2 States The Story Of My Marriage (25 page)

welcome nowhere. And now you think I am imposing on you,’ I said and couldn’t

control myself. I held the phone tight and cried.

‘Stop Krish, don’t,’ my mother said.

I composed myself and used my left leg to open the fridge. I took out a bottle

of water and drank it. ‘What do I do?’ I said after I regained composure.

‘Come back. Why don’t you apply for a transfer back to Delhi?’

‘I only came here six months ago.’

‘Say you have family issues. Tell them I am sick.’

‘Mom, please.’

‘Leave your job if you have to. We’ll find another one. There is a Canara Bank

right across our house.’

‘Mom, I’m in Citibank. It is an MNC.’

‘Fine, we will look for a multinational. Swear on me you will ask for a transfer.

Don’t be trapped in the city with horrible black people.’

‘Mom, they are not all bad.’

‘I don’t care. Apply for a transfer or I will send a letter to your boss. I will say I
am an old woman and you have to consider my plea on humanitarian grounds.’

‘Mom, swear on me you will never do anything like that,’ I said and smiled at

her choice of words inspired by Indian government offices.

‘Then you do it.’

‘I will, mom. I have to finish a few things first. I am almost there,’ I said and
regained my composure.

‘OK, you fine now?’ she said.

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‘Yes, I am good.’

‘Good. And don’t take any nonsense from these Madrasis, give it back to them.

They get scared fast.’

‘OK, mom.’

‘And don’t get serious about that girl.’

Already too late for that, mom, I thought. ‘Good night, mom,’ I said.

‘I love you. Good night,’ she said and hung up.

I came back to my bed and tossed the letter in the bin. I felt light after speaking
to my mother and drifted off to sleep in five minutes. What would the world be

without mothers?

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33

‘Bike?’ Ananya beamed when I went to pick her up on a black Yamaha RX 100.

‘Bala’s,’ I said.

Ananya sat pillion in a maroon salwar kameez, using her white dupatta to

cover her head and face. She looked like a member of Veerappan’s gang.

Pondicherry is a hundred and forty kilometres away from Chennai, down the

East Coast Road, or ECR, running along the Bay of Bengal. Fisherman’s Cove

falls on the way, twenty kilometres outside Chennai city.

We left Ananya’s office at Anna Salai. She sat behind me and held the sidebars

tight. By the time we left the city at Lattice Bridge Road, she switched from

gripping the sidebars to my shoulders. We took the Old Mahabalipuram Road,

which led us to ECR.

‘This is beautiful,’ I said as the sea became visible.

‘I told you.’ Ananya planted a kiss on the back of my neck.

We halted at Fisherman’s Cove where I met the catering manager briefly.

Everything seemed under control for the Citibank event. We left the resort and

came on the ECR again. An hour of driving later, we passed Mahabalipuram. It

had stunning rock-cut temples next to the sea.

‘Wow, these are amazing temples,’ I said as the wind swept back my hair.

The ECR ended an hour after Mahabalipuram. The roads became narrower. We

passed several little towns with long names and sprawling paddy fields. At a few

places, I had to stop to make way for bullock carts, village school kids and

goatherds. We reached Pondicherry around noon, and my first reaction was

disappointment.

‘This is it?’ I asked as I reached the main chowk in the town. It was like any

other small town in India, dusty and noisy with Cola ad signs painted on uneven

walls.

‘The nice part is inside, the French quarter and the Aurobindo Ashram,’

Ananya said as I negotiated a sharp bend in the road along with fifty other two-

wheelers and four trucks.

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The only French I saw was an underwear billboard with the brand Frenchie.

‘Drop me here,’ Ananya said as we passed Cuddalore road, where HLL has one

of its factories.

I had three hours to kill in this Malgudi town as Ananya had an extended lunch

meeting. We had agreed to meet at the L’Orient hotel at four for coffee.

I drove out of the factory compound and followed the signs to the Aurobindo

Ashram on Rue de la Marine. The Ashram building resembled a quiet hostel by

the sea. I came to the reception. More foreigners than Indian thronged the ashram

lobby.

A forty-year old Western woman in a sari and beaded necklace sat at the

counter. ‘What are you looking for?’ she asked me.

Maybe, because I was in an ashram, or because the way she said it, I

suspected deeper meaning in her question. I looked at her. She had blue eyes

with wrinkles around them. ‘I’ve come for the first time,’ I confessed.

She gave me Ashram brochure. Another person came and bought meal tickets.

‘Can I get lunch here?’ I asked.

‘Yes, at the Ashram Dining Hall,’ she said and showed me the coupon booklet.

I bought one for myself.

‘Come, I’m going there,’ she said, walking out with me from the reception. We

walked along a lane adjacent to the ashram. The dining hall was half a kilometre

away. She told me her name was Diana and that she came from Finland. A former

lawyer, she now found more satisfaction as a volunteer at the ashram than

helping Nokia secure patents.

‘Are you a seeker or here as a tourist?’ She handed me my coupon.

‘Seeker?’

‘Yes, if you wish to seek your path. Or if you seek answers to a specific

problem.’

‘Frankly, I came with a friend who had some work here. I wanted a day away

from office.’

Diana laughed. We reached the dining hall and picked our stainless steel

plates. We entered the eating area where everyone sat on the floor. Lunch was

simple – organic brown rice, yellow daal and a carrot and peas subzi.

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‘OK, so I seek an answer. How do I get it?’

‘Well the answers are within us. People stay in the ashram for a few weeks to

introspect, they attend satsang and ask questions of one of the gurus. How much

time do you have?’

‘I need to meet my girlfriend for coffee in two hours. Then head back to

Chennai.’

Diana smiled and shook her head. ‘That’s a pretty stiff deadline to sort out

life’s unresolved answers.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t even try then,’ I said.

‘Wait, see the gentleman there,’ she said and pointed to a seventy-year-old

man in white robes who sat two rows ahead of us. ‘He is a guru. Maybe I can

introduce to him.’

‘No, no, please don’t,’ I said.

‘Why not? If he is busy, he will say no.’

‘Pranam Guruji,’ Diana said and touched his feet. I followed suit and he

blessed us. ‘Guruji, this is my friend. His name is,’ Diana said and paused.

‘Krish.’

‘Yes, he has only two hours. But he wanted to seek answers to some

problems,’ Diana said.

‘What do you have to do in two hours?’ Guruji asked, his voice calm.

‘He has to meet his girlfriend,’ Diana said, excitedly stressing on the last word.

‘And surely, the girlfriend is more important than the problem,’ Guruji smiled.

‘Actually, she is the problem,’ I said.

Diana threw me a puzzled look.

‘Not her. But her family,’ I said. ‘It’s OK. I know it is very little time.’

‘Send him to my house in fifteen minutes,’ Guruji said and left.

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34

I hovered at the open door of Guruji’s house before walking in.

‘Come in, Krish,’ Guruji said. He sat on a day-bed in his living room. I had

thought I’d be roaming around French cafés in Pondicherry. I had no idea I’d end

up in a guru’s house. The tiny house had sparse wooden furniture.

‘You may find it strange to be here. But I’d like to think we were destined to

meet,’ Guruji said.

‘Do you read minds?’ I wanted to know.

‘I read people. Your nervousness is obvious. Sit,’ he said and stroked his white
beard.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, facing him.

‘What is bothering you?’

‘My girlfriend is Tamilian, I am Punjabi. Our families are against our marriage. I
am doing whatever I can, but it is stressful.’

‘Hmmm,’ Guruji said. ‘Close your eyes and speak whatever comes to mind.’

‘I love her,’ I said, ‘and we make each other happy. But if our happiness makes
so many people unhappy, is it the right thing to do?’

I rambled for some more time; Guruji didn’t make any sound. Since my eyes

were closed, I had no idea if he was even around anymore. ‘She is my future,’ I

concluded.

‘Is that all?’

‘You are there?’ I countered.

‘Are you sure this is the only problem that is bothering you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There is a lot of … pain in you, unresolved issues. Before you build a future,
you must fix the past.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I opened my eyes. Guruji’s eyes were shut.

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‘Close your eyes,’ Guruji said.

‘I have,’ I said and shut them again.

‘What keeps you awake at night?’

I kept quiet.

‘Do you take a long time to go to sleep?’ he probed.

‘Yes,’ I said.

“What kept you awake lately?’

‘Various things. There is work, which I am not exactly exited about. There’s

uncertainty about Ananya. There’s my father.’

‘What about your father?’

‘It’s complicated,’ I said.

‘And a heavy load, isn’t it?’

I sighed deeply.

‘Let it go,’ Guruji said.

‘I can’t. I don’t want to. I haven’t even talked about it.’

‘I’m listening,’ Guruji said. He bent forward and placed his palm on my head. I
felt a new lightness. I felt transported to another world. It was as if my soul had

disowned my body.

‘Guruji, don’t make me do it,’ I begged, not wishing to revisit the pain that

awaited me.

‘Go on, I’m listening.’ Guruji said.

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35

Three years ago

My father came home at midnight. I had waited for hours. I didn’t have time, I had to
talk to him tonight. He refused dinner with a wave of his hand and sat on the living room
sofa to take off his shoes.

‘Dad?’ I said, my voice low, I wore shorts and a white T-shirt. The T-shirt had a tiny
hole at the shoulder.

‘What?’ he turned to me. “Is this what you wear at home?’

‘These are my nightclothes,’ I said.

‘You don’t have proper nightclothes?’

I changed the topic. ‘Dad, I want to talk about something.’

‘What?’

‘I like a girl.’

‘Obviously, you have time to waste,’ he said.

‘It’s not like that. She is a nice girl. An IIT professor’s daughter.’

‘Oh, so now we know what you did at IIT.’

‘I’ve graduated. I have a job. I’m preparing for MBA. What’s the problem?’

‘I don’t have a problem. You wanted to talk,’ he said, not looking at me.

‘The girl’s father is taking her abroad. They’ll get her engaged to someone else.’

‘Oh, so her father doesn’t approve of it.’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

I looked at the floor. ‘We had some issues with him, me and my friends.’

‘What issues? Disciplinary issues?’

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‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Shocking. The son of an army officer has disciplinary issues. All the reputation I have
built, you’ll destroy it.’

‘Those issues are history now.’

‘Then why does he have a problem? Does your mother know about this?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Why hasn’t she told me? Kavita!’ my father screamed.

My mother came to the room, woken from a deep sleep. ‘What happened?’

‘Why was I not informed about this girl earlier?’ my father screamed.

‘He told me only a few weeks ago,’ my mother said.

‘And you hid it from me, bitch,’ my father said.

‘Don’t talk to mom like that,’ I said in reflex. I would have said more, but I need him
today.

My mother broke into tears. This wasn’t going well at all.

‘Dad, please. I want your cooperation. If you meet her father, he may reconsider.’

‘Why should I meet anyone?’ he said.

‘Because I love her. And I don’t want her to go away.’