"This is the final boarding call for passengers Ravi Naraan and Erin Smith booked on flight AI144 to Mumbai, India."
The familiar feeling of mild irritation wakes me from my reverie. Although, this time the irritation is laced with a wistful thought, this is the last time I will board an Air India flight to India, the last time "Narayan" becomes "Naraan". Once I step into this flight, I know I won't be setting foot on this land again. The land of my dreams and that broke my dreams...I settle into my seat as comfortably as I can. The middle-aged American sitting next to me has his nose buried in a financial magazine, he hasn't turned a page in the past ten minutes which I take to be a don't-interrupt-me-immigrant message. The airhostess walks towards us and the curtains part for a moment to reveal the business-class section of the flight - well-reclined seats and more (prettier?) airhostesses carrying trays with warm socks, blinders, several magazines and sweet treats. The curtains fall back in place and I take the plastic cup - filled three-fourths with ice cubes - that the airhostess hands me with that familiar, affected smile. I would later practise and perfect "the smile", one that never reaches my eyes. I forget to repeat in a monotone the phrase that every Indian learns within a few weeks in the United States, "No ice please."
I try to organize my meandering thoughts and a hazy picture paints itself in my mind - a tall, lanky young man steps into the very same airport that I had left, and enquires in a small voice at the information desk, "I need to board this connecting flight...", he extends a hesitant hand forward with his ticket. Later he would learn about trains inside airports connecting one terminal to another. He walks with slow steps to stand next to an Indian family with two kids, hoping they would board the same train as him. "Maummmy, can I have some orange juice please?" He marvels at the accent and the politeness of the small voice. Later he would learn to ask with equal courtesy and an accent barely reminiscent of his Indian accent, "Wudja like a coke to go with the peeetza?"
But my thoughts wander more and the pictures dissolve to reveal a face hidden among the blurry images - Arundathi, like the star, hard to discern, I squeeze my eyes shut tighter to see her face and imprint it's shadow in memory. She disturbs my trail of thoughts, dragging it to past scenes that defined us, our life together and years later, it will perhaps remain a mere wisp buried in my head...for now, it's as if she is with me.
I saw her when I first stepped into Columbus airport, she laughed and the guy standing next to her, self-consciously ran a hand through his hair, happy to amuse the pretty girl standing next to him. I couldn't yet characterize the feeling that rose in me when I saw them together, later I would learn to put aside my jealousy - everyone fell in love with Arundathi. She was like that. Ankit and I actually became good friends later on.
After the initial awkward introductions and after I had quickly removed my heavy, greenish brown winter jacket (my already pregnant checked-in luggages refused to accomodate it) , I sat behind in Ankit's Toyota Camry and fastened my seat belt after a minor struggle. Arundathi and Ankit talked about their coursework, "Do you really think I should take up Numerical Analysis this semester, I don't want a C, you know?"
"Well, it is a required course, you might as well take it up and be done with it..."
Eager to join the conversation, I asked, "So, how difficult is the course work here, Arundathi?"
They both laughed and I blushed, frantically trying to figure out my mistake. "Well, you can take Numerical Analysis with me this semester and we will know how difficult first semester can be!", she winked and laughed again. I would later learn that she came to the Ohio State University a few weeks before me and already was a known face on campus.
We did take up Numerical Analysis together. The days passed swiftly, each day I would look forward to our study session at the library where we would sit facing each other , on comfortable sofa seats and discuss loudly, numbers and formulae that I have long forgotten.
"I just can't get this Eigen Value problem. Timeout! Timeout!", she gestures making a "T" with her hands, already comfortable with the accent and gestures that a different culture taught us. I worried that I would embarrass her with my...Indian-ness. I was suddenly glad that I was good at Maths (Math, I repeat in my head, Math. Not Maths) - I could at-least help her out with Eigen values. She tugged at my sleeve, "Let's just go get a cappucino, Ravi!"
The library cafe was open late and we went there pretty often. The guy who made the cappucino happened to be one of my desi friends, he always winked at me, pretty obviously, making sure Arundathi noticed him. If she did, she made no mention of it to me. There were other guys who tried to ask Arundathi out on study dates. And they were all turned down politely. I don't know if she came out with me because she felt I was naive and had no "intentions" or because she just took pity on me. I tried not to think along those lines and decided to be grateful for any time I spent with her.
We discussed problems and solutions, classes, professors and then cautiously stepped into more personal details, my mother's health, her college life, my aspirations to become a cryptologist and her ex boyfriend. I wondered at times, if he ever realized his blunder. Only a fool will let go of the twinkle in her eyes, the way she twirled one errant strand of her hair as she concentrated on something, the way her eyes turned translucent when she recalled a sad memory...I thanked my good fortune and held on to the star that designed my fate.
I must have fallen asleep...I wake up when my co-passenger gently nudges me awake. How easily we judge people and how unfairly...It's time to eat the flight-meal - a gooey chick-peas curry, bland dal, slightly uncooked basmati rice, a cup of yoghurt (yoghurt not curd, it took me several blank stares and "What now?" from waiters before I made the transition) and sweet, whitish dessert (kheer? basundhi?). I never could keep track of whether it was lunch or dinner, the two-day flight made sure of that. Disoriented physically and emotionally. I eat slowly, there isn't much to entertain me during the flight, I did not want to watch the in-flight movie, another reminder of her. I know she was looking forward to the movie's release for quite some time...
"Movie? On a weekday? No Arun, let's just rent it Friday."
Arun, my stamp of ownership, my pet name for Arundathi.
We watched Cast Away, for a full two and a half hours, until 2 AM. I went late to my 8 AM class the next morning.
"You are setting a bad example for the students. A teaching assistant is expected to bridge the gap between a Professor and his students, not make it more prominent by coming late to class."
I nodded, mumbled a sorry and felt bad the whole day.
"Whatever! I bet your Professor was late himself many times. He is just giving you a hard time!"
"I take my acads seriously, Arundathi. I can't laugh it off like you do!"
"Oh, and I am here to hang out with guys and watch movies?"
"I didn't say that..."
"You are just like the rest of them!"
The remark stayed with me. I didn't even hear the rest of her retort. I just watched the angry flush on her cheeks and her bright eyes, killing me with their intensity but I only registered one thought - "I am just like the rest of them". Did that mean she thought I wasn't like them? I was better somehow in her eyes? Was there a possibility, a chance that she felt an inkling of what I felt for her? I decided to speak up, for once. I looked into her iridescent, almost red eyes and said, "I might be just like them, but you...you are different, special for me..." And then I was voicing all my incoherent thoughts, in a stream, without thinking, speaking what my heart held since the first day I saw her, I heard bits of my rambling and wondered if she would ever talk to me again..."From the day I saw you...airport...jealous...you have the most beautiful eyes...never want to hurt you, am only hurting myself..."
Young love speaking what I cannot bring myself to utter now, two years later. She left just as her eyes brimmed over.
"You made me cry yesterday. Don't do that again. - Arun."
And I felt like singing.
We were now an official couple. I couldn't believe lady luck had finally smiled upon me. I probably had so much difficulty believing that she soon decided to turn her back to me.
I got the call one night when the night sky had no stars, I remember looking up and crying until the morning rays wiped my tears and put me to sleep. My mother was very sick, she needed my help.
When I boarded the flight two days later, Arundathi cried with me, at the airport. I consoled her as best as I could and boarded the flight, thinking of my mother. I stayed in India that December. Mother got significantly better, the doctor said it was me. She saw me and that helped her recover. A week before I left, my mother and I had one of those rare moments to ourselves, even the maid servant had left for the day and father was yet to return from work.
“Ravi, I am happy today. If I die today, just now, I will be happy.”
I tried not to cry, for my mother.
“But if God wishes for me to live, I have one last wish to ask of him." A pause and then, "I want to see you married.”
I started to protest. She silenced me with a wave of her hand.
“All boys your age say that. I know what that really means. Do you know Preethi? Rangarajan mama’s neighbour’s daughter? You both used to be inseparable as kids, remember?”
I vaguely remembered a girl with two pony tails, I remember crying when we moved away from that locality, writing letters to her, we wrote to each other for a few years, childish scrawls giving way to teenage reluctance and indifference. And then I never saw her.
My mother pulled out a photo from her handbag, “So beautiful, don’t you think?”
Yes, she was indeed beautiful but my eyes could only see beauty in one woman and she was very far away and these eyes that smiled cheerfully at me were not hers and that was all that mattered. I wondered how I would tell my mother about Arundathi, a girl she had not chosen, she had not even seen.
We often take the big decisions of our lives in an instant, the trivial, insignificant ones, we spend several hours pondering. This was one of those big impulsive decisions. I looked at my mother's trusting, happy face and decided I would not spoil that moment for her. Tomorrow, I would tell her everything. But, tomorrow had different plans for me. Early the next morning, Preethi and her mother walked into our house.
“Ravi, is that you? How handsome you have become?!”
The next half an hour was spent in catching up with each other’s families and then the mothers left Preethi and me alone in the hall.
“You kids must have a lot of catching up to do, why don’t we give you some time together?”.
“Subtle, don’t you think?”, Preethi asked.
I laughed with her and soon we are chatting away as if time had not interfered with our friendship at all.
“I still have to get back at you for locking me in that little room, remember?”
“Of course, a masterpiece! You cried for hours together. Thanks to you, my father actually used his cane on me! The only time he beat me in my life!”
And we talked till sunset. Memories of childhood that made me forget the conflicts of the future.
That night, mother asked me about Preethi.
“I have to tell you something ma…sit down and promise me you won’t hate me.”
And I talked non-stop for half an hour and told her everything. I seemed to have developed quite a knack for talking without thinking. She cried silently, “I gave my word to Preethi’s mom. She was so happy that you both got along well…how could you, Ravi?”
And a different pair of eyes looked at me and brimmed over. And I couldn’t decide which one was dearer to me.
I stretch my legs and wait on the long line to get back into the flight. In Paris, the city of romance, ironically, I think of how I had killed mine.
When I got back to OSU after my first India trip, I told Arundathi about Preethi. She did not take it well. I was surprised to see a different side of the chirpy young girl I had fallen in love with. And to make matters worse, Preethi emailed me a few times from India – Arundathi and I had exchanged passwords, she enjoyed reading about how the other guys teased me about her.
“Why is she still emailing you? Haven’t you told her about me?”
“I have. She knows the whole story. Did you actually read the email?”
“No Sir! If it’s that personal, so be it! Let’s call it quits!”
“Is it that easy for you? Calling it ‘quits’? This is not a game, Arun. And if you had read the email you would have known that it was an entirely innocent email. She is my childhood friend, after all!”
“And you are already taking her side?”
And then she walked away.
Over the next year, our relationship went downhill. In some hidden corner of my mind, I wondered if my own mother had taken away from me, the most precious gift in my life. My mother continued to remind me about Preethi – “That poor girl is waiting for you, Ravi, please don’t disappoint all of us!”
As fall turned to winter, I prepared for my defense and so did Arundathi. We defended our Masters within a week of each other and started applying to jobs all around the States. In our anxiety to get a good placement, we forgot our differences and it was almost like the old times again.
One snowy morning, I heard a knock on my apartment door, early in the morning.
“I checked my mailbox today and I have been selected for the second level of personal interviews at Epic Systems! I have a good feeling about this Ravi!”
I was so happy for her, I hugged her.
And today, if I close my eyes to the outside world, I can still breathe that cold air that surrounded us that day, I can still feel the scent of my love, I can still create, just for a moment, our world, a world of silent white and our unspoken words swirling around our tight embrace…just us.
That very same night, fate changed the course of my life again. My father’s voice sounded tired on the phone, “Ravi, amma is sick again…no, no, you don’t have to fly back again. I will manage but I just…wanted to talk to you.”
I was on a flight to India within 24 hours.
This time, my mother was visibly sick. And as stubborn as ever.
“This time, God may not be so kind, Ravi. I have talked to Preethi. I have told her everything about Arundathi. That girl likes you a lot, Ravi. It’s not fair to make her wait.”
“And it’s fair to leave Arundathi?”
Mother became silent and didn’t talk much to me after that day.
I made up my mind that night. I would return to India for good. I would convince Arundathi to come to India with me, I would convince mother about her. Once, she sees Arundathi, she will come to love her. I would explain to Preethi, she will understand, she knows me well…I built a world of ifs foolishly, a pack of cards waiting for a strong breeze.
The next two months that I stayed in India, I kept myself busy applying to companies for jobs. I got a reasonable offer from Cognizant Technologies and accepted it. I asked for a month’s duration before I joined. If everything worked according to my plan, I should be able to pack my things, get my degree certificate, talk to Arundathi and be back in 30 days.
I hardly remember the flight back to OSU. I do remember the confrontation with Arundathi though. Word after word, etched in my heart.
“And so, you set up a cosy little life in India, got a job, forgot about me and came here to inform me?”
“Arun, I am asking you to come with me! I need you, especially now, please don’t make this hard for me…”
And she wouldn’t listen.
“And what about my life here? I have an offer letter from Epic systems, I am moving to Wisconsin in a few weeks! I can’t drop my life and run behind you like this! I tried to call you a few times in India, I can see now why you wouldn’t talk, you didn’t want to jinx your new world by sharing it with me!”
I couldn’t tell her that we lived in a one bedroom flat, that mother could hear every word I spoke to Arundathi whenever she called and I loved my mother but my relationship with Arundathi was personal, precious…and I wouldn’t share that with anyone, not even my mother straining to listen from the kitchen. I was so confident that Arundathi would understand. But she did not.
And she cried and I cried but Arundathi was adamant and it was all over.
“My mother is sick. I need to be with her. If I have to leave you here and go, so be it. I will die here for you and live in India, for my mother. I leave on January 23rd.
Those were the last words I spoke to her. I couldn’t see her cry anymore, I walked out of her life.
“I don’t want to make this awkward for you, Ravi. Amma told me that things did not work out between you and Arundathi. I am sorry about that…if I have caused that in anyway. I just want you to know, that I am here for you, as a friend, to talk. We will work things out once you come back to India.”
Perhaps, in a year or two, I will be able to consider her as something more than a friend…perhaps not. Right now, my mother is my first concern.
“Oh, I am so sorry. I am here to receive someone and am just nervous!”, she says smiling.
“I understand. I am here to receive my future husband. But, he doesn’t know that yet. It’s a surprise!”
“That’s romantic! I wish I had the courage to propose but I have a feeling he is not ready yet…”
The two women talk for a few minutes, wish each other the best and then continue to watch the sea of faces in front of them, waiting...
