10. Sujit
SUJIT
“ T hat’s the question, isn’t it?” Aarti said with a pensive curve of her lip. “Who am I? Is it who I am, or who I’ve become? And is our self-perception influenced by how others see us?”
I contemplated her questions while nursing the glass in my hand.
“You know how I feel?” she asked, sitting up in the chair. “Like no one has ever loved me for me. No one knows who I am. What I am.”
Uncertain if she wanted my verbal input, I reserved my words and kept my eyes on her.
“You know what I love? I love reading, and I love someone reading to me. I used to lay with my head in Mom’s lap, and she’d read to me every night until I was almost ten.
I love that feeling of sharing stories with someone.
I want to share a gasp when something intriguing happens in a book.
I love to read aloud sentences that are strung together by the sheer beauty of the language.
And you know how many people know this about me? ”
I shook my head.
“One. My mom. I was all set to marry him, but even Sameer didn’t know this. He never had time. Now I know he never had time for me.”
Her eyes glazed, dimming the happy gleam in them from a moment ago.
“What else do you love?” I asked, and she looked at me with surprise.
“You really want to know?” she asked with a lilt in her voice.
“I do.” I sat back and crossed my ankles on the hassock.
“I love doing my own makeup. I love pampering myself because only I know what I like. I love a well-made tiramisu.”
I smiled. “And here I thought you were a chocolate cake gal.”
She laughed in response. “But no one knows any of this about me because no one asked. People always assume things about me because of how I look or who my father is. Right from the first boyfriend I had in high school to Sameer and every other man who wanted to marry me, I’ve been an heiress who was incredibly hot.
I was only ever defined by two things: my looks and my father’s wealth. ”
I let a beat of silence pass before saying, “That’s unfortunate.”
“You’re defined by your wealth, too,” she observed.
“And it is unfair. Your worth is measured in terms of your assets—the car you drive, the expanse of the home you live in, the brand of clothes you wear, your lifestyle. In today’s shallow world, the allure and the enigma of a billionaire surpasses the evils that wealth inequality has created in our society. ”
Fuck! These were my words in her voice. If I thought I was impressed with her before, she just turned this into a full-blown admiration.
“But,” she said, and I reined in my walloping heart. “The burden of the body that women are made to carry is so unfair, so cumbersome.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that.
“My closest friend in college, Isha, was a fat activist,” she said. “She identified as fat, politically. She didn’t mince words. No fat acceptance , she used to say. Acceptance assumes toleration. Why should fat people expect to be tolerated? We have a right to exist as we are.”
I nodded.
“As a fat person, society expected her to hate her body, but she didn’t. And she wanted to be with someone who understood that. She didn’t want to be in a relationship, even casually, who didn’t see her body as a part of her, and vice versa.”
Aarti was in the zone now, her eyes fixed on a spot behind me.
“At that time, I didn’t give it much thought, because I possessed the ideal body type as defined by society.
I thought my situation was different. Then I heard what men had been saying behind my back, and I realized that Isha and I were not that different after all.
We both were defined through our bodies.
Following in her footsteps, I decided I didn’t want to be with anyone who didn’t respect my body the same way I did.
The only purpose of my body is not to be fuckable, to be there for others’ pleasure.
She wasn’t seen as more than her body, and neither was I. ”
“I’m sorry, Aarti.”
She let out a hysterical laugh. “Are you going to apologize to all women? Because most of us have been through this.”
I grew thoughtful. “I think as a society we can keep apologizing to women, and it will never be enough for all the crap we’ve put you through.”
“You got that right,” she said with a snort, then her eyes turned soft.
“In fact, even though I later found out that Sameer didn’t love me, he was the only one who’d made me feel good about myself in a long time.
Yes, he used me to reinstate his family name, but he saw me as a person.
He respected me. He wasn’t faking that. He’s a good man, and I hate saying this, but Tara is lucky to have him. ”
He was lucky to have Tara, but I didn’t mention it.
“Do you run into them often?” I asked. “I just realized I don’t have to see them or accidentally run into them, but you live in the same city.”
She nodded. “Yup, same city, common friends. Even if I don’t want to, certain social events mandate our presence. Friends’ weddings, business socials, award functions in the desi community.”
The soft lines of sadness on her face gave a faint impression of a flower that was preparing to wilt.
“You will find love again, Aarti,” something inside me prompted me to say.
“Maybe, but I am not worried about it. I have enough on my plate and more. My family and friends keep setting me up on dates, though I’ve not found anyone remotely interesting.
” She rolled her eyes and smiled when I chuckled at her words.
A part of me celebrated the fact that her dates had been dull.
“I like this,” she said, making herself comfortable in the oversized chair. “I like that I can talk to you about anything that crosses my mind without fear of being judged or ridiculed.”
I leaned back against the couch, almost slouching, and adjusted my face to see her.
“Me too. I’m always closely guarded about what comes out of my mouth, especially after the breakup. With you, I can just be me. I don’t have to worry about what you’ll think of me, or if I share something, it will somehow appear in the desi rumor mill.”
“Here too?”
“Here and New Jersey.”
“After Sameer dumped me, they maligned his name, poor thing. Dad’s too influential and well-connected for them to come after me, but Sameer lost many big business accounts after that. But hushed gossips didn’t spare me either.”
“How did you cope?” I inquired softly.
“Not well. I isolated myself, avoided gatherings while I healed. Then I realized that the rumors might actually do me good because people would stop approaching my parents with marriage proposals. And it worked. For months, there was sweet, golden silence on that front. Then, last month, we bought out four big real estate companies, increasing our worth and our influence on the East Coast. And the worms came crawling out of the woodwork. So many pathetic men who don’t want to work but instead survive on my father’s wealth.
They call me damaged goods and hope that I’ll settle for a less-than-ideal match to save face. ”
The cruelty in those words hurt a deep place in my heart.
“They want me to play the dainty socialite who’ll stay in my little box after the wedding,” she continued.
“Fuck that! I’m single-handedly running my father’s company.
I love what I do, and I’m very good at it.
My brother is younger, pampered, married, and a new father.
He’s still learning the ropes. But I’ve doubled the company’s size and worth since I started.
I turned thirty-one this year, and people say to my parents, how long will you keep her unmarried ?
Thankfully, like me, my mom is mouthy. She retorts, as long as it takes for her to find a deserving partner . ”
I poured myself another finger of the smooth liquor.
“So, what’s your sob story?” she asked, sipping the water in her glass.
I sighed. “My sob story is that Tara was the first woman I truly loved.”
“You’re kidding. How old were you?”
I laughed. “Old enough to have sorted out first love and crushes a long time ago.”
“I refuse to believe that you never liked another woman until you met Tara.”
“Well…”
“I knew it. Tell me everything. Leave nothing out.” She grinned and sat up to savor the juicy tale. Except, there was no meat in this story. Literally and figuratively.
I chuckled inwardly before I said, “I never told her I liked her.”
“Who was she?”
“Technically, a friend. We were in the same group of friends in college, and I liked her immensely. But before I could gather my wits to tell her, she was going out with my friend, a close friend at the time. That door literally slammed shut on my face. They married after college and divorced a few years later.”
Her eyes studied me with curiosity. She knew there was more.
I nodded, slightly unsettled by this recognition from her, this connection we shared as if she knew exactly what thought was crossing my mind at that moment.
I resisted against it, tried to quash it, but I knew I was weak before it. Before her.
“She contacted me after her divorce and asked me to meet over coffee. I saw no reason to refuse, especially since we operated in the same industry. She confessed that she knew I was interested in her, but chose my friend because she thought he had better prospects. I had to appreciate her honesty. But it was too late. I didn’t feel anything for her anymore. ” I offered a light shrug.
“And you never liked anyone else?”
“I stayed away was more like it. Maybe I’m a true romantic who believes love will find its way to me. Or perhaps I am too scared to acknowledge my desires.”
And now, after Tara, even more so . I wondered if Aarti had heard those unsaid words. I evaded her gaze and heard her take a deep breath in.
“I sometimes wonder if who we are is also influenced by who our parents are. And what they aren’t,” I mused aloud, trying to track the course of my life.