“You’re right,” I said. “Every life involves sacrifice. I have always had my blinders on, and while I hoped I would never have to choose, I knew I’d choose a romantic partner over my family. It’s what I’ve done in the past, and it’s what I’ve become accustomed to.” I smiled at him. “But it’s not the only way. Having a safe, healthy, happy life surrounded by your family and friends sounds pretty great too. May even have less drama overall. My quest for romantic love hasn’t led anywhere great so far . . .”
His eyes met mine, and I saw both the appreciation for the support and the apprehension at the unknown that he was moving into.
“She could end up being your best friend,” I said.
He nodded. “She could . . .”
“I mean, not better than me,” I said.
A small laugh escaped his lips, and it lifted my spirit. I hadn’t heard him laugh since the night of the raid. It would take time, but I hoped he would be okay. I hoped this new person in his life would be the support he needed in whatever path he chose.
“If she’s awful, divorce isn’t great, but at least it’s not as taboo as it once was,” he said.
“Also true,” I said. “You have more options than our parents had forty years ago. And if at any point you change your mind, whether before or after the wedding, that’s fine too. I’m here for you on any path you choose.”
Walking back from Biren’s house, I wondered how many of the people I passed were living a secret life. How many had been pressured—or scared—into a marriage, career, or lifestyle? Or were they more like my parents and Biren and had made the choices that were right for them? It was likely a combination of the two. No culture was perfect, and no culture had a guaranteed path to eternal bliss. Certain Western values, like romantic love, seemed too deeply ingrained in me to be on Biren’s path, but during my time in India, I was finding more appreciation for the nuances between the different types of relationships around me. Had we never moved to America, the reality was that I would not have developed this desire for the Hollywood romance either. I’d have been like Hari and Laila, or my parents before them. I realized how much I was now a product of the place in which I had been raised. I couldn’t change that aspect of myself any more than I could have changed my caste or skin color, and I didn’t even know that I would want to change that part of me despite the heartaches I’d suffered in the past.
39
When I returned to Lakshmi after seeing Biren, I was surprised to find Dipti’s father’s car parked in the driveway. It had been over a week since I had seen Neel, and I was excited to tell him about Uttarayan and the first few days of Carrie’s trip. I bounded into the house and found Neel, Dipti, and her father sitting in our living room with my mother, Virag Mama, and Indira Mami. They were all having chai served in tiny Corelle mugs that my mother had brought over from America. Indira Mami used those mugs only on special occasions like engagements, weddings, or when guests were visiting from the States and she wanted to impress them. I’d never seen them used when it was just family in the room.
“What’s going on?” I said, flipping off my champals and heading toward the couch to sit next to Neel.
Mom motioned for Gautam to bring a mug of chai for me, and he silently scampered off to the kitchen.
Neel looked at Dipti and smiled at her before turning to me and saying, “We are ready to go home.”
Relief washed over his face, and it was the most calm and happy I’d seen him since arriving in India. Dipti managed a small smile as well. My mother, Virag Mama, and Indira Mami were beaming.
“That’s great news!” I said, knowing that while they had a long road ahead of them, the saga that had unfolded while in India was coming to an end.
Neel’s smile grew wider, and he touched Dipti’s arm. I could see she was still conflicted about leaving the country where her daughter had died. Uma would always be remembered, but I was glad Dipti had chosen her life with Neel over the death of her baby. They would be okay, and seeing them begin the journey ahead filled me with such peace. I felt that no matter how uncertain my future was at the moment, life would unfold as it should.
“When are you heading back?” I asked.
“As soon as we can pack up and get tickets,” Neel said. “Planning for the day after tomorrow.”
Mom clapped her hands. “This is wonderful! Looks like we can all go home now!”
She was right. We had all stayed for Dipti and Neel, and now that they were heading back, there was no reason for any of us to linger on. It was time to get back to our lives. It was time for her to get back to my father and resume their normal routines. And it was time for me to go back to Los Angeles and figure out what my life would look like going forward. I could fly back with Carrie. It was logical. It made sense. While I had begrudgingly stayed in India because Neel needed me, as I thought about leaving, I realized that part of me had needed India. I had gotten used to my life over the past month. Going to Happy Snaps, reconnecting with photography, getting over Alex, developing a friendship with Biren. I was excited about working with Anand Uncle. All those things had happened seamlessly without me even realizing. I had felt comfortable and present in this country for the first time since I was a little girl. I hadn’t been worried about the day-to-day grind or the corporate ladder or figuring out what my future should be. I had stopped being conscious of my skin, and even a few weeks of that had been liberating beyond words. When I had stopped looking for answers, it seemed I had found some. But then my thoughts went to Tushar, and I realized some questions remained. My stomach sank. After a couple days, I might never see him again. I wasn’t sure what that meant for me or for him, but I knew I would miss him.