One Indian Girl(86)

‘Say something,’ he said.

‘What am I supposed to say? I have to dance to chittiyan kalaiyan now.’

‘What’s that?’

‘A Bollywood song. For my sangeet.’

‘Wait, that’s Punjabi, right? What does it mean?’

‘Fair-complexioned wrists, white wrists, actually,’ I said.

‘Of course, it’s India. Has to be white. So you dancing and all? With all those hip moves?’ he said. I nodded.

Both of us laughed. For a moment it felt like old times, when he and I would chat over breakfast at the Goldman café.

‘Look, I don’t want to deny us a celebration. We can do a court marriage now in Hong Kong. Later, when the dust settles, we can have our own big fat Indian wedding. One in India and one in London, for my folks.’

I realized he hadn’t let go of my hand. He slid off the sofa and knelt down. He lifted my hand and kissed it.

‘My beautiful Indian princess, rather I should say smart, analytically sound and extremely beautiful Indian princess, will you marry me?’

My heart beat fast. Neel, unattainable crush of most Goldman girls who had met him, the man whom I loved, was in front of me on his knees.

‘Please, princess, say yes,’ he said.

My phone rang. I wanted a disruption to avoid answering Neel. I picked up the call without looking at the caller id.

‘One sec, Neel,’ I said.

‘Baby, where are you?’ Debu’s voice on the other side made me jump.

‘Hey, I got to call you back,’ I said.

‘Okay listen, I called home and. . .’

‘Talk to you later,’ I said and hung up.

‘All fine?’ Neel said, still on his knees.

I nodded.

He lifted my hand up again.

‘Radhika Mehta, I love you and will always do. Will you marry me?’

I pulled my hand back. I smacked my forehead.

‘Fuck, Neel. Really, fuck,’ I said.

‘What, Radhika?’

‘You had to do all this now? Where were you in Hong Kong, when I lay silently crying in bed next to you?’

‘You were crying? I couldn’t hear.’

‘Silently crying. And you said I am not the marriage type. What was that? I am not meant to be a mother?’

‘I freaked out. I didn’t want what we had to end. I couldn’t figure out how to keep you.’

I stood up.

‘How did you figure it out now?’ I said, or rather screamed, and pointed to the papers. ‘Did you even suggest any such options then? I was the young VP at work you slept with. That’s all I could be, right?’

‘I understand you are upset. I didn’t treat you right.’

‘I came to resign. It didn’t matter to you. The best you could do was to arrange a transfer. Wow.’

‘Why didn’t you shout at me then?’

‘Huh?’ I said, twisting my dupatta’s edge.

‘You could have told me that what I was doing was wrong.’

‘You had a family. What am I supposed to say to you? “Let’s be together. Leave your wife and little kids”?’

‘I wish you had,’ he said in a bleak voice.

I paced up and down his suite a few times. He sat there, still on his knees.

‘Sit on the sofa, Neel. There is no need to be so dramatic.’

He complied and sat back on the sofa.

‘Fine. Not dramatic, but be pragmatic,’ he said.

‘This is so stupid, Neel. Really, I expected better from you.’

‘So I acted late. Is that what your anger is about? Go ahead, yell at me.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘I missed you every day. I didn’t contact you. But I did what I had to do with my life. Then I heard about your wedding and it was now or never. So I came here. To take you away. With me. Forever.’

He walked up to me. He held my shoulders with both hands.

‘Neel, just stop,’ I said.

‘Fine, hit me. Slap me. You did it once. Do it again. As many times as you want. But come with me.’

I felt his breath on my face. He had Ralph Lauren’s Romance on, the same perfume he used to wear when he came to bed with me.

‘Leave me, Neel,’ I said, even though I didn’t make any effort to extract myself from his grip.

He held my shoulders tighter.

‘I said leave me,’ I said, my voice breaking. I started to cry.

Radhika, what is with you and your tear taps?

‘Shh,’ he said, ‘enough now. It’s okay. I am here now. It’s all going to be fine.’

He placed his hand on the back of my head. He pushed my head forward until my forehead rested on his chest. He didn’t try and kiss me. He just patted my head a couple of times. He brought his mouth close to my ear and whispered, ‘I will be here, in this room. The pilot is waiting for my instructions. You calm down. Go back and think. It’s a lot for you to take in. I will wait until you give the go-ahead. Then we will do what we have to.’

I nodded.

I lifted my head.

‘I need to go. I really do,’ I said.



I raced down the hotel corridor, my mind racing a million times faster than my steps. At the function room entrance, I found Debu.