He didn't stay over that weekend.
"Do you think she is serious?"Rishab asked his father while he was being shuttled to the local subway station. Rishab hated driving, particularly in New York, where a car is considered a handicap. He preferred the subway or his faithful bicycle, which he rode every day to and from work come rain, snow or shine.
Shashank guffawed. "No son, she won't kill herself. But she'll certainly kill you if you don't bring her a bahu!"
Shashank was very loud for not so large a man. Rishab, who towered above him at more than six feet, had inherited his lanky genes from Uncle Rajbir.
Rishab chuckled. "Guess that is one reason why I don't wish to get hitched. Because no girl deserves to be a victim to mom's ministrations, no matter how well intentioned they may be. I'd rather stay single."
His father voiced his opinion sagely,"You say so now. But soon you will change your mind."
"Why? I can see how happy you are married to Mom!"
Shashank turned to face his son."In all seriousness, I'm as happy as I will ever be. You could be even happier."
Rishab eyed him skeptically. "I don't get it."
Shashank continued with a patient smile. "You are young. You have everything going your way"choice of education, job, respect, incredible success. But for how long? How long can you sustain this pace? Life comes with its share of unpleasant surprises."
His expression grew somber. "I was like you once, Rishab"young, dynamic, impatient, indestructible. I didn't need anybody, didn't want anybody. But then papaji coerced me into tying the knot. Now, when I think about it, I'm glad he did. Though, perhaps I'd have preferred a less forceful woman." He erupted into a loud laugh. "Anyway, that is beside the point. I'm as happy as I ever will be."
Shashank glanced at Rishab."What I mean is, that a time will come when you'll find an empty space inside that can only be filled with love. Mark my words."And on that cryptic note he pulled to a halt.
Rishab adjusted the ubiquitous backpack on his shoulder. "I'll think about it Dad," he said, before nodding goodbye and walking away. But he didn't intend on doing any such thing. He'd said so just to humor his father.
That night, Rishab tossed and turned restlessly in his narrow,single bed, whereas typically, he'd have fallen fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. His mother's threat along with his father's pearls of wisdom were raising a clamor inside his mind. He'd have to do something. He knew his mother wouldn't rest without seeing him wearing that noose called matrimony. But by no means was he willing to forsake his entire future by assenting to one of her favored picks. Those women were all unbearable"each and every one! Yet he couldn't see a way out.
Swearing, he kicked off the sheets and swung his long legs off the bed. A shuddering chill shot straight through his spine as his feet came in contact with the cold hardwood floor. Gripping the edge of the bed to steady himself, he shot a glance at the digital clock"morning already, and the chances of sleep fading rapidly into oblivion. Might as well get a move on.
Rishab rented a one bedroom apartment in the posh Upper East Side of Manhattan. He had secured it at a bargain as the owner who happened to be a close friend, had just got himself hitched, thereby being pressed to move to larger quarters. Rishab loved the place, even though many would consider it slightly cramped. But for him it was perfectly convenient, located at an ideal distance from the park and a half-hour to forty-five minutes at most from work.
Pulling on a pair of worn out sweats he'd had since college, and his dependable trainers, Rishab grabbed his bicycle and headed out toward Central park.
He pedaled down 5th Avenue, which at this early hour looked very unlike its jazzy self, and swung onto one of the numerous paths leading into the Park. There, after docking his bike, he took off at a brisk-paced jog. This was his daily routine. The unencumbered spaces and crisp, clean air helped keep his brain robust and operating in top gear for the rest of the day.
It was late autumn. Soon, very soon, a glittering white powder would descend from the skies and cover everything in a blanket of snow"a pristine, flawless layer of crystallized water vapor"one of the most beautiful scenes nature could offer. Rishab contemplated, as his breath steamed in front of his face, of what the winter would bring. Passing a few other travelers like himself, he nodded to a couple of nameless yet familiar people he recognized seeing before: a young man exercising his playful boxer and an elderly gent with his wife out on a leisurely stroll, their faces serene and blissful.
He then came upon another couple voraciously making out on a bench, even in this bitter cold. They continued undeterred as he ran by. He snickered. Idiots! Wait till she springsthe surprise!
Abruptly, he found his steady momentum disrupted as a memory flashed in his mind. His feet came to a jarring halt and he had to grab onto a red oak to keep from pitching flat on his face"the effect of the recollection was so great, it gave him a mini stroke every time.
The occasion was his high school prom night, and not a happy occasion at all. Cindy, the prom queen had dared him to a kiss and he'd obliged quite willingly. And then in the girls' bathroom, in a tiny stall, his raging hormones had taken over. Egged on by a few slugs of beer, one thing led to another. Thank heavens someone had barged in at the right moment"or else.
"Phew!"Rishab slid down onto a bed of bright red leaves.
Cindy had been pregnant and the perpetrator had dumped her, making him, Rishab, the dumb, rich fall guy.
Ever since he'd sworn off girls. "I'll never let that happen to me again. Ever!" He blurted out the words to no one in particular, not caring if anyone had heard him. But all he saw was the spectacular image of the skyscrapers reflected in the calm waters of the lake, where two white swans were taking a lazy turn. Bloody couples everywhere!
His pager came alive, springing him out of his reverie. It was from Lenox Hill ED. He reached for his cell phone in his back pocket, but didn't find it there.
For a brief moment he was caught in a panic, thinking he'd omitted it in his rush to leave that morning. But then he located it deep inside his right sock, though he had no clue how it made it there. He called back.
"Hi Rishab. This is Jasmine Walsh. A very good Monday morning to you! I think we can use your help here."
"Hi, Jazz. Morning to you, too. What's the matter? I thought you ER docs had everything covered,"Rishab responded with a grin.
Jasmine Walsh was a fiery red-headed Irish woman who had attended med school with him, and he didn't let go any opportunity to tease her. She was known for her short fuse. But not today.
"I thought we were until this fifteen-year-old rolled in with a bullet in his back," Jasmine said. "His friend accidentally shot him while playing with his father's gun."
"That's horrible. Tell me you're joking! What the hell were they doing playing with guns so early in the morning?" Rishab asked.
"Having a party, I guess." Jasmine sighed. "The parents are out in Cancun celebrating their 20th anniversary or some such thing, so the boys chose to have their own bit of fun. Lot of booze, drugs and horseplay with guns. That's all I know. Anyway, when can I expect you? I've already assured the hysterical mom that you are the best hope her kid has."
"Thanks for tooting my horn, especially when I haven't even peeked at the scans yet. Alert the OR team. I'll be there in 40 tops."
Rishab could feel the adrenalin pumping in his veins as he jogged back. This was the reason why he loved his job so much. His skills could prevent someone from losing the use of his legs. In his mind, Rishab could already visualize himself performing the delicate procedure. His hands never shook so nervousness wasn't a problem.
***
Success!
Releasing a prolonged sigh, Rishab sunk back into his swivel chair at the Manhattan clinic of Central Neurosurgical Associates. Four long, bloody painstaking hours to extract the bullet, but he'd done it. The blood had been evacuated and the spinal cord saved. The boy would be able to walk again.
Grudgingly, he'd accepted the praise for accomplishing one of the toughest procedures that a neurosurgeon could undertake. But it was when the boy's father with tears in his eyes, had taken Rishab's hands and reverently kissed them, he knew how valued his skills were. That was enough to validate all the years of toil and hard work he'd put himself through.
But his achievement failed to make the slightest dent in his mother's demands when he told her later that day. She screeched into the phone like a witch who'd discovered she'd slept through Halloween.
"Rishab! Do you want me to kill myself? If so, prescribe me some poison!"
Damnit! Why can't I be left alone for even a moment! He closed his eyes, counted slowly to five and replied. "Okay Mother. I'll give the matter serious consideration."
"Wow, really?" She sounded excited, her voice raising an octave. He could imagine her eyes gleaming with delight. Indeed, she'd make an awesome witch. "Then shall I start discussions with the Sharmas for their daughter, Renu? She's supposed to be a really good cook. Or what about the Roshans? Their younger girl, Sush, is apparently very skilled in needlework."
"Ma...are you getting married or am I?"he barked into the phone.
"Beta, listen...I...just want to make it easy for you."
"I'm willing to listen," he retorted sternly,"but only on one condition. I'll choose my future wife entirely on my own."
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