“The flowers here are quite lovely, but don’t you think the Patels did a better job with the food last week?” said an auntie to my left, her cohort nodding.
“Your job is done for one child. Now only Bharat is left,” I heard my mother say to Indira Mami and focused on their conversation.
“The same is true for you,” Indira Mami said.
“Children in America watch so many movies. Preeti wants this love she sees in these films,” Mom said, resigned.
“Bharat knows when it will be his time. We have already started making contacts for him. Children here understand their duties,” Indira Mami said.
Marriage shouldn’t be a duty. My gaze remained fixed on the mandap, as if I were engrossed in the ceremony, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom nodding slowly. She had a distant look on her face.
Bharat was only twenty-one, and they were searching for his bride. Most guys I’d known at that age had been looking to score a keg and meet their next hookup.
Indira Mami said, “Once they grow up, they realize this American love is not lasting. Maybe she just needs more time to see that. You see how many NRIs come here to get married after all their dating. Maybe she needs your help like we helped Hari. It is good when we can introduce someone.”
My eyes widened. They’d better not! I was here to be with my family during a difficult time. Not to find an arranged or “suggested” husband. Certainly not one who was from India! Even though the locals saw my Non-Resident Indian status as a demotion, I had worked hard on my assimilation into Western culture after we moved, and I was proud of the progress I had made. I was not about to have that work undone by some archaic Indian traditions. Besides, the only person I could see in that role was Alex, and he had been close to my thoughts while in India. Seeing this wedding unfold over the past week made it hard not to think about the plans Alex and I had once made. And with my job out of the way, there were no longer any barriers, and maybe he and I could still have that future we had talked about.
“We have tried in the past,” Mom said.
Her tone made me cringe, because despite my earlier hope, I knew renewing my relationship with Alex was choosing him over my mother. She pictured a life for me that was like the one Hari and Laila were entering, and even though I loved my parents, that was more than I could give them.
“You must try harder then,” Indira Mami said. “Does she know your nasib?”
I snuck a peek at Mom when I heard that unfamiliar word. Her jaw set into a hard line. Her eyes narrowed and shifted away from Indira Mami, making clear the conversation was over.
Nasib? I repeated the word in my head, trying to conjure up its meaning but unsure whether I’d ever heard it before.
Before I could think too much about what I had heard, I saw Hari and Laila on the mandap beginning their seven walks around the fire, signifying they were near the end of the wedding ceremony. I hoped they would have more in common than my parents did and end up finding real love instead of one born out of obligation. They deserved that. Everyone did. To me, the alternative would have been a prison sentence, especially after having felt love in the past. Even while Alex and I were broken up, I knew if I ever settled for something less, then I’d always remember what I was missing. I dabbed at the corners of my eyes with the end of my sari, praying that Hari and Laila would love each other with the passion and fervor that I knew was possible between two people. The love that I needed to get back.
15
The day after the reception, I found Neel sitting at the computer in Hari and Bharat’s sparse room. As in all the other bedrooms in the house, the only photo that hung on the wall was one of Krishna Bhagwan, the god most revered by my family. There were no personal touches like I had back in my apartment in Los Angeles. The room consisted of two beds, two nightstands, a table for the computer, a locked closet, and the air-conditioning unit that spewed out much-needed cold air.
“What are you doing?” I asked, plopping myself onto one of the beds, wincing when I met the concrete-like density. I lay on my stomach, facing him.
“Canceling plane tickets.”
He and Dipti had originally planned on spending a week in Goa after the wedding to have their babymoon before heading home and getting ready for parenthood. That trip didn’t make any sense now.
“When will you two go back to Chicago?” I asked.
Neel swiveled away from the computer and faced me. “I’m not sure. Dipti is still so emotional. But I think it’s best to go back home and get some sense of normalcy back in our lives.” He buried his head in his hands and groaned. “We were so proactive about setting up the nursery before this trip! It will crush her to see it.”