One Indian Girl(71)

‘Really?’

‘See. You are judging me, right? This idiotic girl who moved continents but can’t move on.’

‘No, no. Wait. I am not judging. What do you want me to do?’

‘I will FaceTime you. You point your phone camera to your computer screen. Load Debu’s profile on your computer.’

He laughed. ‘That’s innovative.’

‘It is also desperate.’

‘Hey, that’s fine. FaceTime me.’

I gave him a video call.

‘Here we go. Debashish Sen,’ Avinash said. I could see his computer screen on my phone. He zoomed in closer to Debu’s profile picture. He stood there, grinning, in Central Park with a red-haired white girl three inches taller than him. My heart sank. He had switched at least two women after me. I, meanwhile, had run into the wife and kids of the boss I had slept with.

‘His last post was at a colleague’s birthday party. Do you want me to enlarge the picture?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ I said.

Debu sat at a restaurant table, holding up a bottle of Corona beer. He still had his beard and curly hair. The tall white girl sat next to him, a glass of wine in her hand. He looked happy. She looked happy. The wine looked happy. Who did not look happy? Me.

‘You want to see more?’ Avinash said.

‘Thanks, Avinash. That’s enough,’ I said, my voice flat.

‘We miss you. Don’t you miss New York?’

‘Yeah, I do. Miss you guys,’ I said.

I finished the call and sat in my bed. I saw the time; it was midnight. I changed into my nightclothes. As I put my white Zara dress into the laundry bag, I noticed a tiny red pasta sauce stain on the sleeve. I don’t know why but I felt horrible. I felt lonely. I imagined Neel at home, kids in his lap while he told them bedtime stories. I imagined Kusum wearing designer sleepwear and cuddling Neel. Why was I imagining all this? How did it matter to me? I knew he had a family all along, right?

My phone buzzed. WhatsApp message from Neel.

‘Hope you recovered from bumping into me today. Sorry about that.’

Okay, so he wasn’t spooning in bed with his wife in pretty sleepwear. He was typing a message to me.

‘Not your fault,’ I messaged back.

‘Strangely, I liked that you met my kids.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. They are a huge part of my life. Nice to share it with you.’

Somehow, he made it all seem less terrible.

‘That’s sweet of you to say. They are amazing kids.’

‘Thanks. They liked you. Aryan kept saying Feedy Didi.’

I sent a smiley back.

‘You don’t even talk to me these days,’ Neel sent another message.

‘What’s the point?’ I replied.

‘We can only know the point of talking if we do the talking, right?’

‘It’s fine. Nothing to be said. Mistakes happen.’

‘Stop calling it a mistake. Please.’

‘Fine.’

‘Can we talk? Like catch up properly? Instead of avoiding each other.’

‘I don’t know, Neel. I am not in a good place.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing specific. Just low.’

‘Can I be there for you? At least a little bit?’

‘We will talk later,’ I said.

‘We are going to Seoul next week. Can we catch up then?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

‘Thank you. Just don’t avoid me.’

‘Can’t seem to, as it turns out. Even on weekends,’ I said.

‘You are funny. Anyway, goodnight.’

‘Goodnight. By the way, Kusum is really sweet.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘She liked you.’

‘Because she doesn’t know me,’ I said.

‘Don’t say that.’

I sent a smiley back. He replied with a long message.

‘Anyway, Kusum is nice. I am not going to say she is a horrible person, Radhika. But she and I just don’t share that connection. Not even a tenth of what you and I have. None, actually.’

I read the message and didn’t reply.

‘What?’ he sent another message.

‘What do you want me to say? Go see a counsellor? Work on your marriage? What?’ I typed back.

‘Nothing. I am telling you facts from my side. All I want is for you to admit to some of your feelings.’

‘Why? Why do you want to know my feelings?’ I replied.

‘Because even though this is totally wrong, the fact is I love you. Goodnight,’ Neel replied.



We didn’t talk in Seoul. We made love. We made crazy, crazy love. And we did the same when we went on other business trips, ten more times in the next three months. Each time our intimacy felt deeper than before. Despite feeling immoral, there was also the matter of my loneliness—he made me feel less lonely. I wanted Neel in my life. Someone to treat me like I was special and make me feel loved, every bit of me. Maybe I gave him something too. A bit of the youth he wanted to hold on to. The lightness and brightness of me.

As our business trips increased, our guilt trips decreased. He said he and Kusum disagreed on many things, from raising kids to how hard he should work. He said I accepted him the way he was. With every night we spent, flight we shared and meal we had together, I felt closer to him. I still showed some restraint. He told me ‘I love you’ every time we met. I never did. He never pushed me to reciprocate either.