The rain in Mumbai wasn't stopping and it meant Radhika's Uber had cost three times as much and her hair was a disaster.
The woman in question kicked off her damp flats, balancing her phone between her shoulder and ear as she tried to unbox a lukewarm parcel of shawarma.
"Mom, stop. I'm not doing it," Radhika said, her voice flat.
"Rachu, sweetheart just listen for one second—" ( Rachu= petname )
"No, Mom. I've listened. I've listened for three weeks," Radhika snapped, finally tearing the foil off her dinner. The shawarma was soggy,not a surprise there. "I just spent the whole day fixing a production bug that crashed the entire app, only to come home to another lecture about Kundan. I'm tired." Radhika's annoyance was only increasing as the minutes went by.
"Tired? How can you be tired when your life is about to change?" Her mother's voice went dreamy and excited as if she was speaking about her favourite soap opera star."Rachu, you don't understand. Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position? Last month he was on the cover of Forbes India! My WhatsApp groups are full of aunties asking how we bagged the 'Steel King' himself!"
Radhika rolled her eyes so hard it actually hurt. "The 'Steel King'? Mom, he's a man with a god complex and a personality that was probably outsourced to a robot."
" What do you mean he has no personality! He is a heartthrob! Look at his jawline in that profile picture! So sharp, so cold... like a diamond. They say he's the most eligible bachelor in the entire South Indian community. Thousands of girls are waiting for a single glance from him, and here you are, not appreciating the gold that landed on your lap.
Radhika grumbled as she chewed on the soggy shawarma. She looked down at her reflection in the darkened, rain-streaked window. Everything about her night was damp. Her food was wet, her clothes were clinging to her skin from the Mumbai humidity, and her spirit was practically waterlogged.
But she was definitely a desert whenever she thought about Kundan Oberoi. The man had the sex appeal of a wet rock.
"Kundan is a catch, and you know it! Your father's friend has done so much for us. And Kundan? He's so disciplined. He doesn't waste time on hobbies or friends. He's so focused!"
Radhika paused, a piece of soggy chicken halfway to her mouth. She didn't laugh, she just felt a cold shiver of genuine dread.
"Mom, you realize you're describing a sociopath, right?" Radhika said, her voice dropping the sarcasm for a moment of pure bluntness."A man with no friends and no hobbies is just a man who's going to spend twenty-four hours a day being annoyed by mine. I'm not marrying a dream guy, I'm marrying a grumpy gnome who doesn't know how to relax. It sounds like a nightmare!"
There was a sharp, offended intake of breath on the other end of the line, the kind that usually preceded a lecture that lasted longer than a movie.
"A sociopath? Radhika! Good god... don't use such words for a man who is going to provide for you. You think life is a Netflix series where everyone is going on treks and playing guitar? This is the real world, dear!" Radhika could practically hear her mother placing her hand on her head in indignation.
"You call him a grumpy gnome? This gnome has a house in Pali Hill and a car that costs more than your engineering degree! Relaxing doesn't pay the bills. Your father worked six days a week for thirty years so you could go to your tech firm and talk about hobbies. Is your father a sociopath too?!"
"Mom, that's not what I—" Radhika tried to de-escalate but it didn't have the intended effect.
"No, you listen! You want a man who has friends?" Her mother's voice went up an octave. "Friends are for drinking and wasting time. A man with no distractions is a man who stays at home. He is stable! He is settled! Your father already gave his word, Radhika."
Radhika let out a dry, tired laugh."Stable? Mom, you're talking about him like he's a fixed deposit. I'm not an investment, I'm a person. I don't want to be 'settled' into a life I didn't even choose!"
"Stability is what you need!" her mother snapped. "This... this coding or whatever you are doing and living alone in that storeroom you call an apartment in Bandra, it's not a life. You're just wasting your salary on rent and Swiggy. Kundan is clearing his schedule on Tuesday afternoon. He's flying in specifically to see you. Just two hours, Rachu. He's a busy man! So please, for once, just be a good girl. Wear the Saree I bought for you. Fix your hair. And just... don't be yourself for once? Be agreeable." Radhika felt a familiar heat rising in her chest as she heard her mother's words. 'Agreeable' ,the word felt like a cage.
"Tell him to stay in Bangalore, Mom," Radhika said. Her voice was suddenly flat, stripped of any emotion. "I have a meeting that day. I'm busy."
"If you aren't at that coffee shop, your father is going to be heartbroken," her mother replied, the sentimental mask finally slipping. "He already gave his word. Don't make us look like we have raised an ungrateful daughter!."
The line went dead as Radhika stared at her phone that was on the table.
"Ungrateful?" Radhika let out a short, bitter laugh.
Her hand tightened instinctively, crushing the rest of the wrap. She didn't even realize she was doing it until she felt the tepid shawarma juices leak out, trickling between her fingers and over her palm. The oily mess was the final straw.
She just stood there in the quiet of her kitchen, staring at the crushed foil and the sauce dripping onto the floor. Her lip twitched.
Her hair was a disaster, her clothes were damp, her brain was fried from the production bug, and now she'd even ruined her own dinner... And currently she felt completely stuck.