The Taste of Ginger(88)

“I know that will be hard for you, but that is the way here. I can convince my parents to have a long engagement so you can get used to the idea. We can try to get some months maybe?”

“Oh Bhagwan, your parents! Do they even know you’re here?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Not yet, but I think they will suspect.”

“Fantastic. So, you’re ready for both of our parents to disown us? And then what? We’d live here in Ahmedabad? I’d never fit in here long term!”

Tushar pointed to the dupatta I had been twirling between my fingers. “You already belong here.”

I looked down at the blue panjabi top I was wearing over my jeans. Matching bangles on my right arm, a yellow-gold watch on my left. He was right. If I didn’t say a word, then I might have passed for a local. Certainly, more than when I had first arrived. But that was the problem. I was still American, regardless of what people saw. Or at least part of me still was and always would be, and that was more American than he was used to.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” I asked. “You had the chance to kiss me on New Year’s Eve, and you didn’t even try.”

“I never thought something like this was possible. As you said, there will be many challenges, but from you I learned to follow my heart.”

I sighed. “I didn’t mean you should go against your family. Our situations are different. Rebelling against your parents isn’t who you are.”

Before he could respond, we heard the sputtering sound of an engine nearing the house, and then the gong sound of the doorbell. I opened the bedroom door and peered out.

“Who could be calling now?” Indira Mami shook her head as she shuffled toward the foyer, her champals making a soft clipping noise against the marble.

“Maybe the driver?” Virag Mama offered.

Our family’s driver often slept in the car outside Lakshmi if we needed him to work early in the morning.

When Indira Mami greeted the visitors at the door, it was clear that it was not the driver.





40


Tushar’s parents exchanged their polite namastes with Indira Mami before coming into the living room.

Tushar leaped forward. “We must go,” he urged them.

They glared at him. Bowing to my uncle, Tushar’s father said, “Sahib, we are very sorry for our son’s behavior. Tushar is acting against our wishes. We did not mean to disrespect your family.”

“What is the meaning of all this?” Virag Mama said to him. “We have been nothing but kind to your family for so many years, and this is how you repay us?”

Tushar’s father and mother bowed again. “Sahib, we are here to stop this. With your blessing, we will make sure no one will ever know of this unfortunate incident.”

Virag Mama continued, “You know how this will look. She is unmarried. The only girl on this side of the family. What will this do to her reputation? To ours? How can we handle this type of scandal?”

His parents’ eyes were cast downward.

My mother intervened. “Leave them, Virag. This is between the children, not us.”

My heart leaped at her defending me and encouraging us to make our own decision. It was what I had always wanted from her, but in this moment, I just wanted to diffuse the tension for Tushar.

“Of course this is about our family! This is not your precious America,” Virag Mama said to her. “You may have forgotten, but we do things differently here.”

I could see my mother start to boil at her younger brother getting in the way of her parenting of her child. I had seen that resolute look on her face many times over my lifetime, including when I had misbehaved, when I had gotten a lower-than-expected grade in school, and when she had found out about Alex. When my mother got that look on her face, she would not back down.

“No, it’s not. Because in America they would have dated and could have found out they were making a mistake before the marriage,” she said.

Virag Mama’s eyes grew wide. “You permitted her to date in America?” It was an accusation rather than a question.

“Perhaps we all should have done that! Then it would not have been too late to know if we married the wrong person.” She looked pointedly at him and Indira Mami.

Tushar’s parents scrutinized every inch of me, as if determining if I was a papaya that was ripe.

Tushar’s mother stared at her son. “Tushar, this was bad enough when we learned your plan. You did not tell us she was one of those damaged girls from America! Let’s go right now.”

In an instant, I had gone from being too good for their son to being unacceptable because they now knew I wasn’t pure.

My mother stepped toward his. “It is not appropriate to come into our house and insult my daughter.”

I couldn’t believe she had said that. We had gotten to the point where my mother was willing to defend me, without worrying what people outside our family would think, even when she didn’t agree. I had waited my entire life for that.

Tushar’s mother lowered her voice. “Madam, we know your past. I do not know why your family does not abide by our customs, but our family’s reputation is still pure. I do not want to cause you trouble, but I do not want my son to marry someone with these values.”

“It’s not as if we are trying to arrange their marriage,” my mother said to his.