*Well, there it is, inevitable and somehow worse than anything else that's happened here today. Each of them returns the gesture, Baldev scarcely moving his hands, and a long silence falls between them. As ever, it's Aarshati who breaks it.*
You must be Jyoti.
*Not that either of them shared the nastier prejudices and superstitions of what they very urbanely thought of as 'the provincials'; no, this goes deeper than that, worse by far than anything their daughter has done. The woman in front of them represents the rejection of them by their only son. It was the way of things: who, after all, had known him better than his parents? Who else could be trusted with finding him a bride? She and the children are living reminders of the choice he made to set aside loyalty to the family, to society, to the way of the world--and choose instead loyalty only to his own selfishness.
And now Aarshati can't help searching her face and form, blatantly, but with more bewilderment then anything else: what about her was so perfect, so irresistible, that it was worth turning his back on everything they'd raised him to respect? Worth living without family, as no one should live?
But she is only reasonably pretty, only smiling, neither a temptress nor a goddess nor a grinning demon. The children are unobjectionable. There is nothing to say, no words to smooth any of this into something acceptable, so Aarshati, inevitably, reaches for a polite inanity and a complete lie.*
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Date: 2011-07-14 05:03 am (UTC)You must be Jyoti.
*Not that either of them shared the nastier prejudices and superstitions of what they very urbanely thought of as 'the provincials'; no, this goes deeper than that, worse by far than anything their daughter has done. The woman in front of them represents the rejection of them by their only son. It was the way of things: who, after all, had known him better than his parents? Who else could be trusted with finding him a bride? She and the children are living reminders of the choice he made to set aside loyalty to the family, to society, to the way of the world--and choose instead loyalty only to his own selfishness.
And now Aarshati can't help searching her face and form, blatantly, but with more bewilderment then anything else: what about her was so perfect, so irresistible, that it was worth turning his back on everything they'd raised him to respect? Worth living without family, as no one should live?
But she is only reasonably pretty, only smiling, neither a temptress nor a goddess nor a grinning demon. The children are unobjectionable. There is nothing to say, no words to smooth any of this into something acceptable, so Aarshati, inevitably, reaches for a polite inanity and a complete lie.*
It's so nice to meet you.