The Taste of Ginger(82)

“What are those?” I asked, joining her.

Her lips curled into a nostalgic smile, as if by holding the photo she could transport herself back to that moment. “Indira Mami found these pictures of you and Biren from when you were little. When we lived in this house.” She handed one to me. “Isn’t this funny?”

It was an image of Biren and me when we were five years old. It was the infamous photo of us wearing matching little girls’ chaniya cholis, mine red, his yellow. We both beamed into the camera, him a head taller than me even then. Even at that time, our parents had joked about our arranged marriage, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d known at that young age that he was gay.

“Why were you looking for this?” I asked.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you himself?”

“What?”

“Biren’s mother called us yesterday. They found a girl for him, and he agreed to be married. His mother wanted some childhood photos of him to show at the engagement party.”

I felt like I’d been slapped in the face. No, he didn’t mention anything. Because he knew I would think it was crazy.

My mother continued rummaging through the pictures, avoiding eye contact with me. “Seems you waited too late,” she said pointedly, even though I could tell she was trying to sound neutral.

Still reeling from the shock, all I could manage was, “This is nuts! Are you kidding?”

“What’s so crazy about a nice-looking, educated boy from a good family getting married?”

“He doesn’t want to marry her,” I said through gritted teeth.

“How should you know, hah? Have you met her? Do you know anything about her?”

“I don’t need to know anything about her.”

Mom sighed. “Preeti, if you are upset, you have no one to blame but yourself. You cannot wait forever and expect everyone else to do the same.”

“I’m not jealous!” I said, frustrated she thought that was the issue.

“Then be civilized and be happy for him,” she said in the tone she reserved for when she thought I was throwing a tantrum for no reason.

“I can’t be happy that he’s throwing away his life because of the pressures of this damned culture!”

“Simply because you choose to be alone does not mean something is wrong with the rest of us, hah. This culture has a rather successful marriage rate.”

“Sure, no one divorces, but how many people are happy? Let’s start with you.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. It was like being in court again, and I was arguing on instinct without worrying about how the listener would feel.

Her face hardened. “Biren will probably be happier with this girl than you will be if you keep living like this and end up alone.”

I threw up my hands. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What is there to understand, yaar?” she said. “He’s getting married, and that’s final.”

I struggled internally, wanting to tell her and make her understand, but I knew it wasn’t my place. Especially now that he was getting married. These were not matters that were taken lightly in Ahmedabad. This wasn’t a “cold feet” culture, so announcements were almost as good as nuptials. That was also what made the engagement photo I had seen of my mother such a big deal. Something like that would have been a huge scandal. I knew if Biren was engaged to this girl, they would be married, and that would become his life.

My mother handed the photograph to me along with some others. “You should take these to him.”



Biren’s father answered the door, his smile from ear to ear. “You have heard the news?”

I pasted on a smile. “Yes, Uncle.”

He clapped my back, his excitement unbridled. “My son is getting married! It is about time, no?”

I nodded politely.

“Sorry, I am getting ahead of myself. Can I offer you some chai? Nasta? Mithai?”

He moved into the house and gestured for me to follow him.

“My mother asked me to give this to Auntie,” I said, handing him the envelope with the photographs.

“She is out sharing the news with her ladies’ circle. She is so happy.” He went to place the envelope on a ledge near the kitchen and then turned around as if he’d just remembered something.

“You know, the lawyer in New York who I was working with has taken her maternity leave. I simply cannot follow all of the different laws and things that are asked of us for the application paperwork. Could you find some time to help me this week?”

“Of course, Uncle. I’m sorry I haven’t followed up sooner. I’m not an expert in this area, but I would love to help you, and I can ask friends back in the States who are more experienced for the things I cannot figure out on my own. I think the work would help me as much as it would help you!”

He clapped his hands together. “Great! It is settled then! I would pay you, of course.”

Before I could protest the payment, he called out for Biren to come and greet me. Jobs for someone with my background were so simple in India. That he knew my family was enough and took the place of the multiple days of job interviews that I had undergone to get my job at FLF.

Once Biren came downstairs, we had a few pleasantries with his father before going outside, where we could get more privacy.