Chapter 9
9
Song: Jashn-e-Bahara
- Javed Ali
Kriti
I t was late at night when my phone vibrated with an incoming call. Rati was busy on her phone on the twin bed beside me, with only a small nightstand separating our beds. As the vibration continued, she turned to me and asked, “Who’s calling you so late?”
After a moment's thought, I decided to go with the truth. I had never really hidden anything from my sister, and I didn’t want to start now. Softly, I said, “Remember Aakar? The man who came to see me a few weeks ago?”
Her eyes widened in excitement, and before she could launch into a hundred questions, I raised my phone and waved her off. I quickly picked up the call before it stopped ringing and, before Aakar could say anything, I said, “Hold on a second.”
I got up and went out onto the attached balcony. Closing the door behind me for privacy, I said, “I’m here. Everything alright?”
For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then, in a thick voice, Aakar said, “Um…I don’t know why I called.”
He sounded tired. And a little bit sad. I couldn’t help clutching my phone tighter. “Something happened at home?”
A harsh laugh escaped him. “Something like that. It’s like there are all these expectations that I must live up to—be the businessman that Pappa wants me to be, bring the perfect daughter-in-law for Maa, and be the dependable older brother for Abhi and Akira. Why do we constantly have to live up to the expectations set by everyone around us? Be the perfect version for each of them, regardless of how we feel. Do you feel that too, or is it just me?”
I looked at the quiet street below the balcony, the vehicles parked along the street, the silent sounds of the night as I mulled over Aakar’s words. “Sometimes I do,” I said, thinking about my own family.
“I guess today just got to me. And I’m afraid that marriage isn’t going to help me out either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Maybe he didn’t sense the warning in my tone, or maybe he didn’t care, but Aakar continued, “Well, after marriage, I’d be responsible for a whole new person. Be her perfect version. Keep her happy.”
“Well, unlike your other family members, your wife would have the same responsibility toward you. Keep you happy. Be the kind of person you want.”
He scoffed. “Believe me. That might be the least of her worries. I’m afraid she might get too busy pleasing and keeping up with my family to even care enough for me.”
Now I was sure something had happened. “You do remember that you’re talking to one of your marriage prospects, right? Are your words supposed to reassure me or warn me off?”
After a few beats of silence, he said, “I’d rather you not be warned off. I just asked Maa to arrange a second meeting with you.”
A gasp escaped my mouth, and my heart started beating rapidly. Sweat gathered behind my neck as I asked, “Really?”
Softly, Aakar murmured, “Really.”
“You have a terrible way of showing your continued interest in me.”
His warm chuckle in my ears soothed something inside me. “What was I supposed to do? The moment I told her that I was willing to meet you for the second time, she went on and on about how she could relax once she gets a daughter-in-law.”
Aakar told me all about his conversation with his mother, his voice becoming more animated by the second. “Kriti, it’s not that I don’t understand where they’re coming from, but they constantly make me feel as if I’m here to fulfill their goals. And if I’m being honest, hearing my mother’s words, I was more terrified for you than me.”
The poor, sweet man. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Aakar, I don’t know if I should feel sorry for your naivety or touched by your concern for me. I am already living a life where I work, help out my mother in the kitchen, help my siblings with their studies, and deal with my mom’s constant complaints about one thing or another. I’ve never had the luxury of putting my feet up once I’m back from work.”
He huffed. “Now you’re just making me look bad.”
I chuckled. “Well, you were feeling responsible for me.”
“Exactly. I didn’t know you were a superwoman and in no need of defense.”
My cheeks warmed at his compliment. “Maybe you should have more faith in the person you eventually choose to marry. You don’t have to be responsible for everyone and everything. It might do you good to share your responsibilities with her rather than take everything upon yourself.”
“Maybe I should.”
“So I’m guessing your parents will soon give my parents a call to set up a day?”
Now that Aakar was calm, his voice came out lighter. “Yep. Pretty sure it will be the first thing Maa does tomorrow morning.”
Maybe now wasn’t the best time to inform him about my conversation with Mom this afternoon—more like her order, my protests, her sharp words, and my eventual surrender. Or maybe it was the darker part of me compelling me to let Aakar know that I wasn’t just sitting around waiting for him. More like Maa isn’t waiting around , my mind whispered. I rolled my eyes at myself and tried to focus on what Aakar was saying.
I made an effort to pay attention, giving appropriate responses and sounds of agreement, all the while deliberating the right course of action.
“Kriti, you alright?” Aakar’s question brought me back to the present.
I cleared my throat and decided to go with it. “Umm…Yeah. Sorry, I was, uh, thinking.”
“About?” he asked, his voice gentle yet curious.
I leaned over the balcony railing and looked at my half-chipped nail polish, trying to find the right words. “Well, whether it was appropriate to tell you that Maa has fixed a meeting with a man the day after tomorrow.”
Four agonizing heartbeats later, Aakar uttered only one word, “Oh.”
“Oh?”
He cleared his throat, and I heard shuffling in the background. “I mean, thanks for letting me know, I guess. And, of course, it’s appropriate to tell me. Wouldn’t you want to know if the situation was reversed?”
“Would you have told me if the situation was reversed?”
Aakar made a slightly frustrated sound. “I would like to think I would have.”
Now that I’d told him, I could breathe a little easier, even though talking about it turned the conversation from friendly to uncomfortable and awkward. I could sense Aakar trying to find words. Maybe it was my guilt or a sense of imbalance that made me say, “I did tell you the day we talked about exchanging numbers that my mother was likely to line up more guys for meetings. And you told me to do what I must.”
This time, his voice caused goose bumps across my neck. “I did, didn’t I?”
We were silent after that, not knowing what to say, afraid that one wrong word could shake things up. And still, I didn’t want to say goodbye and escape the conversation.
“Day after tomorrow, you said?” he asked.
I made a sound in the affirmative. After another beat of silence, I closed my eyes and, shaking my head in reprimand, admitted, “I did argue against it, you know.”
A soft chuckle came over the line, and I could feel Aakar’s smile when he asked, “Like a lot?”
I couldn’t stop the blush that spread across my cheeks as I shook my head. “A lot.”
“I would’ve done the same thing.” His honesty soothed the jagged edge of vulnerability that had been poking my nerves.
“I know. You already did.”
Even though he had argued with his mother about her expectations of his future wife, I knew he was terrified for me . Or the wife he would have. Nevertheless, it meant something to me. It was an assurance that he would stand against his mother if she were in the wrong. Aakar was reasonable and trustworthy. He was a man who would support his wife and take care of her wants and needs, even if it came at the expense of his happiness.
“Yeah, well,” he murmured.
I smiled. Things felt more right now. Not perfect, but right enough. “Good night, Aakar. See you soon.”
“Soon, Kriti. I’ll let Maa know to schedule our meeting as soon as possible.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, Kriti.”
“Good night, Aakar.”
Even after we ended the call, I stayed on the balcony, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. I was glad I’d told him about the meeting, but I was terrified of what came next.
The next day, Maa practically burst with happiness. I half expected her to break into a cheesy Bollywood song about weddings as she twirled in the kitchen, informing my masi about how in demand I was. She went on and on about how a family was coming to see me tomorrow, and Aakar and his family were scheduled for Friday, the day after tomorrow.
Aakar’s mother certainly didn’t waste any time calling my mom once Aakar agreed to the second meeting. She had called around nine in the morning, and by ten after nine, Maa had messaged me with about twenty emoji exclaiming her joy. I just sent her a thumbs-up and returned to the staff meeting to discuss the logistics of our annual sports day in two months.
I loved and hated school functions like these. They involved endless meetings, petty fights among teachers trying to do the least amount of work, and staying extra hours to get everything in order. There were decorations, invitations to parents, gathering equipment, setting up water and snack stations, and arranging extra security.
The only reason I loved these events was the smiles on the students' faces. They always seemed to get a little relief from their studies and personal struggles. Events like these gave them a reason to let go, engage in healthy competition, and have fun with their classmates. All the extra hours and quibbling with other teachers were worth it.
The moment Rati, Kartik, and I were back home, Maa pulled me into a hug and swayed me side to side. I couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy or even the last time she had hugged me. Rati and Kartik shared smiles behind Maa’s back and, with a few teasing remarks, left the living room.
I pulled out of the hug and said, “Maa, you need to calm down. It’s just two men, not a line outside our house.”
She waved her hand in the universal sign of shut up. “You won’t understand. I was losing hope just a few days ago, and look at you now. Two rishtas in two days.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Rishta implies it’s a proposal. These are just two meetings in two days.” And just to temper her excitement, I said, “And you need to calm down, Maa. You’re making me nervous.”
She gasped. “Oh no. Don’t you get nervous at all, beta. I’ll get the lunch set up. You go freshen up. Your father will be home soon.”
I spent the rest of the day preparing charts for sixth-grade science class, checked the homework assignments of my ninth-grade students, and went to Meera’s place to help her pack. She was planning to leave the village soon and move to Ahmedabad, and I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.
The next day, I returned home from school in a sour mood. During lunch, while correcting notebooks in the afternoon, and even as I started getting ready, one thought kept playing in a loop in my mind: Aakar did not call me today. We usually talked while I waited for Rati and Kartik, and even if he couldn’t call, he always texted me. Why didn’t he call today? Was he busy? Upset? Did he care enough to be upset for so long? Didn’t he realize that I didn’t care at all about today’s meeting?
It was merely an obligation.
I wasn’t looking forward to it like I was to Friday. Just thinking about seeing Aakar again caused a riot of butterflies in my stomach. I was already wondering what I would wear when Aakar came, what we would talk about, and whether I would feel the same warmth and comfort in person as I did on the phone.
With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I got ready to meet another man. This time—for the first time—I prayed it wouldn’t work out.
Aakar
Friday.
How could I be so stupid?
I should have told Maa that I was only available on Thursday. Maybe then Kriti’s parents would have canceled the meeting with that other guy today. I wasn’t usually the insecure type. I’d never had a long-term girlfriend. Not that Kriti was my girlfriend. And I was the one who had told her to do what she must. I knew how Indian moms of unwed daughters could get. I understood every valid reason for Kriti to meet this other prospect.
And still, I did not like it.
Just then, the door to my office burst open, and Abhi walked in. “Yo, bhai, we’re ordering samosa and kachori. How many for you?”
I was supposed to be focusing on work and managing my new team. And here I was, lost in thoughts about Kriti. What would she wear for the other guy? Had he read her biodata? What if the other guy liked her and said yes to her?
My stomach soured at the thought.
“Bhai?” Abhi repeated, his eyebrows raised in question at my silence.
“I can’t eat.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Acidity. Just count me out.”
“Should I get you an antacid?”
My thoughts wandered once again. What if Kriti liked that guy back?
I quickly got up from my chair. “I’ll get it myself.”
Maybe an antacid was the cure for this sour taste at the back of my throat and this burning sensation in my stomach.
I went to the office pantry, grabbed some medicine from the first-aid drawer, and popped one in. As I took a big gulp of water, my gaze fell on the wall clock above the fridge, and I nearly choked. It was 5:30 p.m. This time tomorrow evening, I will be meeting Kriti.
Right now, she was probably meeting that other guy. There was a reason I didn’t call Kriti today. What was I supposed to say? Hey, are you excited about your meeting today? Hope you have a good time? Nope. Wasn’t gonna happen. And I refused to think about it anymore.
I splashed some water on my face at the sink, wiped it with my handkerchief, and headed back to my office. I had work to do.
By the time I finished an important meeting and updated a presentation, it was already eight o’clock. Abhi, Dad, and my uncles had left over an hour ago. I locked the office and got into my car, turning on my playlist and blasting the AC. The random music always helped shift my mood.
As I drove my usual route, I let the cool air and upbeat Bollywood party songs wash over me. At the traffic light, I handed out some biscuits to the beggars tapping on my car window, moving on as the signal turned green without letting the sting of pity settle in.
I refused to let thoughts of Kriti and the what-ifs bog me down. When did my feelings toward her shift from let's see where it goes to why does she need to meet other guys?
How did people in arranged marriages make the decision to marry someone so quickly? What made them say yes after just a few meetings? Was it love? A mutual understanding? A compromise?
I knew Kriti and I were seeing where it went, but the thought of her talking to another man did not sit well with me at all. I wanted to scream at her and tell her that she didn’t need to talk to any other man when she had me. I was here.
One date and a few hundred text messages later, I was getting entirely too possessive of Kriti.
In the world of arranged marriages, I’d reached a point where meeting another woman felt wrong to me. Damn, I thought this arranged marriage business was supposed to be less complicated than love marriages.
When I reached home, Maa had already packed her bag and placed it in the foyer.
At the dinner table, I asked her, “Why the entire suitcase?”
She placed one more paratha on my plate. “I thought since we’re going on a Friday, we’d stay the entire weekend. We’ll visit our village temple, help Meera and her mother with some last- minute packing, see if they need anything, and stay at our village house. It’s good to keep visiting the house. It keeps it warm and welcoming.”
Of all the things Maa listed, I heard only five words: we’d stay the entire weekend.
Three days to meet Kriti.
Endless opportunities played through my mind, my mood shifting from sour to elated. My mind kept shouting, "In your face, other guy," to the imaginary, monstrous version of a guy it had created. A guy I’d never met, and pray to God, I never would.
After dinner, I packed my bag, paying far more attention than usual to my choice of clothes, belt, shoes, and handkerchiefs. I freshened up for bed, lay down, and stared at the slow-moving fan, the plain navy curtains, my desk bursting with ironed clothes, my desktop, notebooks, water bottle, and board games.
I stared at everything and anything except my phone.
My phone with no new messages.
She must know I hadn’t texted because it would be too awkward. But why hadn’t she texted me? What possible reason could she have not to text me a sweet, innocent, one-word Hi?
Fuck this.
I turned off my phone, got up, put the phone in my desk drawer, walked back to the bed, and rolled under my blanket. There, now, I won’t be tempted to text or to hear the stupid vibration of an incoming notification.
With stupid thoughts and unstoppable what-ifs swirling in my mind, I went to sleep counting down the hours before I met Kriti.
We arrived at Kriti’s place at five o’clock and were welcomed just like last time. The difference was in who all came with me. This time, to my utmost displeasure, almost all of my family members had tagged along. Apparently, since it was the first time I had willingly asked for a second meeting, my entire family was hell-bent on meeting the "miracle girl." So here we were—my parents, Abhi, Ria, her parents and her younger brother, my younger uncle and aunt, and their kids—waiting for someone to open the door.
Kriti’s father opened the main door, and her mother stood in the foyer to lead us all to their living room. There, standing by the sofa, was Kriti.
Her hands clutched the edge of her dark red and navy dupatta. Her hair fell over her gorgeous curves in dark brown waves. My stomach clenched with sudden arousal, and I looked away to Maa and Abhi to prevent an embarrassing situation. But holy shit. Did she keep getting hotter and more beautiful every time I met her?
As I took a seat on the chair perpendicular to Kriti’s, our knees brushed together. I didn’t move away. To my pleasant surprise, neither did she. As the elders and kids settled down and engaged in customary conversation, I tried to sneak a look at Kriti. It would have been so much easier if we were seated across from each other. How was a man supposed to look at his…uh…prospective wife without alerting the adults when they were seated so close?
My mother introduced Kriti to everyone in our family, and the entire time she said namaste to each person, I watched her. Her light golden salwar kameez was almost muted by the bold red and navy dupatta. Her sharp eyes hadn’t once turned to me. A big red bindi adorned her forehead, and dangling gold earrings swayed every time she talked and nodded her head.
I’d forgotten how beautiful she was.
Whether she wore traditional clothes or jeans, bindi or no bindi, or laughed at me or sat stoically without meeting my eyes, she made my heart pound.
The introductions were done. The pointless conversation was getting out of control when the elders kept finding common connections—be it friends, family, relatives, or neighbors—just to find common ground to make themselves feel at ease.
And still, Kriti didn’t look at me.
I knew because I never stopped looking at her.
So many questions popped into my head. How was your meeting with the guy? Did you like him better than me? Why didn’t you call last night? How could I be so full of questions, so angry at my desperation, and still not be able to look away from her?
Kriti’s younger siblings, both sixteen years old, brought trays full of chai and snacks. Kriti and her mother helped pass them along to everyone. When she handed me the cup of chai, our eyes met for a brief second. At that moment, I saw it—hurt, repressed anger, and hard eyes full of doubts and accusations. My own eyes probably mirrored the same emotions because she quickly looked away and took a seat with her own cup of chai.
That was all I could take. I might have been patient and calm, waiting for the parents to initiate the formality of letting us talk in private, but the hurt in Kriti’s eyes changed everything.
I placed the cup on the coffee table, turned to Kriti’s father, and asked, “Can I take Kriti for a drive? If you don’t mind?”
Everyone stared at me, their eyes wide and mouths agape. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so impatient to get Kriti in my car, drive off, and hash everything out. My father looked ready to come to my defense, while Abhi seemed to struggle not to smile outright.
To my surprise, Kriti’s father recovered much faster than her mother. “Uh…of course, son,” he said, glancing at my family for confirmation. At my father’s nod, despite the befuddled look on his face, I got up from my seat.
I waited for Kriti to get up, a polite smile pasted on my face. She didn't take long. Quickly, she placed her cup on the coffee table, stood, arranged her dupatta, and stepped forward. We made our way out of the house as everyone gawked at us in silence.
Kriti walked a step ahead of me as we exited the house and descended the three steps to the main gate. Without thinking, I lightly touched her lower back to guide her toward my car. She took a sharp breath, and I quickly backed off. “Uh…sorry about that,” I murmured, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.
“It’s okay,” she whispered softly as I walked beside her.
“That’s me,” I said when we reached the car. I pulled open the passenger door for her. Once she got seated, I quickly ran to my side and climbed in.
We were silent as I reversed the car and pulled out of her housing complex. The local radio played in the background as the car gradually cooled to a more comfortable temperature. I drove in the direction of the open fields and inner roads to avoid the evening traffic.
As we moved farther away from the core village area, the traffic outside dispersed, and the silence in the car became stifling. I lowered the radio's volume, signaling to Kriti that it was time to talk. I tried to appear nonchalant and focused on the drive, not breaking the silent battle that seemed to have ensued.
I waited for a minute. Then two, as I counted the seconds in my head.
“How was the meeting with the guy?” And I broke. Fuck. “You don’t need to answer that,” I added quickly, trying to respect her privacy, though I really hoped she would.
She sighed as I focused on the road, deliberately avoiding her gaze. “He was certainly more communicative than you are right now.”
A sound of disbelief almost escaped me, but I choked it down. “Is that so?”
I could feel her eyes on my face, my body rigid with the scrutiny. She made a soft sound of agreement. “He also lives ten minutes away from my house.”
An involuntary scoff escaped me. “He’s a villager, you mean.”
This time, her glare hit the side of my face like daggers. “Just like me. I won’t have to change my job, and I could visit my family quite often.”
My teeth ground together, and the steering wheel started to hurt my palms from my tight grip. “Great.”
“Aakar,” she growled at me. I couldn’t help but turn to look at her. Her eyes were wild with frustration, and she looked about ready to strangle me. That just managed to bring a smile to my face.
I looked at the bend in the road, turned on the indicator to the left, and parked the car on the side of the deserted road. Just so I could see her face and talk to her. Things needed to be sorted. Now.