One Indian Girl by Chetan Bhagat

‘Will you stop it? Stop calling me high-flying or whatever. When you do well I am happy for
you. Am I not? Why can’t you be?’
He looked at me once and then sideways. I let out a deep breath and spoke again, as calm as
possible.
‘Nobody needs to quit if they don’t want to. We can still have a good happy family,’ I said.
Debu kept quiet. I could tell my words did not convince him.
‘Say something,’ I said, putting my cutlery down.
He remained quiet, continued to eat in silence. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wiped them with
a tissue.
He placed his hand on mine.
‘Don’t cry,’ he said.
‘Don’t make me cry and then say “don’t cry”,’ I said, my voice breaking.
‘Leave all this banking and morning meetings. You are stressing yourself out.’
‘I am fine,’ I said as I continued to cry. ‘I am fine.’
‘You are this simple Indian girl. You need to love and be loved.’
‘Yeah, I am,’ I said, sniffling as I composed myself.
‘I will take care of us. Don’t you just want to be there for me and our future kids?’
I checked the time.
‘It’s 7.20. I really need to rush.’
I walked towards the bathroom. Debu spoke behind me.
‘See. This is what you do. I am discussing something with you,’ he said.
I turned to him at the bathroom door.
‘I have a morning meeting. I am presenting a deal. I told you.’
‘But I am discussing something important. Leave the meeting today.’
‘I can’t. I have to present the China deal.’
I went into the bathroom, took a quick shower and changed from my nightclothes to a white
shirt and black trousers. When I came out Debu was still sitting at the dining table.
‘This is what I fear. Even as a mother this is what you will do. Then what?’ he said.
I didn’t respond. I stared at him for five seconds. He cowered a little, nervous at what I would
do next. I reached the entrance door and opened it. I stepped out of the house. I glared at him one
more time and slammed the door shut.