Vaidehi (published in Savadati)

I enter our apartment and toss my keys down on the elephant-shaped side table. I have just dropped off Vaidehi at the San Francisco International airport. I pour my customary glass of scotch and let myself out onto the front deck. The apartment is unbearable.

Vaidehi and I met twenty-two years ago. It was a chance meeting in a coffee shop. I was reading Virgina Woolf, she stopped to comment on it - and stayed chatting for three hours. She was a first-year undergrad in Berkely, California. I was a Doctoral student. She was so utterly beautiful! Her eyes alight with smiles. Her long dark brown hair silkier than sweating coffee beans. It was all I could do to not stare hungrily. Suddenly, half-rising, she had kissed me full on my lips. I was shocked. Certainly not what I had expected from an undergrad clad in a demure salwar kameez, with a pink bindi to boot! She had smiled back at me with wicked delight. And that was the start of our relationship. The first of many instances when Vaidehi would gracefully flex my perceptions.

We became inseparable - an official couple on campus. Born and brought up in Berkeley, I was completely at home. But she hailed from Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. An only child of fairly well-to-do parents, she had been entrusted to a family friend (also a senior in her department) and sent abroad for higher studies. Needless to say, by now she was not on speaking terms with that friend - or with most of her Indian friends for that matter. She must have suffered countless jokes and jeers. I say ‘must have’ because I never heard about them. She flicked them all off with a toss of her long hair.

Informing our parents was solely Vaidehi’s idea. I did not see the need.

She first sent a letter to her mother and father. It sank wordlessly into the enormous void separating them. She then tried calling repeatedly; repeatedly they left her calls unanswered. Finally, her father sent an e-mail - she must leave me and Berkeley, return home and marry her uncle’s son in Hyderabad; otherwise she would be ostracized. That is the only time I ever saw her falter. It was as fast as two rapid blinks of her moist brown eyes and then she resolved things with typical passionate logic. Had he only asked her to leave me, she could have forgiven him that. But his remaining conditions were beyond forbearance.

Next we tried my parents. They lived in Palo Alto. Both were professors of modern literature at Stanford. She was delighted when in answer to our e-mail, they invited us over to dinner.

But I was filled with dread.

We dined with them on a crisp Saturday evening in October. I dressed in my usual black jeans and shirt. But Vaidehi chose a light green chiffon saree. Her hair lay open, swaying lithely when she walked. She added a slim gold chain, small gold studs and one gold bangle. She looked impossibly delicious.

As soon as we entered my house, she touched my parents’ feet. She smiled at my father and thanked him for having us over. Then with unflappable calm she linked arms with my mother and sashayed off to the kitchen. Soon we could hear gentle giggles assaying from within. My father and I stared at the floor in awkward silence. My parents had not known what to make of me for a long time. For my part, I had spent considerable energy snubbing them into silence. Yet there we were, watching my girlfriend woo my mother. Seeking approval…even acceptance. The evening climaxed when Vaidehi acknowledged that understandably our relationship must have been a shock, but we hoped they would accept us and let us be one family. Mr. and Mrs. Chakraborty, my distinguished parents, positively beamed us out of the room with their smiles. I drove home furious. “You gave in! You showed me down!” I kept shouting at her over and over again. “No” she said, serenely confident. “Sometimes it’s ok to give in.”

And so the years passed. I earned my Doctoral degree in Child Psychology and was offered a teaching post at a community college. Vaidehi also completed her Bachelors then Masters in Information Management and Systems. We settled into jobs and life was replete with everyday cares.

It was around this time that Vaidehi started chatting with a young Indian woman, Shivani, who had moved into the apartment below us. Shivani was a Journalism student by day and a waitress by night. It took us two months to realize Shivani was pregnant. And another two months to realize she was painfully alone.

I watched with silent anxiety as Vaidehi became increasingly attached to Shivani. We were childless. A fact that Vaidehi and I had accepted. But now I worried Vaidehi was pouring her expectations into Shivani’s womb. Sure enough, Shivani offered us her baby the minute he was born. I was aghast. But a look of utter understanding passed between Shivani and Vaidehi. Neither was doing any favors. Shivani had no means of supporting the baby. (She had separated from an abusive boyfriend). Vaidehi was only too delighted to accept the baby. However, none of us wanted to go through the red tape of an actual adoption. So we worked out an informal arrangement by which Shivani stayed around to sign off on official documents etc. But the baby, Kedar, lived with us. Vaidehi devoted herself to being a mother. At first I mocked her, and then humbled, I allowed myself to be sucked in as well. Soon the three of us were family.

One day, about six months later, out of the blue, Vaidehi got it in her head that if she could just get her parents to see Kedar, things would fall in place. I felt motherhood had softened her. Hmph! I scoffed. But then I remembered sometimes it’s ok to give in.

So we flew to Hyderabad; all four of us- Shivani, me, Kedar and Vaidehi. Of course we were greeted by a silent, locked door. We sat in front of that door the whole day. Finally Vaidehi shuffled to her feet. I wanted to tear down that door and shoot them all.

And that’s when we realized Kedar had fever.

Stifling our guilt, we rushed to the R___ L___ hospital. At the entrance I grabbed a registration form and started filling it out. I was brought up short at the second line itself. It asked for the father’s name. Point blank. There was no option for “mother” or “guardian”. I crossed out ‘father’, wrote in ‘mother’ and after a slight pause filled in Shivani’s name. I quickly filled out the rest of the form and handed it in. A red pen ran down the form and made a big circle around Shivani’s name. We don’t need mother’s name here, said a masculine voice. We need father’s name. But he does not live with us, he does not even know the baby, I explained. Never mind, came the retort in impatient tones. The baby has a father right? Give me his name…..and the pen hovered over the form. Did I imagine the mockery in the voice? I opened my mouth to argue, when someone intercepted. It was Vaidehi. “Sir” she clipped, “this baby needs help. Get him help now. His father does not care if he lives or dies, and you want his name over his mother’s who carried him for 9 months? How about we put in your name- how about that?”

I stepped aside and watched the fireworks. Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned! The poor man stood no chance. He retreated and fetched his manager – who was also lambasted by Vaidehi. The manager now rushed to get his senior manager. Oh boy! We really raised a stink that day! It was the four of us ranged against a veritable army of pot-bellied, pompous old men. Finally a senior doctor suggested we could write the father’s name and the mother’s name. His suggestion was greeted with a great roar of approval - clearly everyone was impressed by his brilliance. We finally gave up.

But I remember a nurse who smiled and stuck her thumb up at me, signaling victory. I also remember my sadness at her gesture.

In the end, it turned out Kedar only had a minor heat stroke. Much relieved, we cut our trip short and returned home.

My world has turned many times since. Memories cartwheel around my head like tumbleweeds……

Vaidehi cheering at Shivani’s graduation, Vaidehi puzzling over Kedar’s assignments, Vaidehi beaming at an unexpected promotion, Vaidehi laughing at my first (and only) attempt at wearing a saree, Vaidehi marching to protest the Iraq war, Vaidehi buying a hand fan to celebrate my first hot flash, Vaidehi accepting Shivani’s move to Boston, Vaidehi quietly acquiescing when Kedar followed suit.

And more recently- Vaidehi stunned to receive a call from her newly widowed mother… Vaidehi disappointed by my cold silences…Vaidehi sobbing quietly in bed last night……

And finally, Vaidehi departing for India today.... without a backward glance.....

Draining my glass, I come back in and start my laptop. I pull up the screen for Singapore Airlines and click on the tab ‘flights and fares’.

Departure city: San Francisco. Destination city: Hyderabad.

It’s time to let my world turn again. Sometimes it’s ok to give in.