My mother’s eyes flicker, and she grins. “Oh yes, beta! You two talk. Let me know if you need more tea.”
I nod in response. After I’m sure that she has indeed left, I murmur, “Okay, we can talk now.”
“You like tea?” he asks.
“Yes, I cannot start my day without it.” I take a refreshing breath.
“I see.”
“Do you like tea?” I ask him out of curiosity.
“Coffee!”
“Black coffee?”
“No, with a little bit of sugar and milk.”
“Usually in movies…um…never mind!” I convince myself not to blurt out more. If I had told Raag that in the movies, the male lead would usually be drinking black coffee, and when the female lead misses the male lead, she will drink black coffee to remember him. Okay, that would sound absurd.
“I hope you didn’t have any plans for today,” Raag says, and I come out of my train of silly thoughts.
“Sunday! No plans,” I reply carelessly. “At least not this early.” I instantly regret this. I frown and tap my forehead with my palm.
“I apologize once again,” Raag says. His voice is like honey, and his respectful gestures tug at my heart.
“Are you always this courteous?” I ask, and his chuckles follow. I think there is some soft music playing in the background from his side that I can’t recognize. It’s a Hindi song from the beginning of time, I guess.
“It’s just that our conversation ended abruptly and we couldn’t talk more…” Raag pauses as if looking for words. “Um…I wanted to talk about something but couldn’t.” He sounds unsure, and I wonder what could it be.
“I like that you called.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
In fact, I love that you called.
“Um…could you give me a few minutes?” I ask. “I need to brush my teeth. I hate to talk when my breath stinks. Besides after brushing, my tea will help me focus more!”
The guy calls you at 5:30 in the morning, and all you want to do is to brush your teeth?
“Of course. Should I call you back in a few minutes?” he offers.
“No, no…please, keep it on. I will be back in no time,” I reassure him. I so want to talk to him. Cannot take chances.
“Okay…”
As soon as he replies, I put the Nokia on the bed and use the bathroom break. While brushing my teeth, I take a glimpse at my sleepy face. Are my cheeks red? Maybe they are, maybe because I was blushing? I shake my head with a shy smile on it. I wash my face quickly and rearrange my bun and make sure I look decent enough. Then I remember that Raag is indeed on the call, not outside the door that I have to look good, and I smile stupidly looking in the mirror. Silly me. I step out of the bathroom and swiftly grab the phone. “Hello! Still there?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Raag answers, making me smile, a shy smile, as I pick out my red Sherpa sweater and get into it.
“So…you said you wanted to talk about something?” I remind him while buttoning the sweater. I notice my sister is already gone, probably to her early morning coaching classes.
“Mayuri, I know you had concerns about not seeing me in person.” Raag pauses. “The thing is, it’s not possible for me to travel at this point. I need to go for stamping since I haven’t moved out of the country ever since my visa changed from an F1 student visa to an H1B worker visa. Work is quite busy too.” Though he is sharing the most important detail at the moment, my brain is keenly observing his Americanized polished accent. Oh, I am enjoying every bit of it.
“I don’t expect you to come here so I can see you in person,” I say, wondering why he is concerned about that. “I know that traveling costs a lot of money, and I am sure if you came all the way here, your mother would like you to decide on the suitable girls to get engaged or married!” I pull socks over my feet, pick up my teacup, and hop out onto the balcony. “At least that is the expectation when a guy is coming from a different country for an arranged marriage,” I add hastily.
Outside it is beautiful, a slightly chilly dawn. My ears are filled with the low murmuring of early risers, the muffled sounds of utensils as well as prayer bells, soft enchanting of spiritual prayers, and cheerful chirpings of morning birds. Around my home, birds fly quite early in the morning, waiting for food and water that my father puts out for them.
“Maa would like it if things worked out that way. There is no pressure from her side, though,” Raag clarifies.
“Oh, I see. That’s very understanding of Preeto Auntie,” I say and exhale. I savor the first sip of delicious tea in the chilly morning. “I wish my parents were that understanding. If you came here, that means I would have two choices.”
“Which are…?”
“Either I say yes, or I say no. After seeing you in person and after talking with you for a few minutes, it wouldn’t be possible to ask for more time! Maximum, we would be allowed two meetings.” I sigh. Part of me is rebelling to not say no to him, and a part of me is confused. A part of me wants to hear his voice all day long and talk to him, yet another part asks what is wrong with me.
“So, is it a good thing that I can’t come?” He sounds perplexed.
“Absolutely!” I say, my voice reassuring. Of course, that way I can buy more time to talk with him.
“I thought if I came, it would be easier for you to decide. Since that was one of your biggest concerns.”
“Well, that is not a concern anymore,” I say it out loud and tap my forehead instantly in regret. Maybe I’m telling Raag more than I should.
What’s happening with me?
“Really?” he asks, sounding confused. His voice is full of curiosity.
“Yes. I mean…” I pause for a second and aim to change topics. “Which songs are playing in the background?”
“Um…let me make it louder.” He increases the volume. “The song is ‘Pyaar Hua Ikrar Hua’ from the movie Shree 420.”
“Oh, I know that one…the most romantic song of all time! It’s quite old, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. Nineteen fifty-five.” The volume of the song is lower now.
“So, you listen to music in your free time?” I ask.
“Yeah…do you?”
“Yes, but as I said before, my collection starts from the ’80s.” I lean on the cool parapet and inhale fresh morning air.
“Did you call me to inform that you can’t come here soon?” I ask. I am curious to find out the reason behind this unplanned, oh-so-early talk time. But hey, I’m not complaining.
“Not, just that,” Raag says promptly.
“Oh.”
“Before you decide anything, I think…” He takes a deep breath, sighs. “You should know more about…about me,” he says reluctantly.
I sense a strange apprehension in his voice. I hope he doesn’t tell me that he has a deep, dark secret. “Okay…”
“You know my parents had a love marriage—two people fall in love before marriage and get married afterward—and an inter-caste marriage—when the bride and groom belong to two different castes. That they eloped.”