The Perfect Groom: Chapter 3
Ashok didn’t come back home in the night nor did I expect him to. He would probably go pick up my mother-in-law straight from wherever he was. I couldn’t sleep after the upsetting call with my father-in-law. I quickly took a bath and got dressed in a sari.
While I was making breakfast, Ashok called me. “Hello.”
“Yes?”
“Amma’s flight is delayed by 3 hours. I am at the fucking airport. If my father Desikacharya, the bastard, calls, tell him,” he said in a drunken drawl.
“Ok,” I replied.
God! He is drunk. I just hope he sobers up before his mother arrives or else there will be another conference call from the inquisition squad in India.
I quickly prepared lunch and thought I would go and meet my friend Diana.
Diana owned a restaurant right around the block. We became friends three years ago. I had been in the neighborhood park, brooding over my hopeless situation and crying. I didn’t notice anyone and no one bothered me. I didn’t know how long I sat there. Suddenly I felt a hand comforting me. It was Diana. She said that she had been watching me for a long time.
“There, there, dear! Don’t cry.”
I poured my heart out to her. Sometimes it is easier to talk to strangers. Things that I had kept hidden from my mother and sister tumbled out of my mouth. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I was glad that I had Diana to fall back on, in this strange country.
I made paneer pakoras for her to taste. She loved Indian snacks, especially samosas, and was forever asking me to give her recipes to try. I wrapped the pakoras in aluminum foil and went to the restaurant.
Diana is a 40-year-old woman with gray eyes, blonde hair and a lovely dimple. She was writing something in her notebook when I entered. She looked up and smiled at me. I sat beside her and waited until she finished and gave her the paneer pakoras to taste.
“Hmmm. Very nice, Nithya. I am thinking of adding a couple of Indian snacks to the menu. There has been a noticeable increase in Indian customers here,” she said, eating the pakoras with relish.
“How about it Nithya? You can make this stuff from home and send it around to the restaurant. I’ll pay cash. What do you say?” she asked.
Diana’s suggestion seemed God-sent but I also wanted it to be my ticket out of the house.
“My mother-in-law is coming from India today. So most likely she will take over the kitchen. I can come here and make the snacks, if you don’t mind. How about that?” I asked.
She seemed pleased to hear that. “Sounds better. We can serve them hot! Great. So how long is your mother-in-law here?”
“For about three months I think. She might leave earlier if my sister-in- law’s marriage gets fixed,” I said.
“I still can’t understand why you won’t leave him? Divorces are also common in India. My Indian friend Malathi is divorced and happy.”
I bit my lip while I pondered her question. She never really understood why a younger sister would have trouble getting married if the older sister got divorced.
“Ashok and I have an agreement. I can’t back off now,” I said morosely.
She scowled and pursed her lips as she considered my situation.
“What agreement? He’s just taking advantage of you. Can’t you see that? And have you thought of what you want to do, once you go back to India?” she asked.
I have thought about nothing else in all my time here.
I looked directly at her and said, “I want to go back to India and start a restaurant like yours. I have studied hotel management.”
She seemed pleased with my decision.
“That’s good. At least you have a definite plan. So when is your sister getting married?
Does she like anyone?” she asked.
Despite having many Indian friends, Diana never really understood the concept of arranged marriages. We had several interesting conversations and arguments about how people get married in India after one or two meetings.
“My sister just completed her engineering. Next month she will be joining Wipro. She will need some time to get settled in her job,” I said.
“That could be another three to four years. What about Ashok’s sister? How old is she?” she asked pondering deeply over my situation.
“She is twenty-two years old. They are actively looking for a match. My mother-in-law wants Ashok to find someone for her from the US. But he is not very keen,” I said.
“I’m not surprised. So you are going to lead this sham life for the next four years. Do you think it is worth it?” she asked me directly.
I was afraid to answer that. She was right. It was not worth it. But I just needed to pretend that everything was fine, until Divya got married. That’s all.
While I was making breakfast, Ashok called me. “Hello.”
“Yes?”
“Amma’s flight is delayed by 3 hours. I am at the fucking airport. If my father Desikacharya, the bastard, calls, tell him,” he said in a drunken drawl.
“Ok,” I replied.
God! He is drunk. I just hope he sobers up before his mother arrives or else there will be another conference call from the inquisition squad in India.
I quickly prepared lunch and thought I would go and meet my friend Diana.
Diana owned a restaurant right around the block. We became friends three years ago. I had been in the neighborhood park, brooding over my hopeless situation and crying. I didn’t notice anyone and no one bothered me. I didn’t know how long I sat there. Suddenly I felt a hand comforting me. It was Diana. She said that she had been watching me for a long time.
“There, there, dear! Don’t cry.”
I poured my heart out to her. Sometimes it is easier to talk to strangers. Things that I had kept hidden from my mother and sister tumbled out of my mouth. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I was glad that I had Diana to fall back on, in this strange country.
I made paneer pakoras for her to taste. She loved Indian snacks, especially samosas, and was forever asking me to give her recipes to try. I wrapped the pakoras in aluminum foil and went to the restaurant.
Diana is a 40-year-old woman with gray eyes, blonde hair and a lovely dimple. She was writing something in her notebook when I entered. She looked up and smiled at me. I sat beside her and waited until she finished and gave her the paneer pakoras to taste.
“Hmmm. Very nice, Nithya. I am thinking of adding a couple of Indian snacks to the menu. There has been a noticeable increase in Indian customers here,” she said, eating the pakoras with relish.
“How about it Nithya? You can make this stuff from home and send it around to the restaurant. I’ll pay cash. What do you say?” she asked.
Diana’s suggestion seemed God-sent but I also wanted it to be my ticket out of the house.
“My mother-in-law is coming from India today. So most likely she will take over the kitchen. I can come here and make the snacks, if you don’t mind. How about that?” I asked.
She seemed pleased to hear that. “Sounds better. We can serve them hot! Great. So how long is your mother-in-law here?”
“For about three months I think. She might leave earlier if my sister-in- law’s marriage gets fixed,” I said.
“I still can’t understand why you won’t leave him? Divorces are also common in India. My Indian friend Malathi is divorced and happy.”
I bit my lip while I pondered her question. She never really understood why a younger sister would have trouble getting married if the older sister got divorced.
“Ashok and I have an agreement. I can’t back off now,” I said morosely.
She scowled and pursed her lips as she considered my situation.
“What agreement? He’s just taking advantage of you. Can’t you see that? And have you thought of what you want to do, once you go back to India?” she asked.
I have thought about nothing else in all my time here.
I looked directly at her and said, “I want to go back to India and start a restaurant like yours. I have studied hotel management.”
She seemed pleased with my decision.
“That’s good. At least you have a definite plan. So when is your sister getting married?
Does she like anyone?” she asked.
Despite having many Indian friends, Diana never really understood the concept of arranged marriages. We had several interesting conversations and arguments about how people get married in India after one or two meetings.
“My sister just completed her engineering. Next month she will be joining Wipro. She will need some time to get settled in her job,” I said.
“That could be another three to four years. What about Ashok’s sister? How old is she?” she asked pondering deeply over my situation.
“She is twenty-two years old. They are actively looking for a match. My mother-in-law wants Ashok to find someone for her from the US. But he is not very keen,” I said.
“I’m not surprised. So you are going to lead this sham life for the next four years. Do you think it is worth it?” she asked me directly.
I was afraid to answer that. She was right. It was not worth it. But I just needed to pretend that everything was fine, until Divya got married. That’s all.
No comments have been added yet.
