One Indian Girl(35)

‘About marriage. How many times do I have to bring it up?’ I said. ‘I feel like I have to beg you.’

‘You don’t have to beg me.’

‘So how long do I fend off my mother?’

‘I have told you. I am not ready.’

My breathing became fast. I couldn’t take this anymore.

‘We won’t get married tomorrow, Debu. But we have to make some plans. I have to tell my parents I have someone in my life, so they don’t knock on every door in West Delhi to find a boy for me. I want to tell them soon.’

‘What do you want from me?’

‘Tell me what is your plan for us. You want to get married in one year? Two years? Three years? Something at least.’

‘I think it is too soon to think about all this.’

‘We have dated, sorry, lived-in for about two years. I think it is absolutely the time to at least think about this.’

‘I think it is not,’ Debu said.

‘I think it is,’ I said. We locked eyes.

‘And so you must be right. After all, you get the higher bonus, so what do I know, yeah?’ Debu said.

I gasped. I raised my hand and pointed a finger at him.

‘What the fuck! What did you say?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, probably regretting his statement.

‘Did you just bring my bonus into our marriage discussion?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘You did. I don’t even think about it anymore. Is it on your mind?’

‘No, I don’t care.’

‘You sure? If I were the sweet and innocent girl you met, whatever that means, you were also the sweet boy who talked about feminism while we walked in Manhattan. Remember? You will inspire other girls? Women need to show men they are no less?’

‘I don’t care about your bonus. Okay? That is not what this is about.’

‘So then what? Explain to me. Why is it wrong for us to discuss the future if we have lived with each other for almost two years?’

‘I am not sure,’ he said.

‘About what?’

‘I don’t know. Suppose we marry each other. We will start a family, have kids, right?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ I said.

‘So I am thinking. I don’t know. I had this idea of what the mother of my kids would be like.’

‘Huh? Mother of your kids?’ I said. Sometimes, Debu talks such whacko stuff, I wonder what they smoke in their ad agency offices.

‘Yeah. It’s important, right? What kind of mother I want for my kids,’ Debu said.

‘Sure. I want a good father for my kids too. Can you come to the point?’

‘So are you going to keep working like this or leave work once you have kids?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. I’d like to work if possible.’

‘You think you can?’

‘Let’s see. Will have to work it out. If I make as much money as I do I can afford full-time help, take a house close to work, have our parents come. . .’

He interrupted me.

‘See, this is what I am not sure about.’

‘What?’

‘When you talk in such practical terms.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Like, if you are like this, in this hard job, “fire the workers” kind of role, would you even be affectionate towards our kids?’

‘What the fuck, Debu!’ I shouted.

‘See, now you are losing it. Then you say you want to discuss things!’

‘This is not a discussion. You are talking bullshit. Making sweeping judgements.’

‘I am not. Okay, I like you. I love you. But I want my kids’ mother to be at home for them.’

‘Maybe I will be. If needed.’

‘See, you are not sure. You have this hi-fi mega-paying job.’

‘My job will have nothing to do with my commitment as a mother. Do you get it?’

We stared at each other in silence for about thirty seconds. He finally spoke again.‘I don’t think I can do this. Really, I can’t.’

My heart stopped for a second. Did he just propose a break-up? Oh my God, had the only man who ever loved the unlovable me threatened to leave me?

I turned my volume down and spoke in a calm voice. ‘Debu. What’s the matter with you? Why are you being like this?’

He shrugged.

‘Work stress?’

‘No.’

‘Is it the call? Listen, this is the distressed debt business. Don’t get so affected. It’s business.’

‘Not only that.’

I checked the time. It was midnight. I had to wake up at 6.30 to prepare for an early morning meeting.

‘Debu, calm down. Sorry I snapped at you. I will try to be understanding, okay?’

I went up behind him and hugged him.

‘This is not the time to talk about such things. It’s my mistake,’ I said.

‘It’s fine,’ he said, disentangling my arms.

‘Shall we go to bed?’ I said.

He nodded.

We slipped under the sheets. I took off my nightsuit and drew him closer.

‘I’m tired. Goodnight, baby,’ he said and turned away from me.