I nodded. “Nanna was asking me about her.”
“Nanna knows about her,” Nate grinned. “He saw me with her once. We were having lunch at Ten Downing Street and Nanna came in with a colleague. We both saw each other and pretended we didn’t. Never talked about it. I guess Nanna didn’t want me to ask him what he was doing in a pub and didn’t want to know what I was doing there. Don’t ask, don’t tell, a good philosophy.”
“Does Ma know?”
“If Ma knew everyone would know,” Nate sneered. “Tell Nick about this pelli-chupulu. If Tara went through one of these ridiculous ceremonies without even telling me about it, I’d be pissed as hell for a very long time.”
When he left I sat amid the beautiful silk saris and contemplated my options. I had to go through with this afternoon. If I tried to back out now, it would reflect badly on my parents. And I had to tell Nick the truth. And I had to tell Ma, Nanna, and Thatha the truth.
It was very simply really. I just had to tell everyone the truth and hope that they’d still love me.
By the time the Sarmas were about to arrive, I was feeling like an object instead of a person. Ma had pulled and yanked and tucked and arranged for the nth time since I picked the blue-bordered sari to look like someone’s grandma.
“There,” she said with a satisfied glint in her eyes. “This boy is perfect, Priya. Even you can’t find anything wrong with him.”
“Wanna bet?” I felt like asking.
Sowmya came giggling inside Ammamma and Thatha’s bedroom where I was getting ready.
“They are here. Drove in a Mercedes,” she said with a big smile, unable to contain her joy at seeing me about to be fixed up with some loser who looked good on paper.
“They are very well off,” Ma explained, arranging Ammamma’s sapphires to her liking on my neck. “I wish you had worn the yellow sari. This is…” she clicked her tongue and then sighed.
“You look very nice, Priya,” Sowmya said and I smiled uneasily. I felt like a trussed up turkey with a timer that could go off at any time now.
I heard the voices of the guests from the hall in the next room-I closed my eyes and silently apologized to Nick. “I’ll make this up to you,” I promised him fervently, but I had no clue how I would go about doing so.
“If you both want to just talk a little, go sit on the swing in the veranda,” Ma instructed. “And don’t swing your legs like a junglee when you sit there. Be ladylike.”
“Do you want to tell me how to walk as well? Maybe you would like to continue giving me instructions after my marriage to make sure my husband doesn’t leave me?” I demanded sarcastically.
“With your attitude I may just have to,” Ma replied promptly. She was after all my mother, and my sarcasm had been inherited from her so my abilities were therefore diluted.
“You bring the ladoos, Priya, and-” Sowmya began and I raised both my hands in protest.
“I’ll go there and sit and talk like a normal human being but if you want me to demurely carry food around for them while they look me up like I’m cattle for sale, you’re both very mistaken,” I said in a soft, ominous voice. I realized that even at this late stage, I wanted them to protest, say something that would make it justifiable for me to walk away from this. Because if this didn’t happen there would be nothing I would not have to tell Nick about.
“Okay,” Ma sighed. “Sowmya, you just put the ladoos and bajjis on the center table along with tea. This maharani here can just sit there like a big lazy blob.”
I refused to be paraded around like meat for sale, so I casually walked into the hall as if I didn’t know who was there and why.
This time, I had to admit, Ma had pulled out all the stops. The boy-the man-was very handsome and if I were single, I would’ve probably agreed to an arranged marriage to this hunk without even speaking with him. Where were these handsome men when I was going to college in India? But as things were, he didn’t compare to the hunk I was already engaged to.
“My daughter, Priya,” my father introduced me. “Priya, this is Adarsh, Mr. Sarma, and his wife.”
“Namaskaram,” I said, folding my hands. “Hi,” I said to Adarsh. He smiled back. He had a dimple on his right cheek. Nick had a dimple on his left.
“How are you finding everything?” Mr. Sarma asked conversationally once I was seated by Ma in a lighted spot where everyone could see me, my sari, and all my jewelry to the best advantage. “It has been seven years, I hear, since you came back to India.”
“Everything is the same… but not the same,” I said enigmatically.
“Our son Adarsh feels the same way,” Mr. Sarma said enthusiastically, and smiled broadly. “He says how nothing has changed and then he says that everything has changed. Looks like both of you cannot make up your mind.”
“Have you ever thought about moving to Tek-saas?” Mrs. Sarma asked.
“I like living in San Francisco,” I replied, now very uneasy with this whole bride-seeing business. I avoided looking at Ma who was glaring at me and smiling at our guests alternately. Telling them that I was not ready to move was an obvious sign of reluctance on my part.
“Adarsh is planning to move to the Bay Area,” Mrs. Sarma said. “We have lots of family there and he is starting a business, too.”
“Actually… I’m not,” Adarsh corrected his mother uncomfortably. “I’m joining a friend’s start up… or, rather I’m thinking about it.”
“Really, what does your friend’s company do?” I asked.
“They make-” Adarsh began.
“Oh, all this business gup-shup,” Ma interrupted. “Why don’t you kids sit outside on the veranda and talk while we old people eat some ladoos and bajjis.”
Oh, what I wouldn’t give for Ma to be just, just a teeny-weeny bit subtle.
“What, no ladoos and bajjis for us?” Adarsh asked mischievously.
“Of course.” Ma flushed and held up a plate of bajjis.
Adarsh picked up a bajji and we both sauntered out to the veranda. I sat down on the swing and he sat across from me on a chair eating his bajji.
“I just got back from Dallas yesterday evening,” Adarsh said. “So maybe I’m jet-lagged, but you don’t seem all that eager to be married.”
The bluntness of his question, imparted in a casual manner, instantly put me at ease. “I didn’t come back home for seven years to avoid this,” I said frankly.
“I know the feeling. I’d managed to stay away for almost six years… but now, my grandmother’s health is failing, so I thought, what the hell, how bad can it be,” he said with a shrug. “My friends who got married like this seem happy enough.”
“Doesn’t it seem a little barbaric to come and see a bunch of girls while you’re in India and pick one to marry?” I asked.
Adarsh shrugged again. “Not really… Well, it did early on, but now, the girls looks at the guys, too, you know. It works both ways.”
“You’re right,” I conceded, now fidgeting with Ammamma’s sapphire necklace.
We both fell silent. This was awkward. Did this happen with everyone who sat through one of these bride-seeing ceremonies? Or did things change for a veteran like Sowmya?
“I want it all,” he said suddenly. “The wife, the children, the house… you know what I’m saying?”
“Well, I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but the fact that you’re here is a good indication that you’re looking for a wife,” I responded, smiling at his enthusiastic honesty. He was as unsure as I was about what needed to be said to know if the person you were speaking with for just a few minutes would be the person you’d want to spend the rest of your life with.
He grinned. “I could be here under parental duress. I just want to make sure you want the things I want.”
“I want a husband and children and that house in suburbia… well, maybe not suburbia,” I said. It was not a lie. I did want those things. I just wanted those things with Nick.