One Indian Girl(84)

We sat in silence for five minutes before I spoke again.

‘Brijesh, we spoke about several things. We didn’t talk about our past relationships,’ I said. ‘Boyfriends and girlfriends, that sort of stuff.’

‘Oh,’ he said.

‘Yes. Should we or not? We don’t know each other so well yet,’ I said.

‘But isn’t that the point? Anyway, better to discuss such things.’

‘Yeah. So, you’ve had relationships?’ I said.

He turned his gaze away from the ducks and looked into my eyes.

‘Only one,’ he said.

‘Oh, the special one.’

‘I don’t know. It was a long time ago. I told you I was distracted during my IIT preparation, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘She was in my coaching classes.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘A girlfriend?’

‘I liked her for roughly two years. She liked me too. Unfortunately we expressed our feelings too late. We only dated for two months.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Her father took up a job in Saudi Arabia. She moved there with her family.’

‘I am sorry,’ I said.

‘It’s okay,’ he said and smiled. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘How about you?’ he said. ‘You have had relationships?’

‘Nothing in India. I did have a relationship in New York and, well, I don’t know what to call it, but something in Hong Kong. So yeah. Two. Or one and a half.’

‘Oh,’ he said, somewhat surprised.

‘Yeah. I did. God, I feel lighter telling you that. I don’t know why but I do.’

He smiled.

‘It’s over, though. Both of them ended. A long time ago,’ I said.

‘Did it hurt when they ended?’ he said.

‘Yes, it did,’ I said and smiled, ‘but I am okay now.’

He did not probe further.

‘Would you like to know anything more?’ I said.

‘Not really. Only if and when you want to tell me,’ he said.

We looked at the ducks again.

He spoke after a few minutes. ‘So what do you think? About us?’

Did he want a decision from me? After one afternoon tea and one walk in the park? Is that how arranged marriages work? What should I do?

I thought before I spoke.

‘Brijesh, I did like meeting you. But this is such a big decision, right?’

‘Of course. Take your time. Go back. Think. Reflect.’

‘I will. Should we walk out of the park so I can call an Uber to the airport?’ I said.



‘You won’t get such a good match again and again. He is US-based. You can easily get a transfer to his city. He makes good money. He has shares. You say he is sweet. Really, beta, I can’t find you anything better than this.’

My mother, back in India now, had called me during my lunch break in the office.

‘But mom. . .’

‘The Gulatis have called twice.’

‘I need time to think.’

‘No prince on a horse will come. Certainly not through shaadi.com.’

‘I didn’t say I want a prince.’

‘So come down to earth. What do you know about men anyway?’

Yeah, what do I know, I thought. If I did, I would have made them stick around, right?

I remained silent.

I liked him. I could say yes. Maybe not an ‘oh my God wow’ type yes, but at least ‘there’s no reason to say no’ kind of yes. Still, I wanted to be cautious.

‘It’s okay, mom. Whatever. Okay, if you guys like him then yeah, it’s a yes.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’ I sighed.

‘It’s a yes! Aditi’s papa, are you there? Mubarak,’ I heard her scream.

It drowned out everything—my voice, reason and doubts. I, Radhika Mehta, was going to get married.

Congratulations, Radhika, I whispered to myself after I hung up the phone.





37


‘Hey, you are here,’ Neel’s voice brought me back to my present reality. Waves continued to splash on the beach outside. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

‘Come, let’s sit and talk.’

I brushed his hand aside and turned to him.

‘Neel, I need to go. I really should,’ I said. My cousins would soon start looking for me for sangeet practice.

‘Give me five minutes. I need to tell you something,’ he said. He had a large brown envelope in his hand. We sat down on the chocolate-brown sofa.

‘Let me talk, okay?’ he said.

‘Sure,’ I said, my gaze away from him.

‘And look at me, please,’ he said.

I turned to him. The same sparkly eyes, beautiful face and chiselled features. I could see why I had loved him.

‘I want to say three things,’ he said.

‘I’m listening,’ I said.

‘But before that, may I just say one extra thing? You look nice in this white salwar-kameez.’

‘This? Well, thanks. It’s for the sangeet practice.’

‘I have never seen you in Indian clothes.’

‘Really?’ I said. Of course he hadn’t. He had only seen me in work clothes or, well, no clothes.