Chapter 4 P-A-R-T-Why?

 

I’d have to admit that I’m not one of the social “butterflies” who flit from gathering to gathering, raking up friends en route. Despite this obvious social ailment I so gladly suffer from, it simply makes no sense to miss my parents’ anniversary. For old times’ sake. The least I can do for them is show up, right?
While the house had been going gung-ho with phone calls and people dropping by, it is hard to believe that there’s a good 6-7 hours for the party to start and nothing seems ready as yet. A makeshift stage has been set up in the porch, which is not even close to completion considering a head count of a hundred or so flitting butterflies will descend in a matter of hours. Food seems to be magically descending from a distant magical land, because I see no signs of food or even caterers.

Of course I’m a bit jumpy considering it’s been a long time since I’ve ever been a part of the organizing committee. Dave on the other hand is a pro. One moment he’s sharing what look like happy thoughts to random girls on the unfinished stage, and the next he’s running pillar to post getting the chairs in place.

As for me, I’m on lighting duty. The place seems well lit up, adequate for a gathering of this size. I also did a couple of practice runs of the light sets and everything seems alright for now. I recall some Christmas parties we used to have at home. Almost every year, despite every sane attempt to make sure the serial lights are in good working condition, they always fail on Christmas Eve. Luckily for my poor self, God decided not to remind me of those attempts today.

I’m guessing though, that He wanted Dave to remember them. Not so much in terms of the lighting, but the caterers. An hour before the guests start pouring in and they were not here yet. Despite how calm and composed he tries to be, today I think I noticed a throbbing vein on his temple.

“How hard can it be to keep a deadline? All they have to do is bring food, put on their uniforms and serve!” said Dave. I just noticed the throbbing vein getting bigger.

“Relax. They’ll be here. Did you give them a call?”

“An hour back. They said they’ll be here on time…”

“Then they will be here… Tell you what, I’m done with the lighting work here, so I’ll go see if they’ve left. Just hand me the car keys and their address.”

I’m no do-gooder. I needed the break. I’ve been here for little over a day and I’m bored already. This was the much needed getaway for solitary drones like me.

“You’re sure you want to do that?”

“Mm-hmm”

“Okay, here you go.” said Dave handing me the car keys and the caterers business card.

There are few places in the world you feel invincible. Mine was definitely behind the wheel. Mylapur is robed in great looking roads and driving at twilight here is a feeling quite incomparable. If I did not have the self-imposed task of locating the caterers shop at hand, I would probably have enjoyed the scenery around Mylapur, would have taken in the sounds and sights like I usually do.  Or at least read the speed limit sign.

In what seems like divine intervention, a traffic policeman promptly signaled me to stop a few blocks away from the caterers. It seems divine because I’ve come to believe since now, that speed limits are probably a divine way of imposing upon us the fact that no matter how invincible you feel behind the wheel, you’re still human. It’s only fair that you are reminded this by a poor policeman on a public holiday, on an empty road, on a rare day when you are actually in a hurry to get somewhere.

Just about when it seemed like this day had reached its own speed breaker, Dave calls me to tell me that the caterers had reached home. So had Jane.
I could pretty much guess that his vein had now disappeared back where it chose to come from with the former piece of news. The latter I imagine had brought a smile broad enough to leave a few permanent marks on that smug face of his.

Jane Fernandes was no ordinary girl. I may not think much of Dave as a person otherwise, but when he told us that he was going steady with Jane, I think he earned a few brownie points as a neat guy. Jane’s family had practically lived next door to us our entire lives. Except for a couple of years when they moved to another city, they have always been our neighbors.

Now here’s the icing on the cake. My parents dote on Jane. She’s intelligent, pretty, and well-mannered and she seems to have a soft corner for Dave. As does he, but what he feels is probably just too large to be described as a corner. I can see it coming. The day when Jane Fernandes will become Mrs. David Adams. It’s all like a love ballad waiting to be written.

As much as my brother’s love life intrigues me, I have a gathering to get to. Ideally, I’d choose not to pay any heed to both, but realistically, I know that is not something I can do. So I hurry back home, only this time watching carefully for any sign boards on the way. It would be a shame to be caught by workers of divine intervention twice on the same day, despite how thrilling that may sound to some.

...