Decisions

“Dad! She wants to come with me.”

“Hmmm…does she?” His father’s furrowed brows knotted together for a few seconds, then his face lit up with an amused grin. “So our Amrit’s daughter has a backbone. I like that!”

“What? Do you already know her family?”

“Yes, her father is a close friend.”

“Friend? And you let me…?” Stranger or friend, anybody and everybody was fair game for Shiv Ahuja. But then, was Shaan any better?

His father shrugged. “So it’d seem we have a problem on our hands or, rather, you do. I wouldn’t care either way, though if you stay married, it would make life much easier for me.”

“I didn’t expect any sympathy from you.” Shaan felt quite alone in his quandary.

“Ha! Wonder why she suggested that? Perhaps she wishes to emigrate, or better still, she has fallen in love with you,” Shiv said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Shaan looked doubtfully at him. “I don’t think so, but she does have a point.”

“Again, if I were you, son, I wouldn’t hurry into anything. She has given you a way out and is not demanding much in return. Think it over, the final decision is yours.”

***

Shaan thought it over.

He thought while gazing out the window of his old room at a landscape that had become unrecognizable in the few years he had been on his own.

Ruhi came out of the bathroom looking young and fresh in a maroon sari with a yellow border, coloring deeply when she found him staring at her. “Is there something wrong with the way I look?” she asked. “Should I change?”

Smiling, he said, “No, that color becomes you.” Then, as though he had uttered something terrible, he turned abruptly and left the room.

Later, they went over to her parent’s place, where there were rituals, rituals, rituals…empty, meaningless rituals. And crowds, laughter, silly inane banter.

It all helped him think; the chaos gave him space.

It was weird; like he was an outsider at his own wedding party. Her folks were nice people; indeed, they were a neat, little, happy family. Though Ruhi’s parents only had a daughter, she made up for the numbers with close friends and cousins. And she was quite popular, what with the way everybody thronged to her. She sparkled, she glowed, and she blushed, playing her part well. It was as though he were watching a movie in slow motion. No one could have suspected.

He felt a nudge on his side. “What happened, jiju?” A young girl stood next to him, his wife’s cousin he presumed. “Haven’t you had enough of di’s beauty that you have eyes for nobody else?”

He smiled. If only they knew the truth. But he wasn’t going to spoil their fun; they were all but innocent spectators at the grandest sham of the decade.

If she could put on a front, so could he. He’d join in the festivities. The celebrations were in his honor and for his benefit, so why not? It was unlikely he would ever tie the knot again. He enjoyed all the attention, being treated like a king.

“Son? Is it okay if I call you beta?” his father-in-law asked Shaan; he had kind eyes.

Shaan looked over to his wife—what an odd-sounding word—and she mouthed a silent, “Please.” Then she smiled, her eyelashes drifting down in shy discomposure, carrying on as though it was one of the happiest days of her life.

“Of course! Zaroor! Think of me as your son, Daddyji!” Shaan reached down to touch his feet, but his father-in-law embraced him. Shaan thought he saw tears in the man’s eyes.

He had made his decision.