‘I am getting married.’
One eyebrow rises.
‘His name is Vaayu.’
The eyebrow lowers into a straight line. Noncommittal.
‘He belongs to a different caste.’
‘A… lower caste.’
Both eyebrows come together. The forehead puckers. Thoughtful? Disapproving?
‘You’ll meet him tomorrow. I’ve told him all about you. He’s great! I’m sure you both will really take to each other.’ My voice rises and sounds defensive now. Desperate, too.
A twitch. We’ll see about that.
‘The wedding’s next month.’
Suddenly both eyebrows shoot up. Accusing. So soon?
‘Right here. I’ve arranged everything. Permissions...
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