Vasu's eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Do you know that he blames us … no, he just blames me, for Shobha not having a baby and Devi having a miscarriage?” Saroj said, as she let out some steam. “When you were three months old, I got pregnant again, so I had a D and C. I had to. I couldn't take care of you and be pregnant. Now that stupid man thinks that because of that, you and Devi are suffering.”
Shobha stared at her mother for a moment. Saroj could see she was surprised, even a little shocked. Saroj waited for Shobha to say something mean and hurtful, but she was taken aback by her words.
“I haven't heard this much crap in a long time, and that, too, from Daddy,” Shobha said seriously. “Didn't think Daddy was such a—”
“—moron?” Saroj finished for her.
“Well, since you're married to him you have the right to say so,” Shobha said and then put her arm around Saroj. “So you put him in his place?”
“Oh yes,” Saroj said smugly. “I told him I would take all his money and leave him in some apartment to die.”
“Good for you,” Vasu said and patted Saroj's cheek.
“I don't want a divorce,” Saroj admitted sheepishly. “I hope he knows that. I was just angry. I just want him to wake up.”
Shobha grinned. “I'm sure he knows, Mama. I'm sure he does.”
LETTER FROM AVI TO SAROJ. WRITTEN ON A COMPUTER AT THE SANTA CLARA KINKO'S ON EL CAMINO REAL.
Dear Saroj,
I have wondered what is deader than a dead relationship and then I have wondered if our relationship is indeed dead. I never gave divorce serious thought. I never thought about it because I didn't think that it would be acceptable to you. You and Shobha are so alike in this. You both want to succeed at everything you do. You wanted the perfect family, but I always knew things couldn't be that perfect when I had an arm missing. I have always wondered if you would stop loving me because one day you would wake up and see I was short one arm.
While I was working, I didn't worry about us, or even give us much thought. I know that you think I am to blame for this barren wasteland of a marriage, but you are not without guilt. You didn't do anything, either. You let me be the workaholic, you didn't change a thing, you didn't try to bring us closer. And what was I supposed to think?
I didn't want Shobha to have an arranged marriage, but you didn't listen to me and now look how unhappy she is. You made all the decisions at home and I let you. I regret it. I regret it so much. You, who always wanted a better relationship with your daughters, because you had a bad one with your mother, have done nothing to speak with your children. They still treat you like a stranger, sometimes like a tyrant.
There, have been times, so many times that I have been tempted to leave, to never come back. But my children, I stayed for my children, always. They have been my priority, our priority, and it was easy to put them first, wasn't it, because we didn't want to have anything to do with each other. I know you resented my success because I didn't give you credit for it, but I never thought of giving you credit because you did nothing for my business. Vikram and I set up the company on our own, despite your and his wife's doubts. And you doubted me at every step. You always told me that we should never have come here, that this wouldn't work out. I could never come home and relax, never talk about my problems at work because the minute I did, you would talk about going back to India.
Here I had respect, my own business, money. Back in India I was nothing. I had nothing and no one gave a damn. I was just a one-armed soldier, and that's it. I wanted more, I wanted to be more. Now I am more. If your life didn't turn out the way you planned—hell, Saroj, that can't be my fault. We married each other, we didn't write each other's destinies. If you wanted a life then you should have gone and gotten one. Coming to me now and saying that you gave it all up for me is nonsense.
You gave it all up because you wanted to. You never wanted a career, never wanted to do anything but what you did. If you are dissatisfied with that, how can that be anyone else's fault but yours? Being a housewife is a choice you made and you have to live with it.
Divorce? I would be happy. The bitterness I carry inside me is not something I can throw at you all the time the way you throw yours at me. I don't have the energy to do so. I…
[END TEXT]
Saroj waited for him in the living room. It had been three hours since she'd walked away from him. Three hours since she'd said the word divorce. And he was still not back. What if he didn't come back? How would he do this? Call and ask her to pack a bag for him? She'd be damned if she would pack him a bag. She would burn all his things, just the way that woman did to her husband's things in that movie with all those black girls.
Oh yes, she would burn everything and his Jeep. To hell with him! If he didn't want to come back, then that was his business.
The door finally opened at three AM. Saroj had been unable to close her eyes for more than a second to blink. She was watching the Sunil Shetty movie discarded by the kids to keep her mind clear of the biggest worry she created for herself.
As soon as Avi stepped in, Saroj rose from the sofa, ready to run to him and apologize, to beg him to take her back.
“I'm so sorry,” he said before she could get a word out. “I'm so terribly sorry.”
Saroj didn't move. She didn't have the courage to ask him what he was sorry about.
“I started writing a letter to you and I wrote and wrote and I realized that I was so bitter about the past, about everything, and that through the bitterness I couldn't see you, see us, how good we were, how good we can still be,” Avi said sincerely.
Saroj sat down with relief. He wasn't going to leave.
“I hated it that I was to blame as well, so I put all the blame on you,” he continued. “I didn't know how to go back and find those days in Udhampur and Jorhat so I didn't try to go back at all. I don't want a divorce, Saroj. I want another chance for both of us. To try and make this work. I think we can.”
Saroj started crying, unable to get up and go to him.
She didn't realize he had moved so it was a surprise when she felt his arm around her.
“Don't cry,” he said as he used to a long time ago.
“What if we can't make it right?” Saroj asked.
“We'll give it our best shot,” Avi said as he tightened his hold on his wife.
“And that will be enough?”
“More than enough,” he said confidently and Saroj believed him.
•••
devi's recipe
mama's rasam with my pastry
The night Mama and Daddy made up
I watched them surreptitiously from the hallway. I have never seen Mama and Daddy make up quite like this. Actually I don't remember ever seeing them make up. They would usually just let the fight die and things would go back to normal. It was touching to see them talk to each other like this and it was a relief to know that one marriage around me was still on track. Regardless of the quibbles I have with Mama and how she runs her life, I can't imagine a world where Mama and Daddy are not together. Maybe love doesn't die, maybe it stays alive and sometimes gets neglected but it can be resurrected. I admire Mama's courage in shaking Daddy up. Things could've not worked out this way, yet Mama took a chance and it paid off. Now maybe they can be happy again, the way they used to be before Shobha and I were born. Maybe now Daddy will start appreciating her just as I have.
I admire Mama's ability to whip up rasam powder without a recipe. As I fiddle with food, I realize how important it is to pore over recipe books, watch cooking shows, and use your senses. But with Mama it's innate. She knows how much black peppercorn and how much cinnamon and how many cumin seeds it takes to make rasam powder. I wonder if after years of experience in the kitchen if I will be as blase about dumping spices in a pan as Mama is. I hope I will.
Making the pastry was very simple. I just took some plain flour and mixed it with pieces of chilled butter and then when the flour was crumbly in text
ure I added ice-cold water and made dough. I didn't knead too much, just mixed and then put the dough in a freezer bag and left it in the fridge for a few hours, until it was time for dinner.
Rasam is so ridiculously simple to make that I have decided to make it every other day and drink it like soup. Leave some whole tamarind (Mama would die before she bought the easy-to-use concentrate) in hot water and let it soak. Then squeeze the pulp out and mix with warm
water. Throw the remaining tamarind out. Put regular tadka of mustard and curry leaves in hot oil. Add chopped tomatoes and cook for a while. Then add rasam powder and mix. Add the tamarind pulp and water and mix again.
I poured the rasam in ceramic soup bowls (which I bought at Cost Plus for this purpose). Then I rolled out the pastry dough into small circles, which I placed on top of the rasam and baked for a while, until the thin pastry was done.
I thought it turned out very well, for just plain ol’ rasam.
Tlie Truth About S Hobha
She had an office.
As a vice president, for the first time in her career in Silicon Valley, Shobha had an office. It didn't have a view of anything interesting, just the parking lot of the Chinese supermarket. Still, she had an office, a window, and in Silicon Valley that meant something.
As she swiveled around in the leather chair she'd custom-ordered for herself when she'd been promoted two years ago she realized that she'd made it and she'd also fucked it up.
Pavan, her product manager, just called to let her know that for the second time in six months they were going to be unable to launch a product on time. It was not a surprise. Everyone knew there would be a delay. Pavarfs call just made it official.
She didn't even have the energy to be angry. This was a long time coming, probably ever since she got promoted. She wasn't ready for this responsibility. That was it.
Oh, to hell with it, she told herself. She was ready, she just fucked up. Everyone fucked up. It happened all the time. All the time!
For the past half an hour, since her boss's assistant called to schedule an appointment for eleven AM, Shobha had been contemplating how to handle the meeting. Mitchell, her boss, was never this formal, never had his assistant call her for a meeting. He usually stopped by her office, or sent a quick e-mail to arrange an impromptu chat. The officialness of it made Shobha realize that this was not some random meeting. This was the meeting, the one where she was going to be sent home packing.
Since Pavan told her about the impending delay, she'd been prepared. Just the other day she'd even cleared out her desk. Still, she felt the shivers of surprise course through her. She'd never been fired before!
Shobha looked at the hasty note she'd written when Mitchell's assistant called, which cleared that tiny doubt in her mind that maybe she'd just dreamed it up. She really did have a meeting at eleven AM with Mitchell in the Mount Doom conference room. It was not just a figment of her imagination.
The Lord of the Rings mania hadn't escaped the company, and when the new conference rooms emerged from rearranged cubicles, names naturally came from the legendary books. Mount Doom, Minas Tirith, Gondor, Mordor, Rivendell, and The Shire were the chosen names for the conference rooms. The three e-mail servers were Gandalf Aragorn, and Legolas. The sturdy old legacy server was Bilbo and the unsteady server, which almost always crashed, was labeled Boromir. This was common practice in most IT companies. In Shobha's last company the servers were C-3PO, R2-D2, Darth Vader, and Yoda. The conference rooms were also not spared the Star Wars theme and were named Alderaan, Naboo, Tatooine, and Coruscant.
So it was actually almost cute that Mitchell set up the meeting in Mount Doom, not probably by design but availability.
“Hey, we're going to lunch at Hama Sushi, want to join us?” Leo popped his head into her office.
“Hmm,” Shobha said vaguely.
“You look like your puppy got kicked,” Leo remarked.
“I think I'm getting fired in about”—she looked at the clock on her computer and then at Leo—“fifteen minutes.”
“Fired?” Leo stepped into her office. Shobha and Leo were friends. They'd started working at the company at the same time and had worked together on various teams.
“Fired or laid off?” Leo wanted it clarified. “Are we having layoffs? My wife's pregnant with baby number three. This company can't be having layoffs.”
“Fired,” Shobha said, raising her hand to quiet him.
“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” Leo said. “You taking anyone else down with you?”
“I don't think so. They'll want Pavan to stay if I'm leaving,” Shobha said as she chewed the inside of her bottom lip nervously.
“Good, because you probably can go without a job, thanks to professor husband at Stanford, but the rest of us have families, man,” Leo said with a sad smile.
Ah, the husband, Shobha thought unhappily. Now what? Should she keep the husband because she had no income, no job, no career, no future, no babies, no nothing?
“So, what happened?” Leo prodded.
“Second delayed product launch and we didn't meet our numbers last quarter. I think … no, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get blamed for it,” Shobha said.
“If they didn't keep changing the product specs on you, you'd probably have the product out on time,” Leo said, sounding as irritated as Shobha did with the executive staff.
“I know,” Shobha muttered as she got up. “I already cleaned out my office. Shit… I've never been fired before.”
“I'm not ashamed to tell you that it has happened to me a few times. And here's what you can learn from my experience, just don't cry, embarrasses the hell out of them. I should know. The first time, I bawled like a baby,” Leo said, and patted Shobha's shoulder. “And you're a trouper, babe. I'll get the others together and we'll go drown your sorrows in sake at Hama Sushi.”
“I'll need sake after Mitchell's little firing speech,” Shobha said as she gave her office a last glance and walked toward the conference room.
Mitchell was a nice guy. He was slightly roly-poly, more than a little bald, and had no idea a world existed beyond IT and the Oakland Raiders. But he was a steady, stable sort of fellow who didn't take too many chances, and Shobha liked him because of all those reasons and disliked him for the same reasons as well. What made him good at keeping the company on safe ground also kept him from being able to take the big steps to change the direction and market cap of the company.
Mitchell wasn't alone in the conference room. Shobha kicked herself for not thinking about it. Mitchell was after all the nice guy. The director of human resources, Carol Miller, was with him, a broad smile on her I'm-a-bimbo face, to ensure all legalities were followed and that Mitchell did what he was supposed to do. Shobha couldn't stand the newly hired little perky, blond-haired, blue-eyed director.
“How are you doing?” Carol asked and Shobha nodded as she sat down.
A small smile splayed on her lips. She wasn't going to bawl like a baby, she was going to get a handsome compensation package as they kicked her out.
“I'm fine, Carol. Hello, Mitchell,” Shobha said, feeling very much in control, like Demi Moore in Disclosure before they get her for entrapment.
“You know that things didn't work out last quarter,” Mitchell said, then raised both his hands in the air, clapped once, and laid his hands on the lacquered wooden conference table.
“I'm aware that we didn't meet our numbers,” Shobha said, calmly looking at Carol, who seemed a little jittery. Not a very experienced HR director, this one.
“We analyzed the situation and the numbers clearly show that if we'd launched PiSon on time last quarter we could've made it,” Mitchell said, new confidence suffusing his voice. He'd hired and fired too many people to be nervous about this. But Shobha knew he liked her and maybe that was why he had a small scratch in his throat as he spoke.
“So, I'm the scapegoat,” Shobha said, looking at Mitchell and then turning to face Carol, again with a smile. “The prod
uct was delayed for a lot of reasons. We're understaffed, you cut the budget one too many times, and I have lost too many good programmers. It leaves me with absolutely no room for anyone in my department to even fall sick. PiSon was also delayed because the specs were changed after they were frozen.”
Mitchell nodded. “I know all that and we could do nothing about the specs change. Eric had an idea and …”
“So it's my fault that the CEO had a vision? A vision that came a little too late?” Shobha asked pointedly.
Mitchell shook his head. “And even if we let that matter slide. We are now in the same position again.”
“You changed the specs again after the freeze,” Shobha reminded him. She knew the decision was already made. All she had to do was make a good enough case so that they gave her a good “firing package.” She never thought she'd see this day. She was angry as hell with the company. Corporate America had no loyalty. She had turned down offers from competitors in the past because she believed in her company, its products, and her career here, but now, it was over. They thought she was a liability and wanted her gone.
“Let's cut to the chase,” Shobha said when Mitchell was about to speak. “You want me gone and I want to be gone as well. My office is packed and cleaned out. I can leave right now, no fuss, no mess. Pavan has all the documentation. He knows where we are on all the projects.”
“Okay,” Mitchell said, sounding only a little surprised.
“So what can you do for me?” Shobha asked, swallowing the ball of nervousness in her throat.
“If Pavan has everything …”
“I have another offer,” Shobha lied easily. “Do you really think that I'd let things reach this point without shopping around?”
Mitchell nodded his head in agreement. It was reasonable that Shobha was interviewing with other companies. Mitchell knew she was frustrated with the new CEO and his habit of changing specs on products after the work on the product had already begun. When that conversation had taken place, Shobha hadn't thought she would be able to take advantage of it.
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