. And, unfortunately, if you fail in one, guilt follows like an unsolicited guest. And the rest of the downfall is history, and people have thousands of opinions and suggestions to add to your already burning pain that plagues you like an infection. If left untreated, these words can be fatal, hence in-between once in a while Siddanth felt it was good to share the burden with his parent, not to get a solution, no, nothing of a sort like that, but let his pain and apprehension out of his system, to get a word or two which can comfort him like the times when we are kids and our parents blow a kiss on the bruises to make the pain go away. Comfort in the lonely-painful time.
However, the words of comfort were short-lived. Siddanth anticipated this to happen and it happened as the evening scrolled in and Nurugu residence slowly started taking the party vibe. Business is not a possible merry topic in a family moderately with no zero exposure to business, and the very idea of sharing troubles in your business with your relatives is like adding mustard seeds to hot oil, they can neither comprehend your decisions nor efforts, expect to pass judgements de-valuing your talent, caliber, degree, personality, to an extent of your existence. Thus, wearing his royal blue tuxedo under the beautifully decorated party hall with silvers, champagne gold foils, and royal blue tassels, curtains, balloons and lights, the emotional range shared among the elders on seeing him varied from concern, pity, and helplessness to even mockery, “ We knew this to happen eventually. He was kidding himself with this idea of running a business. But what can we say? His father has made enough money that the boy can leer away, but the boy is too stubborn to accept it is not his cup of tea.” Siddanth heard someone in the dark mumble to another while passing by, and he sighed.
“See, this is why we requested you not to stop practising music. You have your father’s genes. Goddess Saraswathi resides in you. Only if you respect her and try hard. You can be more famous than your father. Such a talented voice, and is of no use now,” one of his aunties complained to him, like the usual, and he smiled like usual.
“Don’t worry. Do you want us to speak with your clients? I know a few people who can help you with this.” Another suggested.
“Beta, business is easy to write on paper but isn’t the same when it comes to real life. You have to be a real street-smart to succeed in business. Not everyone can be Ambani, right? Or at least get some help from us,” Another commented, and Siddanth sat among all, hearing everything but listening to none, as he wasn’t new to this drill. This has always been his share of conversation and engagement he enjoyed at family gatherings, which eventually became a reason he stopped attending them.
"Don't listen to them. " Mihika, his elder sister, the perfect daughter and extravagant-dotted wife of his brother-in-law, scooped herself to him next to the couch and cheered, "They are just empty words. You know far better than this. Right?"
"Two years into my entrepreneurial journey, yes, I have been trained well, in real-time, to understand that empty and harsh truth behind those comments." Siddanth answered, and Mihika clicked her tongue, "However, it is also true that I am very positive that my entrepreneurial journey will see even more success in the coming years, and with this amazing team with such incredible talents, I have. We'll soon see heights that we haven't even foreseen. Hence, even trying to explain this to a crowd who won’t understand or try to understand the meaning behind this aim is a form of disregarding my efforts."
"Absolutely," Mihika smiled, taking two slices of cake from the passing server's plate and handing one to Siddanth.
"But I won't forgive you and Ma for throwing this party," Siddanth complained to his elder sister.
"What? Birthdays are supposed to be celebrated, or what?"
"But not like I have just turned five, Mihika, I turned Thirty-one today,"
"So?" Mihika squealed like she couldn't comprehend his accent.
"You have balloons all over the place," He whined.
"What kind of party doesn't have balloons?" Mihika demanded, "You might have turned thirty-one, but you are still my baby brother. Oh, please! Do not make that face. Okay. I agree we have invited far too many people, and it kind of starting to look like a wedding reception-"
"Thank you for acknowledging it,"
"But do not go to my balloons, what do you expect us to decorate the hall with, Belly dancers? Which I think Mamu would have appreciated quite well, seeing how he is dancing there with that woman," Mihika answered.
Siddanth chuckled as they both stared at his Mamu dancing with a young girl, "Who is she?"
"No idea must be the daughter of Mami's second sister. Hey, did you know Shikar uncle's son eloped and wedded a Burmese Girl?"
"What?" Siddanth squealed with cake in his mouth, and the sister-brother shared their fair news of exciting gossip, temporarily distracting Siddanth from his reality.
Minutes tolled by, Siddanth smiled when needed, spoke a word or two when spoken to, danced a round when asked, and laughed when others did, while his brain gnawed by the day's events and the inability of his team to track anything down. It must have been forty-five minutes after he cut his cake when his eyes noticed a tall woman near the panipuri stand.
Priya was wearing a white chikankari-spaghetti-sleeved kurti with matching de-stressed normal-cut blue jeans. Her black-straight hair fell on her shoulder in light waves at the end, and she accessorized her attire with silver hoop earrings and chunky hand bracelets, her face had minimal make-up except for her eyes which were lined beautifully with eyeliner while glossy- lips completed her look. She wasn’t extravagant in her look, comfort and casual were her style, and Siddanth found no one quite amusing like her. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips spread into a smile, then broke into a grin, and he broke into a smile watching her.
She didn't usher him, no one pointed her to him, she didn't see him, but he saw her, and he walked towards her, eyes darting to nowhere but to watching her, how she never stops playing with her hair, the laughter that makes her throw her head back while she covers her mouth with her hand. She was a happy soul, and her friends knew to keep her jolly. As he closed in further, he saw her closer, tall as him, with elegant curves, a rowdy laugh, and innocent doe eyes with her beautiful glossy lips standing under the silver light before the golden balloons and wafting smoke from the nearby stalls, she looked marvelous, and Siddanth felt his heart skip a beat, stomach rumble a growl as memories from the mall flashed before him, her smile the way her eyes catches him. And, nothing in the day felt more calming than seeing her in her comfortable self, smiling, enjoying at his house, his party, his life. Nooo, Siddanth heard a voice, and he cleared his throat loud and clear to sanitize his head.
“Here, your cardigan has fallen,” Siddanth said, surprising himself at this detail he hadn't realised he had noticed, as he took the jeans cardigan lying on the floor near her.
“Oh, I didn't realise. Thank you.” Priya thanked him with a smile and placed the cardigan over her handbag.
'Neither did I,’ was the answer Siddanth wanted to confide, but he smiled to all in response, ignoring his conscience.
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