"My little one. He gave me a reason to make something of myself and, by golly, I'm going to. You'll see. I'm going to make him proud, and I'm going to make both of you proud, too."
Laine reached over to squeeze Meghann's hand when the girl sat back down.
Everyone turned their attention toward Kashi, as he dug in for another bite of apple crisp.
"Oh, it's my turn now? Okay." He stumbled to his feet. The cloth napkin on his lap fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up, and placed it on the empty seat of the chair. "I'm also quite thankful today. I am happy to be here in this great country. And I'm happy for my wonderful country and loving family back home. I'm happy to do a job I enjoy. I'm happy to meet such nice people today. But, most of all, I'm grateful to have met this amazing lady right here."
He flashed Daly a charming smile and bent down again, this time, staying on one knee, allowing his hand to hover inside his coat pocket as he continued his speech.
"Daly, I know we haven't been together long, but you also know how much I love you, how much I am your fan. I can't stand to be apart from you for even a day, let alone a whole month. That is why...."
He took his hand from his pocket, as all three women looked on intensely. But instead of a diamond ring, an envelope emerged.
"That is why I... would like you to come to India with me two weeks from now. What do you say?"
Daly shook her head in surprise. "Of course." She took the plane ticket from his hand and bent forward to give him a hug. "Of course, I'll go to India with you."
Chapter 12
Watching all the Bollywood movies in existence could never have prepared me for what lay waiting on the other side of the world.
Daly rushed out of the plane.
Kashi lagged behind, encumbered by the weight of their two backpacks and carry-on suitcases—he never let her carry anything, and for once, she was perfectly okay with that.
"Our layover's five hours," Kashi said. "Definitely not enough time to explore Amsterdam. Why don't we find a nice restaurant inside the terminal and settle in?"
"Oh, good. I'm starving. The airplane food was totally disgusting. You know what's funny? We've only been gone eight hours, but already I miss good ol' fashioned American fare. What I wouldn't give for a steaming bowl of mac and cheese."
Apparently, all the extra cargo he carried wasn't enough to weigh down Kashi's quirky sense of humor. "What wouldn't you give?"
Daly rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored his comment and pushed ahead, stepping onto the moving walkway. "I love these. I always feel like I'm flying!" she shouted back to Kashi. She held her arms out to her sides and ignored the disgusted glance from nearby businessman. She kept moving faster and faster.
Kashi chased her, weaving in and out of the pedestrian traffic. "Hey, wait for me!"
Mingling scents of different cuisines thickened the air of the enormous airport. People swarmed about her, chatting on their phones or with their in-person companions as they searched for their gates.
Kashi finally caught up, dropped the bags, and gave a few theatric pants, which made Daly giggle.
"Sure you don't want me to help?"
"Nah, I'm okay." He hoisted one of the backpacks high overhead to make his point.
"Hey, look, TGI Friday's. What a relief. I thought we were going to be stuck eating brats and sauerkraut. I'm so hungry!" She ran off again, leaving Kashi behind to struggle with their luggage.
"Brats and sauerkraut?" Kashi asked when he had regained a bit of distance. "I don't think that's what they eat here, but what do I know?"
Inside the restaurant, the hostess sat them at a table for two near the bar. Although it appeared small from the outside, the restaurant was much bigger than Daly had expected. A band of tired-looking travelers sipped gin at the bar, and a family of four in a nearby booth ate ice cream and spoke in a language Daly didn't understand.
Not even in India yet, and already I feel like such a globetrotter.
The waitress got to them quickly, and Daly ordered a starter of fried mozzarella sticks with macaroni and cheese for the main course. She insisted on topping her meal off with a cheesecake for dessert. "I'm in a cheesy mood," she quipped, and stuck her tongue out at Kashi.
The meal was eaten in a flash—mostly by Daly. Kashi didn't seem to have his normal appetite. Not even the apple pie a-la-mode held his interest.
"If you're not going to eat that, I will, so you better hurry up!" Daly teased. "I don't know why, but traveling makes me so hungry. How are you not hungry?" She went ahead and stole the melting blob of ice cream from his pie.
"Have it, if you want," he said, pushing his plate across the table to her. "Listen, we have to talk."
"Uh-oh. That sounds like the break-up line. You aren't dumping me on the way to our romantic vacation, are you?" she split her bites between the pie and her cheesecake.
"No, ha, not breaking up—of course not! But, romantic vacation... well, I wouldn't think of it like that." He drummed his fingers on the table and shifted his almond eyes from side to side.
"What do you mean, 'wouldn't think of it like that'? How would you then?" She put down the fork and wiped her mouth, suddenly too worried to eat.
"Well, it's hard to explain." He studied her for a moment before continuing. "You have to understand how things are in India and with my family. There are certain... expectations. I can't visit my family after two years apart and say, 'this is my girlfriend.' They would die from the shock. They expect me to have an arranged marriage with an Indian girl. Love as a basis for a relationship will be hard for them to understand, especially when our love is so new, and—"
"Kashi?" Daly interrupted. "What are you saying? Sounds like you actually are breaking up with me."
"No, no. Never." He reached across the table and put his hands on hers, massaging them with his thumbs. "I love you, and I'm trying to tell you that when you meet my parents, at least at first, at least for some time, we cannot let them know about us. I'll introduce you as my friend, not girlfriend. No kissing, no cuddling, no pet names, and no talk of our future. We'll have to act like friends, but we'll both know in our hearts we're more than that. We only have to pretend for their benefit."
The words sank in like a sharp knife. Daly whipped her hand away from his. "I can't believe you. I mean, what choice do I have? We're already halfway there, and you tell me now? Why? Are you embarrassed by me? Do you think they won't like me? Are you not serious about us? I'm having a really hard time understanding here."
She wanted to kick her chair back and storm away, but she had nowhere to go. She was stuck in travel purgatory—or maybe it was hell.
"No, no, no, no, Daly! It's not like that. I'm very serious about us. My family will love you. They just need time to get to know you so they won't be shocked by my wanting to be with a non-Indian woman. They need a little time, that's all. Once they get to know you and find out how great you are, they will be very happy to have you as their future daughter-in-law." He took her hands in his and pressed down on them in a series of exclamation points.
Daly didn't understand. She pulled her hands back again. "But..." A tear slid from her eye. "Why did you wait until I was stuck to tell me?"
He leaned forward to wipe away the stray tear. "I'm sorry. I was afraid if I'd told you before, you wouldn't want to come. I need you here with me. I need my family to meet you and to fall in love with you as I have, so one day we can get married with everyone's blessing. I need you to come so I won't go mad missing you. Please forgive me? I don't like having to do this to you, but I also have no choice in the matter. It will be hard for a little while, yes, but when everything's worked out, these extra steps will have been worth it."
She didn't know what to say, so she sat in silence until the waitress arrived with the check. When the busboy came and started working around them to clear their table, Daly realized they had to leave to make room for the couples waiting to be seated. She grabbed her backpack and carry-on, refusing t
o let Kashi help, and headed to their departure gate. She didn't want to talk, and, lucky for him, he didn't press her.
When she'd had enough time to calm down—about twenty minutes—she looked at Kashi's feet and said, "Fine. I don't like it, and I'm certainly not happy about the way you chose to tell me, but I'll play your little game."
A flicker of happiness shone in his eyes. "Thank you."
They sat for several minutes before she turned to him and asked, "So what do I need to know to get by in India?"
***
When the plane touched down in New Delhi, Daly shot up from her seat, but Kashi immediately pulled her back down. "Who says we need to be the first off the plane? Let everyone else go. We can enjoy our last few moments of openly loving each other." He reached in for a kiss, then two, three, as many as they could fit in before the flight attendant shooed them away.
"Don't worry," Kashi said. "We'll find a way to be together in private. I'll make it happen." He gave her one last smooch before grabbing their luggage from the overhead bin.
Daly nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay, let's go meet your family."
They left the empty plane and immediately ran into the pulsing crowd huddled at the arrival gate. Daly clung to Kashi, dizzied by the blur of activity. A series of five sharp whistles rose from the excited shouting.
Kashi jerked his head and shot off toward the right. "They're over there." He pointed toward the sea of faces ahead of them.
"How can you tell? This place is jam-packed!"
"Did you hear that little song? La la la la la. That's our song, the one my sister and I wrote when we were little. We used to bug Chai-ji by singing it over and over and over again. Poor Chai-ji, we used to bother her so much!"
The swarm of people wearing fantastic, motley garments overwhelmed Daly. It took her entire focus not to lose sight of Kashi as they zigzagged through the terminal.
As they passed, a group of children pointed to her and giggled.
Smells from the street wafted through the automatic sliding doors—air pollution, dung, incense, street fare—and the cacophony of dozens of languages danced in her ears. She had no idea what the people were saying, but they sounded happy.
She wanted to ask Kashi about a group of elderly men who wore bright orange outfits and danced to the chime of a tambourine, but before she could, he sped up and disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Daly was pulled into the group by a pair of unfamiliar hands.
"Hi, Haaaaye." A girl who bore a striking resemblance to Kashi greeted her. "It's so nice to have you here, Dolly. We are going to be best friends. Don't you think so?"
More unknown people closed in on her and picked at her hair, clothing, and cheeks. She couldn't even see Kashi anymore, but she could hear him laughing, chatting, and sobbing with those who weren't tending to Daly.
"You must be Dolly," said a bespectacled middle-aged woman. She wore a bright blue sari with gold-colored trim. The corners of her eyes crinkled into a million little creases—a stark contrast to Laine's smooth, expressionless face.
"Welcome to this, my home," a second woman gushed, opening her arms as far as the crowd would allow—apparently referring to the entire country, or at least the airport.
"Dolly, was your flight good? Did they give good food to eat?" asked a white-haired, potbellied gentleman wearing clothes straight out of a seventies disco. He pointed over the group and made introductions, none of which stuck. "Dolly, this is my wife, Meenu." He motioned to the woman who had welcomed Daly on behalf of the entire country. "My daughters Priya, Jaya, and Mishti, son-in-law Vijay, grandson Ritesh, mother Susheila, who is lovingly called by Chai-ji, brother Vibhor, his wife, Vandana, their children, Vidhi, Veer, and Vibhuti, Auntie's sisters, Shobna, Pooja, and Anjali, their children Danesh, Neetu, Simmi, Shyama, Sunil, and Abhishek, and family friends Bipasha, Taposh, Shivani, Surinder, Naresh, Sandeep, and Kiran. And of course, I myself am Rishi."
Daly gave a hesitant wave and accepted her name in India was going to be Dolly. No way of getting around that now.
"Tcho Tchweet," one woman said as she pinched Daly's cheek. Her fingers were decorated with red mehndi tattoos.
"Arey wah!" a younger girl said. "They are so pretty in Amrika. So fair." She examined her own arm in comparison and scowled.
The crowd parted to allow a withered old woman to hobble over to Daly with the aid of her wheeled walker, which was decorated with a shiny welcome banner and curly-cued streamers. The wispy, white braid that hung down the center of her back slid side to side, as she struggled with each small step and let out a series of low, muted grunts. The others stood back patiently and allowed her to pass.
Mishti pushed in beside her. "Dolly, this is Chai-ji. You must touch her feet. In India, you touch the elder's feet for respect."
Daly shrugged and reached down to cover Chai-ji's toes with her palms.
Suddenly, everyone was talking. The clamor made Daly uncomfortable. She wondered if she should remove her hands, but decided not to. If she wanted Kashi's family to like her, she had to do as told.
That's what he said, right?
"No, unmarried girls don't touch the feet!"
"It is not right for her to do peri pona before marriage."
"But she's not an Indian, maybe the rules are different?"
"It's okay, yaar. She is just showing her respect."
Daly glanced up at the bickering family. Was she somehow in trouble for performing the ritual incorrectly?
Mishti pulled her to a standing position, while the others continued to debate how unmarried Western girls should appropriately greet their elders.
"It's okay," Mishti whispered. "You can pick and choose your rituals. Clearly, we don’t know what all the rules are." She giggled childishly. "Anyway, when you do peri pona, just touch the feet and then come right back up." She demonstrated, allowing her gleaming black hair to shift over her narrow shoulders while her bangles slid up and down her forearms. "No need to stay for a visit. You don't get extra points for respect."
"Dolly's riding with me!" Mishti announced in an abrupt change of topic. The more she smiled, the more she looked like a younger, thinner Kashi.
Kashi peeked his head over the crowd and yelled to Mishti, "Didi, be nice to her. No tricks!"
"I cannot believe you think I would do such a thing, Akash bhaiya. I will take good care of Dolly. Come now," she said, turning to Daly. "You will ride in the auto-rickshaw with me!"
"Oh-ho, bhala hoye," Kashi's mother cried in her native tongue. "No, Mishti, not the auto-rickshaw. That will be too much for her, na? Take the taxi."
"Oof, Mummy, you worry too much, yaar," Mishti shot back. She held her hands in a prayer position and tapped them against her chest in a repetitive motion.
Her mother rolled her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation, allowing Mishti time to grab Daly and abscond with her through the sliding glass doors.
"Bye, Dolly!" Kashi called over the crowd, shooting her a quick wink then immediately returned to his welcome committee. Wasn't he at all worried about her disappearing into the city? Because she certainly was.
Mishti dragged her by the hand over to a garish green and yellow, three-wheeled vehicle completely open from the sides. She slid in and patted the little remaining bench space next to her, combing over Daly's bemused face with huge round owl eyes.
Daly ducked her head and hopped into the auto-rickshaw. She barely had time to take in the display of Hindu religious icons and small, flashing, Christmas-like lights, which covered every available inch of the driver's dashboard, before the vehicle roared to life. They seemed to go from zero to sixty in ten seconds flat. Ultimately, though, the too-quick acceleration proved to be the least daunting feature of Daly's first ride into New Delhi traffic.
A steady stream of dust and smog clung to the air like steam, and entered the auto from the open sides. Daly couldn't stop coughing. The home town she loathed looked mighty good right about then.
"Oh-ho," her comp
anion tisked, and removed the beautiful length of fabric hanging from her shoulders, which she offered to Daly for use as a breathing filter.
Once clean-ish air flowed through her lungs again, Daly shifted her focus to not falling out the side of the vehicle as they darted in and out of traffic. One second, she was thrust toward the open street, and the next her body jammed into Mishti as the auto narrowly missed rear-ending another vehicle. Through it all, the driver carried on, zigzagging past a variety of travelers—cars, buses, bicycles, scooters, pedestrians, stray dogs, and haughty, slow-moving cows, to name but a few.
"What's the point of having traffic lanes if people drive wherever they want?" Daly asked as the vehicle darted forward erratically, straddling the center line of the highway.
Mishti shook her head, indicating she hadn't heard the question.
Daly repeated it a little louder.
Mishti cupped her hand around her ear and flourished her hand near her throat.
This time Daly raised her voice to a shout, but still the loud chorus of honks that seemed to come from every vehicle on the crowded street drowned out her voice.
Daly tried one more time.
Mishti finally heard. She laughed and shouted back, "What fun would that be? It would take so long to reach anywhere if we stayed between the lines. Besides, I think they just painted those to impress Westerners, so India will look like a modern country. You're impressed, isn’t it?"
Isn’t what?
Indian slang was confusing. Mishti seemed to be asking a question, and Daly wanted to answer. However, the chances of her being heard were slim—unless she wanted to lose her voice within thirty minutes of arriving in this strange land. Her stomach churned and bile climbed up her throat. She forced it back down by swallowing hard and rapidly patting her chest. How would she ever survive a full month here?
A Colorful Life: Drawn in Broken Crayon Page 13