Serving Crazy With Curry (20 page)

“I think I've had as much of this movie as I can take,” Shobha said, standing up. “Maybe I'll go for a walk, too?”

“And I will join you,” Vasu said, standing up.

“Then I guess Devi and I'll switch to the Independent Film Channel and enjoy a good Spanish movie,” Girish said, taking charge of the TV remote. “If you like old Hindi movies, you'll love this,” he told Devi.

For an instant Shobha thought that Devi would come along with them for a walk, but then her little sister smiled at her husband and settled back on the sofa.

It was a pleasant night. The cool winds from the bay had leveled some of the heat of the day. Shobha could smell her mother's night jasmine and feel the crunch of dew on the grass under her shoes.

“It's quiet,” Shobha said.

“It's late,” Vasu said and then took Shobha's hand in hers. “What's wrong?”

“My marriage is over,” Shobha said and then glared at Vasu. “I can't believe I said that out loud.”

“It has probably been over for a while,” Vasu said, pity brimming in her eyes.

Because it annoyed Shobha to see that, she turned away from Vasu and started to walk down the stone path through the garden toward the sidewalk.

“If I could have children things would've been different,” she said confidently.

“No,” Vasu said, catching up with her. “And you know it. If you loved each other, not having children wouldn't matter. You would adopt, find another way.”

“And he's cheated on me,” Shobha said and felt the words slam through her heart.

“Oh.” Vasu nodded. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Vasu shrugged. “Have you … have you?”

“Gone astray?” Shobha finished for Vasu and when she laughed, Shobha sighed. “No I have never cheated on him, but it has crossed my mind, several times.”

“He looks very serious these days,” Vasu said. “I think he is sad. Maybe he knows it, too, that your marriage is over, and like you is waiting for something to happen.”

“Nothing's going to happen,” Shobha said as she kicked a wayward pebble on the sidewalk. “Nothing, if we don't make it happen. But I'm scared of divorce, the legal implications of it, the life implications of it.”

“You should talk to him,” Vasu suggested. “Is this affecting your work?”

Shobha stopped and turned to face Vasu. “Oh yes. How did you guess? Don't tell me, you're clairvoyant, too.”

“No, just a grandma,” Vasu said as she touched a hand to Shobha's cheek.

“When Devi… did that thing, I got delayed in a product launch.

Nothing to do with her, but it happened and now it's going to happen again,” Shobha said and then shrugged. “But for the first time I'm not obsessing about my job. I'm obsessing about my marriage and divorce.”

“Do you want to fix things with Girish?”

“No,” Shobha answered immediately. “God, this is mortifying, isn't it? We've been married five years and I so easily say that I don't want to be happy with him, I just want to be without him.”

“He's a good man,” Vasu said understanding^.

“And that does make it harder,” Shobha agreed. “But he isn't all that nice to me. He can be a real asshole.”

“I am sure you don't do anything to provoke the asshole in him,” Vasu said with some amusement.

Shobha made a face and then laughed despite herself. “We've not been getting along ever since we got married. And now … now he's having an affair with someone else or he's had an affair with someone else.”

“Are you sure, Shobha?”

“I found a pearl earring in his car,” Shobha said and then shook her head. “I'm sure, regardless of the earring, I'm sure and it should break my heart and it does, but not for the reason I thought it would.”

“Betrayal is difficult to deal with.”

“He can't betray me, G'ma,” Shobha said softly. “He and I never had that kind of a relationship.”

Saroj wished she could grab Avi's hand as they walked slowly, silently. They had been walking for more than half an hour now and all they had talked about was Vikram's new grandson, whose pictures they recently saw, and how Avi's old company's stock was faring on the NASDAQ.

“It should be fall soon,” Avi said looking up at the clear dark sky. It looked like a black sari with sparkles stuck on it.

“Yes,” Saroj said uneasily. This was her last chance at making it right, at making Avi realize that they needed to get back to their life and their marriage or all would be lost.

“Did I tell you about my meeting Amrita Saxena again at the video store?” Saroj asked as she wondered how to broach the subject. This was not an easy conversation to have. How could she start?
Our marriage is failing and we need to fix it
would hardly do.

“Hmm,” Avi mumbled, obviously not interested.

“She had so many divorces,” Saroj said and grabbed Avi's hand. He didn't pull away, but neither did he respond by holding her hand in return. His hand just lay in hers, neither foe nor friend.

“Those movie types always do,” Avi said.

“She told me that all she was doing was looking for happiness. She just wants to be happy, so she moves from man to man to find it,” Saroj explained. “Isn't that what we all want, Avi, to be happy?”

Avi nodded.

“Are you happy?” Saroj asked as her heart thudded against her ribs. She was afraid he would lie and say he was, and she was petrified that he would tell her the truth that he wasn't.

“I don't know,” Avi said instead. “I don't know what that means anymore, Saroj.”

Saroj wished he had lied.

“Weren't we ever happy?” Saroj asked shakily.

Avi nodded and then turned to her and smiled, a big broad plastic smile. “We are still happy.”

Saroj laughed with tension. “No, our youngest daughter attempted suicide and won't say a word now. Our older daughter and her husband don't get along at all and they can't have children. My mother is ill. You and I have become roommates. So no, Avi, we are not even close to being happy.”

“Everyone has problems,” Avi told her. “This isn't some Hindi movie, Saroj. Life is like this.”

“And all of this would be easy to handle, and we could still find happiness, if you and I, if you and I could just talk, be friends again, lovers again,” Saroj said, putting all her cards on the table.

Avi stopped walking and turned to face Saroj. “I don't know,” he said honestly and Saroj could hear her heart break.

“We can make it work,” she said, trying to keep a brave face. She wasn't going to lose him, not now, not after all these years and so much sharing.

“I feel that Devi had her miscarriage because of us,” Avi said, his face twisting in pain. “I feel that because of what we did, God made her and Shobha pay for it.”

“What did we do?” Saroj asked.

Avi shook his head. “It doesn't matter now. You and I… we're fine, Saroj. Things will get better once Devi starts talking and—”

“What did we do?” Saroj demanded, now angry that he was carrying a terrible guilt she knew nothing about inside him.

Avi sighed. “Remember after Shobha was born?”

Saroj nodded, still not sure, and then clarity came to her and she made an annoyed sound. “Avi,” she cried out. “Shobha was three months old and I got pregnant again, what else could we do?”

Avi sighed again as he removed his hand from her hold. “I knew you would say something like this. That's why—”

“Something like this? What do you mean by that?” Saroj demanded.

“You are so bloody practical, Saroj. So righteous. You don't even stop to think that maybe it was a mistake. That baby you had aborted was a baby, our child, but you didn't even think about it. It was an automatic decision with you, wasn't it?” Avi's eyes were blazing with anger.

The old Saroj, the one who rehabilitated a wounded soldier, would've cajoled. The new Saroj, bitter after years of negligence, was spitting mad.

“We made the decision together,” Saroj reminded him. “And in any case, the choice was
mine.
I would have to carry a baby. I would have to carry a baby while I had a three-month-old to take care of, alone. If you think that God is so stupid as to make our children pay for an inevitable decision of ours, then you should stop believing in this God and start believing in something intelligent.”

“Lower your voice,” Avi said as a light in a darkened house by the sidewalk came on. “Do you want the entire neighborhood to know?”

“Know what? That my husband is an idiot? Sure,” Saroj said, turning around to go back home. “Wake up, Avi. Our marriage is in ruins. We have nothing left. If you are going to dig up old dirt
and give ridiculous reasons for things that are happening now, then we might as well go our ways. I am not going to hang around bickering all day and night with you. I need a husband, a friend, a companion at this time as I have always. But now I am too old and too tired to put up with your nonsense. So if you want to continue believing in this stupid and vengeful God of yours, then do it someplace else.”

Saroj started to walk away from him and then paused and turned around. “And in case you are wondering, I know the California laws and I take half of everything you have. Which means, I keep the house. You can live in some small, dingy condo somewhere.”

She marched down the sidewalk, leaving an openmouthed Avi to stare after her. They fought bitterly and argued passionately, but usually Saroj was neither this eloquent nor this final in what she had to say. She felt rather proud of herself. As if she had won the marathon, even though it took a long time for her to get there.

She bumped into Shobha and Vasu five minutes from home. “What's wrong?” Shobha asked as she saw Saroj's face flashing anger.

“I am divorcing your father if he doesn't come to his senses,” Saroj announced.

Vasu's eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Do you know that he blames us … no, he just blames me, for Shobha not having a baby and Devi having a miscarriage?” Saroj said, as she let out some steam. “When you were three months old, I got pregnant again, so I had a D and C. I had to. I couldn't take care of you and be pregnant. Now that stupid man thinks that because of that, you and Devi are suffering.”

Shobha stared at her mother for a moment. Saroj could see she was surprised, even a little shocked. Saroj waited for Shobha to say something mean and hurtful, but she was taken aback by her words.

“I haven't heard this much crap in a long time, and that, too, from Daddy,” Shobha said seriously. “Didn't think Daddy was such a—”

“—moron?” Saroj finished for her.

“Well, since you're married to him you have the right to say so,” Shobha said and then put her arm around Saroj. “So you put him in his place?”

“Oh yes,” Saroj said smugly. “I told him I would take all his money and leave him in some apartment to die.”

“Good for you,” Vasu said and patted Saroj's cheek.

“I don't want a divorce,” Saroj admitted sheepishly. “I hope he knows that. I was just angry. I just want him to wake up.”

Shobha grinned. “I'm sure he knows, Mama. I'm sure he does.”

LETTER FROM AVI TO SAROJ. WRITTEN ON A COMPUTER AT THE SANTA CLARA KINKO'S ON EL CAMINO REAL.

Dear Saroj,

I have wondered what is deader than a dead relationship and then I have wondered if our relationship is indeed dead. I never gave divorce serious thought. I never thought about it because I didn't think that it would be acceptable to you. You and Shobha are so alike in this. You both want to succeed at everything you do. You wanted the perfect family, but I always knew things couldn't be that perfect when I had an arm missing. I have always wondered if you would stop loving me because one day you would wake up and see I was short one arm.

While I was working, I didn't worry about us, or even give us much thought. I know that you think I am to blame for this barren wasteland of a marriage, but you are not without guilt. You didn't do anything, either. You let me be the workaholic, you didn't change a thing, you didn't try to bring us closer. And what was I supposed to think?

I didn't want Shobha to have an arranged marriage, but you didn't listen to me and now look how unhappy she is. You made all the decisions at home and I let you. I regret it. I regret it so much. You, who always wanted a better relationship with your daughters, because you had a bad one with your mother, have done nothing to speak with your children. They still treat you like a stranger, sometimes like a tyrant.