The Taste of Ginger(39)

She was appealing to my practical side. I appreciated that. It was hard to be practical when my emotions were clouding my judgment, so I needed Carrie to point me in the right direction. And then I’d never have to tell my parents I’d quit. Biren and Neel would be quiet about the whole thing, so there wasn’t really anything else to worry about. I thought about my conversation with Neel and how much we had unearthed about how I felt about my time at the firm, but there was also safety and comfort in a life full of yellow ruled pads, legal research, and every six minutes of my life accounted for. Was my emotional comfort worth more than the financial security that my job provided? If I worked hard, I’d earn a steady paycheck every two weeks until I hit the glass ceiling of partnership, but by then I’d be able to get another high-paying job. I’d avoid the financial instability that had plagued my family after immigrating. It would be nothing like the unpredictability I’d experienced during the year after college when I’d pursued photography and had no idea when my next job or paycheck was coming. Back then, I was too young and too proud to ever have confessed to my parents how much it weighed on me to have chosen a life of financial instability, and part of me was glad they had forced me into law school.

“Just tell him you’ll be back in a couple days,” she urged. “He hasn’t liked any of the candidates yet.”

It sounded like the right decision, even though I hated the thought of doing it. It felt like escaping from prison only to go back and turn yourself in. But it was practical.

“You’re probably right,” I said. “Maybe I can call—”

Before I could finish my thought, I heard raised voices coming from outside my door. I opened it enough to peer out and saw Neel standing and facing Dipti, who was in the doorframe of the bedroom they’d been sharing. My parents and Indira Mami stood in between them, silent but each looking worried about the exchange.

“What is wrong with you?” Dipti hurled at Neel, her voice heavy. “How can you even think about just leaving like that?”

Into the phone, I whispered to Carrie that I’d have to call her back and quickly ended the call. I opened the door fully so I could step outside, but my mother caught my eye, and I knew I should let Neel and Dipti play out whatever this was.

“Because there’s nothing left to do here!” he tossed back. It was the first time I’d heard him raise his voice to her since I’d arrived in India.

“Left to do?” She let the words hang in the air between them, before repeating, “Left to do? Our daughter died here. Or have you forgotten?”

His eyes widened. “Of course I haven’t forgotten! But staying here won’t bring her back. We’re not going to be able to move on if we stay here in this constant state of purgatory!”

“If it’s such torture for you to be here, then why don’t you just leave?” Her voice caught on the last word.

Neel looked at her, exasperated. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do! And then you started yelling at me about leaving.”

“Go without me if you want to go so bad.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched the back of his neck with his hands as if he thought he could release the tension in the air that way. He took a few deep breaths. “I’m not going to leave you here,” he said as evenly as it seemed he could muster.

Her eyes welled up. “I can’t leave her here.”

“She’s not really here!”

Dipti’s eyes darted around frantically as if she were looking for Uma and expected her to appear from thin air. “She is to me,” she finally said. “Her soul is here.”

My mother pursed her lips together like she wanted to jump in and say something but knew she couldn’t.

Neel was now standing in front of Dipti, trying to reason with her. “Her soul is everywhere. And the river will take her ashes to the ocean. She will be in our hearts no matter where we are, so she is everywhere for us. The best we can hope for is that her soul has already found a new home, and her next life will be a long and healthy one filled with great joy.”

Dipti’s glistening eyes looked up at him. She looked like a scared child who wanted to believe everything being told to her. Then she put her head down and said, “It just doesn’t feel right to go.”

Neel exhaled slowly. “For me, it doesn’t feel right to stay.” He turned and went down the stairs. We heard the front door close behind him and then the driver starting up the Fiat.

It wasn’t clear where they left things, but it was clear that they were hitting a breaking point. Dipti noticed us staring at her and retreated to her room like a wounded animal. Mom closed the door to give her some privacy as we all made our way quietly downstairs.



A few hours later, my mother, Indira Mami, and I were in the living room and heard a car pull into the driveway. Neel still had not returned, and my father had gone out to look for him. We had all steered clear of the upstairs to give Dipti some space. A moment later, one of our servants brought Dipti’s father into the room. A young man trailed behind him, hands clasped in front of him, head and shoulders hanging low, as if he were trying to make himself invisible. Raj Uncle approached my mother first.

“These are hard times for us all.” His tone was apologetic and almost deferential.

My mother seemed confused. “Yes, Sahib. The children are in a lot of pain.”