by Sonali Dev
“I think you all have a lot to figure out,” Naina said. “Yash, you know where to find me if you need me.” Then, in true Naina fashion, she left the scene of the mess, head held high.
“Did you cheat on her?” HRH said. “Did I teach you nothing? You’re running for the bloody highest office in the state. Haven’t you seen the mess an affair makes of people’s careers?”
“Thanks, Dad. For telling me that cheating is wrong because it can ruin my career.”
“Really, that’s what you think I just said?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you said.”
“Well, forgive me, what I meant to say was that I can’t believe that you would be so irresponsible.”
“Please stop,” India said, stepping between HRH and Yash, her voice more forceful than he’d ever heard it. “Don’t you know your son at all?”
Yash didn’t think he’d ever seen his father’s jaw drop open, or his mother look at another woman with such . . . delighted respect.
“The bigger question, young lady, is exactly how well do you know my son?”
“Dad!”
India met HRH’s imperious glare as though he were one of her students in need of help. “I know him well enough to know that he hasn’t been irresponsible a day in his life.” Then she turned around and looked at Yash, everything he’d ever wanted to be reflected in her eyes. “Except when it comes to his own needs.”
“What’s wrong with his needs?” HRH spat out, a vein throbbing in his neck.
“I think we need to ask our son that.” Ma placed a gentle hand on HRH’s arm.
“I think that’s a very good idea,” India said to Ma, then turned to Yash again, another goodbye in her eyes. “You promised me you’d take care of yourself.”
He took her hand. He didn’t care that his parents were watching. Her gaze didn’t flicker away from his for even a second. “You never answered my question. Did you want us to have a chance?”
“Yes,” the whisper slipped out and she swallowed. “But, it’s too late, Yash. There’s no way to do this without admitting that you lied. And you can’t do that.” Then, she turned to his parents. “It was nice meeting you.”
As she slipped out of the room, Yash felt her leave. With every fiber of his being.
“Into my office. Now,” Mom said, leaving him and HRH to follow without turning around.
As soon as they’d shut her office door, she turned on Yash. “What is going on, beta?”
“Isn’t it obvious what’s going on?” HRH said. “The way he was looking at that yoga instructor—”
“Dad, for heaven’s sake, her name is India.” And damn if his voice didn’t do a restless, worshipful thing when he said it.
“Oh, Yash.” This from Ma, hand pressed to heart and everything. God save us all from Indian mothers. “Beta . . . oh, Yash.” She fell into the chair behind her and placed her head in her hands.
“You’re being very dramatic right now, Ma.”
Although all he wanted was to go racing after India, so the moment did seem to call for drama.
“Dramatic? My whole life I’ve dreamt of hearing that note in your voice when you talked about Naina. And I never did. Now, when you’re leading in the polls, when you’re a month from winning this, and the public loves Naina . . . now you look like this!” She pointed a very, very dramatic finger at his face. “And you think I’m being dramatic?”
“Are you encouraging him, Mina? He will mess this up over my dead body.”
“Shree. It’s nighttime, I’d like you not to say inauspicious things in my home.”
“He’s going to win this election. He just has to keep his pants on.” Both Yash and Ma groaned, and HRH raised a hand. “I mean that figuratively. He’s been with Naina for ten years. No son of mine betrays someone this way.”
“About that . . .” Yash said. “I think you should sit down, Dad.”
For once his father complied without argument, and Yash told them. At long last, he told his parents that he and Naina had lied. He told them about meeting India at Nisha and Neel’s wedding. He told them how she had helped him after the shooting. He navigated the ugly parts, but they seemed to know more than he’d given them credit for.
“So if you hadn’t met this yoga—fine, India—you and Naina could have turned it into a real relationship,” HRH said.
Mom had been eerily quiet. She looked at Dad with an expression Yash couldn’t decipher. “Sometimes you make me so angry, Shree. How can you parent as though you were never young?”
“I never lied to my parents. At least not about anything important.”
Ma scoffed. It was even mean. “Really? Have we conveniently forgotten about Namrata Gadgil?”
Dad, for the first time in Yash’s life, blushed.
“Well?”
“Well, I didn’t bloody well have an election to lose.”
Ma was standing now, hands on hips, glaring down at a man who honestly could have used a little more glaring in years past. “We’re assuming that Yash is only going to win because he was shot and because Naina was caught crying on camera. I thought you believed in our son. Those are the least of the reasons why he’d going to win.”
Dad did not look happy, but those were exactly the words Yash needed to hear.
For the past ten years Yash had lied. Even as the lie became bigger, he’d let it slide. He’d put the election before the truth. He’d believed the narrative that you had to come to power first, then you could do the work you held dear. That belief had turned him into a politician. Instead of the people he wanted to work for, he’d allowed the system to become his guiding force.
“You know how our son is,” Ma continued. “He becomes obsessed with what he wants and then you can’t get him to back off.”
“I’m standing right here, Ma.”
“I know. That’s why I’m saying it. So you can hear me. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m saying your greatest strength is knowing what you want. Of all my children, you have the gift of clarity. It’s the things you’re clear about, that’s what sets you apart. You only lose your way when you let what everyone else wants from you become tangled with what you want.”
In all his life Yash had never felt such relief.
“Giving Julia that internship, going to see her. It was about doing what Trisha wanted you to do.” Terrible sadness flashed in Ma’s eyes. Yash knew her history as a child star in Bollywood was wrapped up in pain. He knew what Julia had done to him had broken Ma’s heart in ways he didn’t fully understand. “It took me a long time to understand this, but you can’t make up for other people’s evil. It’s on them when they hurt you. And this farce with Naina . . . I knew something was not right. But I thought it was what you needed. I should have pushed harder for you to get therapy, but you always seemed so strong, I didn’t want you to second-guess your strength. But I was being an ostrich. You gave Julia’s actions even more power when you believed that it was your fault. And our actions reinforced it. I’m sorry.”
He found himself squatting in front of Ma, her hand in his. “Thanks, Ma. I am going to need therapy for that. I’ve already set something up.” India was wrong. It wasn’t too late, and Yash would be damned if he didn’t do all he could to be his best self for her.
“Good,” she said. “Better late than never.” Then she asked the million-dollar question. “What are we going to do?”
“Don’t do anything reckless, son,” Dad said. “The election is next month. Let’s wait until it’s over. Take some time to think about it.”
“Don’t you think he’s already thought about it?” Ma said. “You just have to trust yourself, beta. Focus on what matters to you and don’t let it get all mixed up with what others want.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
India hadn’t heard from Yash since she’d left him at his parents’ house exactly one week ago. This surprised India more than it should have. It also scared her because she knew the man, and she knew the loo
k in his eyes when he’d said goodbye. Granted the election was three weeks away and he’d been in a different town every day campaigning, but she knew he was up to something. Her inner voice knew it too, the desolateness inside her had eased, the perpetual thoughts of him had turned hopeful instead of painful.
So when his three sisters knocked on the door of her studio, her heartbeat couldn’t be blamed for doing a frenzied thing. Her last class was done, her last client had been seen. She’d been about to go upstairs and crawl into bed.
“Hey, India,” the three of them said as she gaped at them and studied the empty street behind them.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Nisha asked, all innocence.
India shook her head and said nothing.
“The three of us were supposed to watch Yash’s press conference at my place,” Ashna said, her tone exactly as innocent as Nisha’s. “But my TV blew out. Can we, you know, watch here?”
India stepped back, letting them in. “Press conference? About what?”
Their response was three synchronized shrugs.
Trisha looked at her watch. “It started about a minute ago.”
India raced up the stairs without waiting for them to follow her. What are you up to, Yash?
China and Tara were already sitting in front of the TV, and they scooted to make space, as the Raje sisters followed India into the living room. Had China and mom been expecting them to show up? Had they planned this?
What was this, exactly?
The three of them squeezed onto the sectional and India dropped down on the floor.
On the screen Rico was behind a podium addressing a room full of reporters. Just behind him, Yash, flanked by Brandy and Abdul, waved and nodded to the audience as Rico urged everyone to go out and vote.
The women on her sectional, who looked entirely too comfortable, studiedly ignored her, even when she threw them an openly curious glance.
Suddenly Rico cleared his throat and everyone in the room sat up. “We wanted to announce that the California Black Caucus and BLM just endorsed Yash Raje.”
The press applauded with polite enthusiasm.
The president of the California Black Caucus came to the mic and praised Yash’s commitment and allyship. India’s heart filled with pride.
Next Rico introduced the president of the police union. He announced that the union was endorsing Yash’s plan to reorganize and retrain the California police.
How on earth had he managed that? She knew he had been working on it, and his brother Vansh had been helping, but this was possibly the most amazing thing India had seen in politics in her lifetime.
The press went nuts. The questions were endless. Yash answered them in a way that would make even the most cynical believe again. He was in his element. Something about him was dazzling, rejuvenated. All the earnest enthusiasm of the Yash she’d met ten years ago. All the confidence and power of the Yash who’d slipped under her skin again.
With every answer he gave, her living room exploded with opinions. It was no secret that his sisters adored him. For years when she and China had met up with them, she’d had to block out their fawning. Now she soaked it up.
Why were they here?
As they chattered on, India couldn’t get a word out. It didn’t seem to matter, because everyone had decided to act like she wasn’t here.
“There is one more thing,” Rico said finally. “Yash has another announcement of a somewhat more private nature.”
“Are you finally getting married, Mr. Raje?” someone shouted from the crowd.
Yash smiled. “I’m glad you asked.” There was no worry in his eyes. Nothing tortured. They were clear and brilliant. He looked freer than India had ever seen him look.
What are you up to, Yash?
“Last month when I said I wanted to work with the BLM leaders and the police union to come up with a plan to restructure the department, my opponent said it was just talk. It wasn’t. I’ve never made a promise I can’t keep. Not as state senator, not as U.S. attorney. I believe that the need to tell the truth is what defines me. It’s how I define myself. That and going after what I want. I want to change the trajectory of our state, and I believe that I know how to do that.”
He let that sink in before he continued. “I have, however, told one lie, and I want to own up to it now, before you put your faith in me and vote for me. Even though I believe that it has nothing to do with why you should vote for me as your governor.”
The audience had gone eerily silent. India squeezed her knees to her chest and reminded herself to breathe.
On the screen, his eyes bored into her. “Naina Kohli and I are not engaged. She is not my girlfriend. All we’ve ever been is friends.” A murmur went through the audience, but Yash went on, voice strong and calm. “Our relationship has always been one of trust and loyalty. For the sake of our families we did try to have a relationship, but we’ve never been in love. We never intended to be life partners or anything more than friends. When the media became fascinated by our relationship I should have set the record straight, but I didn’t.
“When she cried after I’d been shot, her tears were not a lie, but inadvertently that footage turned into a romantic-tragic symbol. Yes, it was tragic. But there was nothing romantic about it. Which brings me to the lie.”
India gasped. No, Yash. Don’t.
Nisha and China pressed gentle hands into her back.
Yash went on, sincere eyes locked on the camera, locked on her. “The pictures taken on the day when Abdullah Khan woke up from his coma . . .” He turned around and looked at Abdul, and anyone with a pulse had to feel the connection between them. “Those were not pictures of Naina and me. Naina, being a friend, wanted to prevent a scandal from ruining my campaign, and so she decided to say it was her. I should have stopped her, but I was afraid for the safety and privacy of the woman in the pictures. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved. But she did not sign up to have her privacy violated with scandal. Especially when there is no scandal, because Naina and I were never together.
“As you can imagine, I was advised by my team, by my family, by my political advisers—all of whom have worked tirelessly for my campaign—to not make this announcement today, just three weeks before the election, especially considering where I stand in the polls. Everyone believed waiting until after the election would be prudent. But relationships that start with lies often lead to disaster, and I don’t want my relationship with you as your governor to start with one. So there you have it. I lied. I am profoundly sorry that I did. But every promise I’ve made to you has been sincere. I will work every day to fulfill each one, to make California carbon neutral, to make sure every Californian has access to affordable health care, to make schools safer for our children, to address land management to control wildfires, and to make housing fairly and equitably available to all. This is my promise to you and I hope that you’ll believe that I’ll keep it.”
India pressed her hand to her heart; she wasn’t sure if it was still beating.
“That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.” Tara was the first to speak. “It reminds me of that man who was stuck under a boulder and cut off his own arm.”
Every one of them stared at her, completely speechless.
“What?” Tara said. “He lived. When the choice is between life and death, you have to decide what’s dispensable.”
India felt suspended between joy and panic. Yash had just shown her that she was the life he wanted to choose. Did that mean that he’d decided that his campaign was dispensable?
“What is her name?” A reporter from the San Jose Mercury News asked.
Yash smiled. “I think I owe Rico twenty bucks for calling that as the first question. I’ll tell you what, let’s deal with one reveal at a time. I’ll ask her if she’s okay with me telling you and we can set up another press conference if she’s up for it.”
The press wasn’t happy with that answer but Yash stood strong on it a
nd they turned back to questions about restructuring the police.
“Who do you think this mystery woman is?” Trisha asked, scratching her head, and China started to giggle.
“Oh, did I mention that they record the press conferences and play them with a half-hour lag?” Nisha said casually. “That means Yash left the studio about half an hour ago.”
The doorbell rang and India jumped off the couch and flew down the stairs.
“Hello, India, I hope I’m not intruding.” His mother? What on earth was going on? “May I come in?”
“Mrs. Raje!”
Mina Raje looked over her shoulder, because India had searched the street behind her and she’d noticed. “Were you expecting someone else?”
India moved aside. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Come in. May I help you?”
“I certainly hope so. I doubt there’s anyone else who can help me right now.”
India swallowed.
“Hi, Ma!” The entire lot of them were in the yoga studio lobby now.
Tara stepped forward, looking stronger than she’d looked in a while. “If it isn’t the Gubernatorial Mother.”
“I don’t think that’s a real thing, Mom,” China said, and everyone laughed.
“It should be,” Mina said.
They hugged, Yash’s mother and hers, batik caftan and linen suit meeting in a puff of warmth and comforting scents.
The door sounded again. India wrapped her arms around herself as she walked to the door. Her face felt warm, her throat tight. The need for that to be Yash was a fever inside her.
It wasn’t.
It was Brandy. Alone. “Were you expecting someone else?” she said, looking over her shoulder, blue eyes warm.
Where is he?
Chutney let out a long slow whine upstairs, then a series of yearning barks. India ran out of the door and around the building. There, leaning against his uncle’s fence, waving up at her dog, was the most beautiful man she’d ever known. She flew at him.
He caught her out of the air, strong arms wrapping her up. Then she was devouring him. Or he was devouring her. Their mouths hungry for each other. Their entire starved selves ravenous.