Inconvenient Relations (2 page)

Decisions

“D
ad! She wants to come with me.”

“Hmmm…does she?” His father’s furrowed brows knotted together for a few seconds, then his face lit up with an amused grin. “So our Amrit’s daughter has a backbone. I like that!”

“What? Do you already know her family?”

“Yes, her father is a close friend.”

“Friend?
And you let me…?” Stranger or friend, anybody and everybody was fair game for Shiv Ahuja. But then, was Shaan any better?

His father shrugged. “So it’d seem we have a problem on our hands or, rather,
you
do. I wouldn’t care either way, though if you stay married, it would make life much easier for me.”

“I didn’t expect any sympathy from you.” Shaan felt quite alone in his quandary.

“Ha! Wonder why she suggested that? Perhaps she wishes to emigrate, or better still, she has fallen in love with you,” Shiv said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Shaan looked doubtfully at him. “I don’t think so, but she does have a point.”

“Again, if I were you, son, I wouldn’t hurry into anything. She has given you a way out and is not demanding much in return. Think it over, the final decision is yours.”

***

Shaan thought it over.

He thought while gazing out the window of his old room at a landscape that had become unrecognizable in the few years he had been on his own.

Ruhi came out of the bathroom looking young and fresh in a maroon sari with a yellow border, coloring deeply when she found him staring at her. “Is there something wrong with the way I look?” she asked. “Should I change?”

Smiling, he said, “No, that color becomes you.” Then, as though he had uttered something terrible, he turned abruptly and left the room.

Later, they went over to her parent’s place, where there were rituals, rituals, rituals…empty, meaningless rituals. And crowds, laughter, silly inane banter.

It all helped him think; the chaos gave him space.

It was weird; like he was an outsider at his own wedding party. Her folks were nice people; indeed, they were a neat, little, happy family. Though Ruhi’s parents only had a daughter, she made up for the numbers with close friends and cousins. And she was quite popular, what with the way everybody thronged to her. She sparkled, she glowed, and she blushed, playing her part well. It was as though he were watching a movie in slow motion. No one could have suspected.

He felt a nudge on his side. “What happened,
jiju
?” A young girl stood next to him, his wife’s cousin he presumed. “Haven’t you had enough of
di’s
beauty that you have eyes for nobody else?”

He smiled. If only they knew the truth. But he wasn’t going to spoil their fun; they were all but innocent spectators at the grandest sham of the decade.

If she could put on a front, so could he. He’d join in the festivities. The celebrations were in his honor and for his benefit, so why not? It was unlikely he would ever tie the knot again. He enjoyed all the attention, being treated like a king.

“Son? Is it okay if I call you
beta
?” his father-in-law asked Shaan; he had kind eyes.

Shaan looked over to his wife—what an odd-sounding word—and she mouthed a silent, “Please.” Then she smiled, her eyelashes drifting down in shy discomposure, carrying on as though it was one of the happiest days of her life.

“Of course!
Zaroor!
Think of me as your son,
Daddyji
!” Shaan reached down to touch his feet, but his father-in-law embraced him. Shaan thought he saw tears in the man’s eyes.

He had made his decision.

Frontiers

“H
e has agreed! Oh, Mama, he has agreed!”

The happiness and relief was so immense for Ruhi that she wanted to jump up, grab her mother, and do a little dance around the room like she had done on the day she had won her first trophy at school. The gamble had paid off; she had bought herself some time.

Time during which she could maybe… She regarded herself critically in the mirror.

What could this other woman possess that she didn’t? People had extolled on her beauty ever since she had been a babe in her mother’s arms, or so she had been told. And she didn’t exactly hate the way she looked—if it wasn’t for that tiny black mole, which made its presence known above the right side of her generous mouth. Her mama called it her beauty spot; one that would protect her from the evil eye. But it was the least of her concerns.

Ruhi watched as her mother folded her clothes into an enormous suitcase. She handed her the maroon sari; it had become her favorite though she personally didn’t care much for the color combination.

Mama was feeling forlorn, yet putting on a brave face for Ruhi’s sake. She knew she would cry when she bid her good-bye, but those tears would be shed in happiness. What would her mother have done if she knew this was but a gigantic deception?

Ruhi couldn’t bring herself to imagine how heart-broken the woman would be when she found out their one-in-a-million son-in-law had no intention of keeping up with his promises.

“These airline carriers allow for such limited baggage,” Devyani lamented, shaking her head as she packed what she could into her daughter’s already overstuffed luggage. “I have put in some pickles, spices and sweetmeats, household things are now available there as well, so I’ve heard. Ask
damaadji
, he seems like such a nice boy. You are happy, aren’t you, my child?”

Ruhi smiled.
If only she knew
. “Yes, Mama, I’m very happy. Yes, he’ll take care of everything.”

***

In Shaan’s favor, he appeared to be making a fair effort, and for that, Ruhi was grateful.

“
Don’t worry, your daughter is my wife now. I’ll take good care of her.” Shaan sounded sincere as he reassured her father who appeared to be struggling with the idea of letting her go; she was so very close to him.

Though she didn’t feel like weeping that day, somehow the tears flowed unabated—of betrayal and regret, more for her father that his dreams would soon be shattered.

She was caught in a panic as they waited at the airport departure lounge as they waited for their flight to the U.S. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to leave with this stranger. The whole family had gathered to bid her goodbye. She listened quietly to all the good-natured advice, but let most of it float over her head.

“I’ve heard over there everything is available on credit; don’t get carried away,” her father said.

“Don’t wander off anywhere alone. Always have your husband with you,” this from her mother. “Cook his favorite foods and listen to what he says. Be an obedient wife.”

And the usual conspiratorial aside from her mother’s annoying sister, “Don’t rush to have kids, wait for a couple of years. It is of primary importance to make sure your husband stays hooked. You cannot trust these men.”
That one was unnecessary.

Shaan was having a tough time though, not taking very well to the constant ribbing from her male cousins, and she really didn’t feel like stopping them.

But then he took his frustration out on her. “You better take those off,” he said curtly, indicating her thick gold bangles, “unless you want to miss the flight.”

And then later as she gazed at another new bride whose face was proof enough of her happiness, he startled her by putting an arm around her shoulders. He also grazed her forehead with his lips, which she thought was uncalled for. This sparked a lot of uneasy loud whispers.

“He lives abroad, that’s why.”

She flushed with anger and a yet unknown turmoil as he grinned, mocking her, conveying a warning in not so many words.

It was distressing; perhaps she should have accepted his initial offer?

Later in the huge 747 as she struggled in economy (he had refused her father’s gift of business class seats) to crouch as far away from a lanky middle-aged man with a particularly vile breath, he came to her rescue and exchanged seats.

“I guess I should sit next to you since we are
legally
married, aren’t we?” His blunt sarcasm made her chest hurt.

Then he chuckled when she started chanting the
Hanuman Chalisa
under her breath. “You would have to repeat that at least a million times before we are on solid ground again.”

“But I hate flying!” She looked terrified as she wiped her sticky palms on her long kurta. The only flight she remembered being on had landed almost as soon as it had taken off.

“The chances of us crashing are as remote as you climbing Mt. Everest, unless you really want to,” he said with a sympathetic smile.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well…I happen to know this plane inside and out. It’s something I do!” he answered, a glint of pride in his eyes.

She was intrigued, and the rest of the journey was spent in her getting a free lesson on the intricate mechanics of a jumbo 747. Her fears flew away as he eulogized the virtues of its engines as if they were the most wonderful creatures in the world. It had her wishing fervently that one day she would be the subject of his incredibly intense passion. But that scenario was far from likely she thought with a disconsolate smile on her beautiful face.

Her only solace being that he seemed to find inanimate objects much more interesting than living ones. There appeared to be some light at the end of the tunnel.

Twenty-Nine Days

T
wenty-nine days
, Ruhi thought as she solemnly sliced the cucumbers for salad that night. They were almost drawing to an end. She had given herself that much time to effect a change in him. She had tried, she had given her best or what she thought was her best to win his heart, but it hadn’t worked. Now at her wit’s end, she was ready to give up.

She tossed the cucumbers with the rest of the ingredients in the bowl—a task she could perform in her sleep. It had become a tireless self-repeating ritual. Initially with the sole purpose to create an impression but later adopted as a sort of self-induced therapy, a balm for her wounds.

She mused back on how it had all begun.

Her experiences in this new foreign land had started positively enough, at least per her perspective. The longest and what she expected to be the most miserable journey of her life had fortunately ended without any major mishaps. The plane hadn’t crashed as her so-called husband had very cleverly predicted.

She hadn’t thrown up though there were several occasions when she had reached for the barf bag, much to his amusement, mostly because she hadn’t the stomach to consume anything.

But there had also been moments when she’d felt perhaps she was doing the right thing. Like when his head had inadvertently come to rest on her shoulder, and she’d had the luxury to admire his handsome face completely relaxed and carefree.

Fortunately, as soon as they landed, there were a lot of pleasant distractions to take her mind off her conundrum.

The LA airport was huge, a humdrum of activity, which made her stop in her tracks often to look around astounded at the sight of humanity from so many nations and cultures merge together in one place only to disperse again until finally a frustrated Shaan grabbed her hand and marched her toward the exit.

These diversions had distracted her enough to put her at ease and bring a pleasant smile to her face with which she greeted Sujoy Ghosh, a man who had come to give them a ride from the airport and who Shaan introduced as an old friend.

“No, not a friend, just a random colleague. If he did consider me one, wouldn’t I’ve been invited to his wedding? Indeed, he didn’t even have the courtesy to let me know he’d be bringing my
bhabhi
back!” remarked Sujoy, looking deeply hurt.

“Sorry,
yaar
.
It slipped my mind,” Shaan said trying hard to appear nonchalant but failing miserably. Now it was Ruhi’s turn to be amused.

“Slipped your mind?” Sujoy gawked at his friend. “Wow! That’s a first.
Bhabhi
, was this man asleep during the ceremony? If I said so to my wife, she would refuse to see my face again or cook my favorite
Macher Jhol!
You are too easygoing. This dude doesn’t deserve it!” His actions dispelled the seriousness of his words as he playfully punched Shaan in the chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m forgetting my manners. Welcome to America!” he exclaimed, extending his hand.

“Dhonnobad!”
she replied, joining her own hands together in salutation, glancing at Shaan who was staring at her incredulously.

“Do you speak Bengali?” asked Sujoy with obvious delight.

“Yes, a little. I had a close friend in school who was Bengali too,” she replied modestly, secretly thrilled at the praise.

Sujoy laughed. “
Bah! Chomotkar!
It’s a miracle, and I have this man here who doesn’t care to even learn a greeting in the language. Why, I don’t recall him ever speak a word of Hindi or Punjabi. Is he truly Indian?” he said, eyeing Shaan skeptically.

“That’s enough, Sooj, you don’t have to work that hard to spoil my reputation!” Shaan laughed then caught himself, casting a guilty glance at Ruhi. “Let’s go, what are we waiting for?”

“Sure, sure, I’m so sorry,
bhabhi
must be tired.”

They collected their bags and started the long journey toward the parking lots with Shaan insisting on handling all her luggage despite her offering considerable resistance. She deduced he was exercising a common courtesy, nothing more.

Meanwhile Sujoy, blissfully unaware of the situation, carried on about how pleased his wife would be to know there was now someone else who spoke her tongue. “It’s her constant lament that she can’t gossip with me in Bengali. I should introduce you to her soon!”

Ruhi smiled in return, a little disappointed when her husband settled her in the rear while seating himself in front next to Sujoy, of the brand-new Honda van.

“Very nice! When did you decide to splurge, Sooj?” he asked, impressed.

“Ahh! Don’t say anymore, Shaan. It’s splurge and only splurge from now on! Ever since Anurupa was born, I’ve stopped crosschecking the bills. And now with Debolina expecting again, our little sedan wouldn’t have fit the bill any longer,” muttered Sujoy, appearing not a little embarrassed.

“Congratulations,
bhaiyya
! What wonderful news!” Ruhi exclaimed while Shaan stared at his friend in disbelief. “May I ask how old little Anu is if you don’t mind?”

“Sure, why not?” Sujoy replied grinning. “She is going to turn one next month and is the most beautiful little baby, though she doesn’t let us sleep much.”

“You are done for, my friend, now there is nothing but changing diapers and cleaning puke written in your future.” Shaan chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, what about yours then, hmm? What say,
bhabhi
? I was just like Shaan before I met Debo, but then I don’t know what hit me. The only thing I care about now is my wife and kids. I haven’t been out and about with my friends in ages!” He then turned to his friend. “Man, you are going to have to eat your words soon. Before you know,
bhabhi
will have you tightly wrapped around her finger!”

“Shut up and drive, Sooj! Or soon your wife will be missing a husband!” Shaan jested casually. But Ruhi could see that he was uncomfortable. He had to be; after all, he was deceiving a close friend.

Swamped by a sudden urge to cry, she turned to the window and attempted to engross herself in the wonderful scenery passing by. Fortunately, Sujoy chose to give her a sweeping introduction to the City of Angels.

“Everyone is dumbstruck when they come here for the first time. This is the city Hollywood calls home where all the movies, which I skipped school for, were made. Disneyland, Universal Studios, Beverly Hills, Sunset Boulevard… Ahh, I still feel like I’m living in a dream though I’ve been here for the past nine years. What do you say, Shaan? Why are you so quiet? Putting on a goody-goody act for
bhabhi’s
sake?”

Then glancing over his shoulder, he said in a furtive aside, “What do you think of your Shaan here, is he fun to be around with?”

Ruhi colored at once; she had never considered him as
her
Shaan. Shaking her head, she said softly, “He is not very talkative.” Her husband, who had gone red in the face, turned around and glared, making her involuntarily shrink back in her seat.

“Hey, Shaan! You are hiding your true colors.
Bhabhi
, this man is a fake! He is a master of disguises. I too used to consider him quite the boring geek when I first met him, but then at our annual Christmas party he revealed himself after downing a few pegs of course—one needs some for courage,” Sujoy said, nodding sagaciously. “And he was such a revelation. He danced, sang, clowned around, was the life of the party, and then to top it all—”

“Sooj, if you go any further, I promise never to speak to you again!”

Sujoy shut up at once hearing the veiled threat in his friend’s voice, leaving Ruhi wondering about Shaan’s outrageous exploit.

There were no more secret exposés after that, though she was grateful to Sujoy for endeavoring to lighten the undercurrent of unease by periodically cracking jokes that had her in splits. She took the opportunity to let herself go; it had been a long time since she had laughed openly, at least not since the wedding.

Sujoy stared, puzzled at her (he’d been told oftentimes that his humor was quite pitiful) and then at Shaan who was in a similar condition, not having perceived this aspect of her—she looked beautiful, ethereal, innocent, and terribly unhappy. He was feeling guilty again.

“Perhaps she has jet lag.”

“Yes, she hasn’t slept in hours. She needs to rest.”

Sujoy nodded, pleased with his assessment and started to sing along with the radio as they played a very old Jagjit Singh song.

Touch my song with your lips, make it immortal

Be my beloved, make my love immortal

Shaan’s eyes met Ruhi’s for the briefest moment in the rearview mirror.

***

An emotion that helps us all cope

Earth would be much lighter, without hope.

Ruhi was glad for Sujoy and his positivity. It made her think she wasn’t all alone in this unfamiliar place.

Feeling unusually weak and dizzy, she hesitated while they waited patiently for her to step out of the van, having arrived at their destination.

“
Bhabhi
looks like she is ready to collapse. Why don’t you help her while I bring up your luggage?” Sujoy suggested to Shaan who stood looking unsure nearby.

Holding her by the waist, he walked her upstairs and soon she was off like a light. She had no notion of the time of day or how long she must have slept, being oblivious to everything until…

“Wake up, Ruhi, get some food into your stomach.”

She sat up, staring at Shaan terrified for several moments, before getting her bearings and almost broke down in tears. She wanted to go back to sleep, drift back into the land of unconsciousness.

And for some unknown reason, he appeared to sympathize. “C’mon! This happens commonly to people who fly across time zones, and it affects some worse than others. You’ll be fine.”

With much difficulty, she dragged herself behind him and, for the first time, surveyed the strange place that would be her home for the next few weeks. The lights were off except in the tiny kitchen, which was right beside the sitting area. There, on a small oak table, stood several small white cartons, which appeared to contain Chinese takeout; she could tell by the odor. She wrinkled her nose.

“Why is it so dark? Did Sujoy go home?” she asked. Somehow his name came easier to her mouth than did her own husband’s.

He pointed to the circular clock, which hung on the wall behind him, its hands pointing to twenty past midnight. “You have been sleeping for the past eighteen hours and probably would have continued if I hadn’t decided to wake you up to get some chow.”

“Really, that long? I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling embarrassed. What would he think of her?

He smiled sympathetically. “There’s no need for that. I had expected it. You needed the rest.”

But the food was a different matter altogether. She didn’t like Chinese; moreover, she hated this American Chinese, which he downed without a hitch. The spices were all wrong; they made her head ache.

“You have barely touched your noodles.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“So you don’t like American Chinese. I should have guessed. It’s hard for a fresh Indian palate to adjust here. Everything looks and tastes insipid and boring. But that’s how I like it.”

Ruhi looked at him, not quite understanding what he meant. Nor did she feel like talking; her brain still in a cloud.

“Here’s a tall glass of cold milk you can’t refuse! Try it. Something’s better than nothing.”

She jerked her head and winced. “Ouch!”

“All right, then a tall glass of milk with some aspirin.”

She went back to sleep.

It was deathly quiet when she woke up; so quiet the ticking of the clock hurt her ears. But it was the right time of the day: 9:00 a.m. instead of p.m.

Bright clean sunlight filtered through the chinks in the blinds, which had been closed completely in order to darken the room. As her eyes adjusted, she saw it was decent-sized with the barest minimum in furniture; he didn’t like to spend much time in this place. The bed she was sitting on was slightly bigger than the ones back home, and she was the only one on it.

A sudden anxiety seized her as she quickly turned to examine the pillow next to hers; it was unmarked and the sheets unruffled. She had slept alone.

If nothing else, he was at least a gentleman, she thought sighing with relief. Her virtue would remain intact as long as she wished it to be so. She wondered where he had slept, hopefully not on the living room couch. Stepping down gingerly, she was thankful she could maintain her balance; the cobwebs had cleared. She hurried to the window, wondering what lay outside, and eagerly drew up the blinds.

It was beautiful, green, and quiet. She pulled up the glass pane and was pleasantly surprised when cool light air hit her face. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, her first real conscious breath in this new country. It was delicious, not intimidating at all. The surroundings appeared to welcome her with wide open arms, and she fell in love with the solitude. Cracking her eyes open, she smiled with delight at a huge tree resplendent with purple flowers directly in front and the neatly landscaped grounds below.