The Proposal - Part II

"Sit", the rider said and motioned to him with an almost undetectable wave of the hand.  

Before he could fully process the unsought invitation and the brusque manner of the rider, she exclaimed, "Appa!"

He hadn't considered this possibility in his mental playbook.  He froze.

"Sit", her dad reiterated.

"Appa!", she reiterated.

A moment of uncomfortable silence.  

A battered tempo passed them.  The clunking noise its wheels made as they rolled over the railroad tracks eased the silence for a bit.  Her dad looked at him through the face shield of the red and black helmet he was wearing.  Clearly, he was being expected to show some reaction.  Quick, say something!  He unfroze.  His brain prompted him to say Namaste! and Oh okay! at the same time.  He ended up blurting out: 

"Namaste! Okay?"

Bad start.  He refroze.

Luckily, the battered tempo honked obnoxiously at the exact same time and drowned out his fumble.

"I'll walk", she said and started walking.  His frozen brain took too long to process what just happened.  Before he knew it, she had disappeared leaving him alone with her dad.

"Sit", her dad repeated patiently.  He immediately felt an unforeseen sense of warmth.  Her dad wasn't smiling, yet he felt a sense of kindliness, in the face of which his botched "Namaste" seemed all the more imbecilic.

This time he simply followed the instruction and decided not to open his mouth.  The motorcycle started its journey uphill.  They passed the battered tempo.  The poor thing was whining its way uphill.  Seemed pretty symbolic.

Suddenly, her dad asked him a question.  Unfortunately, the battered tempo honked again, drowning out the question almost entirely.  All he heard was: "… bus … time … … … … village … auto?".

Awkward.  He knew it was a question because of the upward intonation on the word "auto", but what was the question?  Was it a wh- question or a how question?  Maybe he was being asked if the bus was on time?  But what did autos and villages have to do with that?  He began panicking.  He looked at her dad’s helmet.  It had red streaks on a black background.  Or were they black streaks on a red background?  If only he could get access to the helmet later, he could then take some measurements and … Shut up and focus!  He had to respond. Quickly.

"Yes, Appa", he said irrelevantly.

"Eh?", her dad retorted.

He froze again.  Maybe he shouldn’t have said Appa.  Uncle was probably more appropriate.  But why did he say “yes”?  What was he agreeing to?  

This wasn’t going well.

They turned onto a smaller road.  The gradient got steeper and her dad switched the motorcycle to a lower gear.  He realized that this was the private access road that lead to their home.  He breathed a little easier when he spotted her standing on the front porch.  Her mother and grandfather were standing beside her.  His breathing quickened again as their motorcycle pulled up.  He got down.  Expecting them to look resentful and displeased to see him, he summoned his best Namaste and opened his mouth to convey it.  But before he could, she exclaimed, "Amma!"

"Eh?", his tongue failed him yet again.

"Ajja!", she exclaimed again.

He just realized that she wasn't having a field day with words either.  Somehow, it didn't help that both her mother and grandfather had unexpectedly warm smiles on their faces.  He hadn't considered this possibility in his mental playbook either.  Time to say that Namaste!, he thought.

"Wash your feet!"

He was caught unawares by this order from her dad's direction.  He turned around and blurted out:

"Namaste?"

"Eh?", her dad retorted.

He started to feel the situation fall apart.  Panic returned.  But then suddenly, her mom said her first words:

"Have you eaten anything?"

If you are an Indian, you know these aren't just words of cordiality.  You know the sincerity behind this question.  And the question had been asked with so much tenderness that he immediately began breathing easier.

"Let him wash his feet first...", her dad said.

"Was the bus on time?", her grandfather said his first words.

"Come, it's almost lunch time!  You must be tired...", her mom said.

"We have a little tap on the other side of this bush, you can wash your feet there...", her dad said.

"Did you walk here from the bus stand?", her grandfather asked.

"I'm not sure if you like balekayi, here we use balekayi for many items...", her mom continued.

"The tap is somewhat hidden, come let me show you...", her dad continued.

"I used to walk from the bus stand too when I was younger.  Nowadays it has become hard...", her grandfather continued.

"I hope you like our food, you may not be used to our taste..."

"Your feet will dry, don't worry.  Come, let's go in..."

"Ours is a small village, but it has become so easy these days with buses and autos!"

"Do you mind sitting on the floor for lunch, or do you want to sit at the table?"

"He's young and healthy, of course he'll sit on the floor!"

"Sitting on the floor is the best posture for eating..."

An overwhelming feeling of warmth engulfed him.  He glanced at her.  She was beaming with happiness and pride.  Things were going to be alright after all!