Maybe Raag wants me to be a part of it. Yes, that is it! Nothing else. Then why am I scared?
“Mayuri,” Raag says, breaking my trail of thoughts. He rakes his hands through his hair. He hesitates as he speaks. “After that accident, every time I saw an ambulance, I panicked the way I did yesterday. Maybe worse. My mother took me to a psychiatrist, who eventually got me out of that phase and convinced me that if I worked for the dream that my father saw for me, I would somehow keep him alive with me in that dream.” Raag sighs. “I thought I was out of that phase of my life.” He pauses. “But I was wrong.” His voice is too quiet. Too painful. “I am still stuck in time.”
“Raag, you are not stuck in time! This happened a long time ago.” I speak too fast.
“Mayu…I am.” He swallows. “On that bridge, you were trying to console me, and in my brain, I was there in that ambulance.” His voice is brittle. “With my father.”
I try hard to control the tears flowing down my cheeks. I try to divert his mind. “Raag, if you think you need to see a psychiatrist, we can do that.”
“Yes, I might,” Raag says, and that feels like my silver lining. My spirits lift up a little. Soon he adds, “But it doesn’t have to be your burden.”
What? My face falls, and I am stupefied. “What do you mean?”
“Mayuri, this is not going to work out.” Raag comes closer and rests his hands on the table.
Though I know what he means, I ask anyway. “What is not going to work out?”
“I want you to say no.”
“No, for what?”
“This—you and me.”
I look him in the eyes and repeat what he told my father earlier. “Marriage is a social celebration of a bond between two people. Taking circles around a holy fire doesn’t make it last forever, and signing a piece of paper doesn’t break it. It’s an eternal bond, and though we are not married, we do share that bond,” I say as if Raag’s words were imprinted in my brain for ages. I look straight into his eyes, and I am a bit angry now. “No circles, no papers. But what about the bond?”
“Mayu, I know what you are trying to say. Trust me, I do share that bond with you. I always will. But I can’t let you sacrifice your future for me.”
“Sacrifice!” I frown, disgruntled. This is what I was worried about. My righteous man. He doesn’t want me to be a part of his pain.
“Look, you don’t worry about even a single thing. I will take care of everything. I know that according to our social surroundings, we have come too far. But think broader. It is not late at all!” he says, and his tone is all business.
“Not late as in…we haven’t had sex yet, so everything is still under control.” I scoff.
Raag rubs his forehead with his hand, showing his disapproval of what I just said. “I did not mean it like that at all!”
“How else did you mean?” I am more than angry. “And, how will you take care of everything?” Suddenly the mehndi on my hands starts itching. Right at this moment the waiter dressed in a white shirt and pants comes and places two plates of veg manchurian despite that neither of us has touched the soup bowls. He asks if we want anything and Raag politely denies.
Raag now takes a spoonful of soup from his soup bowl and extends the spoon near my mouth.
Is he serious?
His gesture frustrates me even more. Though his hand is still up in the air near my mouth, I repeat, “How will you take care of everything?”
“You should eat something first.” Raag looks me in the eyes.
“I am not hungry.”
“Mayuri…”
“Can you please answer my question?” I rebel.
Eventually, he lets go of the effort and puts the spoon back into the bowl.
“Look, I will take full responsibility for what happened. We will tell everyone that I have a mental illness, and you just found out about it. Your reputation and your father’s reputation won’t be harmed at all.” Raag explains as if it’s a piece of cake. I can’t believe my ears.
Though my head is fuming, I try hard to maintain my calm composure. “What about you?” I ask, managing an expressionless face.
“What about me?” He sounds genuinely puzzled.
“About your reputation? When people start talking that you have a mental illness, what would they think of you? What about Auntie?”
“I don’t care about people. I will convince my mother. For you, my mother would do anything.” His tone is businesslike. As if what he said could be achieved in the breath of a second.
“I see…you have already figured out everything.” I avoid looking at him and use my fingers to show air quotes when I say figured out. Looking at the moving orange lights of the slowly moving traffic on the bridge provides enough distraction not to cry. Not anymore. My inner anger is enough to let me hold my ground. “What will you do when it’s all done?” I ask.
“I don’t understand.” He squints.
I look him in the eyes. “I mean, you. In the future. When you would have handled my issues with the world, what would you do?”
Raag looks lost for a second, and I feel proud of myself as I managed to do so. He runs his fingers through his hair and lays back in the chair. After briefly glancing over the moving river, he looks at me and says, “I will go back to the States. Will see a psychiatrist.”
“And?”
“And?”
“Would you simply forget what happened in the last eight months?” I ask more clearly.
“No, the last eight months and this moment will be enough for me for a lifetime,” Raag answers broodingly, and I can’t help but look at him.
Raag looks pensive. I can feel the pain he is going through, but it is frustrating that he doesn’t see mine. So, I ask, “And, what about me?”
“You will forget me, eventually.” His words poke like an arrow in my heart. “Then, you will find someone who would be as good as you are. As normal and as perfect as you are.” Raag says this as if he had premeditated that in his mind. I scoff hearing him calling me normal and perfect.
I look him in the eyes and say, “Because according to The Little Prince, everyone eventually is consoled!”
“You read the book?” Raag looks impressed.
“That’s not the point,” I tell him and look down, observing the blue diamond on my ring. “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose…” I quote The Little Prince. I pause briefly before I ask, “Are you not responsible for yours?”
I see a ghost of a smile near his cheeks. But it fades too soon.
“Mayuri…this is me being responsible. I can’t let you jump into—”
For the very first time in all these months, I cut him off mid-sentence. “Save it. I don’t want to hear it. I understand.” I look at the intricate mehndi design on my hands, and try to search for his name that Mona insisted on hiding. I can’t find it, and it frustrates me. I look around aimlessly and can’t avoid but to notice a couple of waiters staring at our table.
“Mayu…”
“Mayuri!” I snap, and I don’t care to look for his reaction; instead, my squinty eyes stare at my hands. It hurts me to be so curt with him, but I can’t help it.