12. Rani
12
Rani
‘He’s shutting me out,’ she declared to Sophie. They were sitting in the middle of Hyde Park near the fountains at dusk. Office workers were rushing past them, relieved at finally being let out of their corporate prisons. Ali was playing near the fountain and delighting himself with scooping out water with his palms and dropping it on the ground. If she had been on her own, she would have stopped him, but around Sophie she found herself being more permissive. Sophie delighted in Ali’s antics, even ones that Rani would have scolded him for. When he squealed loudly as he ran after some pigeons outside the train station, getting in the way of commuters, Rani had shushed him, but Sophie had laughed, chasing pigeons alongside him. When he had screamed at being put inside his pram, Rani had told him loudly to stop crying whereas Sophie, after asking Rani’s permission, had handed him a little box of raisins. ‘I always carry a box with me, just in case the kids are getting ratty,’ Sophie had said. ‘Even though now of course they turn up their noses at mere raisins.’
Maybe white parents were more permissive as a whole. They allowed their children to experiment and rarely seemed to get angry with them, at least in public, when they did something that didn’t meet societal expectations. Rani wondered if she was placing adult expectations on her child. Perhaps it was okay for children to let themselves be heard in public by doing what children did, which often was to squeal and shout and scream.
‘Who knows what men are thinking?’ Sophie responded to Rani, letting her fingers drift into the fountain water, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.
Ali was splashing so much water he was starting to get wet. Rani reached over and picked him up. Ali struggled in her arms, wanting to be set free, so he could continue to drench himself.
‘Aw, he was enjoying splashing around,’ Sophie said.
‘A bit too much. I don’t have a change of clothes for him.’
Sophie shrugged. ‘It’s not too cold,’ she said.
‘Yes, but if Dan sees him like this he would get angry,’ Rani said as she relented and put Ali down, letting him go back to splashing water.
‘Does he get angry often?’ Sophie was looking at her with concern.
‘No, not at all. But he’s already, you know, I can see he’s already not that pleased with me.’
‘And because you let your son play in the fountain he will get mad?’
She could see the picture Sophie was beginning to paint of Dan and it wasn’t exactly accurate. He had never expressed his anger in any way other than by shutting her out and giving her the silent treatment. That wasn’t domestic abuse, that was just a man simmering away for reasons she hadn’t quite figured out yet.
She had texted Dan before she headed to the city to meet Sophie, telling him that she was taking Ali out in the afternoon for a bit. Maybe they could meet for dinner seeing as Dan’s office was also in the city? He’d texted a brief Okay and nothing more, leaving Rani confused if they were even going to meet for dinner or if he was just saying okay to her plans. She decided to leave it.
She and Sophie were meeting in the city because they figured it was central for the two of them, though the fact was that Sophie could catch an express bus from where she lived that would get her to the city in twenty minutes, whereas it would take Rani close to an hour on the train. Still, it wasn’t something she was going to complain about. Ali was excited to head into town and she hoped that the bright lights and the new surroundings would keep him distracted. But it wasn’t so much the city that distracted Ali but Sophie. He seemed to delight in her presence from the moment they met.
‘Oh my god, I miss my kids being this young!’ she’d said, ruffling Ali’s hair. Now she was crouching beside him and having a quiet conversation where Ali stood in a puddle of water. Ali was soon putting his hand in Sophie’s and coming back to where Rani was sitting.
‘We decided that we were done with the water play for now. Especially as I mentioned there was a possibility we would be getting milkshakes. If that’s okay with you?’ Sophie said.
‘Milkshakes sound great,’ Rani replied.
They made their way to a cafe inside a shopping centre. One of the few that was still open.
‘One thing I miss about India is that a lot more places are open at night. Here all the cafes close at three, and if you want to eat dinner after nine, forget it, nothing is open,’ Rani was telling Sophie as they sat on some stools drinking hot chocolates, a strawberry milkshake for Ali.
‘I can’t remember the last time I had a hot chocolate,’ Sophie said as she took a sip of hers. ‘We’re always getting them for the kids. And yes, I hear you. Coming from Manhattan, Australia’s early closing hours were a rude shock.’
For a moment the two of them didn’t say anything and there was a slight hint of awkwardness in the air that went on for long enough for Rani to wonder why they had even decided to meet. Perhaps they needed Meena there as a bridge. After all, she was somewhere halfway between Rani and Sophie.
Sophie, as if reading her thoughts, said, ‘I did ask Meena to join us but she was busy. Or at least I think she was, she didn’t answer my calls. She has a lot going on right now.’
Rani nodded.
‘Thought you would find this funny. I bought Meena a gift inspired by you.’
‘Oh, what was it?’ Rani imagined Sophie had gone to an Indian boutique somewhere far from where she lived to pick up some shalwar kameez, perhaps even a sari or a set of bangles.
‘A vibrator,’ Sophie said, laughing as she did. ‘I couldn’t believe when Meena told us that day that she had never owned one. The woman is going to have her mind blown.’ She laughed further at that.
Rani didn’t answer, still recovering from the fact that she was now a reminder of vibrators.
‘A vibrator?’ she repeated.
‘Vibrator,’ Ali piped up just then.
‘Sssh!’ Rani hissed.
Sophie meanwhile was in hysterics.
‘Vibrator!’ she said loudly.
‘Vibrator!’ Ali said, even louder, getting excited.
‘Please,’ Rani said, trying to calm them down. She could feel eyes on them. Imagine if someone she knew heard them, what would they think? Though she quickly corrected herself, she knew no one and no one knew her.
‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ Sophie said, calming down. ‘But sorry, I got carried away.’
‘And Ali learnt a new word. Dan would be mad if he heard him say it,’ Rani said.
‘There, you said it again, him becoming mad,’ Sophie said, suddenly serious.
‘No, it’s not like how you imagine. He’s not an angry man at all. But I am aware of his moods. Sometimes he just gets silent.’
‘Isn’t it funny how we have to change ourselves as women to appease our men,’ Sophie said. ‘Like we can’t be free to be ourselves.’
‘I don’t know. It’s different for me and you,’ Rani said. ‘I guess Meena was right in a way when we spoke. Things that you are allowed to do, I am not. Even though we both live in this country, I’m still in many ways bound by my culture.’
Sophie nodded, composing her face in a way that tried to convey she understood, though Rani wasn’t sure if she did. She wasn’t sure if she understood herself. She had been out of India for almost a decade. She was a mother and a woman that had divorced and married again. In many ways she had not let old cultural values decide what she was going to do with her life. If she thought about it, she wasn’t sure if those cultural values ever really mattered to her.
They sipped their hot chocolates in silence as Ali delighted in swirling the ice cream into his milkshake, watching it disappear into the pink and showing Sophie the results. She nodded back at him encouragingly.
‘He’s such a sociable little kid. He must be popular with his friends at preschool.’
‘He doesn’t go,’ Rani said. Sophie looked surprised.
‘I told Dan he should go but then he said Ali didn’t need to.’
Sophie looked at Rani but kept silent, though Rani knew what she was thinking.
‘I get a feeling I’m painting a really bad picture of Dan when in fact he isn’t bad at all. He’s a very good father and a good ...’ She couldn’t make herself finish her sentence. ‘I think Tariq ruined me for other men.’ She didn’t intend for those words to come out, but there they were.
‘Tariq?’ Sophie asked.
‘My first husband.’
Sophie lifted her eyebrows but didn’t say anymore. Rani kept speaking.
‘We grew up together, you see. He was my first friend and my first love. For a long time I couldn’t believe that God had made it so that my soulmate also happened to be my neighbour. What were the chances of that? Surely it shouldn’t have been that easy, I thought. Of course, it turned out to not be easy at all.’
She could tell Sophie wanted to ask her what happened, but she kept quiet. Which was good because Rani wasn’t sure she would know what to say in response. She hadn’t known what to say when it seemed the whole world was asking her that question. She and Tariq were always meant for each other. Everyone knew it. So when she had to tell everyone they weren’t together anymore, no one understood. In many ways, to this day, she didn’t fully understand it herself.
‘I guess love is never easy, is it?’ Sophie said. ‘I’ve only ever loved one man. It seems so old-fashioned to even admit that. And then today I went and ruined everything I had with him.’
‘How?’
‘I told him being with him was a mistake.’
Rani cringed, mostly because Sophie reminded her of something she too had said in the past.
‘What did he do when you said that?’
‘Nothing. He just got up and left the house and after that I went and threw up all the sushi I’d eaten for lunch.’
‘Did you call him? Text him? Maybe he just needed to cool off.’
‘No, I didn’t. Why should it be me? It can’t be me running back to him.’
‘Why? I’m sorry, but sometimes our egos get in the way of what is right. We don’t want to admit we were wrong, and even if we weren’t wrong, sometimes we have to go back and be the humble one. Trust me. I once lost everything I had in a moment of anger. If I could, I would change it all in an instant.’
Just then Ali looked at her and smiled and she smiled back, even though her eyes were sad.
‘My first husband Tariq and I had just come back from Goa,’ Rani started, before telling Sophie the story of how she ended up in Australia.
They had spent New Year’s Eve in Goa, the two of them and a bunch of their closest friends who had all paired off in marriages both love and arranged. Arriving back to Hyderabad they had been happy, glowing from days spent splashing around in the waves fully clothed, drinking water from fresh coconuts, eating streetside snacks during the day and dining in polished restaurants at night alongside Western tourists. She was on a high, but then Tariq went and said he wanted a change.
‘Let’s move, yaar, this place, this country, it’s so boring,’ he said one evening.
She turned her head to hide the slight rolling of her eyes. She understood that coming from a wonderful holiday back to the reality of day-to-day life was boring. There was no denying it. They both had to go back to their jobs and pay the bills and go make family visits, which she enjoyed, but perhaps he found a chore. Plus the nearest beach was a few hundred kilometres away, and he had told her when they were in Goa how much he wanted to live by the ocean so he could wake up every day and have the rhythm of his breath matched by the waves that crashed on the sand.
‘Sure,’ she had said, hoping to appease him. She figured by the time February rolled around they would be immersed back in their lives and his wanderlust would be quelled.
But one day in the beginning of February he told her how he had visited an immigration agent to start the process of moving to Australia. The agent had told him that if he wanted to move with his wife they’d better hurry, as they got most points between the ages of twenty-five to thirty-two.
‘You’re turning thirty this year, Rani,’ he reminded her.
‘Okay, so?’ she asked. She had become quite annoyed at being told how old she was. Her mother had taken to telling her often, especially as she hadn’t become pregnant as yet. ‘I thought by the time you were thirty I would have at least two or three grandchildren,’ her mother had said. Rani had listened patiently to variations of that statement over the last couple of years, not telling her mother she’d had an IUD implanted. She was working her way up the career ladder in an IT firm. She was a senior project manager and wanted to get up to middle management level, at least, before she took her foot off the accelerator.
‘And what would we do after we move to Australia?’ Rani asked, humouring Tariq.
‘We would do whatever the hell we wanted,’ Tariq said. ‘We could live near the beach, we could travel and see crocodiles. I hear they have a lot of them, especially in the north of the country. We won’t have anyone watching over us or telling us what to do.’
‘Who tells you what to do?’ Rani asked.
‘I don’t know, society, our families – Rani, have you forgotten our college days? I was the president of the socialist party, remember?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
Tariq looked at her with incredulity. ‘Do you not see it? The corruption, cronyism, and nepotism keeping us down? Surely you have noticed how things work? No one in power really wants to see change. The beggars are still haunting the streets, the caste system is still thriving, Muslims are being vilified, especially under this new government. It’s all right in your face!’
There had been a time when things like this bothered her more, but now she was focused on making her own life better. She wanted to do well at work and see her parents and go shopping with her sister. She wanted to have chai and chaat along with late night chats with her friends. And, she didn’t want to admit, she was becoming aware of a strange hankering for children. She was thinking of getting her IUD removed. It was something she was looking for the right moment to bring up with him.
‘Australia’s got its own problems,’ she said.
‘Yes, but they don’t discriminate based on caste or religion,’ he replied.
‘Not outwardly.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know things! I read too. I’m not as much of an idiot as you think I am.’
‘I never called you an idiot.’
‘You didn’t have to!’
She stomped off to their room and he went into the living room and turned on the TV at a very loud volume. But they never stayed angry at each other for long. When it was time for dinner he poked his head in the bedroom.
‘Did you want to go out to eat?’ he asked, and she nodded. When they got on his motorbike she refused to wrap her arms around his waist, but after he started the engine he turned around and grabbed her hands, placing them around him. She moved in closer and held him tight as they rode down their neighbourhood street. The warm night wind began to stroke her face and she dug her nose into his shoulder. She loved him no matter how angry he made her.
A few weeks later they had filled in the forms and lodged them with the migration agent. She didn’t tell her family. She figured the process would be long, that it would take years and by then they would have children and Tariq would be so preoccupied that he wouldn’t even care if they got a visa to move or not.
‘I’m getting my IUD removed,’ she told him the day after they had filed their immigration papers.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Why do you think?’
‘Your ammy finally got to you?’
‘No, it’s got nothing to do with Ammy. As you so kindly reminded me before, I’m about to turn thirty and I would like to have children, so it makes sense to ...’
‘Since when?’
‘Since when what?’
‘Since when did you want to have children?’
She looked at him a little confused. They had never spoken about their desire for a family but she thought he understood that it would happen sooner or later.
‘Since always,’ she said.
‘Are you kidding? You’ve never spoken about children before today.’
‘Well, I didn’t need to. I thought we both understood how it worked. You get married, move in together and have children. That’s how life works. Do I have to explain it to you?’
‘Arre, why are you getting so angry about this? It’s an honest question. You’ve never seemed the maternal type to me. It’s why we work. We go places, we do what we want, we spend money on ourselves, there’s nothing holding us back ...’
‘You see children as something that holds you back?’
‘Don’t you? No seriously, how many carefree parents do you know? Our friends are jealous of us.’
‘Jealous? I don’t think so.’ She didn’t want to tell him the things she heard the women say. How on their holiday she had caught a couple of her friends talking about her childless state. ‘Perhaps the poor thing can’t get pregnant,’ one of the women, someone she considered a close friend, had said.
‘All our friends have children,’ she said to Tariq. ‘And they were still able to come on the holiday we had. We are lucky to have family nearby who will happily look after our children. Kids won’t hold us back. If anything, they will be a blessing.’
Tariq seemed taken aback by this conversation. He got up onto his feet and started pacing the room. ‘Not once were children brought up,’ he said, although it seemed he was speaking more to himself than her.
‘I didn’t feel I needed to say it out loud. I thought you understood.’
He stopped and looked at her. His eyes appraised her almost in a clinical way. She wasn’t sure what was happening. Did all men freak out when their wives brought up the prospect of having kids? She wondered if she should call one of her friends to find out, though she wasn’t sure if she could trust any of them for advice anymore. If she did, she was sure the gossip would spread.
She got up and went to him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders. ‘It’s okay, we don’t have to have children straight away. I’m just getting the implant removed. It doesn’t mean we will get pregnant. Not right away. If what happened to my ammy was anything to go by, it might take years.’
She said this to reassure him even though it pained her to say the words. What her mother had gone through had left an impression, and she had carried this fear inside of her from a young age. Now that she was considering becoming a mother the fear had hardened. What if she never became a mother? The thought made her sadder than she wanted to admit.
‘I wish I had said something before.’ Tariq spoke with what she judged to be a look of desperation. ‘But I don’t want to bring children into this world. We have too many people on this planet as it is. Our country especially.’
‘Tariq, it’s okay. I know, the thought of having children is scary but we can do it.’ She tried to make her voice soothing. ‘And who better to look after our planet than the people we will raise. The world after all will need to be placed in safe hands. Those hands could be our children’s.’
‘No, you don’t understand, Rani. I don’t ever want to have children. I want this to be clear. Bringing more life on an already burdened planet is not what I will do.’ He spoke resolutely.
She knew he had certain ideas about the world and the planet and the country. He was outspoken about it and many people in the past had called him a radical. And she believed in much of what he said too. They were open-minded and free-thinking people. They were the future. But to her, none of that had any bearing on having children.
‘Politics shouldn’t have to get in the way of bringing life into the world,’ she said.
‘This isn’t about politics. It’s about core beliefs. It’s my core belief that I won’t burden the planet any further with children. Just like it’s my core belief that the world would be a better place if we abandoned the constructs of capitalism.’
‘Okay, enough. I’ve been very understanding but let’s be real. I want children. It makes sense for us to have children. You will still have your politics and your core beliefs, but you can have them while also being a father.’
The word made Tariq spin out. ‘Father? Me? Even saying it out loud highlights the ridiculousness of it. I’ll never be a father, Rani. Mark my words. I’m sorry. I know you think you want to be a mother. But maybe you can put those maternal instincts to work by volunteering at an orphanage or something. We have lots of children in our country who need good people to look after them.’
He sounded so patronising she wanted to slap him. She went completely silent. He would have known she was very angry. And she knew that the last thing he ever wanted was to make her angry. But he didn’t back down.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘On this one thing I won’t change my mind.’ The way he said those words made her believe him.
That night they went to bed in complete silence.
The next day she left him a note saying she was going to spend the next couple of days at her parents. She expected him to check in on her later that day and make sure she was okay. A part of her hoped that he would say he regretted what he had said. That perhaps there was some flexibility on his part. But he didn’t.
On the second night with her parents, her mother asked if Tariq was going to come pick her up because she would make extra roti if he was coming. It was her way of asking Rani if everything between the two of them was okay.
‘Maybe,’ Rani said. She hoped that Tariq would come. If nothing else, perhaps he would text her to ask if she was coming home? But there was no text. No phone call. No contact at all.
Four nights into her stay at her parents’, both her father and mother became concerned. Her father said that he was planning to visit a friend who lived near Rani and Tariq’s place. If she wanted, he could drop her on his way? Rani shook her head.
That night, panic sank into the pit of her stomach. She picked up her phone and pulled up Tariq’s number. But for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to call him.
The next night Hafsa asked her straight out.
‘What’s happening with you and Tariq?’
‘He told me he doesn’t want kids,’ Rani replied.
‘All men say that. Or so I’ve heard. What’s the big deal?’
‘He means it.’
‘They all mean it and then end up with like five kids.’
Rani didn’t say anything.
‘Just call him. Ammy and Papa are worried. They’ve never seen you both act like this.’
‘He should call me. He should be worried about me.’
‘Weren’t you the one who left? Maybe he thinks you’re super mad or something.’
‘He’s used to me getting mad. He always checks in on me.’
‘Well, maybe this time you should check in on him.’
She was right, Rani knew that. But still she couldn’t dial his number.
The next day her father declared he was going over to see Tariq. Enough was enough. If Rani wasn’t going to tell him anything then maybe Tariq would. Rani didn’t stop him.
Much later that night, her father returned home with a sad look on his face. It worried Rani much more than she wanted to admit to herself.
‘What did he say?’ she asked urgently.
‘He said he thinks your marriage is over.’
Rani’s stomach began to churn and she felt an overwhelming sense of fear overcome her body.
‘Call him, darling.’
‘He doesn’t want to become a father, Papa.’
‘Men say all kinds of things. But call him. He needs to be reassured by you.’
That annoyed her. Tariq had made her aware of his core beliefs. Well, one of her core beliefs was she would never diminish herself in order to appease a man. Why did she need to reassure him when he was the one who should be reassuring her? He was the one who had made this ridiculous oath never to become a father. Shouldn’t he then be the one trying to win her over so she could somehow understand how they were going to move on in their relationship?
‘Why didn’t he call me?’ she asked her father.
‘He’s waiting for you. Rani, I can take you to him. You both need to sit down and talk.’
But Rani disagreed. They both needed time to simmer down so they could approach what to do next in a more rational manner. So she didn’t call him. She didn’t visit him. And finally, a number of days later when she felt she was ready to speak to him, she received a text.
I have packed my things and put them in storage. Feel free to come back to the apartment to take your things. I have gone back to Goa to clear my head. I’m sorry it ended this way.
It felt like a punch in the guts. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Instead she fell on the floor in a heap. When her mother found her like that she was the one to scream instead. She called for Hafsa and Hassan and her father. Her family descended on her with their love and concern. And while she appreciated their care, all she wanted was Tariq.
When the shock subsided she called his friends. She needed to get in touch with him. He wasn’t responding to texts or calls from both her and her family. But the friends, it seemed, were on Tariq’s side. ‘What did he tell you?’ she wanted to ask. ‘How did he paint himself to be the injured party?’ This too she didn’t ask. Instead she let them speak and it quickly became clear they had all been friends with her because of him. She understood. He was most definitely the charismatic one of the two of them. The one everyone wanted to be with, especially her.
A month later, he finally emailed her.
I’m heartbroken but also for the first time I can see clearly, and it’s so plain for me to see that my whole life has been clouded by you. Not in a bad way, but perhaps in a way that hadn’t allowed me to fully grow into the person I want to be. Childhood sweethearts sound romantic but in reality, you should not marry the person who knew you when you still had baby teeth. That made me smile. Maybe it’s a sign I’m finally coming out of the darkness caused by your absence. You will always be a part of me. But maybe we need to come to terms with holding on to the memories we shared and creating new ones without each other. Trust me when I say this was harder for me to write than you can imagine.
There was a long period after that where she found it hard to function as a normal person. She left her job. She stopped speaking to her friends. She barely spoke to her family. She spent all day in bed, coming out occasionally to shower and sometimes, when she could no longer ignore the hunger pangs, to eat. Her family tried to be understanding, but she could also see the toll it was taking. Her mother was suffering, her father was beside himself with worry. Her sister and brother too suddenly seemed to mature. She was hurting those who meant everything to her.
And then, without warning, a letter came in the post. The Australian government had granted her a student visa. She could go there and study and work part-time to support herself. Her instinct was to throw the letter in the bin. But then she saw that moving away was the easiest way to ease her family’s pain, and perhaps in time, her own.
By the time she was packing her things in order to move to the other side of the world, she had already turned thirty. The age everyone around her had been warning her about. Now that her whole life had turned upside down, she knew it was unlikely she would ever have kids. And when she thought about that, it didn’t seem like too bad a thing.
For a moment she found it hard to transport herself back to the present, so much so that when she took a deep breath she could still smell the scent of the apartment she shared with Tariq filling her nose. Opposite her sat a wide-eyed Sophie. Beside her was Ali who had become very quiet, focused on drawing on a paper napkin with the pen Sophie had borrowed from one of the waitstaff.
‘You should call Todd,’ Rani said, her eyes still clouded by the deep sadness that descended every time she thought of or spoke about Tariq.
‘But the move. I don’t know if I want to go ahead with it.’
‘Give him a chance to at least talk it through with you. Don’t wait like I did, until it’s too late and the damage is done.’