My eyes flicker from fair lady to Raag, to the thela, and back to the next table. Vicky rolls his eyes and gets back to his food while the British boy sitting next to him pretends to play with his phone. He is clearly not interested in the live Indian entertainment on the menu tonight.
Right when I thought it was all over, Jignesh emerges through the shadows of the narrow alley, startling me. “What happened? No pictures with ring!”
Jignesh has a fairly big camera hanging over his neck that rests on his big belly. I wonder for how long he was sneaking on us and from where.
Speaking of out of place, I wonder if Jignesh is feeling out of place in his ivory pants, suits, and pointy brown party shoes. Focus!
I look up at him. “Were you taking our pictures?” I ask, struggling to hide my annoyance and look away from him over to the next table, and I catch a glimpse of Vicky. He scowls at his girlfriend in a taunting gesture at me for my earlier behavior. She mimes, suggesting him to get back to his food.
Oh, I could care less at this point.
In Jignesh’s broken English, he aims to explain. “He told, he is proposing! I want to gift a ring picture to you guys on your engagement.”
I put my hands over my forehead, massaging it, and rest my elbows on the table. Jignesh’s attempt of gifting a picture that captures the most beautiful moment of Raag and my life is very thoughtful. However, given the current circumstances—Ms. Bhatt ruining the most romantic proposal from Mr. Purohit—makes Jignesh’s attempt utterly painful.
Specifically, in India, in an arranged marriage, most guys do not consider proposing to a girl or do not get such a chance. Mostly, the marriage deal is considered final as long as both parties—the man and woman’s families—agree to all terms and conditions.
“Jignesh, can you please give us a few minutes? I will call you in a little bit,” Raag says in our native language in a soft, polite voice, rescuing me from answering his friend.
“Should we go someplace quiet?” Raag asks, concerned.
I sigh before I answer. “No…I am fine. I just need a few minutes.” I look at him, and he is gazing at me intently, no smile on his face.
Jignesh has departed by now. I guess he understood the severity of the situation.
“You sure?” Raag tries to confirm.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Raag says and sips some water, giving me time to collect myself.
After what feels like a long time, I finally speak. “We haven’t discussed our wedding plans. But the norm in this kind of arrangement is…I mean, if a guy is coming from overseas…”
Raag doesn’t let me finish my sentence, and says, “A guy and a girl get married, and the guy takes the girl with him!”
An unintended giggle spills out of my mouth—I wonder why.
He continues, “And, I am not getting my girl.”
I squeeze my eyes shut not to dare to look at him. “Right, you are not…at least not in the near future.” I shake my head in disapproval and frustration. Oh, earth, please give me space. I want to bury myself in you right now.
How could Raag be so nonchalant about this? He knows precisely how this conversation is unfolding, and yet he is not angry. At all!
“Let me explain.” I exhale and take a momentary pause to collect myself. “Post marriage, there is usually a social expectation for the bride to go and be with the groom wherever he lives. According to the norm—that is where she belongs…” Just as I move my hands away from my face and rest them on the table, the blue stone of the ring laying inoffensively on the table taunts me.
Ignoring the shiny stone, I look at Raag’s angel-like face, and say, “The only quickest way for me to be with you after marriage is that…” I pause, trying to remember. “That…dependent visa…”
“The H4 visa,” he clarifies.
“Right, H4.” I let out a cold sigh. “I cannot work if you take me with you on that visa. And I…want to work. I don’t want to be dependent!” Though my voice is low, my tone is rather demanding.
For some reason, I feel guilty, guilty as hell for displaying my aspiration, though deep down in my heart, I know that I shouldn’t. Isn’t it unfair to be stamped dependent at the age of twenty?
“You don’t have to!” Raag replies, answering my unspoken question. I gape at him, and my eyes beam. He is looking intently at me.
I shrug softly as I say, “It is just that I don’t think we should get married right away, not right this month.” Embarrassed, I look around, intentionally avoiding eye contact with him.
We have spent the past eight months talking and waiting for this magical moment, and I am singlehandedly sabotaging it. Oh, I wish we talked about this earlier. Now you wish! What happened to it all playing in your favor? I decide to ignore my inner voice.
Before I lose my confidence, I murmur, “Raag, when we talked for the first time, I was unsure of my career and about the course of my life. But now it is different. I am no more in that blurry stage of life. At least not for the time being. I didn’t…I didn’t…” I fumble for words.
Before my brain can process more information and load some data that makes sense of my incomplete sentences, Raag says, “Mayu, we don’t have to get married right away…not right this month!”
Instantly I look at him, perplexed.
The background music changes to Kishor Kumar’s song, “Kitne Bhi Tu Karle Sitam.” Ag…the timing is impeccable. The song closely means that no matter how unfairly you treat me, I would still bear that with a smile on my face, for I am in love with you. Poor Raag, he for sure, is there to bear my unfair treatment.
“We don’t?” I ask.
“Mayu, just because there are thousands of norms, doesn’t mean we fall for them. And since when did you start following the norms?”
I gaze at his tranquil eyes in awe. What gave him the idea that I don’t follow norms? Right—like you would have agreed to this whole arrangement if you did not fall for him.
Raag leans forward on the table and holds my hand. “I proposed to ask for your hand in marriage.” Raag pauses. His voice is very low, just enough for me to hear. “Officially…that doesn’t mean we get married right away. You have every right to choose whatever path you think is right for you in life. Remember that I will always be there on that path with you. Married or not.” His words are solid as rocks.
I let a breath out, relieved. “Oh…” I tilt my head to one side, observing his serenity. I wish I could kiss him right now. If we weren’t surrounded by the night owls, I would have simply done that.
I can’t say I did not expect him to understand. After all, we are talking about the Mr. Raag-Righteous-Purohit, who at the moment sounds exactly like a charismatic man I fell in love with, for who he was, and for who he is, an absolute gentleman, a knight, and a lover. I wonder what is it that this man wouldn’t do for me?
Soft lines appear on Raag’s face as he narrows his eyes. “I think I put you in an awkward position by proposing out in public. I apologize,” he says, warmly caressing my knuckles.
“No…you did not!” I reassure. “That was the most beautiful proposal. Any girl would kill to have a proposal like this.”