6: Twenty-Nine Days"Trials
Madhu was excited.
Her husband had offered to take her out for dinner to an Indian restaurant. "It's in Artesia on Pioneer Blvd, the longest stretch of everything Indian in LA where you can immerse yourself in complete desiness!"
"Is it close by?" she asked eagerly, wondering if she could walk over every day.
"No, at least an hour away, and with the LA traffic, you can never be sure. Hope there are no major car chases or accidents." He crossed his fingers.
"Car chases?" she inquired, puzzled, as he held open the door of his Prius.
Laughing, he replied, while starting the engine and easing the car smoothly onto the street, "If LA is notorious for something, it is for car chases. People steal cars and race them at breakneck speed on these highways, and the cops give chase. It's an adrenaline rush. The pursuit can go on for hours"across counties and cities till the poor fellow gives up. It's frequently shown live on TV. You should watch it sometime. It can be fun."
"Getting your thrills out of watching car chases? Not my idea of entertainment." Madhu said.
"Suit yourself. It's mind-numbing to a degree, helps when you are lonely and don't wish to think."
So that's why you're having an affair, a very noble pastime.
"You said something?" Rishabh looked at Madhu.
Madhu shook her head and turned her attention to the window. What was she like?
They were playing old Hindi movie songs on the radio.
"One thing I must say though, there is no beating these classic tunes, so soulful. And Kishore da, RD combo wah simply magic!" Glancing sideways Madhu took in the blissful look on Rishabh's face as he hummed along. At least he liked something Indian. You can't escape your roots no matter how much you try. "Aap yahaan kitne saalon se hain?" (How long have you been here?)
"What?" He frowned at her then smiled. "Hmmm...Hindi...Okay! Pichle che saalon se." (For the past six years.) "Came for higher education, then decided to stay when they offered me the job. Anyhow, no potential for aerospace engineering back home."
"Don't you get bored living alone?" she persisted.
"Bored? That's a relative term. Just work, work, work then crash back in the apartment. There's no time to get bored. Nevertheless, that's how I like it." He didn't look comfortable.
Then you intend to remain closemouthed about her. I need to know more. "But how do you""
"Here we are!" he interrupted.
Climbing out of the car, she looked around wide-eyed. It felt as though she had been transported back home. Brown faces walking on the streets conversing in a familiar tongue, shop fronts announcing twenty-two-carat jewelry, displaying colorful Indian clothes and goods. Posters of Indian movies and visiting desi performing artists. Oh, and there was Salman coming to LA on the fourteenth.
"So what do you think?"
"It's...it's great! Thank you!" she exclaimed with her large eyes shining and a wondrous smile on her face. Rishabh stared enraptured; she was quite beautiful.
"So when can we eat?" She was hungry.
"Yes, food, of course!" he said, dropping his gaze, flustered. "What do you want? Udipi, Gujju, Marwari, or Punjabi?"
"Punjabi...?" she ventured with a doubtful smile.
"Yes, a great choice, and it happens to be right here! Our own Americanized Desi dhaba! It doesn't look like very much, but they say the food is good."
They stepped into the bright small fluorescent-lit place with several small round tables and chairs squeezed into a tight space and the typical glass display showing off a mouthwatering array of sweets and savories. The pleasant elderly sardarji behind the counter smiled at Madhu kindly while he patiently waited for her order.
She glanced at Rishabh, who offered an unsure shrug. "Gobhi ka paratha." Then spying several patrons drinking from Styrofoam cups, she added, "And a cup of tea!"
Rishabh asked for Pav Bhaji.Their order was ready within minutes. "Too oily, right?" he said, handing her a paper towel. "Here, blot it!"
She took his advice, then placed a piece of hot bread tentatively in her mouth.
Throwing his head back, he laughed. "You are something else I must tell you! You don't like American Chinese or American Italian nor do you like Americanized Indian! Even Des"" He stopped mid-sentence.
Madhu stared at him. "Des? What about Des?"
A sudden change came over his countenance; he seemed irritated. "Nothing, it's nothing. Now tell me how do you plan to survive the next few weeks?"
So that was her name, Des... She was real. Madhu had hoped it was all make-believe, an act he had put on to get out of an unwanted marriage because he treasured being single. But it wasn't true.
"Is there some place I can get a few Indian groceries? Aata, daal, etc.?"
"I'm sure there is, though I've never stepped into one."
They found a huge Gujarati grocery store nearby. Madhu blindly piled several items in her cart: spices, flour, oil, pulses, a few vegetables, things she considered essential and of which she hadn't found any trace in the apartment. She pulled up in front of the counter where Rishabh was waiting anxiously. He stared bewildered at the loaded cart.
"Do you plan to eat all that?"
"I've picked the smallest quantities I could get. You are welcome to share too if you wish!" She didn't want to talk to him; she wanted to scream.
"Thanks but I don't want to get spoiled. It'll be hard to recover after you leave."
"You don't have to remind me about that over and over again! I have decent memory, and I shall keep my word. Before you know it, I'll be gone from your life, and you won't even miss me."
He looked up sharply. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's all right. I'd prefer you being honest with me. It's bitter but healthier in the end. Shall we leave?"
***
The following day Rishabh woke up to the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread. Closing his eyes, he tried to shut out the tempting vision.
After a shower and shave, he walked into the living room to find the kitchen look like one for the first time since he'd moved in. Madhu seemed different; her cheeks flushed by the heat of the range, busy preparing one of her favorite dishes on the pan, humming under her breath, appearing relaxed and happy.
"Hi!" he greeted her cautiously while reaching for his box of cereals.
"Hello. No good morning today?"
"Good morning."
She watched as he examined with interest the tiny shrine she had created in one corner of the kitchen counter with a small brass Ganesha along with a tiny oil lamp and a couple of fragrant incense sticks.
"I felt this house was missing something. You don't mind, do you?"
"No, not at all!" He brought his hands together briefly in front of the idol before taking a seat at the dinette. But he didn't proceed.
Smiling, she said, "You can try a sample if you wish. I won't force you."
"Perhaps a tiny piece."
Gingerly, he placed a fragment in his mouth. She waited apprehensively.
"May I kiss your hands?"
"You like it?" she asked, beaming with pleasure.
"Like it? Gosh I love it! It's even better than what I recall Mother used to make. Now I get the reason for your absurdly high standards. Can I have a whole one?"
For the next several minutes, Madhu looked on as her reluctant spouse devoured every morsel of her handiwork.
"Ahh...! That tastes so much better than cold, boring cereal. Would you mind packing me a couple for lunch? I've been eating cold sandwiches for ages!" he said, licking his fingers.
"But then your good habits will get spoiled, in your own words."
"No one can resist an in-house gourmet chef, temporary or permanent. I'm going to miss you."
She packed a box for him.
"Thank you. I'll see you later. Take care." He left after hesitating for a moment at the door.
***
When he returned that evening, he found her chitchatting with Sujoy. They appeared to have bonded well. She was bent over, her face red, tears of mirth flowing down her cheeks at one of his silly jokes.
Rishabh suddenly felt envious; why did everyone take to Sujoy right away?
"Sooj! Stop before my wife has a fit!"
Madhu stopped laughing and stared at him.
Chagrined, he looked away.
"She may be your wife, but she is my little sis, and she is teaching me Hindi! Haina, Madhu?"
"Haan, dadamoni! Yes, you are absolutely right!"
"And she fed me her Gobhi Parathas! Bah! Amazing, or I'd have starved today! Debo is so nauseous that she runs away from anything that smells good. Pregnancy is not a very pleasant thing, I think."
"Dadamoni, how miserable! Can I make some khichdi or soup for her?"
"Na! She is fine! But thank you for asking," he replied, gently patting her hand. "Even though I've just met you, it feels like I've known you forever. And since you call me your brother, don't hesitate to come to me anytime especially if this chap here gives you trouble." Sujoy winked at Rishabh. "I should be going now and leave you two alone and stop being what you say, yes...kebab mein haddi!"
***
"I apologize for saying anything I shouldn't have."
"The me' being your wife' thing? I didn't mind it. You did marry me, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. But sorry anyway." Rishabh's mouth twisted into a brief smile before he headed into his bedroom.
Madhu's hopes improved as the days passed. Rishabh seemed to enjoy her cooking, was always courteous, and appeared prompt in returning home directly from work. There was no further mention of Des.
But that's where their relationship had stalled.
At times when she caught him staring at her, he'd promptly turn away. He had also gone to great lengths to avert coming in contact with her though on one occasion it became unavoidable.
tbc
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