‘Where are you going now?’ Sarab called but Kulwinder didn’t answer. She crossed the road and walked up Tarampal’s driveway. The sun had come out and washed the white houses in a brief but generous light. Kulwinder peered into the window. She was aware of the neighbours’ gazes; she could practically hear them whispering, asking each other what she was looking at.
Through the narrow slit between the curtains, Kulwinder could only see the entryway and the staircase. The vision in the window had been a trick – the sun emerging and disappearing with uncertainty, not quite knowing its rightful position in this time between seasons. A sensation of relief fanned across Kulwinder’s body like a fever was breaking. She kissed her fingertips and then pressed them to the window.
It was finally time to let Maya go.
Chapter Twenty
In the evening, a bubbly after-work crowd filled the tube and tumbled out with Nikki. Mindi was waiting at the station wearing a black dress with a glittering neckline that formed a suggestive V-shape above her bust. ‘Nice outfit,’ Nikki said.
‘Thanks. I think it’s going to happen soon,’ Mindi said.
‘What’s going to happen?’
Mindi leaned towards her and whispered. ‘Sex.’
‘You guys haven’t slept together yet?’
‘I was waiting till everybody approved of him.’
‘So if I say yes, you’ll do it in the ladies while I order the entrees?’
‘Don’t be so crude,’ Mindi scolded.
‘Do you not find him attractive, Mindi?’
‘I do, but I don’t want to sleep with someone I’m not going to marry. And if you see a red flag that I’ve missed, well, I might think twice about getting engaged to him.’
‘You don’t need me to say yes. I thought I already told you that,’ Nikki said. ‘You don’t need anyone’s approval.’
‘But I want it,’ Mindi argued. ‘You still don’t get it, Nikki. This whole arranged marriage thing is about choices. I know you see it as the opposite of that but you’re wrong. I am making my own decision but I want to include my family in that decision as well.’
Mindi waved at a man in the distance. Nikki could only see a crowd of German backpackers, and then amongst them emerged a scrawny man that she recognized. ‘Oh my god, I remember him,’ Nikki said. She turned to Mindi. ‘He found your profile on the marriage board, didn’t he?’
‘How do you know?’
‘I met him when I was putting up your profile. He was – oh hello!’ Nikki said.
‘Hi,’ Ranjit said, with a surprised, nervous laugh. ‘You’re Mindi’s sister.’
‘Nikki. We’ve met.’
Mindi looked back and forth between them. ‘If you two met while Nikki was putting up my profile, does that mean you were the first man to see my profile?’ Her eyes brimmed with adoration.
‘You guys go ahead,’ Nikki said when they reached the restaurant. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ She waited for Mindi and Ranjit to disappear inside and then she lit a cigarette. The pavement glistened with rain and people trotted past, their conversation and laughter mingling with the sounds of traffic. Nikki felt for her phone and then she drew her hand away. Don’t even think about calling him, she scolded herself. She only finished half the cigarette before stubbing it out and going into the restaurant.
At the table, the waiter asked for their drink orders. ‘Shall we share a bottle of wine?’ Nikki asked.
Mindi shot a glance at Ranjit. ‘I won’t have any wine, thanks,’ she said.
‘Ranjit?’ Nikki asked.
‘I don’t drink,’ he said.
‘Oh. Right. I guess I’ll have the whole bottle to myself then.’ The waiter was the only one who broke into a smile. ‘It’s a joke, guys,’ Nikki said. ‘Just some sparkling water for me, thanks.’
‘You can order a glass for yourself if you want,’ Mindi said.
‘That’s all right,’ Nikki said. She thought she saw Mindi’s shoulders drop slightly with relief.
They did not talk about Ranjit on the tube ride home. Nikki waited patiently for Mindi to ask for her opinion. Finally, as they stepped into their house and went up the stairs to their respective bedrooms, Nikki tossed her bag on the bed and followed Mindi into the bathroom.
‘A little privacy please,’ Mindi said, wiping off her eye make-up.
‘You haven’t asked me what I think of him,’ Nikki said.
‘I don’t need to know,’ Mindi said. Both her eyes were closed now as she rubbed the wipe across her lids.
‘What happened to wanting my approval?’
‘Honestly, I’m reluctant to ask.’
‘Why?’
‘You hardly said anything once our meals arrived. Ranjit tried to get to know you and you gave him one-syllable answers.’
‘I don’t have much to say to a guy like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘You know.’
‘Enlighten me, please,’ Mindi said.
‘He seems quite conservative.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
Nikki gave Mindi a long look. ‘Is he going to be uncomfortable every time I have a drink? If I smell like cigarettes, is he going to wrinkle his nose at me? Because I felt like the wayward sister – the one who brings down the family’s reputation.’
‘He’s working on that,’ Mindi said. ‘He grew up in a traditional family. It freaked him out a bit when I told him that you lived and worked in a pub.’
‘Does he know about my role in the story classes?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was his reaction?’
‘He was uncomfortable with it.’
‘What a surprise.’
‘The point is, he’s coming around. He cares so much about me that he wants to be more accepting. It will just take him some time.’
‘Why be with someone who’s making the journey? You could be with someone who has already arrived.’
‘His traditional values have a good side as well. He’s very family oriented and respectful. Nikki, you go on about how narrow-minded everyone else is yet you think there’s only one way to live and fall in love. Anybody who isn’t like you is doing it wrong.’
‘That’s not true!’ Nikki protested.
Mindi tossed the wipe into the bin and pushed past Nikki. She entered Nikki’s bedroom and grabbed the letter from her dresser. She waved it at Nikki, who tried to snatch it back. ‘What the hell, Mindi?’ Nikki cried.
‘I’m tossing this in the bin.’
‘Give it back.’
‘I don’t know what it says or who it’s from but it’s clearly driving you crazy.’
‘This has nothing to do with—’
‘You’re unsettled about something and I can tell that this letter is connected to it. Every time it catches your eye, you get that same pinched look you have on your face right now – like you’re one step away from covering your ears and singing la la la until you’re left alone. Read it or I’m throwing it away.’
Mindi tossed the letter on Nikki’s bed and retreated into her own bedroom, shutting the door. Nikki was too taken aback to say anything. She sank back on her bed. Lights from a slowly passing car threw shadows across the ceiling. Mindi could be heard shuffling around her room. ‘Min?’
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ she called back.
Silence from Mindi. Then: ‘Idiot.’ Nikki grinned and scooted towards the wall that they shared. She gave it a hard hit with her heel. Mindi responded by thumping back on the wall with her hand – just like they used to when they were children. Mindi’s side of the wall remained silent for a few moments. ‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Yeah?’ Nikki asked.
‘You’re up later than I expected.’ Mindi’s syrupy tone suggested that she was not addressing Nikki. Next came a surreptitious giggle. Ranjit was on the phone. Nikki raised her foot, about to thump the wall one last time for good measure, but she decided against it. Instead she picked up the envelope
on her desk, took in a deep breath and ripped it open.
Dear Nikki,
I can’t expect you to read this letter without feeling hurt and disgusted with me. I lied to you. I had many opportunities to tell you about my marriage and my divorce, but I hid it from you because I was afraid of what it might say about me.
Everybody considers my marriage breakdown a failure and I’ve struggled to accept it myself – I’ve failed my family and I’ve failed as an adult.
I owe you an explanation and it’s up to you whether you read it.
A few years ago, when I finished university and started working, I was expected to get married immediately – as the oldest son I was pressured by my family to set an example. I would walk in the door after work and my parents would beckon me to the study to look at the top profiles they had shortlisted from the Indian matrimonial websites.
I put off meeting any of these women, wanting to live a free life before settling down. I figured I still had time but I fought constantly with my parents and I ended up moving into my own place. Then my mother was diagnosed with cancer. She went through exhausting tests and chemotherapy sessions that wore her down. The pressure began to mount again, from Dad, aunties and uncles, and even my younger siblings who just wanted something to celebrate at a dreary time. The message was clear: get married, and give your mother just a small sense of peace.
I met Suneet on the internet. She lived in London and we got to know each other through patchy Skype calls and email exchanges before I made the decision to visit the UK to meet her in person. I saw the trip as the first stage in the dating process; our families saw it as a confirmation of our engagement. I got swept up in all of it even though I was uncertain about how I felt. I told my family that I liked her and it was true. She is a pretty, intelligent and kind woman who cares very much about traditions and wanted an arranged marriage. There was no reason not to ask her to marry me, especially as my mother’s health deteriorated – time was running out. In the lead-up to the wedding, I had moments of anxiety but I quelled them by reminding myself that we’d have time to get to know each other after marriage. This custom worked for our parents and it still works for thousands of Indian couples – why wouldn’t it work for me? We were compatible enough. Most importantly, both our families were thrilled. Although my mother was still weak, my engagement put a spring in her step. My dad and I stopped arguing over everything. It was a peaceful time for our family, and after I had caused so much unhappiness I wanted badly to keep this peace.
As it turned out, Suneet and I weren’t compatible in many other ways that I hadn’t considered. There was little sexual chemistry between us, something I dismissed at first because it’s not considered a valid reason for separation in our culture. Suneet also wanted children right away whereas I said we should wait. But Suneet felt pressured by relatives asking her parents when they were going to have grandkids, and I in turn resented Suneet for bowing to those pressures and accused her of risking our happiness just to satisfy our parents. And yet, as I said this to her, I realized I was also guilty of just that.
We grew restless with each other and argued over petty things. In the end, Suneet was the one who suggested divorce. She was weary and growing bitter, and she still had her best years ahead of her. I don’t think I understood how much I had put her through until she said, ‘You’ve already taken two years away from me. Don’t waste any more of my time.’ I knew that going back to her home a divorced woman would be shattering. Confronting both our parents with the truth was a ghastly experience. My mom had just begun a round of more successful radiation therapy and she seemed to be on the mend. Our announcement plunged her back into illness. She stayed in bed for a while and Dad didn’t return my calls. Suneet went through the same at home.
I moved into a small flat-share during the divorce and I was contemplating moving back to California but the thought of facing my family was too much to deal with.
My dad finally returned one of my calls to inform me that my mother’s remission was looking hopeful, and I went to the temple to give my thanks. That was the day I met you. But at Suneet’s home, things went from bad to worse. Bitter, and suffering from a loss of face in the community, her dad launched a character assault on my family and me. He was heartbroken for his daughter – I understand that – but he went around saying horribly hurtful things about my siblings. These rumours travelled back to California through our family networks. It was his intention to ruin the family’s reputation in the way that I had apparently ruined his daughter’s chances for finding a suitable husband again. When he exhausted this tactic, he attempted to sue me for damages, claiming that I had caused irretrievable harm to the family by divorcing his daughter. Suneet did not participate in much of this, but she didn’t stop him either. Everyone was hurting.
Those urgent calls that I had to answer – often when I was with you – were from my mother, Suneet’s father, Suneet’s father’s lawyer (who turned out to be a real dud – an uncle with a law degree from a third-rate Indian university) and my siblings. There was always something going on, and it seemed to be my fault every time. I needed to placate everybody, which involved long conversations and negotiations. I was putting out spot fires that were more demanding than my full-time job. There was a tremendous amount of emotional blackmail.
I came close to telling my parents that I knew I was not in love with Suneet because I had experienced falling in love with you and I could see how different it was. But I didn’t want to get you involved. I know it seemed like I was creating that distance from you because I wasn’t interested, but it was the opposite – I was afraid that if we got closer, things would go disastrously wrong. I wanted to avoid you coming to my flat because I was nervous that someone would see us and accuse me of having an affair and that you would be dragged in.
Nikki, it was cowardice that kept me from finding the words to tell you the truth. I regret every second that I’ve spent without you. It was selfish and dishonest of me to lie and to disappear so many times without explanation. You were so open with me from the first day we met, and I could have repaid you by sharing all of this with you from the start. I’m so, so sorry, Nikki. I don’t expect you to ever want to see me again, but if you did, I’d do anything to gain your trust again.
Love,
Jason
Chapter Twenty-One
The morning air was crisp and a mild breeze made Nikki’s hands tingle. On the train, she picked up a copy of yesterday’s Evening Standard and busied herself with reading old news.
The shops were still closed by the time Nikki arrived at Notting Hill Gate station but a stream of tourists flowed towards the Portobello Road market. They stopped to pose for pictures in front of the pastel-painted homes.
Nikki headed in the opposite direction towards the cinema, which was still screening the French film that she and Jason had missed. She still had half an hour to kill before the show started so she carried on ambling. At a traffic light, a family of American tourists stopped to ask where Hyde Park was. She pointed in its direction but they wanted her to show it to them on a large, unfolded map. She was trying to see where they were on the map when a gust of wind hit the centre crease and ripped it. ‘We’ll figure it out,’ the mother of the family said. She took the map back and folded it. ‘We need this to last us our whole trip,’ she said.
‘That’s all right,’ Nikki said. As the tourists walked away, Nikki overheard the woman telling her husband. ‘We should ask a person who’s from here.’
Nikki was dumbstruck by their rudeness. The husband turned around then and gave Nikki an apologetic nod. Nikki continued walking but she was half tempted to go after the woman and tell her that she was from here, thank you very much. She was so lost in a cloud of indignant thoughts that she overshot her mark and found herself on the end of the street, having passed Sally’s Bookshop. She returned to it and lit a cigarette. Having her claim to Britain taken away from her by an ignorant tourist warranted a satisfyin
g smoke.
Nikki peered into the bookshop’s window, her eyes trained on the Sale bin at the back. Then suddenly, a face appeared in the window, and she jumped back, dropping her cigarette on the ground. It was the bookshop’s cashier, the woman she’d spoken to last time she visited. The woman knocked excitedly on the window and gestured for Nikki to come inside. Nikki stubbed out her cigarette and went in.
‘Sorry for scaring you like that,’ the woman laughed.
Nikki smiled tightly. Now only two cigarettes remained in her pack and she was meant to quit after that. The one she had dropped was only half finished and as she thought of it lying on the pavement, a wave of grief washed over her.
‘I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t lose you,’ the woman explained. ‘You’re Nikki, aren’t you? I’m Hannah.’ She disappeared suddenly behind the counter and popped up again, placing a book in front of Nikki. The Journals and Sketches of Beatrix Potter.
‘Oh my goodness,’ Nikki gasped. She reached for the book and hesitated, almost afraid to pick it up. Her fingers gingerly turned the cover. The first image was a portrait of Beatrix Potter. Her plump face was slightly angled and there was a tinge of mischief in her small, pursed lips. ‘Where did you end up finding this?’ she asked.
‘Special order. It came all the way from India.’
Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows Page 30