CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Hindi word for not peaceful is ashanti.
The phone rang. I stood by Kishore as he answered it. After a few moments he said, "Oh, hello Priyanka." He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as he listened and followed his hello with a "Yes" and a "No" then, "We would love to." He talked some more then hung up the phone and turned to sheepishly look at me.
"Julie… don't get mad…"
I shook my head, "No, Kishore I won’t."
"Do you promise?"
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Yes Kishore.”
He just looked at me.
I put up my right hand like I was taking an oath and vowed, “I hereby promise I won’t get mad."
"Okay, ummm, well, that was Priyanka"
I had guessed that when he said, 'Hello Priyanka.'
"She heard from the Cromwell's that we only had one day left here and…," he rushed the next bit, saying it quickly, "She wants us to come to her house for dinner… tonight."
"Oh… and you said yes?"
"Of course I did Julie, I couldn't very well say no that would be rude."
I understood and admitting defeat, I nodded my head, "Okay that's fine we will go, it's no problem, really."
Kishore smiled, gushing, "Are you sure? Her husband will be there as well, it will be great to meet him and we can all talk."
I was hoping our last trip to the Cromwell's would be the end of the whole episode with Priyanka. Just my luck Indian people are so friendly, welcoming, and hospitable… or so I thought.
It was dusk, not quite dark, in the evening when we headed out. It was one of those eerie evenings when the whole environment seemed to be at peace with itself, everything was still. Even the Delhi traffic seemed strangely quieter, we had no trouble catching a cab - it was such a pleasant atmosphere.
Kishore asked the taxi driver to stop outside the Cromwell's set of flats as Priyanka and her husband lived in the next apartment building over. As we got out of the car I heard in the distance a dog yapping, I knew it was Benny. I felt a twang in my heart, I suddenly thought of my own dear departed dog Jasper, which in turn made me think of my Mum and Dad. How I missed them. I was relieved it wouldn't be long now until we were home again.
Approaching the gate of their apartment building, we were once again stopped by the now familiar presence of a security guard. This one looked more menacing than the one we met the other day at the Cromwell’s, his body language was rigid and his face stern. But before the guard could speak, a man dressed in stylish jeans and a rather tight sky blue tee-shirt approached the gate. "Hi, I am Priyanka's husband, Arjun. I am guessing you are Kishore and Julie." He nodded at the security guard who must have pushed a button because we heard a clunking sound as the gate swung open. Arjun continued, "Please, both of you, come in."
We all shook hands and followed Arjun into the white marble foyer of the building and directly onto an elevator.
Once the three of us were in, Arjun jabbed the number five and as it lit up the doors slid shut. Noticing the numbers did not go higher than five, it became clear that they lived on the top floor. Arjun stood in front of us side on, and not looking at us. Kishore and I snuck a glance at each other, we were both trying to think of something to say, some sort of small talk, the silence was awkward and uncomfortable. As the lift rose, I realised why it took so long for Mrs Cromwell to go and get Priyanka that day.
I shot a quick peep at Arjun. He was very handsome, he must have been around the same age as us but he looked younger, his nose was flawless and he had a cleft in his chin. I couldn't stop my eyes drifting towards his belly - I was sure I could see a six-pack rippling beneath his tee-shirt.
I knew I was being a hypocrite, hadn't I gotten all jealous seeing the way Kishore looked at Priyanka? Feeling guilty I quickly shifted my eyes to the floor. I wondered if Priyanka and Arjun were some sort of utopian human beings, perhaps they were models, both of them were almost perfect, too good to be true.
A scene from an imaginary Bollywood movie being shot on a beautiful tropical island began to play in my head. The two of them standing on a sandy beach with the aqua-blue ocean and white rolling waves tumbling behind them. Her perfectly proportioned body and hourglass figure adorned in a bikini. He, minus a shirt showing his chiseled chest and tight abs slathered in oil, glistening in the sunlight. The director yells, ‘ACTION’ and she, with a joyful laugh, runs along the shoreline. He sets chase, catches up with her, they both fall over and roll flirtatiously in the sand. Naturally, in my mind, a romantic Indian ballad is playing in the background. Amazed by my thoughts I wondered if the two of them were each formed from a faultless male and female mould.
I was brought out of my trance by my own stomach, not abs, lurching as the elevator came to a halt. Arjun declared, "Here we are." I noticed his accent also had that slight American twang to it as Priyanka's.
We entered their apartment, and true to what seemed to be their modern lifestyle, it was furnished sparsely but stylishly in brown and tan tones. I straight away knew Kishore could not have lived like this, this was not him, it was too clean cut. I felt their house was not a home, it had no comfort to it. Were this couple a case of all show and no depth like Ken and Barbie - too much plastic and not enough soul?
Kishore had not talked much about tonight. I think he was trying to spare my feelings but I knew he was excited to catch up some more with Priyanka. But, glancing at his face, I could already tell that he was also uncomfortable. I don't think the night was going to go as he had planned. He and I both felt tension from Arjun and the vibe just didn’t feel right.
Priyanka was just setting a bowl of bhujia on a coffee table. I couldn't imagine her looking more attractive than she looked the other day but she did. Like her husband, she wore a tee-shirt only hers was magenta and it had a tiny silver beaded love heart just above, well, her heart. Her hair was flowing and her long legs seemed to stretch forever in tight jeans.
I thought of Ranjini and Saras, I had never seen them wearing clothes like Priyanka. Sure they wore jeans and tee-shirts but they knew how to wear them with dignity, how to be respectable to their culture. Our host excitedly greeted us, "I am so glad you could both come, it is so nice to see you again.” She gestured towards the velvety-bronze sofa, “Please have a seat."
But I could not take up her offer to sit. I found that I was mesmerized as I stared straight ahead. Taking up the whole wall across from where we were standing were a set of impressive glass doors, which rose from floor to ceiling. I gravitated toward them and without asking permission, turned the handle and as the door opened, I stepped out onto a large balcony. With the others following close behind me, I gazed out at the view and what I saw was astonishing. "Amazing, isn't it?" Priyanka proclaimed.
Being on the fifth floor was certainly an advantage. It was now dark outside but the yellow lights from the other buildings emitted a golden glow. A mish-mash of concrete rooftops and black liquorice strip roads stretched seemingly forever. The headlights of moving cars twinkled and dipped while the silhouettes of people walking were swaying and bobbing, their blurred faces momentarily coming into view with each passing car. I nodded my head in agreement with Priyanka, it was a stupendous sight. Kishore, who was standing at my side, let out a slow whistle. This was Delhi as he had never seen it.
Almost reluctantly, we came back inside. Arjun closed the glass doors and once we were all seated he served drinks, Kishore opted for Tiger beer while I chose iced orange juice. Taking a big sip from his drink, Kishore placed his glass on the coffee table, looked up at Priyanka and Arjun then proceeded to ask them both what they both did for a living. Arjun responded that he was a civil engineer while Priyanka said she worked for a pharmaceutical company. While waiting for her to elaborate, to tell us just what she did at the pharmaceutical company, I tried to imagine her tall, slender figure dressed in a white coat with one of those funny elastic hats that look like a plastic hairnet on her head, but she didn’t say anything else so I decided to change the subject. Always wanting to hear a good love story, I asked, "How did you two meet?"
Arjun again replied, "Priyanka's Father is at the same company as me. She came to visit him one day and he introduced her to me."
"So yours is a love marriage?" asked Kishore.
"Sure, sure, I am pretty certain her Dad may have had a plan for us but the first time I met Priyanka, she looked so beautiful I was instantly spellbound. Her Dad did not need to do anything else," Arjun said while smiling at his wife.
Priyanka interjected, "Once I met Arjun, Dad told me he approved, so it was just a matter of us deciding if it was what we wanted."
‘Love marriage’ was the term for marriages that aren't arranged by Indian parents, as with the case of Arthur and Geeta Cromwell, but it took years for them to convince her family that they were committed to each other. Even today, it can still be a struggle for some young couples in love to gain their parents approval.
The room went quiet. Kishore and I frantically tried to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going. There was no return chit-chat from either of them, they didn't ask about Kishore and myself, no questions were asked about how we met, what we did for a living or how life was in New Zealand. It was all, just a bit, strange. Wonderful smells wafted from the kitchen and tantalised our nostrils. As I listened, I heard the sound of stirring and chopping. I realised someone else must be doing the cooking.
Finally, at Priyanka's suggestion, we all moved to the elegantly set dining table. Pulling out black, high-backed wooden chairs we sat while Priyanka disappeared into the kitchen. She soon returned holding a serving dish which she put down on the table, a young girl trailed behind her. "Julie, Kishore, this is Tulsi, she lives with us and helps me out around here."
Tulsi tentatively smiled, she was small in height with a tiny frame. I could not tell her age but I guessed less than twenty. She looked apprehensive, perhaps even timid. I almost expected her to do a little curtsy. She returned to the kitchen but soon came back with more dishes laden with food. A creamy dahl that was made with black lentils that Kishore said was called dahl makkhani, a soupy chicken curry, a vegetable curry, rice, rotis, and a salad. Indian salads are usually made with red onions as the base and also added is chopped tomatoes, cucumber, juice from a lemon or lime, salt, pepper, and topped with a sprig of coriander.
The meal was delicious but there was so much food, more than the four of us could possibly consume. While eating, Kishore and Priyanka talked some more about their time together in the village and tentatively danced around the subject of what their lives would have been like if they had married as their families suggested.
Arjun and I did not join in this conversation. I looked at him, he was staring at the two of them. He didn't look happy, his face was stern, his jaw clenched, and his mouth was forced in a straight line. He must have felt my eyes on him as he turned to look at me. I meekly smiled and quickly turned away. Was he as uncomfortable as I was about the whole situation with Priyanka and Kishore?
Arjun unexpectedly cleared his throat then spoke. "Priyanka, could I speak to you for a moment in the other room?"
Priyanka looked over at him with a furrowed brow, she slightly shook her head. "Not now Arjun," she muttered, forcing her words through gritted teeth.
He stood, looked at Kishore and myself with a strange expression on his face then turned to place a hand on Priyanka's elbow. She stood up, with him still holding her and directed her away from us, not roughly but with enough force that she had to trot - not walk. Priyanka called over her shoulder "Umm… will you both please excuse us for just a moment."
We heard a door shut and soon their voices drifted through the walls, Arjun's raised voice saying, "… did not want to invite…"
Then Priyanka's, "… melodramatic, stop being silly…,"
I glanced towards the kitchen, straining my neck a little, I could just see Tulsi with her back leaning against the bench, her head bent down. I couldn't see her face but if Kishore and I felt uncomfortable, I couldn't imagine how she must have felt. We would be leaving soon but she had to stay on in their house.
I turned back to Kishore, he mouthed the words "How embarrassing."
We heard a door opening and then footsteps. Priyanka and Arjun emerged, both with forced smiles on their faces. Obviously, they were oblivious to the fact we could hear them through the walls. "Ahem," Arjun again cleared his throat. "Sorry about that, I just had to discuss something with Priyanka."
We resumed eating, finishing what was left on our plates, but as the atmosphere had turned even more to custard, what was left of any conversation soon ran dry. The four of us became aware of the fact that apart from the tiny matter of Kishore and Priyanka being betrothed to marry, we all had nothing in common. Nobody knew what to say, the small talk was stagnant and dull. As for Arjun's strange outburst, well, that was just plain rude. Yes, I knew how Arjun felt, hadn’t I flared up in a similar way just a few days ago? But come on, in front of invited guests at a dinner party?
The only good news was when the main course was finished, and once the table had been cleared, Tulsi brought out the dessert. She had outdone herself with a carrot pudding called gajar halwa; made with cooked grated carrots, cashew nuts and raisins. A sweet, nutty creamy way to have carrots, it was scrumptious.
Kishore and I left as soon as we were politely able to, once we were outside we hailed a cab and on the way home Kishore and I could not stop talking. Our conversation flowed with both of us eager to discuss the events that had just unfolded.
"Julie my dear, Julie jewel, I don't think I have ever loved you more than I do at this moment."
"Why, Kishore?"
"You are you, we are completely compatible. Priyanka and I have nothing in common - we are complete opposites. Her world is so different from ours, and it would have been a terrible mistake if it was ever to happen that I married her. I am so glad we found each other and I married you."
"Kishore, Arjun was clearly upset, he seemed to have had the same feelings as me about the whole situation."
He agreed, "But Julie," he said, “You managed to keep your anger at bay, well, at least until we were away from Priyanka and the Cromwell's."
I then asked Kishore about Tulsi. He said she probably also came from Punjab and Priyanka would have brought her to Delhi as a servant/housekeeper. She would be paid a wage and have a bedroom in their apartment. Most likely she would not have received much of an education in Punjab and would be grateful for the work.
For the rest of the way in the taxi, I mulled over the whole situation from meeting the stunning Priyanka, to the uncomfortable conversation we had just heard. I finally came to the conclusion that meeting her was probably a good thing in the scheme of life lessons, but that is the beauty of hindsight.