‘I’ll set-up a videocon right away,’ Chitthi said getting up.
‘I hope this is the right collaboration, Chitthi.’
‘You didn’t give this much thought to your bloody marriage man, plus we don’t have a choice. We have just enough money for another four months of payroll and expenses. We need to move now!’
‘OK, I’m with you.’ Hari had finally, and officially, agreed.
‘That means you are going to India on a short trip!’ Chitthi closed the deal.
‘Fuck, I hate going to India!’
‘Well, you’ll just have to suck it up and go. It’s only for three to four days. Don’t be a sissy now. Cheap labor is calling you …’ Chitthi tried a lame joke then left the room.
Hari’s Trivia # 88: Madagascar, not the joyful animated film, but the real country, has the cheapest labor in the world with wages at $0.18 per hour.
Around eight-thirty p.m.
When Hari pulled into the Malhotra house driveway, he knew he was in for a scolding for being late. Not from his parents, but from Tia. He knew she would have arrived on the dot of seven p.m. as was arranged.
She must be inside already, being the center of attention for my mother and grannys, Badi Mama and Nana.
He soon learned that she was, and sure enough as he entered the house, Tia made a sarcastic remark.
‘Mr. Hari Malhotra, you’re always on time! Thank you.’
Hari was tired and didn’t want to hear it, but noticed the light mood in the house. Tia was laughing and pouring wine for Badi Mama and Nana. The movie Vicky Donor was playing on their humongous television. It was Tia who had introduced the film to the Malhotra household and to Hari’s grandmothers, Badi Mama and Nana, both in their eighties, had taken fancy to a particular scene in which a woman and her mother-in-law drink whiskey at night. Badi Mama was giggling like a teenager.
‘Rewind kar, phir se laga!’
Sometimes they would watch that scene over and over again.
Hari’s mom, Mary — which was a very liberal abbreviation for Marjinder — noticed he was not in his usual jovial mood.
‘Had a tough day at work?’ she enquired.
Hari nodded.
‘Mom, I have to go to India for a few days …’
Like an owl, the words immediately fell on Tia’s ears.
She muted the television and came straight over to sit beside Mary.
‘India? Why? When do you have to go?’
Tia always interrupted when Hari was having a conversation with his mother. This time even Mary found it obnoxious but knew not to get involved.
‘Oye, you are going to India not to Afghanistan. Cheer up!’ Mary decided to walk away and leave the two of them.
‘When do you have to go Hari? We’re getting engaged!’ Tia was interrogating him.
‘I’ll be back before that. The sooner I go the better,’ he stated simply.
‘What about the preparations?’ Tia said to no one in particular.
Mary came to Hari’s rescue.
‘I am here to help you, Tia. Don’t worry. If he is willing to go to India, trust me it must be important.’
Tia knew that Hari didn’t like travelling to India. The last time he had visited there was with his parents when he was just three years old. If he were not an Indian American, he would have never even considered going back.
When Hari’s father Dr. Barry Malhotra — again a very liberal, self-propagated, short name for Barjinder Malhotra — returned from the hospital he was tired as hell. But as was the practice, they all sat down to have dinner. Tia loved eating at the Malhotra house. Badi Mama would make a killer saag and had promised Tia that she would teach her the secret family recipe. Tia particularly liked the way Badi Mama would make tons of it and then keep it in the freezer. It would last for weeks.
The conversation turned to Dr. Barry, who was sharing stories from the hospital. He was one of the most renowned heart surgeons in California and a very well-respected member of the community too. He was so successful and yet so humble, Tia latched on to his every word.
‘Today I was called into the maternity section. A mother was delivering her baby when she had a stroke. Both mother and the baby were in danger. Only one of them would survive and it was up to her husband to decide which one. Should he choose his wife or his child?’
As he took a pause, everyone at the table fell silent.
Tia had quickly decided that the husband should save his wife. He doesn’t know how the baby would turn out but he had loved and cared for his wife for years.
Definitely the wife!
‘So I went in and by God’s grace, was able to save both!’ Dr. Barry said without further suspense. His story had a better ending than Tia’s and everyone at the table was relieved.
‘Hari is going to India, Barry,’ Mary said matter-of-factly mentioning the other important news of the day.
Tia was still trying to hide her disappointment about Hari’s trip. She was hiding it well.
Dr. Barry was very happy to hear it.
‘Wonderful! When are you planning the trip?’
‘It’s just a quick trip, Papa. I have to go on Monday,’ Hari said not too enthusiastically.
‘Good, you can deliver your wedding invitations to some people yourself in India,’ Dr. Barry suggested.
‘What? No!’ Hari objected. ‘I mean, I have to be in Hyderabad to sign a contract and then I am coming straight back.’
Tia was listening, resisting jumping into the conversation.
‘Toh theek hai! At least you can make a stopover in Nagpur and personally invite Mrs. Galhotra to the wedding!’ Hari’s father insisted.
‘No, no, no. Nagpur? It’s like … it’s far from Hyderabad. I can’t go to Nagpur!’ Hari protested.
‘Really, Barry, I have already invited Mom and Simi for the wedding, so even if Hari doesn’t go …’ Tia began, voicing her support for Hari.
‘Nothing doing. You’re going to marry their daughter, Hari. The occasion demands a personal invitation,’ Dr. Barry said after finishing his dinner.
Tia watched them, the conversation not in her hands.
‘But, Papa, I don’t know them. I don’t know her sister or her mother. Even she doesn’t speak to them. Even she doesn’t have a good relationship with them,’ Hari said making his point emphatically.
But Tia didn’t appreciate the candor of his tone.
It’s one thing if I talk about my mother and sister that way but it’s just another whole level of rudeness if someone else does. That’s judgmental, Hari!
‘All the more reason for you to go and meet them, get to know them, invite them,’ Mary butted in. ‘After all who is going to be on her side at the wedding if not her mother and her sister?’
‘Then she should go and bring them, Mom. I am not comfortable meeting them alone.’ Hari stood up.
‘We wouldn’t ask you otherwise, but since you are going to India, you must, beta!’ Dr. Barry lovingly explained standing right in front of Hari.
‘Tia, don’t you have something to say on this?’ Hari asked expectantly as if she was his last hope.
‘If I didn’t have this New York project going on, I would come with you, Hari, but since you’re going anyway it’d be nice if you just visited them for a cup of tea. Just to … personally invite them. They’ll feel nice …’ Tia said looking at Badi Mama, Nana and Mary who were all nodding their heads in agreement.
‘Oye, you are making shaadi with her, na? You are family now on both sides,’ Nana said adding her weight to the proposition.
‘Thanks, Nana, but, but …’ Hari was defenseless and alone with everyone else agreeing to the plan.
‘Dekh, no one is asking you to go and ask her for hand in marriage, na? If she has some problem going on with her mother, you’re elder, behave like an elder and go and give them shagun. You bachchas fight and fight over such small things,’ Badi Mama chimed in.
‘OK, first of all I don’t even know what s
hagun means, secondly, I would not even know what the proper etiquette is with my soon-to-be mother-in-law, OK? So everyone please back off!’ Hari felt like the trap was tightening around him.
Monday night
Tia was driving Hari to LAX. Hari was maha-pissed and was trying to give her the cold shoulder. She smiled at him.
‘I know you are angry at me but I really appreciate you going to meet Mom and Simi.’
‘Listen, Tia, I have been saying this for the last three days; I can’t promise to go to Nagpur, OK? I’ll see how the Hyderabad trip pans out before I decide.’
Hari’s Trivia # 602: Odds that you’ll be killed by an airplane falling from the sky are one in twenty-five million. Odds that it will happen today are one in seven trillion.
In spite of feeling guilty about pushing Hari to meet her family, Tia tried to cheer him up.
‘Oh cheer up! You like travelling, Hari. You sound like you’re going to the dentist, which I know you hate. But travelling you like.’
Hari’s Trivia # 108: The electric chair used for the execution of criminals was invented by a dentist.
He couldn’t help but smile at that last piece of trivia. The whole trip was going to feel like a visit to a dentist. Americans love white teeth, but Americans hate going to the dentist. Hari was no different.
‘Tia you should be accompanying me to invite your mom. How is she going to feel suddenly meeting me, what with all the tension between you two?’ Hari tried reasoning with her one last time.
‘Hari, you know what is going on with my Green Card. You know that my provisional card is already delayed so I can’t travel yet,’ Tia said with tears — genuine tears — in her eyes.
Hari felt bad; he hugged her.
‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about that!’ He decided right there and then that he would visit Nagpur; Tia deserved that much from him. But he was not happy about it and he didn’t let her know his decision.
Tia’s emotions got the better of her when it came to seeing Hari off at the terminal.
‘I have packed the invitations in your bag. Also, that new shirt I bought for you, wear that when you visit my home. You look totally American in that. And come back soon, love you …’
Tia saw another woman dropping off her boyfriend. She saw how passionately he kissed her before entering the terminal. She also wanted Hari to kiss her goodbye. But he didn’t. He hugged her and went straight in. Tia waited for Hari to turn back one last time. When he didn’t and was out of her sight, she returned to her car. As she sat in the driver’s seat she felt this urge to rush through the terminal gates and hug Hari and not let him go.
Just, just bury my head in your chest and cry a little.
She drove quietly to her apartment feeling lonely. Very lonely indeed! She suddenly realized that this strange man, the man whom she loved to hate, and hated that she loved so much, was the only one she had in her life. Who else was there? She had stupidly fought with her mother. And Simi? Simi was a bachchi; she didn’t even figure into the equation.
When she got home Tia didn’t even turn on any lights. She went to her closet and got out a jewelry box. When she opened it, tears started rolling down her eyes and the memories came flooding into her mind. Inside the box was a simple wedding ring. Hari had given her the ring two years back. She picked it up and brought it close to her eyes. It had a very, very small — extremely tiny — diamond on it. Tia remembered, like the flashback in a movie, how Hari had proposed to her and why.
Two years ago
Hari and Tia, who had been going steady for four years, were at the famous Formosa Cafe on Santa Monica Boulevard. Black and white headshots of Hollywood celebrities adorned the walls. The place was packed with rockers, struggling musicians and wannabe actors. It was a small but loud bar, and tonight it was mostly packed with tattooed bikers. Tia hated hangouts like these.
‘Hari, why can’t we go to a quiet, fine dining restaurant?’
Hari was rocking his head to the music. He leaned forward and cupped his ear as if to say ‘I can’t hear you!’
Tia shouted, ‘It’s too crowded and too loud here.’
Hari smiled. ‘Yeah, this is the shit, babes.’
‘Yeah, shit it is,’ Tia said angrily. ‘No two ways about that!’
Just then a chick in a biker jacket bumped into Tia’s arm.
The biker chick threw Tia a peace sign. Tia managed a smile.
‘I have to use the restroom. Please mere saath chal, na?’ She wanted Hari to accompany her to the toilets.
Hari didn’t want to go.
‘Really? You want me to accompany you to the loo?’ Hari was drunk.
The toilets were at the end of a small passageway that was even darker and grungier than the seating area. Hari brought her to the door of the Ladies. He stopped and tried to be funny.
‘As much as I want to see strange women pee, you know I can’t come inside with you.’
Tia looked at him as if to say ‘Ha, ha, very funny!’ and went into the toilets.
Hari looked around, leaned on the wall and took out a small gold ring from his jeans pocket. It was an engagement ring. He had bought it a week ago, but even after having multiple opportunities to propose to Tia, he kept chickening out. Tonight he was drunk and horny enough to go ahead with it. It was Wednesday and he wanted to drink enough to be able sit through another Bollywood film before they made love. He was hoping that with a ring on her finger Tia would agree to skip the movie altogether.
The ring had a bit of lint on it. He blew it off, wiped the ring on his jeans, and held it behind his back. When Tia returned he held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. She had no idea what was coming. He smiled at her. But with Hari propped against the wall Tia was right in the middle of the passageway. The traffic of people was heavy and people kept bumping into her.
‘Tia Galhotra, shaadee kharoghi mere shaath?’ Hari earnestly proposed in his American accent. But it came across as funny rather than the genuine impression he had hoped for by asking her to marry him in Hindi.
Before she could react someone bumped into Tia again and her face landed in Hari’s chest. She was so enamored by the proposal that she quickly recoiled; she didn’t want to miss out on any of this, in spite of Hari’s dubious choice of venue.
But Tia being Tia, she had to react in a predictable way.
‘Really? This is the time and place you have chosen to propose to me?’
BUMP! Her face went into Hari’s chest again. She was getting angry now. Her special moment was already ruined and to make it worse, Hari kept talking.
‘Tia, we have been going out for four years now, and it is no secret that I like sleeping with you … er … I mean I like being with you. I love you actually. Yeah, love is the correct feel …’
To say that Hari was drunk would have been an understatement.
Tia cut him off.
‘Hari, please stop! Please don’t propose to me here …’
But Hari was too excited to stop.
‘C’mon, yaar, we always knew we were going to marry each other. This is just a formality. Why don’t you just say yes? I gotta pee too …’
Things would have been salvageable had Hari not ventured into giving Tia that last bit of information. But the venue … ugh … there was too much alcohol, the smell of urine, people cursing … plus he was rushing her so that he could relieve himself! All of this in the middle of her marriage proposal. Tia was heartbroken. The expression of her long-held dream was shattered; a forever-anticipated moment ruined by this goofy guy. To make the matters worse, a tall, fat, hairy biker dude bumped into her. Tia screamed.
‘Just stop, Hari, you’re drunk!’
Hari looked around.
‘Everybody is drunk here.’
Laughing, he grabbed her hand and forced the ring onto her finger.
‘People, people!’ he announced to anyone who could hear. ‘We are getting married!’
Tia looked around with anticipation, hoping that oth
ers would clap, congratulate them, smile at them, pat them on the back. Maybe a couple of thumbs up? But nobody gave a shit as they walked past. In fact, one woman even gave Hari the middle finger. Hari screamed at her.
‘Yeah, you just wish the ring was on your finger, bitch.’
Tia, meanwhile, was beyond hurt.
Hari, meanwhile, still wanted to pee badly.
‘You wait here, I’ll be back!’ he called as he entered the men’s toilets.
Tia looked at her finger, her ring. It had a very, very small … extremely tiny … diamond. She brought her hand up for a closer look when BUMP!, someone bumped into her from behind again, and she hit her head on her hand.
Monday night — Tia’s apartment
Back in her apartment, a smile came upon her as she recalled Hari’s proposal. Although she had always secretly hoped that Hari would propose to her in a romantic setup, she had kept the ring nonetheless. Now, looking at it, she smiled and before she knew it she had fallen asleep wearing Hari’s ring on her wedding finger. This is what she did some nights, putting herself to sleep thinking about her upcoming band baja baraat wedding.
Monday night — On the plane for India
Hari was dreading what every long-distance flier worries about. Who is going to be sitting next to me? And he wanted a drink, pronto. He was upset with Tia.
You fight with your own family, you want to hold grudges, but you want me to go and meet them, invite them for our wedding. That’s selfish, Tia.
He also hated her for unpacking his suitcase and repacking it her way. He didn’t like the idea of her choosing his underwear.
And just for that, I am not going to wear the shirt you bought, Tia. Ha, you say I look American in it! I am American, bitch!
This was how Hari usually argued with Tia — mostly in his head. He must have been mumbling because he suddenly realized he was not alone. He was in the middle seat and unfortunately sitting next to him was an oversized middle-aged aunty going to Delhi. Fortunately, after three pegs of whiskey, she became the best person to be next to. The aunty was having whiskey; he was nursing a vodka, his first. The aunty regaled Hari with stories about herself and her fitness freak husband.
When Hari Met His Saali Page 8