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Agastya touched his hand to his plate and then to his chest in apology for wasting food. His mother started to grumble at him but he shook his head at her.
“It’s work,” he said simply.
She stopped immediately. His mother was a politician’s wife. She knew nothing trumped work, not even food. She sighed and covered his plate with another one before gesturing the help over and instructing them to put it away in the fridge.
Agastya squeezed her shoulder once in farewell and walked towards the door.
“You’re really going to do this,” his mother said, her voice calm but with an undertone of worry.
“Do what?” Agastya turned to face her as his mother slowly stood to do the same.
“Marry that girl. Like this.”
“It’s smart,” he said, his own voice level and not betraying any of the guilt he felt.
“Of course.” Padmaja Kodela laughed, a sad sound. “But marriage is not about being smart. It’s about…”
Agastya stayed silent, waiting for her to finish but she didn’t and he understood why. His parent’s marriage had also been a strategic move on the chessboard of politics and his mother saw like no one else what Veda’s future held.
“You didn’t hesitate to fix Priyanka’s wedding with Aarush. That was also nothing but a political decision.”
“Yes. But I knew he would be good to her. That boy has always looked at her like she was some goddess or something.”
Agastya’s lips quirked. “You noticed?”
“Mothers who need to ensure their daughters stay pure until they get married notice everything.” She paused and then snorted. “Also, that Aarush is very obvious.”
Agastya laughed. It was true. Aarush Reddy had never had eyes for anyone other than his sister. It was the only reason Agastya had let his father make the move he had by arranging that marriage.
You have a younger sister too, Kodela.
He rubbed a hand over his suddenly twinging heart, his conscience making it hard to take a breath.
“I’ll be good to her, Amma,” he murmured.
His mother scoffed. “Good to her. What use is that to a young girl who dreams of love?”
Love. He met his mother’s gaze.
“Aarush was not the only one I noticed,” his mother informed him.
“Trying to keep me pure too?” He tried to joke, even as the words caught in his throat.
“That I failed at long ago.” His mother waved a hand in the air. “Go. Do what you have to do. Your Nanna and you can’t see beyond your people, your constituencies.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked, stung by the derisive note in her voice. “We have dedicated our lives to serving the people. Everything we’ve done has been for their good. Even this will be.”
“Hmm.” His mother turned away from him, reaching to pick up the phone she’d left on the dining table.
Feeling unsettled by the conversation, Agastya stepped towards the door again only to be brought up short. Again.
“Try not to forget, Chinna, that Veda is one of your people too.”
“Amma, what is this?” he asked, his voice harsh. “Why are you trying to get in my head about this decision? You know that this is the best way to muzzle the strongest media voice in the state. Chaitanya Garu will not be slamming Nanna or me in the media if his daughter is married into our home. You know that this gives us leverage that is pure gold.”
“Leverage.” His mother and he stared at each other, tension strumming in the air. “You are truly your father’s son.”
“I won’t change my mind,” he told her. “We need this. Nanna needs this.”
