The Perfect Groom

The Perfect Groom

Version 1.0

Copyright © Sumeetha Manikandan 2013 Published in 2013 by

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Toronto - Ontario

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The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to

real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-927826-14-0 Cover Illustration by Shehna Khan

D E D I C A T I O N

I would like to dedicate this book to Thangam. I would have never completed this novelette without her constant encouragement.

A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S

My sister Swapna, whose razor sharp critique was invaluable. Naheed Hassan for legitimizing  my  claims  to  be  a  ‘writer’  by  publishing  my  book. And last but not least, everyone who babysat my cute little daughter, so that I could finish what I started a

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C O N T E N T S ONE 1 TWO 3 THREE 7 FOUR 10 FIVE 14 SIX 19 SEVEN 23 EIGHT 31 NINE 42 TEN 51 ELEVEN 57 TWELVE 64 THIRTEEN 72 FOURTEEN 77 FIFTEEN 82 SIXTEEN 88 SEVENTEEN 99 EIGHTEEN 102 NINETEEN 107 TWENTY 118 TWENTY-ONE 121 Glossary of Terms 127

ONE

The apartment was a beehive of activity. Ashok and I had been cleaning, cleansing, throwing and hiding stuff since morning. My mother-in-law was arriving tomorrow from India to stay with us for about three months. Ashok had been in a bad mood ever since he heard the news, and was increasingly edgy and angry as her arrival neared. He had taken a day off from work today and had been cleaning his bedroom. Huge boxes of books, magazines, CDs and t-shirts made way for books, saris and kurtis, along with my cookery books.

“Where  do  we  hide  this  stuff?”  I  asked. It was a cardboard box full of his things. “On my head! GIVE!”  shouted  Ashok.

I gave him the cardboard box and went to the kitchen where I had cleared some space for the photos of God and Goddesses that my mother-in-law had sent with some of her relatives.

“LISTEN!  We  need  to  put  our  wedding  photo  somewhere,”  he  said.

Oh! Yes! We need to show your mother what a lovely couple we are, don’t  we?

“Okay.”

“Pick  out  a  photo  from  the  marriage  album  and  put  it  in  this  frame. I will hang  it  up  somewhere.”

“Okay.”

Given the chaotic condition of the apartment, it took almost an hour to search for the album. As I leafed through the photos, a wave of nostalgia

washed over me as I looked at  my  mom  and  sister’s  photograph.  My mom, looking so happy, proud and relieved that her daughter had married into a ‘good’  family.

“Are  you  done?”  asked  Ashok.

I skimmed through the album and in the end took out the reception photo. I was wearing a wine-colored, silk sari and he a black blazer. He had a stern look on his face, while I was radiant, smiling away happily.

I took out the photo and gave it to him. He pocketed it and left the room. I went back to what was to be 'our' room and sat down in front of his old laptop, that was mine now. The Internet was my only refuge. While Ashok was in the office, I spent hours browsing through the Internet checking out recipes and trying them out in my small kitchen. Though Ashok was largely unappreciative of my efforts, Sunil would praise my cooking. Yet I never took anything that he said at face value. I knew that Sunil felt guilty about my predicament and tried to be nice to me.

Ashok  peeped  inside  the  room  and  said,  “I  am  going  out  now.  I’ll  be  back   late,  will  be  eating  out,  so  don’t  wait  up.”

“Okay.”

I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I checked out my favorite website and noted down the ingredients for paneer pakoras. I was sure my mother-in-law would not allow me to make paneer during her stay here. Ashok had been behaving as if he had been dealt poor hand, but it was I who would suffer for the next three months. Ashok could escape to his office for a good part of the day and night, but I would have to be here at home listening to her, answering her questions and lying.

I went back to the album, leafing mindlessly through the photos of every ritual that bound me to Ashok, from the second engagement to the last ceremony of putting the metti on my toes. After thumbing through the entire album, I settled down to a fitful sleep.

TWO

I was jarred awake when my mobile phone rang. Disoriented, I checked the time. It was around twelve am. It was Divya, my sister calling from India.

“Nithya!  Hi,  How  are  you?  What  time  is  it  now?  Did  I  wake  you  up?” She always asked the same question. I shook myself awake and sat up. “Divya!  It’s  okay. I am awake anyway. Ashok is not back home yet. How are  you  and  how  is  mom?”

“Amma is  fine.  She  is  asking  if  you  have  any  ‘good  news’?” ‘Good  news’ actually meant, ‘Are you pregnant yet?’

“Do  you  think  you  will  get  pregnant  this  month?”

“By  any  chance,  do  you  think  you  will  not  get  your  periods?”  I  was  tired   of answering these questions.

“Ayyo! You are calling me in the middle of the night for this? Tell Amma that we are not planning any  sort  of  ‘good  news’  as  of  now,”  I  replied.

“Sorry!  It  is  just  that  your  mother-in-law keeps calling Chittappa all the time  and  keeps  telling  him  that  you  are  not  pregnant  yet.”

I already knew that. My aunt and my mother-in-law had a conference call last week to share their angst at my inability to produce an offspring. My mother-in-law acted as though her investment in me as a brood mare was a total waste, and my aunt was full of suggestions about how to get pregnant.   She   even   started   suggesting   ‘positions’   best   suited   to   get   pregnant.

This was the best news that I had heard ever since I got married. I could feel myself getting teary, as happiness filled me. At least Divya was able to accomplish  what  I  couldn’t.

“Divya!  This  is  great news.  Wonderful.  What  will  your  salary  be?”

“Starting  will  be  twenty-five thousand rupees. I may be in the US project team.   Won’t   that   be   great?   Then   I   can   come   to   California   and   stay   with   you.”

God forbid! NO! You are too innocent to see us in all our married glory.

“Yeah  sure.  Let’s  see.  Did  you  get  the  money  that  I  sent?”

“Nithya,  stop  sending  money.  Now  that  I  have  got  a  job  I  don’t  want  to   inconvenience Athimber,”  she  said.

They never believed me when I told them that it was my own money that I was sending.

“Okay.  But  if  you  need  money  for  anything  just  give  me  a  call,”  I  replied. “I  don’t  think  we  need  money  now.  Our  days  of  struggle  are  over  Nithya.   We   don’t   have   to   depend   on   Chithi or Chittappa for anything now. In another six months, I am going to look for a house and get out of here,”  she   said enthusiastically.

We lived in a dilapidated one-room apartment on the by-streets of Mylapore Kutchery road that our Chittappa gave us for free.

“I  hope  it happens. You  have  no  idea  how  happy  I  am,”  I  said  fervently. “I  know.  Anyway  take  care.  Go  back  to  sleep,”  she  said  happily.

“Bye, take  care.”

My mother was the eldest in the family and she had a younger stepsister. Her stepmother married her at a young age to an alcoholic whose only achievement in life was siring my sister and I. Her stepsister married a smart army colonel who retired as a Major. My father died in an accident, when I was in the tenth standard. He never held down a permanent job and in the end we found out that he had been borrowing money from others, and was bringing it at home as salary. With debts amounting to one lakh

rupees, rent, household expenses and school fees, my mother was completely overwhelmed.

My uncle ‘Chittappa’ had by then retired from the army and had built himself a swanky bungalow in Mylapore. With nowhere else to go, my mother went to her stepsister for help. Chittappa gave us his old house near Madhava   Perumal   Kovil   to   stay.   My   mother   became   her   sister’s   glorified   servant and helped with cooking, laundry, and housekeeping.

So, this was indeed good news. If Divya could get my mother out of

Chittappa’s   house   both   physically   and   mentally,   it   would   be   great   for  

everybody. She had spent half of her life slaving for them and now it was high time that we looked after her. My situation was hopeless in any case but I had striven hard to hide it from all, especially my mother.

Just as I was turning off the light to settle back to sleep, the phone rang again. It was my father-in-law.

“Amma Nithya! How are you? How is Ashok? I just left your mother-in-law  at  the  airport.  She  has  boarded  the  plane,”  he  said.

That’s  just  great!

“Ok.”

“Is  Ashok  there?”  he  asked  hesitatingly.

“No.”  I  did  not  want  to  talk  to  him  more  than  necessary.  In  fact in those three years, I had avoided speaking with him. Once I was naïve enough to think that he was unaware of our situation. But recently I realized he knew everything; and despite that he had arranged our marriage.

He was silent for a while then asked,  “Nithya!  Is  everything  set  for  your   mother-in-law’s  visit  in  US?  Where  is  Ashok?  Will  he  be  picking  her  up  at   the  airport?”

“He  has  gone  out  with  Sunil,”  I  said.

“Oh!  Will  he  pick  her  up  or  not?”  he  asked  hurriedly. “He  told  me  that  he  would…”  I  said  and hesitated.

“I   hope   he   goes   alone   to   the   airport.   I   just   want   her   to   be   comfortable   there.  I  hope  you  understand,”  he  said  in  a  worried  voice.

“Really?   I   thought   you   wanted   to   know   something   else.   You   know everything  right?”  I  asked  him.

He immediately got  defensive,  “I  don’t  know  what  you  are  talking  about.   Don’t   try   to   act   smart   with   me.   You   were   almost   a   servant   in   Narasimhachari’s  house.  Your  mother  didn’t  even  have  one  gram  of  gold  to   give  you.  You  were  living  on  your  uncle  and  aunt’s  mercy.  Your  father  didn’t   even leave money to educate you or your sister. You have lived on other people’s  charity  all  your  life.  I  got  you  married  to  my  son,  gave you jewelry, paid for your ticket to USA. Would any father-in-law do this? And you know what, I bore the entire marriage expenses too and you have the audacity to ask  me  questions?  Just  who  do  you  think  you  are?”

I tried to interrupt, but something was wrong with my voice.

He  continued,  “Just  keep  one  thing  in  mind.  While  Saroja  is in the States I want you to make sure that everything is normal. She is a heart patient so please  don’t  argue  with  her  or  tell  her  anything.  We  will  speak  more  about   this   when   you   come   down   here.   Until   then   I   don’t   want   any   more   discussion  about  this.  Do  you  understand?”

He  didn’t  expect a reply and put the phone down.

THREE

Ashok   didn’t   come   back   home   in   the   night   nor   did   I   expect   him   to.   He   would probably go pick up my mother-in-law straight from wherever he was.  I  couldn’t  sleep  after  the  upsetting  call  with  my  father-in-law. I quickly took a bath and got dressed in a sari.

While I was making breakfast, Ashok called me. “Hello.”

“Yes?”

“Amma’s  flight  is  delayed  by  3  hours.  I  am  at  the  fucking  airport.  If  my   father Desikacharya, the bastard, calls, tell   him,”   he   said   in   a   drunken   drawl.

“Ok,”  I  replied.

God! He is drunk. I just hope he sobers up before his mother arrives or else there will be another conference call from the inquisition squad in India.

I quickly prepared lunch and thought I would go and meet my friend Diana.

Diana owned a restaurant right around the block. We became friends three years ago. I had been in the neighborhood park, brooding over my hopeless  situation  and  crying.  I  didn’t  notice  anyone  and  no  one  bothered   me.  I  didn’t  know how long I sat there. Suddenly I felt a hand comforting me. It was Diana. She said that she had been watching me for a long time.

I poured my heart out to her. Sometimes it is easier to talk to strangers. Things that I had kept hidden from my mother and sister tumbled out of my mouth. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I was glad that I had Diana to fall back on, in this strange country.

I made paneer pakoras for her to taste. She loved Indian snacks, especially samosas, and was forever asking me to give her recipes to try. I wrapped the pakoras in aluminum foil and went to the restaurant.

Diana is a 40-year-old woman with gray eyes, blonde hair and a lovely dimple. She was writing something in her notebook when I entered. She looked up and smiled at me. I sat beside her and waited until she finished and gave her the paneer pakoras to taste.

“Hmmm.  Very  nice, Nithya. I am thinking of adding a couple of Indian snacks to the menu. There has been a noticeable increase in Indian customers here,”  she said, eating the pakoras with relish.

“How   about   it Nithya? You can make this stuff from home and send it around to the restaurant. I’ll pay cash. What do you  say?”  she  asked.

Diana’s  suggestion  seemed  God-sent but I also wanted it to be my ticket out of the house.

“My   mother-in-law is coming from India today. So most likely she will take   over   the   kitchen.   I   can   come   here   and   make   the   snacks,   if   you   don’t   mind. How  about  that?”  I  asked.

She seemed pleased to hear that. “Sounds  better.  We  can  serve them hot! Great. So how long is your mother-in-law  here?”

“For  about  three months I think. She might leave earlier if my sister-in-law’s  marriage  gets  fixed,”  I  said.

“I   still   can’t   understand   why   you   won’t   leave   him?   Divorces   are   also   common  in  India.  My  Indian  friend  Malathi  is  divorced  and  happy.”

I bit my lip while I pondered her question. She never really understood why a younger sister would have trouble getting married if the older sister got divorced.

“Ashok  and  I  have  an  agreement.  I  can’t  back  off  now,”  I  said  morosely. She scowled and pursed her lips as she considered my situation.

“What  agreement?  He’s  just  taking  advantage  of  you.  Can’t  you  see  that?   And have  you  thought  of  what  you  want  to  do,  once  you  go  back  to  India?”   she asked.

I have thought about nothing else in all my time here.

I  looked  directly  at  her  and  said,  “I  want  to  go  back  to  India  and  start  a   restaurant like yours. I have studied hotel management.”

She seemed pleased with my decision.

“That’s   good.   At   least   you   have   a   definite   plan.   So   when   is   your   sister   getting  married?  Does  she  like  anyone?”  she  asked.

Despite having many Indian friends, Diana never really understood the concept of arranged marriages. We had several interesting conversations and arguments about how people get married in India after one or two meetings.

“My   sister   just   completed   her   engineering.   Next   month   she   will   be   joining Wipro. She will need some time to get settled in  her  job,”  I  said.

“That   could be another three to four years.   What   about  Ashok’s  sister?   How  old  is  she?”  she  asked  pondering  deeply  over  my  situation.

“She  is  twenty-two years old. They are actively looking for a match. My mother-in-law wants Ashok to find someone for her from the US. But he is not  very  keen,”  I  said.

“I’m not surprised. So you are going to lead this sham life for the next four years. Do you think it is worth  it?”  she  asked  me  directly.

I was afraid to answer that. She was right. It was not worth it. But I just needed to pretend that everything was fine, until Divya got married.  That’s   all.

FOUR

The first time I heard anything about my marriage was when I was fourteen years old. My uncle Narasimhachari and aunt Kanakavali loved to match-make. They rarely thought about the wishes of the boy and girl. Ever since

Chittappa retired from the army, he had cultivated a couple of hobbies. One

was to match-make along with his gossipy wife (my aunt), and the other was to show people how deeply religious and charitable he was. The first proposal  that  they  had  in  mind  for  me  was  to  marry  his  brother’s  son  Vasu.

Vasu was an orphan. His parents died in an accident and my uncle became his guardian since there was nobody else to take him in. He was brought  to  live  in  my  uncle’s  house  with  his  cousin.  My  uncle  financed  his   studies until twelfth standard and then suggested that he go to patashala to study for priesthood and get married to me. We both were made for each other, with Vasu becoming a priest and me a cook; we would be the ideal low class couple according to my uncle.

Vasu was not interested. He did not want to become a priest. I was not sure how he felt about marrying me. He left the house after his twelfth standard results were out and never came back.

My uncle was very angry. It was the first time one of his plans had gone awry and somebody actually had the courage to stand up to him. He had a big face-off with Sridhar, who had come to persuade him to let Vasu work with  him.  Sridhar  even  offered  to  take  up  the  cost  of  Vasu’s  education.  But   it was of no use. After Vasu left the house, I found out that uncle had told all his relatives that he had stolen some money from home, hence his hasty departure.

The last thing that I heard about Vasu was that he was working with Sridhar and had moved to Mumbai and was very successful. Sridhar was a businessman dealing with computers and Vasu used to work with him part-time, assembling computers during his summer holidays. Thankfully, after he left, there was no more talk of my marriage. When I completed my twelfth standard, my uncle wanted me to start working. I was heartbroken but  my  mother  met  an  old  friend  of  my  father’s, and asked him for help. He agreed to finance my education and Divya’s   as   well.   This, again, had not gone down well with my uncle.

It  was  the  final  year  of  my  college  and  I  had  come  to  my  uncle’s  house to help my mother make the yearly portion of appalam and vadam for my uncle and aunt. While we were preparing the sheets for the vadam, my uncle came to the terrace and told me his plans for my future.

“Nithya!  Yesterday  I  was  speaking  to  Chinnu mama. He is looking for an apprentice for his cooking team. You will learn a lot from him. He is a top cook nowadays and he is always in demand for marriages and other functions. He said you could help him by cutting vegetables, cleaning utensils and clearing tables. He will pay you three thousand rupees for a marriage and a thousand rupees for other functions. You can start working for him from next month. His only condition is that you will have to wear a

madisar,”  he  said  with  a  flourish.

Then he had turned towards his wife who was adjusting the sheets and said, “Kanaka!  Give  your old cotton madisars to Nithya. She can wear them when she goes to work with Chinnu.”

I had looked at my mother who was silently watching my uncle. She could not and would not say anything.

“Chittappa! Three of my friends have started a catering business from their home. I want to join them. They already have eight clients, all software companies to whom they are supplying food. They want me to join them. My monthly salary will be eight thousand rupees.”

“Nonsense  Nithya!  I  know  you.  Don’t  aim  too  high.  It  won’t  work.  I  think   you are lucky to get this job, that too because of my recommendation. This

job is perfect  for  you.  Don’t  dream  too  big.  Just  because  you  studied  hotel   management it  doesn’t  mean  that  you  will  open  a  hotel,”  he  said, dismissing my decision.

“Chittappa,  please.  I  want  to….” My mother intervened and said “Nithya!  Help  me  with  this.”

We got busy with the vadam and appalam and my uncle went down. I wanted to protest this decision, but my aunt was there. She took up the discussion from where my uncle had left.

“Amruthi!   Do   you   know   how   much   money   Chinnu makes with marriages? Almost two lakhs for each marriage. If Nithya works with him, he will also find a good match for her. We thought Vasu would be perfect for  her  but  he  turned  out  to  be  a  wastrel.” My mother and I were stoically silent until she went down. And then I burst out.

“Amma! I will not work with Chinnu mama. I want to take up this catering job. If it means that we will be thrown out of that house then so be it.  I  can  support  us  with  my  salary,”  I  said  vehemently.

“Nithya!  Stop  it.  In  the  first  place  you  shouldn’t  have  told  him  that  you   want to take up another job. You should have told him that it is an internship or something for a year after which you will get your graduation certificate.”

“Oh!   Why   didn’t   I   think   about   this?” My mother knew her survival techniques well.

“You  go  ahead  with  your catering job. I will tell your aunt that you will not get the certificate  unless  you  work  with  these  people,”  she  said  calmly.

“Thank  God!”  I had said relieved.

We finished laying out the vadams and then went down. My uncle was on the verandah talking to a friend of his. They looked up when I came out.

“Chittappa! I am leaving  now.  I  have  to  go  to  college  today.” He called me, and holding my hand, introduced me to his friend.

“Desika!   This   is   my   wife’s   sister’s   daughter   Nithya.   Her   father   died leaving them with a big debt. I gave them the small house that we have near the temple  tank  and  paid  for  their  education.”

My  uncle’s  friend  surveyed  me  from  top  to  bottom.  I  greeted  his  friend   and  escaped  as  fast  as  I  could.  Desikachari  was  Ashok’s  father.  I  guess  after   I left, he asked for my hand. He had been on the look-out for a demure, non-independent beautiful girl for his son and I fit the bill perfectly.

FIVE

My aunt and uncle came over two  days  after  I  met  Ashok’s  father.

“Amruthi!  I  have  come  with  some  very  good  news.  You will probably die of shock, once you hear it.”

My  uncle’s  opening  statement  caught our attention.

“I’ve got a very good alliance  for  Nithya.  You’re not going to believe her luck. She’s got many lucky stars in her horoscope to attract such a proposal.”

“I  don’t  understand.  Whose  proposal?”

I was sure that it was going to be a proposal from a temple vadiyar, cook or a driver. But nothing in the world prepared me for this.

“My  friend  Desikachari  wants  the  hand  of  Nithya  for  his  son  Ashok.  Do   you know where Ashok lives? In the USA. You have got a US proposal for your  daughter!”  he announced happily.

Our jaws dropped.

“Ashok  lives  in  California  and  is  a  software engineer. He has been staying there for about three years. He is their only son. They have a daughter too, who is working. Desika lives in Adayar in an independent house; they have fifteen acres of land in their village in Maduramangalam. They  don’t  want   anything. I have explained everything about your circumstances. They want a simple marriage. We can have the marriage ceremony in our house and then Nithya  will  fly  off  to  the  US.”

“What   are   you   staring   at?   Aren’t   you   happy?”   he   asked  waiting   for   our   reaction.

My mother was the first one to recover.

“Athimber! Is   this   the   first   marriage   of   this   boy   or   the   second?”   she   asked voicing the doubt that I held in my heart too.

“What  are  you  asking?  Of  course  it  is  the  first,”  he  blustered  angrily. “Then  why  would  they…?”

He interrupted her. “Listen!  Desika  wants  a  simple traditional girl for his son. Someone who can take care of his son. He is afraid that Ashok might marry  somebody  unsuitable  from  the  US.”

“But  Athimber! Why do they want my daughter? We have nothing to give her.   You   know   that   we   don’t   have   a single gram of gold,”   exclaimed   my   mother.

“Kanaka!  Give  back  Amruthi’s jewels to her. You can use those jewels for her marriage. I will take care of the rest  of  the  expenses,” said Chittappa, ready as always with his project plan.

“But   Athimber! She wants to work for some time. We have not talked about  marriage  at  all…”  said  my  mother  feebly.

“Listen  Amruthi!  Do  not  refuse  a  good  proposal  when  it  is  coming  on  its   own,”  he coaxed.

I  intervened  and  said,  “Chittappa!  I  don’t  want  to  marry  now.  I  want to work. I am just twenty-one years  old.  And  I  don’t  even…”

“Nithya!  I  am  talking  to  your  mother.  Listen, don’t  say  anything  now.  I   am   sending   Nithya’s   photo   to   Desika’s   son. Desika is also getting the horoscope matched. If everything proceeds smoothly then they will come to see  Nithya,”  he  said  firmly.

I noticed that my aunt was not very happy with this proposal.

“Amruthi!  I  wish  my  daughter  had  got  this  proposal.  But  she  didn’t.  And   my husband is trying hard to get your daughter married. Instead of appreciating him, you   and   your   daughter   are   questioning   him,”   she   said, reminding us of our duty to praise him at every turn.

“Kanaka!  That  is  not  what  I  am  saying.  Marriage  is  a  big  decision  and  I   want  my  daughter  to  marry  the  right  man.  I  don’t  want  her  to  suffer like I did…”  said  my  mother  with  a  sob.  My  aunt  made  a  face  and  turned  away.

My   uncle   intervened   again   and   said,   “Let   us   not   talk   negatively.   I   am   sure  the  horoscope  will  match.  Let  us  wait  until  they  call.”

We were at a loss to say anything after they left. Too many things were happening and we were not able to decide whether it was good or bad.

***

After  an  uneasy  night,  my  mother  went  to  my  uncle’s  house  to attend to her daily duties, and I waited at home for news. Around 10 am, she came hurrying to fetch me to the house. Divya had already gone to college and I was alone at home. Our horoscopes had matched   perfectly   and   Ashok’s   parents were coming to meet me officially. My uncle was in an agitated state, shouting out orders and hastening my mother to do the necessary chores.

My cousin Jayashree came and took me inside. She was a good person. She was so unlike my uncle and aunt that I used to wonder whether she was adopted. She draped her silk sari on me and made me wear my   mother’s   jewelry.

They came.  Ashok’s  mother  was  the  typical  mami that you would meet in Mylapore. Traditionally clad in a madisar, she was very authoritative and demanding. She fired question after question at my mother about our father, our village and our properties, trying to determine our social standing.

Ashok’s  father  put  a  stop  to  all  that  and  said  finally  that  they  liked  me.  I   could see that my mother-in-law did not approve but she was sidelined.

“I  want  Nithya  to  speak  to  Ashok  now.  He  won’t  be  asleep  yet,”  he  took   out his mobile phone and dialed.

“Ashok? I told you about Nithya right? We are at her house now. Your mother  and  I  like  her  a  lot,”  said  Ashok’s  father  smiling  at  me.

I saw my mother-in-law  making  a  face  at  this  comment.  “We  want  you  to   speak  to  her  now,”  he  said and gave the phone to me.

I took the phone and moved to the balcony. “Hello!”  I  said  with  a  shiver  in  my  voice.

“Hi   Nithya!   I   am   Ashok!”   said   a   pleasant   voice   with   a   long   American   drawl.

“Hi,”  I  said.

“So  my  parents  met  you  today.  Your  uncle  sent  me  your  photograph. Did you  see  my  photo?”  he  asked.

“No.  Not  yet,”  I  said  slowly.

“Oh!  Ask  my  father  to  show  it  to  you.  I  live  in  California.  I  am  a  software engineer. I work for LTC Systems. I have been here for about three years. Umm… there are lots of Indians here; temples, Indian societies and cultural activities are very common. I am sure you will enjoy it all when you come here. As for myself, I want a simple girl who is traditional and conservative. My father tells me that you are a hotel management graduate,” he said.

It was difficult to understand much of what he said because of the accent.

“Yes.  I  have  finished  my  graduation  in  hotel management.”

“Great!  Look  Nithya.  I  am  a  simple  guy  and  I  want  a  simple  girl  as  my   life partner. I like the sound of you. See my photo and if you like me, we can get married. I am coming to India next week. Okay?”

“Okay. I will give the phone back to  your  father.”

I   came   back   into   the   room   and   gave   the   phone   to   Ashok’s   father.   My   hands were shaking.

Ashok’s  father  took  the  phone  from  me  and  spoke  to  him  for  some  time.   My uncle and my mother hurried over to me and asked a hundred questions about my conversation with Ashok. While I was stammering answers,  Ashok’s  father  came  and  showed  me  Ashok’s  photo.

He was quite fair, broad forehead, strong nose, curly hair and very athletic  looking.  He  looked  quite  handsome.  I  couldn’t  believe  that  such  a   nice man would want to get married to me. I looked at his photo and could hear his soft voice in my head. Could this be true? Will he truly change my

life for better?

My aunt snatched the photo from my hand and scowled. Now when I think back, my aunt expected Ashok to be as ugly as sin since the proposal was for me. But she was shocked when she saw that he was handsome.

My mother-in-law was still unhappy about me being the prospective bride. Now that she knew we were the poorer relations of Narasimhachari, my uncle, she felt that she could get a much better proposal for her son. In fact, she openly favored my cousin Jayashree. I could hear snippets of their conversation where my aunt was talking about Jayashree and my mother-in-law was telling her that she was searching for someone like that as a daughter-in-law.

But my father-in-law hurriedly put an end to all those conversations. They both gave me dirty looks. But in all fairness, I had never wanted this alliance. I never expected to get married so soon, or ever.

SIX

The next two weeks were a blur. I was engaged to Ashok the very next day. My mother, finally overcoming all her fears, convinced me that this alliance was God-sent. She even cited many instances where rich grooms sought poor girls like me for their beauty and other redeeming qualities.

Since Ashok was not there, I became engaged to his family instead. It was a very small function with just three aunts, four uncles, five cousins and  their  families.  I  also  met  Ashok’s  sister  Anu, who was about the same age as my sister. There were not many people from our side except for a couple  of  aunts.  Many  of  my  father’s  relatives  refused  to  come  because  they   couldn’t   stand   Chittappa.   One   of   my   cousins   from   my   father’s   side   came   along with her husband.

The marriage date was fixed for the following week. My mother-in-law presented me with a ten thousand rupee sari and a jewelry-set with necklace, bangles and earrings. I was overwhelmed. My mother hugged me and started crying.

I   didn’t   speak   to   Ashok   after that first day. He was at a conference, somewhere in Europe, and then was traveling through Europe so he couldn’t   find   the   time   to   call   me.   My  father-in-law told me that he would come and see me when he came to India next week.

I  didn’t  think  much  of it since we were busy shopping.

My uncle outdid himself and took us out shopping to Nalli to get us all silk saris.

I berated myself for thinking so many bad things about him. My mother, on the other hand, was ready to build a temple for him.

Four days before my marriage, Ashok arrived from US. He came to meet me   next   day   at   my   uncle’s   house.   It   was   a   very   short   meeting   with   his   mother in tow. I was made to sit next to him while he chatted with my uncle, and my future mother-in-law scrutinized me minutely. I stole glances at him and once or twice and I saw him looking at me and smiling.

He   didn’t say much to me except a casual ‘hi’.   My   mother   was   very   excited  and  my  sister  disappointed  because  he  didn’t  speak  to  her.

The day of the marriage dawned. My aunt half-heartedly did the chores set by my uncle. She recognized that it was a good PR opportunity to highlight   her   husband’s   benevolence towards me and my family; at the same time, however, she was also afraid that their other relatives might expect the same type of help for their daughters.

Things proceeded very smoothly and soon I found myself seated next to Ashok on the dais. We went through the motions and chanted our mantras repeated by the priest. Then it was time for him to tie the thali.  My  father’s   cousin and his wife played the role of my mother and father during the marriage, and it was in his lap that I was seated when Ashok tied the thali.

By mid-morning, everything was done. We  went  to  the  registrar’s  office   to get the marriage registered before returning to the hall to bid everyone farewell. My mother was very emotional but she was kept busy by congratulating relatives. My sister helped me to pack my bags. My mother hugged and blessed me, and I took a formal farewell from my uncle and aunt.

We came out of the hall and got into the car and sat next to each other. The   romantic   ‘me’   thought   that   he   would   then   hold   my   hand   or   at   least   smile at me, but Ashok was busy checking his messages on his mobile.

We reached his house and my mother-in-law and many other relatives took the arthi and invited me inside. It was a big house and I was immediately  taken  to  Ashok’s  room.

My father-in-law and Ashok were busy discussing my passport and visa with an agent. My documents and application were already with him and now they added the marriage certificate to it and asked him to expedite it.

My sister-in-law Anu came in to help me unpack. Not that there was much to unpack anyway. But I learnt a bit about Ashok in the process.

“My  brother  is  a  very  neat  person.  He  wants everything to be arranged properly in the room - clothes, books and CDs. He keeps shouting at my mother  when  she  folds  his  clothes.  She  doesn’t  do  it  properly.  You  have  very   beautiful eyes, you should wear mascara and eye shadow when you go out with  him.” She chattered away as she helped me.

I arranged my few pieces of clothing in an emptied cupboard drawer and then we went out to the kitchen. My mother-in-law was sitting with a couple of other mamis.

“Nithya!  You  can  help  us  in  the  kitchen  from  tomorrow.   Not today. Go and check if your father-in-law  and  Ashok  want  some  coffee,”  she  said.

I went to the hall and then to my in-laws bedroom. Ashok was standing near the window and my father-in-law was behind him. My father-in-law was talking to him in a low voice.

I  came  inside  and  said,  “Mama! Amma wants to know if you want some coffee.”

“Yes, get  us  two  coffees.”

When I got the coffee, I saw my father-in-law standing alone by the window. Ashok had gone out. He took the coffee from my hand and said, “Ashok  had  to  go  to  the  passport  office.  He  will  be  back  by  this  evening.”

Soon it was night; Anu and my mother-in-law were decorating the room, while I   was   nervous   and   trembling.   I   didn’t   eat   much   during dinner - I thought I would throw up.

Ashok came very late and went inside the room. My mother-in-law gave me a silver tumbler full of milk and asked me to give it to him. I entered the room to find Ashok sitting with his laptop at the table. The room was decorated with flower bouquets and rose petals were strewn on the bed.

“Nithya!  I  have  some  work  that  I  have  to  finish  now.  You  must  be  tired  so   you  sleep.  I  will  come  to  bed  later.”

I was relieved but also a bit disappointed. I said okay and turned to go to bed.

He  said,  “Listen,  I  want  to  know  you  better  before  we  begin  our  life  as  a   married couple. My parents were in a hurry, so I got married but it is necessary for me to know my partner before we have any kind of relationship. My parents are old-fashioned, traditional. So tomorrow morning they will ask you all sorts of questions. They will expect us to have slept  together…  so  don’t  tell  them  that  we  didn’t, okay?”

It took me some time to understand what exactly he was saying but then I  said,  “I  understand.  I  will  not  tell  them.”

That night I was too tired to even think about anything. I slept the minute  my  head  hit  the  pillow.  I  didn’t  know  when  Ashok  came  to  bed.  But   he was sleeping next to me when I woke up the next day. It was almost seven in the morning when I woke up and I hurried to the bathroom to get ready.

My mother-in-law tried to pry as much information as possible from me. I tried to act shy and escaped somehow.

My father-in-law had arranged for a trip to Tirupathi the following day. Ashok was busy packing and shopping. We had to get up early the next day so I went to bed early and Ashok worked again. I actually appreciated his thoughtfulness about wanting to know me better before sleeping with me. He was very polite and nice to me but a shade impatient with his parents.

After the Tirupathi visit, Ashok stayed at home for one more day and then he left for the US. I had to wait two more months before I could start my married life with Ashok.

SEVEN

These days I almost feel sorry for Ashok. Ever since my mother-in-law arrived, all that she has done is cook for him and he doesn’t  have  any  choice   but to eat.

“Just  one  more  puri! Try this chutney. Nithya bring that tomato chutney for  him  to  taste.”

Ashok made a face and waited patiently while I searched through the bottles of chutney and pickles that she brought with her from India. Dripping in oil, the chutney bottle was swaddled in two aavin plastic covers. I took out a spoon and put some chutney in his plate.

“Today  I  am  making   usili, kadamba sambar, applam and lime rasam. All  your  favorites.  You  must  come  home  for  dinner  today.”

I  knew  that  he  wouldn’t  come  home  any  time  sooner  than  eleven. He had been escaping to office earlier than usual every day and returning late at night. With his temper at an all-time high, it was difficult to be with him, let alone talk to him.

My situation was far worse. This time around, her visit to the US was undertaken solely to check whether we were leading a normal married life or not. The second purpose was to give me more gyan about how to become pregnant   and   how   I   was   ruining   Ashok’s   life   by   not   becoming   pregnant   immediately.

As to the first, there was no problem in pretending that we were a normal married couple. Ashok was rarely home in any case. The only awkwardness was when we had to sleep together in the same bed. Thankfully, the bed was very big and I slept in one corner and he on the

other. And thanks to Diana, I had four to five hours of respite from home during the day.

While I was clearing the breakfast items, she started off on her pet project.

“Last  month,  I  ran  into  that  girl  Deepa  whom  we  had  seen  for  Ashok.  She got married two months ago and she is pregnant already. God knows what sins I have committed to be saddled with a daughter-in-law like you. Next month when I go back to India you are coming with me and we are getting a check-up done. If there is a problem with you then I must find out. My friend’s   sambandi, is a gynecologist. She is also a very good doctor. We need  to  do  a  scan  and  find  out  whether  there  is  any  problem…”

I resolutely refused to look towards her or even to react to her statements. But I could feel her eyes on my stomach. If she could, she might actually scan me with her eyes alone and find out what my problem was.

I tried to talk to Ashok about the impending medical test that she might force me to have. I told him while we were in bed.

“Ashok!  I  need  to  talk  to  you  about  something.” “What?”

“Your   mother   is   pestering   me   to   get   a   medical check-up done. I have given   her   many   reasons   why   we   don’t   want   kids   right   now.   She   is   not   listening. Can you speak to her and tell her that for the next two years you don’t  want  kids?”

“Hmm… I  don’t  know  man.”

“I  have  been  listening  to  this  pregnancy talk for the past one month now. She wants me to go along with her to India next month and when we go she wants me to have a medical check-up with a gynecologist that she knows. If you  don’t  tell  her  that  you  don’t  want  kids  right  now, I will have to undergo a medical check-up.  Please  Ashok!  Speak  to  her.”

“What   the   fuck, Nithya? It is just a medical check-up. What are you scared  of?  Why  are  you  pestering  me?  I  don’t  want  to  talk  to  her  about  this.   Just  leave  me  alone.”

I bit my lip to fight back the tears but they just rolled down. I felt trapped in a situation where the walls were closing on me from all directions.

“You  don’t  understand  Ashok.  Please  try  to  understand… I…”

He  tore  at  his  hair  and  screamed,  “Oh  God!  I  am  going  to  kill that guy the minute I land in India next time. He sent her here deliberately to mess my life. Okay! I will talk to her.”  He turned away to sleep.

He did speak to her the next morning, I think, because she looked sullen when I came back from the restaurant and kept muttering about my hold over her son.

“God  knows  what  sins  I  have  committed.  All  I  want  is  a  grandson  to  hold   before I die. If you cannot give it then what is the point of this marriage? I always knew that people from Salem are very cunning. Now I know why they say that. You have him twisted around your little finger. Usha’s  son  got   a new wife because his first wife was not conceiving. You should thank your stars  that  we  are  not  doing  anything  of  that  sort…”

I willed myself to ignore her, and listened instead to A.R. Rahman and checked   my   mail.   Divya   had   sent   a   mail   saying   that   her   friend   Ragini’s   friend Srinivas, was coming to the US for a conference. I had bought her a couple of t-shirts and a make-up kit and bengay lotion for my mother all of which had been sitting in my cupboard for months. Divya had forwarded Ragini’s  mail  with Srinivas’s  number.  Srinivas  was  going to call me once he reached California.

I was not sure what my mother-in-law would say about my sending a package for my sister. Maybe I should call Srinivas to the restaurant and hand it over to him there.

The next morning, I was distracted because my mother-in-law was trying to persuade Ashok to say gayathri mantra and change his poonal, as it was

aavani aatam.

“Yesterday  was  aavani aatam in India so according to astroved.com you can change your poonal,” she said, quoting her authority for auspicious dates.

Ashok seemed to be pushed in a corner. I had seen him wearing a poonal only once, and that was during our marriage. I   didn’t   see much point in changing it when he rarely wore it.

Ashok   pretty   much   said   the   same   thing   to   his   mother,   “Amma!   I   don’t   wear poonal here at all. Then what is the point?”

But she was ready with her Brahmaastra, her eyes swimming in tears, “Won’t  you  do  this  for  your  mother?  Do  you  have  to  argue  with  me  about   everything? I may not be alive to see you do another aavani aatam?”

Cornered, Ashok went and had his bath while his mother waited for him in the bedroom.

“Amma! I have to change. I will come, wait.”

She immediately started applying the traditional namam on his forehead. It was funny the way he tried to bat her hand away but she was formidable when she wanted her way.

I made aapam and idli, while she made Ashok recite Gayathri japam, wearing a makeshift dhoti. He scowled at her, as she went around taking pictures to put on Facebook. It was quite funny, but I dared not laugh as Ashok was close to bursting-point. My mother-in-law was naively unconcerned about this.

“Bring  the aapam and  serve  it  to  him,”  she  ordered.

I brought out the aapam and when I served two on his plate, she shouted,  “Put  three  more.  He  loves  to  eat  aapam.”

I had never seen Ashok eat anything so oily in the three years we had been married; it probably was his favorite decades ago. When I started serving him three  more,  Ashok  shouted,  “NO  THANKS.”

“Don’t  serve  it  to  him  if  he  doesn’t  want,”  said  my  mother-in-law as if it was my mistake.

My mobile rang and thankful for the break, I went inside the room to answer it. It was an unknown number. Curious, I answered the phone. It was a stranger’s  voice,  “Hi!  I  am  Srinivas, Ragini’s  friend.  Is  this  Nithya?”

“Hi! Yes,  I  am  Nithya.  Thanks  for  calling.  Are  you  in  Sunnyvale?” I was glad he had called; I would be able to send the package for Divya now.

“Yes.  Ragini  said  that  you  had  a  package  for  me.  Can  I  come  by today and pick it up? My friend is going directly to Chennai today so he can take it. If it is not ready I can pick it up later. I am here for one more week.”

“Thanks. The package is ready. It’s  just  some  t-shirts and make-up items for my sister. You can come and pick it up.”

For some reason, my sister hated chocolates so there was no point sending them. My mother would not touch them as well, as she thought all food items from US would have egg by default.

“Great!  Then  I  will  come  by  and  pick  it  up.  I  am  quite close by,”  he  said. “Fine  no  problem.  Please  come.”

I went back to the kitchen to clean up and only then did I realize that I should have asked him to come to restaurant. I hurried back to the room to call him, but Ashok was changing and would not open the door. By then, it was too late. The doorbell rang.

As my mother-in-law went to open the door, Ashok opened the bedroom door   and   asked   angrily,   “Can’t   I   have   even   one   minute   of   peace   in   my   room?  What  do  you  want?”

He had changed into a t-shirt and shorts and was sitting on the bed with his   mother’s   camera,   no   doubt   trying   to   delete   his   photos   doing   gayathri

japam.

“Nithya!  Nithya!  Someone  is  here  for  you,”  shouted  my  mother-in-law. Ashok’s  head  shot  up.  In  my  three  years  in  the US, no one had ever come here for me. He knew that Diana was my only friend here and even she had never come home.

“Who  is  it?”  he  asked  me  curiously.

I was frantically searching through the cupboard to find the package that I had put together two months ago.

“It   is   my   sister   Divya’s   friend.   I   am   sending a package to her through him.”  I  finally  got  the  package  and  went  out.

I could hear my mother-in-law interrogating him. God!  Why  didn’t  I  ask   him to come to the restaurant?

There were two people sitting on the couch. One was fair complexioned, mustached and tall and the other was brown, clean-shaven with intense eyes. He seemed to be listening to my mother-in-law patiently. He also looked vaguely familiar.

My mother-in-law was in full flow. “So  what  is  your  purvegam? Where do your parents live? Where does  your  father  work?”

She was addressing all her questions to the dark complexioned man. I caught the other man suppressing a smile, enjoying   his   friend’s   interrogation.

“I  am  originally from  Thanjavur.  My  parents  are  dead.  I  live  in  Mumbai.” I entered the room and stood near the couch. He looked towards me and that is when I found out why he looked familiar.

He looked at me steadily and frowned as if he was trying to remember who I was.

“This  is  Nithya,  my  daughter-in-law,” introduced my mother-in-law. He got up and lost his frown. I think he finally recognized me.

“Hi  I  am  Srinivas.  You  are…”

I knew him as Vasu. And for a moment, I was back in those sun-kissed days  that  I  spent  with  him  in  my  uncle’s  house.

“Vasu!   I   am   Amruthi   mami’s daughter,   Nithya,”   I told him, reminding him of the person who had become his surrogate mother during those four years we spent together growing up.

He looked surprised, shocked and also happy to meet me. He got up and came towards me. His friend looked on curiously.

My mother-in-law, who had been following our conversation like a tennis match, interjected.

“So  how  do  you  know  Nithya?”  she  asked  Vasu.

Vasu  turned  towards  her  and  said,  “We  are  distantly  related.”

How apt. But I wondered what she would say when she knew how distantly!

“Nithya!  Go  get  some  coffee  for  the  guests.”

“It’s  ok  mami.  We  are  in  a  hurry,”  said  Vasu  hurriedly.

“Nonsense.  I  got  coffee  powder all the way from Chennai. You must have some,”  she insisted firmly.

I turned and went to the kitchen. This was going from bad to worse. Fancy meeting Vasu like this!

I  could  still  hear  her  voice.  She  was  on  to  Vasu’s  friend  now.

“So  you  are  from Mumbai? Do you live in Matunga? Do you know Janaki

mami there? Everybody in Mumbai knows her!”   my   mother-in-law

launched a rapid-fire question round, to which he mumbled some answers. I took the coffee and went into the hall. Vasu and his friend were looking around. Vasu sipped his coffee silently and seemed to be in deep thought, while my mother-in-law was telling his friend about her trip to Dwarka.

“So  are  you  going  to  Chennai?”  I  asked  Vasu.

“Not immediately. But Raghavan is leaving tomorrow. So I thought I would   send   it   with   him.   Don’t   worry,   it   will   reach your   mother,”   he   said, looking into my eyes.

“So, how are you related  to  her?”  asked  my  tenacious  mother-in-law. I was about to launch into a   story,   when   Vasu   said   calmly,   “I   am   Narasimhachari’s  brother’s  son.”

Oh God, no!

There were a hundred undertones in that one comment.

I handed the package over to him. He was searching for something in his wallet. He took out his card and gave it to me.

“Call   me   when   you   are   free,”   he   said.   I   guess   he   meant   “Call me when

your dear mother-in-law is not around.”

I took the card and nodded.

My mother-in-law was more interested in the package.

“What  is  there  in  the  package?  To  whom  are  you  sending  it?”  she  asked. “Just  some  t-shirts and make-up  items  for  Divya,”  I  said.

“I   hope   they   were   not   too   expensive.   Anyway, it will be good treat for Divya.  She  probably  can’t  afford  to  buy  any  cosmetics  even  in  India.  Next   time around, I will ask Anu to give her any of her unwanted lipsticks and nail  polish.”

Vasu‘s  face  darkened, while I cringed in embarrassment. Raghavan was already out waiting by the elevator.

Thankfully, Ashok made his entry at this moment having erased all his photos  from  his  mom’s  camera.  He  came  and  stood  behind  me.  If  nothing   else, at least his mother would watch her mouth with him there.

“Vasu!  This  is  my  husband  Ashok,”  I  said, introducing Ashok.

They shook hands. Vasu smiled and tried to look cordial. But I guess my mother-in-law’s   words   still   rankled.   Ashok   merely   nodded   and   looked   at   him as if he were waiting for him to leave.

“Ok  Nithya!  I  will  catch  up  with  you  later.  Bye.”

He turned and put his shoes on and looked back at me. It was a glance that I was familiar with, one that took me back to a time when we had known each other well.

EIGHT

Meeting Vasu was a good distraction for my mother-in-law and myself. I had always wondered about him. I had heard from other relatives that he was   in   Mumbai   but   didn’t   know   that   he   had been so successful. I hadn’t   recognized him right away. He had grown taller and had become fairer, which was still darker skinned than I remembered. He used to be quite skinny when I knew him but he had filled out well. It was his eyes that I had recognized and the intense stare that he gave me. Imagine the odds of meeting him like this in the US. After he left, Chittappa had told everyone that he stole something from home, and that was why he ran away. We never believed it.

Vasu’s   visit   provided   a new topic of discussion in the house for my mother-in-law. After he left, she probed me to learn more about him. She took it for granted that I had been in touch with him right from the beginning  and  wouldn’t  believe  me  when  I  told  her  that  I  was  meeting  him   for the first time after all these years. I told her that he left the house because my Chittappa had wanted him to study at patashala and become a

vadiyar.

“How  can  he  leave  the  house  after  all that Narasimhachari did for him? Doesn’t  he  have  any  gratitude?  He  would  have  become  very  rich  indeed  if   he had become a vadiyar.”

She took   Vasu’s   visiting   card   and   studied   it.   “What   kind   of   name   is   ‘Cybermax  System’?  It  says  he  is  the CEO.  It  is  probably  fake.”

I left her shaking her head and trying to remember all the things she had heard about Vasu.

***

Safe in my room, I googled Cybermax Systems. It seemed that Cybernet, the company Vasu started with Sridhar, had overtaken all its competitors within two years and had netted huge profits for the partners. A small operation that had started with twenty-five people had become a public limited company with over a thousand employees.

Three years ago he had merged Cybernet with System Max, another company, to create Cybermax. I also read many news excerpts that described Cybermax as providing outstanding customer service. Many software giants were buying their assembled computers and their service was reportedly impeccable.  Vasu  had  been  named  the  ‘Entrepreneur  of  the   Year’   by   an   organization   called   TIE   and   had   been   called   to   speak at a conference. So that was why he was here in the US. He was getting an award.

I went back to my room and changed into a kurti and jeans. It was getting late for work.

It was quiet at the restaurant and there were not many people around. I sat down at a table and got myself a cup of coffee. I wanted to send him a SMS.

‘Hi,  it  was  great  meeting  you’ ‘It  was  nice  meeting  you…’

‘Vasu,  Nithya  here.  Sorry  about  my  MIL’s  comments.  It  was  nice  meeting   you today. Let me know when u  will  b  free  and  I  will  call  u’

I sent the SMS and was pleasantly surprised to receive a response almost immediately.

‘It’s   ok.   I   suppose   she   is   our   Chittappa’s best friend. Anyway am at a boring  conference  so  can’t  talk  but  I  can   SMS. I guess I will b free after 6 pm today.’

It felt odd messaging Vasu. He was someone from a different time altogether.

‘Ok. I will call u then. bye’

With that, I went to the kitchen to start my work. After two hours I had finished most of the snacks and was awaiting further orders from Diana. I took my mobile out of my jeans to check if there were any further messages.

‘When did u come to the US?’

Is he messaging me from his conference? I hurriedly typed my response. ‘3 yrs ago’

Within a minute he sent me another one. ‘After marriage?’

‘Yes’

‘Love marriage?’ ‘No’

‘Arranged marriage like a good girl?’ ‘Yes’

‘I was shocked when I saw u’ ‘Me too’

‘It  never  occurred  to  me  that  Ragini’s  frnd Divya cld be our Divya’

Before I could type my response, Diana came in with a request for more samosas and I got busy with it. After about an hour, I checked my mobile and found 4 messages from him. I settled down in the storeroom to read it.

‘How is Amruthi mami? She must b happy seeing u well settled’

‘I  am  going  to  book  a  ticket  to  Chennai  once  I  get  back  home.  I  want  to   see  your  mom.’

‘R  u  there?  R  u  busy?’

My  mother  was  disappointed  and  hurt  when  she  didn’t  hear  from  Vasu   after he left Mumbai. But she also understood the reason for his silence and shared it with us. She said that Vasu was probably afraid that we might believe our Chittappa, when he put out the false rumor of him stealing something. Divya and I knew that Chittappa was lying because he kept changing   his   story   about   the   ‘item’   that   Vasu   had   stolen,   but   we   couldn’t   contradict him.

I replied to all his messages immediately.

‘Amma is fine. She is happy. Divya recently got a job in Wipro’ ‘Amma will be glad to see you after so many years’

‘Am  sorry  I  was  busy  at  work.  That’s  y  I  didn’t  see  ur  messages’

‘Sure. You can come down to my restaurant for dinner tomorrow. Can u be here by 7 pm’

I waited for his response for a few seconds and there it was. ‘Ur restaurant?’

He seems surprised but I was glad that I was able to tell him that I was independent to some degree.

‘Yes. I work at a restaurant as an assistant chef’ ‘Wow!  That’s  great.  Send  me  the  address’

I quickly typed the address and sent it to him. After about half a minute there was one more message from him.

‘When can I call u? I want to talk to u’

I guess he must be feeling odd messaging me when we had not met each other for more than ten years. There were too many things to share and in my case, many things to hide.

‘After 9 I will be alone in my room I will call u’

Within a minute, he responded and I wondered whether he was listening to any of the papers being presented at the conference he was attending.

‘No he comes late’

I  suddenly  remembered  that  I  didn’t  ask  him  whether  he  was  married  or   not. Exchanging messages through phone somehow seemed to me like flirting  and  I  wouldn’t  want  to  do  that  with  a  married  man.  I  quickly  typed  a   message.

‘I forgot to ask u. Did u get married?’

Will   he   say   ‘yes’? Maybe he was married. He must be twenty-seven or

twenty-eight years old by now. He was successful, nice to look at and well settled. My  aunt’s  grapevine  may have missed the news. Maybe his wife was from Mumbai and maybe he had brought her here along with him. As I was mentally trying to picture his wife there was a reply from him.

‘No. y r u planning to do some matchmaking’

Great!  So  he  is  not  married.  And  why  would  I  do  matchmaking  for  him… ‘No  thanks.  I  really  can’t  compete  with  Chittappa’

After that there was no reply from him. He was probably busy at the conference so I tidied up and left for home. It was seven pm by the time I reached home. My mother-in-law was sitting in the living room with her computer on. She was busy chatting with her husband.

I quickly went to the kitchen and heated up my dinner. She had made

rotis, dal and potato curry. I silently filled my plate and ate in my room. I

could still hear some snippets of conversation from my mother-in-law.

“Ashok  says  that  he  does  not  want  kids  right  now… Maybe they are using

Nirodh or  something  like  that… I  don’t  know  what  to  do…”

A pause as she listened to her husband.

“Yeah   she   is   coming   with   me   to   India   after   two   months… Yes she is working   in   some   restaurant… God knows why Ashok is allowing all this nonsense.”

“Yes.   Those   people   were   from   Madurai.   What   did   they   say?   Did   they   match the horoscope? Ok! Let me know what they say.”

They had been actively looking for a match for my sister-in-law Anu for almost a year but nothing had clicked so far. I checked the time; it was a little after eight. I quickly finished my dinner and called my mom.

“Hello!  Nithya!  Sollu ma!”  she  said  happily.

“Nothing  much  Amma!  Guess  who  I  met  today?”  I  asked  her. “Who?”  She asked curiously.

“Vasu,”  I  said  smiling  to  myself.

“Vasu.  But  how?”  She  was  predictably  shocked.

“Divya’s   friend’s   friend   was   supposed   to   pick   a   package   from   me. It turned  out  to  be  Vasu.  I  couldn’t  believe  my  eyes.”

She was silent for a while and then asked, “How  is  he?  He  came  to  your   house?”

“Yes.   He   came   home.   He   looks   totally   different.   He   actually   resembles  

Chittappa now,”  I  said  voicing  the  impression  that  had been at the back of

my mind ever since I saw him.

“Does  he?  Did  he  remember  you?  How  come  he  is  in  the US?”  she  asked   eagerly.

“Yes  he  remembered  me.  But  we  couldn’t  talk  much  as  my  mother-in-law was there. He is here for a conference and he is getting an award,”  I  said, recalling  what  I  had  read  on  his  company’s  website.

“Really!  I  wish  your  Chittappa could hear this. Anyway what is done is done.”

“I  will  be  talking  to  him  in  an  hour  or  so.  I  will  call  you  later  and  give  you   an update and by the way, Vasu’s  friend  Raghavan  will  be  coming home to give you the package,”  I  said

“Okay,   say   thanks   to   Vasu.   Ask   him   to   call   me   without   fail,”   said   my   mother.

I said I would and ended the call hurriedly, as I could hear a beep for another call coming in. I hoped it was Vasu, but it was Ashok.

“Hello!”  I  said.

“Listen!   Tell   my   mother   that   I   have   booked   her   ticket   to   New   York   for   tomorrow. She wanted to go to Indra mami’s house for a few days,”  he  said.

That will be welcome relief for both of us actually!

“Okay,”  I  said happily.

“The   flight   is   tomorrow   afternoon.   Tell   her   that   I   will   drop   her   at   the   airport,”  he  said  calmly.

“Okay.   Are   you   coming   home?”   voicing a question for which I already knew the answer.

“I   will   come   late.   I   am   going   off   with   Sunil   and   others   for some wine tasting in  Napa  Valley  tomorrow.  I  badly  need  a  fucking  break,”  he  said  and   cut the call.

He  couldn’t  have  put it any better. And it meant I would be completely on my own for the next two or three days! I felt like celebrating.

I sat on the bed, pensively looking at the phone. It was almost nine pm. I almost had no one to talk to in US, apart from Diana. And there were so many things that I had to update Vasu about. So many things had happened, so many changes. He had gone on to make a name for himself and was successful while I was still stuck in a rut.

Just then Vasu called. I composed myself and took his call. “Hi!”

“Hi!  Vasu!  Back  from  the  conference?”  I  asked.  He  sounded  tired.

“Yes!”  he  said  with  a  sigh.  “I  didn’t  have  much  to  do  but  it  was  so boring that  I  almost  fell  asleep.  Are  you  back  home?”

“Yes.   I   come   back   by   seven pm.   So   where   are   you   staying?”   I   asked   settling myself on the pillows.

“At  a  studio  apartment  that  we  have  rented  for  ten days. It is pretty close to  your  house.”