Page 21 of Okay Boss
It should have felt small. Instead, it felt grounding.
“I saw the new song release,” Aditya said, unable to contain himself even while setting plates. “Did you get to watch the shoot? Was it really filmed at that lake in Kashmir? Raj says it was just a set, but the water looks so real.”
“It was a set,” Divya answered, washing her hands in the small sink. “The ‘lake’ was about two feet deep. They added the mountains in post-production.”
“See! I knew it!” Aditya looked triumphant. “Wait till I tell...”
“After dinner,” their mother interrupted. “Let your sister eat in peace.”
“Beta, go to the table. I’ll bring the roti.” Her mother gestured with the spatula. “Suresh, newspaper down. Food is ready.”
The paper lowered reluctantly, revealing her father’s face, lined, tired, still handsome in a way old photographs confirmed had once turned heads. His eyes met Divya’s, asking questions his mouth wouldn’t form.Are you well? Are you safe? Is this job worth it?
She nodded slightly. Their usual wordless exchange.
He folded the newspaper, creasing it exactly as he had every night since his doctor told him stress would kill him if he didn’t retire early. Eleven years of reading instead of working. Eleven years of making his reduced pension stretch to cover a daughter’s college education and a son’s engineering books.
“Sit properly,” he said to Aditya, who was already half-sprawled in his chair. “Your sister has been standing all day while you’ve been lounging with books you barely open.”
Aditya straightened but couldn’t resist. “I studied for three hours. I’m just asking questions. My sister works with actual film stars and talks like she’s filing tax returns.”
“Because it’s a job,” Divya said, sitting at the small table pushed against the wall. She adjusted her chair so her knees wouldn’t hit the edge. “I’m there to work, not supply gossip to your hostel group.”
“But you must see things,” he insisted. “What about that director Madan? Is he really as dramatic as people say?”
Their father lowered his glass with a firm sound. “Enough. Your sister is building a career, not running a spy service.”
Silence settled quickly.
Her mother brought hot rotis to the table. The evening rhythm returned. Her father ate steadily. Aditya poked at his food, restless but quiet. Outside, televisions murmured through thin walls. A pressure cooker whistled. Somewhere, a child protested bedtime.
“Have more dal,” her mother said, adding another spoonful to Divya’s plate.
“Just one thing,” Aditya tried again, timing it between their father’s sips of water. “Is Vikram actually dating Riya Sharma? My friends swear they’re secretly engaged.”
Divya kept her tone neutral. “They’re professional colleagues. I manage schedules.”
“But you’re there every day. Don’t you notice how they behave?”
Their mother appeared with fresh rotis. “Stop interrogating her. Engineering doesn’t study itself.”
Aditya groaned but accepted the roti.
Their father finally looked up. “If Divya shared private matters about her workplace, she wouldn’t last there. Professionalism matters.”
That ended it.
Aditya muttered something about boring sister and returned to his plate.
Divya ate her food silently.
“Will you be free this weekend?” her mother asked gently. “I’ll make paneer.”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll know by Friday.”
Her mother nodded, already adjusting expectations.
When dinner ended, her mother began clearing plates. “Go rest. You look tired.”
