Chapter Thirty-Seven
For the first time in my life, my mother doesn’t yell at me when she’s angry. I’m so grateful to whoever invented the silent treatment, I send up a prayer to rest their passive-aggressive soul.
Romona seems worried about me. My heart warms at her care. Both she and my aie were waiting up for me when I got to the suite a little after midnight last night.
Romona hugged me tight and told me she was glad I was safe. “Don’t worry about the phone. Things can always be replaced.”
I did thank Aie for teaching me the bra-as-a-bag trick, and she cracked a little and patted my shoulder. All they know is that we were robbed on the train, and they’re aghast that we chose to go on to Pune anyway. Neither of them has asked if we found Vasu.
We have another day of shopping left, and I really have no interest in it. That’s one of two difficult pieces of news I need to break to them as we make our way through another endless cornucopia of international breakfast foods. I need something simple and comforting today. I pour good old-fashioned American maple syrup on my waffles and top it with an extra serving of whipped cream and carry it to the table.
The moms watch me expectantly. I start with the easier piece. “I need to spend the morning getting a new phone today. Is it okay if I skip shopping?”
Aie slams her teacup on the table hard enough that a few of the neighboring tables look over. “Is this Romona and my wedding, Mira?”
The truth is that Druv and I are getting married but the wedding is Romona’s and Aie’s more than it is ours. I don’t say it. Naturally Aie hears that I think it.
“I’m so grateful for all the work you’re both doing for the wedding. If I didn’t need to take care of this, I would love to look at jewelry with you.”
My mother throws me a look that says If your mother-in-law wasn’t at the table, I’d smack you .
Instead of making me angry, this amuses me. I’m not afraid of her anymore. I don’t think I ever was. I was afraid of hurting her feelings. But she’s an adult who’s just as responsible for how she treats me as I am for how I treat her.
“Don’t you want to choose the sets you will wear at your wedding?” Druv’s mom says. “Those look very different worn than in pictures.”
That’s a fair point. “Maybe you two could narrow down the choices while I get the phone taken care of, and I can come by and try them on to make a final choice?”
Romona brightens. Aie doesn’t give an inch.
“That works,” Romona says. “I also wanted to go to dinner at my cousin’s favorite chaat place to celebrate getting everything done.”
“I think I’m flying out to Darjeeling this afternoon.”
They freeze midchew.
Aie stands up. “I’m so sorry, Romona! I would not blame you if you reconsidered making her your daughter-in-law.”
Romona gasps. Anger speeds up my heartbeat.
“Don’t say that, Ajita. At least hear her out.”
“You’ve been so patient with her,” Aie says. “But I can’t pardon such selfish behavior. We’ve spent months trying to make your wedding perfect for you, and you want to run around looking for some stranger?”
“You’re the one who wanted an elaborate wedding. I wanted a simple ceremony. I know I did agree to it, so I am grateful, and I came here with you, but none of this is about making anything perfect for me.”
They both gasp now. Then Aie turns around and makes a grand exit, her cane thumping dramatically next to her.
Romona and I sit there. An awkwardness between us for the first time.
“I’m guessing whatever is happening in Darjeeling is important.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “Druv and Ariana are so lucky to have had you as a mother.”
She gives me a look that blends commiseration with sympathy. “Well, I had it easy. I didn’t have to struggle like Ajita. The important thing is how hard she’s worked for you. She loves you. She’d do anything for you.”
Our family’s theme song.
“In that case she’ll come around to being okay with me going to Darjeeling instead of Akola with her. That would be doing something for me.”
Nonetheless, she is my mother, so I go back to the room to try and soothe her. I fail. She threatens to not pay for the wedding if I go to Darjeeling.
“I’m going, Aie. I’m also happy to have a small wedding that Druv and I will pay for ourselves. So, it’s your call.”
“That poor boy. He didn’t know you would change into this selfish person when he decided to marry you. I feel pity for him for having to deal with this new version of you for the rest of his life.”
Meanness. Another thing that has always sliced me to pieces. Now I see it for what it is. A weapon I’ve allowed her to wield to control me.
When I don’t answer, her response is to call Baba and start screaming, while sobbing, about how I’ve lost my mind. I feel like I’m in one of those Indian soap operas Aie used to watch when I was growing up. As if to add to that theme, Romona comes back to the suite and starts to placate her.
I feel the kick of humiliation I’m so used to. I gather my things, write down Romona’s number, then promise to call her when I have my new phone and leave.
The second the door shuts behind me, I want to crumple to the floor. Instead of powerful, I feel sick to my stomach with guilt and anger. It’s like I don’t recognize the person who’s taken over my body, and I want the ease of my old self back. I’m a bird who’s never learned to fly, toppling out of my nest. I can’t fit in the nest of my old self anymore. All I can hope is that my wings will find a way to hold me up before I crash to the ground.
The feelings of guilt and anger don’t go away as I take a rickshaw to the mall, but the feeling of rightness does return. The act of growing a spine hurts, but it doesn’t seem reversible. I don’t want it to be reversible. I wish I could go back and tell Aie that I love her but I need her to treat me like an adult. I need her to listen to what I want. I want her to see who I am. I want to have a conversation with my mother that isn’t a lecture, a monologue, or a transactional list of favors. A simple conversation between two people who respect each other. And I want that for both Rumi and me or not at all.
It takes over an hour to get my phone set up and download everything from the cloud. It’s like those bastards never stole it. It’s all in my hand again. I’m guessing Krish has bought a new phone by now too and had it set up. I text him.
Me: I have a new phone
Him: No!
Me: Good to see you have yours too. Don’t you love technology?!
(Silence accompanied by three dots.)
Finally, him: I have our ticket options.
After that change of tone and topic, the rest of the conversation is spent deciding between leaving in three hours so we get there this evening or leaving first thing tomorrow. It’s a three-hour flight to Bagdogra, then a two-hour cab ride up the Himalayas to Darjeeling.
We decide to leave today. I don’t think I’m going to be very productive in Mumbai with Aie. Suddenly, I need to put this behind me so I can return to my life.
I call Romona, then stop at the jewelry store and try on jewelry. Five sets for my five main outfits. Romona oohs and aahs. Aie is grumpy but nods along with Romona’s reactions. Then I tell them that I’m going to the airport from here, and Aie freezes over like a statue again.
After we’re done, I drop them off at the hotel, pick up my bags, and head to the airport, where I’m meeting Krish.
Ten minutes into the drive, Druv calls. I feel like one of those superheroes holding multiple laser beams at bay with both hands.
“I no longer want you to do this,” Druv says without preamble. “You’ve already been robbed, and you found out what happened to Vasu. Why can’t the journalist guy do the rest by himself? He’s the one who’s going to benefit from the story anyway.”
“This means something to me, Druv.”
“That’s what I don’t understand. I get why you got excited about it. Why it took up your imagination. You had never left home. This got you out of your family’s shadow. It gave you adventure, a sense of satisfaction. I’m sure it’s been great, but now it’s getting in the way of our real life.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Mira! I’m not your enemy. Your mother is no longer speaking to you, three months before our wedding. Ma has gone to bat for you. She’s completely okay with your brother bringing his cross-dressing boyfriend to the wedding. My grandmother is going to be there. A bunch of people who aren’t as liberal as us are going to be there. She’s still doing this. For you. Because it means something to you. Don’t you think that’s amazing?”
“Actually, no, Druv. I don’t. This is not about being liberal or not being liberal. This isn’t about Romona Auntie being okay with Saket. This is about you thinking that being okay with Saket is a choice you get to make, let alone something you have to do for me. This is about the fact that we’re even having a conversation that reduces real human beings to an issue you’re compromising on.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said exactly that.”
There’s a moment of silence. I’m so angry, my skin feels hot. I’m ashamed that it has taken me this long to understand what I was doing to my own brother.
“I’m sorry,” Druv says finally. “You’re right. I never saw it that way.”
I feel like a hypocrite. Less than a month ago I would not have seen it this way either. I would have been grateful if Rumi got to attend my wedding with Saket. I would have thought myself lucky to have a family who was so tolerant .
“I know,” I say. “Thanks for listening.”
“Are we okay?”
“I think so. But I’m still going to Darjeeling.”