One Indian Girl(74)

‘You say you are not ready. But give me a time-frame. When will you start looking at boys seriously?’

‘I don’t know. Three years. Four?’

‘You will be thirty. How do you expect me to find a good guy for you?’

‘I will also be an even more successful banker.’

‘So? That makes it worse.’

I rolled my eyes.

‘I would have a lot of money of my own. That will help me and my husband get a good start in life, no?’ I said.

‘You don’t need to make so much. Your man will.’

‘Mom. Please.’

‘One year. I will wait one year, then you cooperate. We start looking seriously, okay?’

‘Just one year?’

I stopped to buy peanuts from a street vendor. She rambled on while I fed her with one hand and held the peanuts in the other.

‘You are so fussy. It will take another year even after I start looking for you. Another year to do the wedding, as NRIs have their own time issues. It is still a three-year process. You will be twenty-nine. Already late. Doesn’t listen, this girl. . .’

‘One year. Okay? But don’t push,’ I said.

‘I never push. Do I ever push?’ she said.

I looked at her. She seemed so earnest while asking her question, I burst out laughing.

‘Please find sensible men. Men with some class, okay?’ I said.

‘What class? I am going to find some slum-dweller for you or what? I’ll find total gentleman, you wait and see,’ she said. I mentally grinned at the word ‘gentleman’, which made me think of Neel. He was what my mother would call a gentleman. Minus his affair, of course.

‘I love you, mom. You are too cute,’ I said.

‘What? And what is this class business when you yourself are eating peanuts on the road?’





31


Dragon-I restaurant, Central, Hong Kong

Neel and I had come for dim sum, the traditional Chinese dumplings, at the posh Dragon-I, a modern Chinese restaurant near our office. I struggled with my chopsticks as I picked up a steamed spinach dumpling.

‘So yeah, one year. That’s all mom gave me,’ I said. I finished recounting my India Gate conversation.

Neel lifted a peanut dumpling with his chopsticks easily.

‘So you are getting married?’ Neel said.

I looked at him and thought a little before I spoke again. ‘I am just tired of my mother’s relentless pursuit. I have to listen to her at some point.’

‘What about us, what we have?’ Neel took a sip of Chinese tea.

‘Neel, what about my life? Do you care?’ I said, my voice firm. We locked eyes.

‘Of course, I care. But isn’t us important?’ he said in a reasonable voice.

‘For there to be an us, there has to be a future. Us has no future, right?’ I said.

‘I don’t know. We haven’t discussed anything,’ Neel said, looking taken aback by how serious the lunch conversation had turned.

‘And whose fault is that?’ I said.

Of course, it is your fault, Neel, is what I wanted to say.

‘The topic never came up, I guess,’ he said.

I didn’t respond. I just stared at him. I put my chopsticks down.

‘What?’ he said, figuring out that something was very wrong.

‘What topic, Neel?’ I said.

‘Us,’ he said. ‘Us and our future.’

‘Us is useless,’ I said.

‘Us is special,’ Neel said.

‘Well, all this us has done is have an affair for the last year. This us pretends to be colleagues in the office. Whereas in reality this us sleeps with each other during business trips and, now, even at my place.’

‘Can you keep your voice down, please?’ Neel whispered.

It only pissed me off.

‘See. Even here, even at Dragon-I, we are colleagues. I can’t say anything that will give us away. I can’t hold your hand here, can I? Even though you do like to spoon me at night, isn’t it?’

Neel looked around. The closest customers were three tables away.

‘You want to talk, we can talk. About anything. I had no idea you had so much bottled up.’

‘How could you? You have it easy. Partner at office. Husband and father at home. Young chick when you want her. What do you have to worry about?’

‘This.’

‘What?’

‘That you are not okay about it. When I thought you were.’

‘What made you think I am okay?’

‘I don’t know. When we make love, or when we work together, or when we chat, isn’t it out of this world?’

‘Life isn’t lived “out of this world”, Neel. Life is lived in this world.’

To be fair, even I didn’t know why I felt so anxious. Perhaps my mother’s one-year ticking-clock deadline had triggered a panic attack.

‘You know the problem, Neel. I can’t even discuss us with anyone. Other girls discuss their boyfriends with their friends. I can’t, right?’

I had to stop talking. I excused myself to go to the washroom. I returned after washing my face.

Neel looked at me with concern.

‘Sorry,’ I said. Why am I saying sorry to him?