One Indian Girl(69)

‘Th. . .thanks,’ I stammered, remembering she had given me a compliment.

‘You have lunch plans?’ she said.

‘Er, actually, I normally don’t eat lunch,’ I said, making up nonsense as I spoke.

‘We are just heading to the food court outside IKEA. Feel free to join us,’ Kusum said.

I looked at Neel. Can the great partner at Goldman Sachs use his brain to get me out of this?

‘Yeah, join us. Because it would be great if you can join us,’ he rambled on, ‘but not if you don’t want to.’

I glared at him. What do you mean, ‘not if you don’t want to’?

‘Have a salad. It’s not good to skip meals,’ Kusum said.

‘Oh okay,’ I said in meek submission.

‘I understand you must be on a diet. Trust me, I go through the same,’ Kusum said and smiled at me.

So now what? Were we bonding together? Wife and mistress? Fuck, did I just call myself mistress? I am not a mistress. I am a vice president, for God’s sake.

I followed Neel’s family out of IKEA and to the food court in a daze. I saw taxis out on the road. I had the urge to jump into one and scoot away or maybe just jump under one of them and die.



‘Mom, I want French fries with my noodles,’ Siya said.

‘No, I will get you some veggies instead,’ Kusum said. Siya made a face. Kusum glared at her daughter. Siya got the message and began to eat her lunch. Aryan had home food. Neel ordered a chicken wrap, Kusum a quinoa salad. I went for fried rice, though I ate it like a little bird, one grain at a time.

‘Liking Hong Kong?’ Kusum said.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Compact, convenient. Work is good.’

‘Made some friends?’ she said.

‘Well, work people, mostly,’ I said.

‘That’s Goldman for you. They make you work so much, you don’t have a life outside.’

‘That’s not true,’ Neel said. ‘I come home on time.’

‘You are a partner. These poor associates and VPs have to do the grunt work.’

Neel shrugged.

‘You have to pay your dues,’ he said.

‘I couldn’t handle it. JP Morgan for eight years. I just quit.’

‘Oh, you were in banking?’ I said. Neel never told me that. Well, he never told me anything about her.

‘Yeah, equity sales. I had enough. Although busier now with these two little ones. Sometimes I do wish I could escape to the office.’

‘We don’t escape, we work,’ Neel said.

‘Yeah, whatever. You at least get weekends. Mothers don’t. The errands never stop. That reminds me, I had to call. . .’ Kusum opened her Louis Vuitton handbag.

‘Siya, where is my phone?’

‘Mommy, I stopped using it when you told me to,’ Siya said, slurping up a noodle.

‘Oh no. I left it in IKEA. On the sofa.’ Kusum jumped up. ‘I will just go to the store and check.’

‘You want me to come?’ Neel said.

‘How? Kids and food are all here. No, you stay. I will be back in ten minutes.’

‘Do you want me to go and check?’ I said. I’d do anything to get away from this sweet domestic scene.

‘How kind of you to offer.’ Kusum smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I will be back in a minute. Neel will handle the kids.’

She left Neel, Siya, Aryan and me at the food court. I had the most awkward meal of my entire life. I couldn’t talk freely to Neel. Siya might understand, after all.

‘Eat the vegetables too, Siya,’ Neel said.

Siya didn’t comply. Neel moved over to her and began to feed her with a spoon. I ate my rice in silence. Aryan ate butterfly-shaped pasta with red sauce from his lunch box. He smeared the red sauce all over his face and hands. With every bite, Aryan looked messier. I could see Neel wanted to attend to his son but had to feed his daughter.

‘Do you mind?’ he said and gestured to me. I looked around, took a deep breath and slid next to Aryan. I took a tissue and wiped his face.

‘Eat slowly, Aryan, okay?’ I said.

‘You feedy me,’ he said.

‘What?’ I said.

‘You feedy me,’ he said again.

Neel smiled at me. Really, Neel, this is funny to you? Aryan jumped into my lap and handed me his fork. I fed him with one hand and kept a tissue in my other hand to wipe his mouth.

‘I didn’t expect to run into you,’ I said.

‘Well, I had no idea you would be here,’ Neel said. Siya looked at both of us one after the other, with an innocent expression. We decided not to pursue the topic further.

‘You go to daddy office too?’ Siya said.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘How about you? Which class are you in?’

‘Grade three,’ she said.

‘What’s your favourite subject?’ I said, as Aryan took a bite off the fork.

‘Math,’ she said.

‘Radhika didi is really good at it,’ Neel said. He looked at me and smiled, as if he meant not just math.

‘Are you really smart?’ Siya said.

‘I am okay smart,’ I said.

‘Enough feedy,’ Aryan said to me, as he felt neglected.

‘No, you have to finish your lunch, Aryan,’ I said. I don’t know how I ended up feeding Neel’s child. It was awkward, sure. Yet, somehow, seeing Neel taking care of his children made him more real, more human. Is this what it would be like to have a family? I wondered what Neel thought when he saw me feed Aryan. His favourite distressed debt analyst could wipe tomato sauce off a toddler’s face too.