Chapter 42
The sun was shining brightly when Manisha finally dragged herself out of bed, determined to shake off her gloom.
She sat on the back porch, basking in the sun’s warmth, and felt a sense of calm wash over her.
For once, she didn’t care about her phone buzzing with notifications.
She just wanted to be in the moment, but her mother’s voice shattered the silence.
Manisha rolled her eyes—of course her mother found a way to disrupt her tranquility.
Her mom stood on the porch beside her. “So quiet today.”
“It is,” Manisha replied.
But her mother wasn’t satisfied. “No. You. You are so quiet.”
Manisha rolled her eyes again. “Geez, Mom. Why can’t I be quiet? Why do I always have to be on?”
“Because I want to hear something from my daughter. Tell me a story—any good dates lately?” she prodded.
Manisha’s frustration boiled over. She popped up from the bench seat. “No, Mom, and you know what? I’m tired of this. I can’t even talk to you without you getting in my face about dating, getting married, having a baby.”
Her mother tried to calm her down. “Manisha—”
But she wasn’t having it. “I’m so sick and tired of it. Why did I even bother to come back to Baskin? This place is a total gossip mill! Between all the nosy questions and your constant grilling, I’m losing it!”
Her mother looked stunned. “Isha, come sit down,” she said gently.
Manisha flinched at the use of her nickname.
“I was just asking questions, like I always do—I’m sorry.”
But Manisha was too angry to listen. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry, too, for thinking you could just be a normal mom for once in your life and have a conversation about my career, my friends, or maybe the fact that I need your help with stuff,” she snapped.
Her mother tried to make amends. “I can help now. Tell me where to help?”
“Yeah, well, guess what? It’s too late.”
She slammed her teacup on the kitchen counter as she returned inside the house and grabbed the keys to the SUV.
Tears streamed down her face as she drove away, not knowing where she was going but escape the only thing that made sense.
After weeks of going on dates, concocting a master baby-plan full of deception, and falling in love with a fantasy, she had gotten nowhere.
For once, she wanted to have no idea where she would end up.
That felt safer than any plan. So Manisha drove and drove without looking back or thinking ahead.
Finally, she stopped her car in a neighbourhood that looked all too familiar.
Her phone had been ringing non-stop, but she wasn’t ready to talk to anyone—except for one person, that is.
The one person whose house she was parked in front of, but with whom she wasn’t sure how to even start a conversation.
She sat in her car, staring at the property, noting how well-kept it looked.
Just like she had imagined it so many times since the last time she had seen it.
A beige Toyota Corolla was parked in the driveway.
Manisha rubbed her eyes, trying to banish any remaining tears.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her Live Tinted Huestick, the only thing she had to illuminate her dull face.
She tried rehearsing different ways to start the conversation, but none seemed right.
Finally, she decided to just go for it. After all, what had planning ever gotten her?
Manisha got out of the car and slowly approached the door. She pressed the doorbell lightly, half hoping it wouldn’t chime. But on the other hand, she was so ready to see her again…
“Grandma.”
The door opened as Manisha said the word. Her tiny grandmother wore thin-rimmed glasses, her hair in a bun, and a beautifully tailored Indian suit as bright as the blue sky.
“Manisha. I wondered if you would come in or continue wasting time outside.”
And there it was, the signature sarcasm that she remembered so well. Manisha couldn’t help but smile.
“How did you even know it was me?”
“Your mother brings that monstrous thing when she comes to visit,” her grandma said, nodding at the car. “Now come in before you change your mind and leave.”
Manisha walked in, realizing she didn’t exactly look presentable in her Hermès T-shirt and ripped jeans. But she hadn’t known she would end up here.
Her grandmother hugged her unexpectedly, and Manisha returned the gesture, holding on slightly longer than she normally would.
“Aja. I just made tea.”
Manisha sat in the large living room as her grandmother poured the tea in the kitchen.
The place was simple and spare, contrasting with the eclectic Patel living room.
Her grandmother’s white walls weren’t covered in pictures but rather houseplants that stretched through the house.
On a side table, Manisha spotted a couple of wooden elephants from her parents’ home-decor store.
There was no way…had Grandma been to the store?
“It’s from the store, yes. I was there the other day. I met your mother for coffee.”
Manisha’s head whipped around. “Really? I mean, I had no idea you were still speaking to her.”
“Arrey, of course we talk, beta, she is my daughter. But seeing her and not you kids, it’s not easy, you know? She always sends me pictures, and she tells me how proud she is of your career. I am so happy for your success in London. God bless you.”
Manisha was surprised her mother had even remembered to mention her career among all her marriage disappointment.
“Thank you. I, um…”
Her grandmother handed her a cup of tea as she sat across from her.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, honestly.”
“That is okay. At least you are here.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner, Grandma.
I wanted to defer to Dad’s feelings, but I don’t even know what started this whole thing.
I mean…what happened? Why doesn’t Dad talk to you anymore?
” Manisha felt like a little kid who’d be reprimanded for asking the tough questions she wanted answers to, but she dove right into it, knowing there would be no newspaper swats here.
Her grandmother took a long sip of her tea and reclined in her chair. With only a few wrinkles and not a touch of makeup, she was stunning.
“It is my fault. I was unfair to your father.” She paused. “When your father and mother were taking out loans for their store and falling deep in debt, I…well, I told your mother to leave him.”
“What?” Manisha said, shocked.
“Manisha, I was raised to believe a man should support his family, not put his wife under financial stress.”
“But Grandma, Mom wanted the store—”
“And I wanted my daughter to be happy. I thought if she were with someone wealthy, it would provide her the happiness she deserved.” Her grandma fiddled with her teacup. “So, I did something terrible; I went behind your father’s back and drew up legal paperwork for a divorce.”
Manisha was speechless, in total disbelief.
“I regret doing it. You see, your mother didn’t want money. She loved your father—he’s all she wanted. And yes, eventually they were financially stable, successful even. He had every right to be upset and angry with me when he found out what I did.”
Manisha’s grandmother took a long pause as they both sat in silence.
“Manisha, I was projecting my own unhappiness with your grandfather onto your parents. Your mother was always happy with your father, in love, but I…wasn’t.”
This was news to Manisha. “You weren’t happy with Grandpa? You weren’t in love?”
“My marriage was arranged. We were two people who simply had to make it work. We respected each other, but it would be dishonest to say that we were happily in love. Your mother’s marriage was different, though. It grew from a place of love first. It wasn’t arranged.”
She was learning all kinds of new things today. “We always thought it was.”
Her grandma shook her head. “She chose him, and he chose her. They met on a field trip with their respective schools, and in a few days, your father came to our home and asked permission to marry our daughter.”
Patels didn’t waste any time—no matter their generation.
Manisha sat in shock. All this time, she assumed her parents had been preselected for each other, but they’d loved each other from the start.
“Do you think Dad will ever come around?” Manisha asked, her voice tinged with sadness.
“Perhaps eventually, beta. You Patels are stubborn,” her grandmother replied gently.
“That is very true.”
“So, tell me, my beautiful granddaughter, why, after all this time, are you here?”
“I needed to get away. I needed to hide for a bit. Maybe forever.”
“You can come here and hide anytime, beta. I am always up for company. But what, or who, are you hiding from?” Her grandmother’s tone was shrewd.
Manisha hesitated before answering. “From…um, love…and Rohit-slash-Sunil.”
“Two boys? Va va. Your mother was once like that, too. Peter Rocky on one hand, your father on the other.” Her grandmother chuckled, a knowing smile playing on her lips, reminding Manisha of her mother.
“Dr. Rocky and my mom?” Manisha asked. On some level, she had known, but still, she was a little taken aback by the revelation.
“She left him for your father. Manisha, tell me—who do you truly love? Rohit or Sunil?”
“Both,” Manisha blurted out, feeling embarrassed. “It’s complicated, Grandma. I don’t want to get hurt.”
“You won’t, beta, unless you deny yourself love. It is the greatest wealth in life, Manisha,” her grandmother said softly, her voice filled with wisdom.
Manisha smiled, touched by her grandmother’s words. “Thanks, Grandma. I really needed to hear that. I’m glad I ended up here with you.”
“Come then, stay for dinner,” her grandmother said with a warm smile. “You can wash up upstairs. I’ll get everything ready.” She led the way up the creaky oak stairs, her steps slow but sure.
“You know this ‘Grandma’ business is too gori pakori. You should call me Nani.”
Manisha let out a little laugh. “You’re right, Nani.”
As they climbed, Manisha caught sight of a familiar face on the wall.
“Hey, is that Mom with the SRK?” Manisha looked in amazement at the picture of her mother with Shah Rukh Khan.
“Oh, yes, it is,” her grandmother replied with a twinkle in her eye. “Let me tell you the story about that guy. Your mother had a few suitors back in the day…”
Manisha chuckled, knowing she was in for a familiar tale. One she would believe this time.
“By the way, my good friend Beatrice showed me a website with my picture on it. It says I am some matchmaking auntie. Do you know anything about this?”
Manisha smiled, nodding. “Oh, Naniji, do I have a story for you…”