The little bell above the doorway chimed when I went barreling through. Tushar was at the counter tending to a customer, so I tried to collect myself. He looked at me with curiosity blended with irritation at my raucous entrance. It did not help that the elderly lady in his shop made a show of clearing her throat, annoyed by the NRI girl who had just bounded into the shop as if she owned the place.
Slipping behind the counter, I waited while Tushar rang up the woman’s order. She seemed to move more slowly than a cow in traffic, counting out her coins on the counter to pay for the prints. I began tapping my foot. Tushar shot me a warning glance. I mouthed the word sorry to him and put my hand on my knee to control the bouncing.
“What is wrong with you?” Tushar asked when the bell to the front door chimed after the woman left.
“Me?” I felt my cheeks flush, suddenly shy.
“Why are you acting so strangely?”
“I . . . I . . .” I felt myself getting flustered. I had wanted to talk to Tushar, but now that I was standing here facing him, I wasn’t sure how to begin. I crossed my arms over my chest, unsure of what to say.
I felt silly, like a high school girl who couldn’t string together a sentence in front of a boy she liked but with whom she also knew things would never work out. We would not be the first people who flirted with dismissing the caste system, but it had persisted for thousands of years, and it was clear that it would continue to exist for thousands more. I started to turn away.
My skin tingled when Tushar touched my shoulder. “What is wrong?”
His hand on my shoulder made me feel tainted, dirty, against the purity of his worried expression. A reminder that above all the other obstacles that would be in our way, I was damaged in the Indian sense. Even someone of a lower caste wouldn’t want me, knowing I’d dated other men.
I was torn, and then before I could stop them, the words tumbled out of me. “I came to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” He stared at me blankly.
Yes, this was the right thing. To just leave and not think again of the moments we had shared. Nothing could come of them anyway.
I forced a smile onto my face. “Yes, Neel and Dipti are ready to go home, so we’re all heading back.”
“I see.” His face dropped, showing concern, and something more—much more. I felt the same current between us that I had on New Year’s Eve and Uttarayan.
In an overly polite tone, I said, “I just wanted to come here in person and—and thank you for everything you’ve done for me while I’ve been here. I’ve learned so much from you.”
“I suppose it’s easy for you to just go back home then,” he said.
His face turned to stone, and he looked hurt. I could see he felt like he had been a mere distraction to me, something to pass the time before I returned to my real life. I wanted to correct him, but what could I say? It was best for both of us to move on and back into the social circles in which we belonged, to play the roles we were born to play.
“I guess there’s nothing left to keep me here,” I said, intently watching his reaction.
Even though all logic told me to just say goodbye and leave, I still longed to know what was really going through his mind. But what had I expected from Tushar? To tell me to stay the way I had tried to get Alex to stay when he first brought up New York? Did I even want that? We both knew the caste system would never let us be anything more than what we were. He was the only son in his family. It would shame them if he didn’t abide by the customs. That was why he’d become my closest friend here and nothing more, right?
He looked me in the eyes, and I held his gaze. His lips pressed together as if he wanted to say something more. I leaned forward, urging him to voice whatever he was thinking. I wanted—no, needed—to hear it.
The familiar ring of the bell above the door sounded, followed by champals clomping against the floor. A customer.
Whatever moment we had was lost. He shook his head, wiping away the remnants of whatever thoughts he had been having.
“You will be happy back at home,” he said.
He sounded so distant. Tears stung my eyes, but I couldn’t let him see them.
I nodded half-heartedly. Then I dashed out of Happy Snaps. Among the throngs of people sauntering along the street around me, I’d never felt so alone. But it was clearer than ever that there was nothing left for me in India and it was time for me to go back to Los Angeles.
I walked around the city for a couple hours, taking in the sights that had felt so foreign upon my arrival but now felt comfortable and familiar. I wanted to breathe in the smells, memorize the sounds and buildings, because I wasn’t sure when I would be there again. By the time I returned to the house, I knew I wanted to talk to my mother about what had happened with Alex while I’d been in India. I’d been thinking about my conversation with Biren, and it had opened my eyes to the choices of my parents. I wanted to clear the air between my mother and me so we could pave a path forward. She deserved to know that I now thought perhaps she had been right all along, and I wished I hadn’t shunned everything Indian in favor of everything American. I wanted to balance the Eastern and Western cultures in which I had been raised, and not have to choose one to the exclusion of the other. It would be a new chapter for both of us, but I was ready to turn the page and hoped she was too.