One Indian Girl(96)

‘All of you are still our guests,’ my father said with folded hands. ‘And from my daughter’s side, I say sorry.’

I could not see my father grovel. I wanted to leave so I could cry freely.

‘Suraj will help you if you need anything. All your bills will be settled. Thank you,’ I said and ran out of Brijesh’s room.



The Gulatis and Mehtas checked out of the Goa hotel at noon the next day. Both sets of families avoided eye contact. Things had indeed changed from the sangeet night two days ago when people could not take enough group selfies.

The Mumbai flight for the Gulatis left earlier than ours. They took their places inside the bus.

‘Brijesh, one second,’ I said, as he put on his backpack to leave the hotel lobby.

‘Yeah?’ he said, his voice curt.

‘Can we talk for two minutes?’

‘Really? Why?’ he said.

I kept quiet. He took a deep breath.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘But not here, in full view of everyone. Meet me on the beach in five.’



‘Thanks for supporting me in front of the elders yesterday,’ I said.

We walked on the Marriott beach one final time.

‘I don’t like raised voices, or insulting people, especially in public,’ Brijesh said.

‘You had every right to insult me too. You can now. We are not even in public.’

He looked at me for a second. He shook his head and gave a sad smile.

‘I guess I never understood women anyway. I thought I did, a little bit. Clearly, I still have a long way to go,’ he said.

‘You understand people and you understand kindness. You are a good guy, Brijesh. I am the one who is messed up. I need clarity.’

‘Hope you find it. What do you plan to do, anyway?’

‘For now, I will go back to work. Maybe apply for some visas. Then take a long vacation. Maybe one of those round-the-world tickets. The ones that let you fly in one direction. Just keep going.’

‘Well, the world is round. So you can’t keep going. You will eventually have to come back home. Come back to reality.’

‘That’s true, unfortunately,’ I said.

‘Bye then,’ Brijesh said.

‘Bye, Brijesh.’

‘You aren’t coming back to the hotel?’ he said as he turned to leave.

‘I will. I just want to watch these waves for a few more minutes,’ I said and looked into the horizon.





42

Three months later





El Albergue Hotel,





Ollantaytambo, Peru

I sat in the café and sipped my coffee. The tiny blue trains to Machu Pichu came and went at regular intervals. I downloaded my trip photos from my phone into my laptop as a backup. My laptop flashed the date, 23 March, with a reminder saying ‘Message B’. It had been three months since the Goa fiasco. Despite the reminder I found it difficult to gather the courage to message him. I flipped through every picture from my trip to distract myself.

In the past month, I had started eastwards from London. I visited Berlin, Cairo, Beijing and Sydney before taking a flight to Lima in Peru, South America. From Lima I landed up in Ollantaytambo, or simply Ollantay, the base point to visit the famous ruins of Machu Pichu. I stayed at the historic and charming El Albergue hotel, located right at the mini train station that one uses to visit Machu Pichu.

One hour and two cappuccinos later, I took out my phone.

Radhika, just do it. What’s the worst that will happen?

I sent a WhatsApp message to Brijesh.

‘Hi.’

I waited for another half an hour, until the blue ticks appeared. He had read my message. He didn’t respond. My heart sank. This was all a bad idea anyway.

‘Hi. Wassup?’ he typed back a few minutes later.

‘Today would have been three months. Of our almost wedding anniversary,’ I replied.

He sent a smiley.

‘Sorry again,’ I replied.

‘Hey, all part of life. How are you doing?’

‘Good. Travelling. Took that trip I told you about.’

‘Round the world?’

‘Yes.’

‘Reached full circle yet?’

‘Almost. I still have two more flights to go.’

‘Cool. Where are you now?’

‘Peru. Came to see Machu Pichu.’

‘Nice.’

‘Where are you right now?’ I said.

‘At work. No such luck like you!’

‘Brijesh, I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Sure.’

‘My next stop is San Francisco. I am there in three days.’

‘Oh, cool.’

‘Yeah. Was wondering if you want to meet for a coffee?’

He didn’t respond for a few minutes. I had a sinking feeling about this. I sent him another message anyway.

‘I totally understand if you can’t or if you don’t want to.’

‘Sorry, my boss had called me. Yeah sure, would love to have coffee.’

‘Really? Great.’

‘Yeah, can we do it in Menlo Park? Easier for me.’

‘Of course. Whatever is closest to your office. How’s Wednesday?’