“The answer doesn’t change, no matter how many times the question is repeated. So, yes! I do love you,” he says and leaves me reeling. I can’t feel the floor under my legs.
“There is one thing you need to know, before we move forward with this…” I pause.
“I’m listening. But there is nothing in this world that would change the way I feel about you.” His standstill demeanor is comforting.
I grin. “You should know that I’m just a mere mortal and full of flaws. You, on the other hand, seem to be a man clearly not from this planet. A man from Mars! I am not as good as you are.” No one can be as good as he is.
He laughs. “Man from Mars?”
“Metaphorically speaking.”
“You are the best, Ms. Bhatt. There is no one like you.”
“No one?” I ask for reassurance.
“No one,” he assures.
Oh. I could fly now. Flying reminds me that I am outside on the balcony, and it’s chilly, but my cheeks are flushed hot. I can feel my heartbeat and blood pumping. It must be pretty late, as nobody seems to be out on the street unless Uncle Chaddha is hiding somewhere in his ghostly outfit.
“Mayuri.” He interrupts my train of thought, and I am alert. “I am the happiest man on the planet today. I don’t know what I would have done if you did not call me. I love you. I will always love you, love,” he says. He remembers that I called him love and him calling me that feels divine.
“I love you too…” I reply with all the sincerity in my heart and soul.
I stand out on the balcony leaning by the railing, facing the street, wrapped up in a purple shawl, and thoroughly enjoying the sky full of myriad stars at midnight after we stop talking due to the Nokia’s battery running low. Nobody is awake on the street except for me. Even dear Uncle Chaddha is not in the vicinity, or so it seems. It’s cold and beautiful. The only thing I would like to do at this moment is to dance. Dance is the expression of the soul, and it doesn’t move unless it feeds on the right music.
Finally, I have found the music that my soul can dance to, I can dance to: Raag. My Raag.
CHAPTER 6
Yes and Yes!
I am curled up over my pillow on my tiny bed, wrapped up in my purple duvet. My soft pajamas and a T-shirt feel divine.
My eyes are shut while I hear the low murmuring of my parents through the half-open bedroom door, which I attempt to ignore as my brain is busy processing the whole saga of the last few days. I am tired, yet at peace like a hurricane of emotions passed through me.
It’s truly remarkable to wake up realizing that your whole universe has turned upside down. There is this one other person on this big planet whose heart beats at the same rhythm as yours. In the spur of the moment, you start liking the cynical world and its flaws. A girl, who is unsure about her career, goals, and future, is indeed sure of one thing—her love.
Born and raised in a strictly conservative culture, I never thought of ever having that one chance to fall in love with someone. Even if I did fall in love with some random guy, my parents wouldn’t have approved of him because they didn’t find him.
Then there are uncountable barriers of matching horoscope, caste, religion, financial status, social status, and many more. Even if I dared to follow my heart, going against my parents’ will would be considered rebellious, and they would also have suffered a great deal of social embarrassment and shame.
I must be a dreamer even to expect a chance to find love. However, I firmly believe that one must dream for our dreams belong to us and no one else. When one doesn’t have absolutely anything, one still has carefully nurtured and protected dreams.
Sometimes, the mighty God has his own ways of making one’s wish come true, just like mine did. In the form of Raag. The one that my parents chose for me. The one who slid past almost all the barriers possible.
The one I fell in love with and the one by some inexplicable reason happens to reciprocate my feelings. Raag must be crazy to fall for a person as crazy as I am.
You got that right!
I couldn’t imagine a time better than this. Well, my father happens to be not thrilled about Raag’s half-Punjabi status. I do not know what I would tell him or my mother. Oh, God…she would be ecstatic if I told her that it’s a yes from my side for Raag. She would put on a spacesuit, sit in a space shuttle, and shoot right for the moon.
Perhaps she won’t need the space shuttle. She would grow extraterrestrial wings and a mask.
“Mayu!” I hear a high-pitched voice screaming for my name. And it’s none other than Mrs. Kaveri Bhatt—my dear mother. God, please kill me! I am not ready for the interrogation of what happened last night. Before I can come up with an escape plan, a loud thud on the door claims my mother’s entry in my bedroom.
I believe my sister is gone for her early tuition classes, which is good. When it comes to interrogators, one is always better than two. They are weaker that way, or so the suspect assumes.
“Mayu, wake up. Your pappa is getting late for work, and there is a call for you,” she says in a rush and my stomach rumbles.
God, of course. It’s him. I smile with closed eyes.
I get up at once, and my eyes are blinded by the piercing sun. Just as I manage to look at Mrs. Kaveri Bhatt, her hand is extended with a phone in it, and her green sari makes her grin look even wider.
“Who is it?” I pretend to be oblivious and fail miserably. The traitor smile.
She shakes her hand in a gesture for me to take the phone and whispers, “Raag kumar.” Oh, no! Even though I haven’t uttered so much as a word, she called him kumar—a classic Indian suffix for a son-in-law. Ag…I frown and take the phone.
“Hello?” I say while my mother still stands there like a lottery winner awed by the prize money.
“Good morning.” Oh…that husky and charming voice. Butterflies in my stomach flutter.
“Good morning,” I reply and can’t avoid a lovely smile, which is followed by my mother’s even wider grin.
“Hey, beautiful! Remember me?” Raag asks, and I smile shyly yet again. Before I reply, he continues, “I tried to hold myself back from calling you in case if you were still sleeping. I am sorry if I woke you up. Still love me?”
I look down, and I am sure my cheeks are red, blushing. “I lo—” Before I finish the sentence, I look up, and it strikes. Oh no! My mother is still standing, and she looks intrigued. I cover the phone with my one hand to make sure Raag doesn’t hear what I am going to say next. “Mummy…I am talking. Can you please go downstairs?”
“It’s okay…” She sounds super casual. “Finish your talk, I have to take the phone downstairs.” I look at her in sheer disbelief as she continues, “Your father is waiting.” She says this as if it’s a call from KBC—Kaun Banega Crorepati, the Indian version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?—and they are asking me to choose one out of three options. My face turns red with annoyance. Well, that’s my mother. I press my hand harder over the microphone and whisper, “Mummy! Just two minutes, please?”
Perplexed, she stares at me, yet smiling. Since my frown is still in place, she replies while nodding her head as if she understands. “Okay, okay…two minutes. Then come downstairs and give the phone back to your pappa.”