‘We never talk. At home, my mom and dad, they hardly talk. We’ll talk about
the news, the food, the weather. But we never talk about our feelings. I only do
that with you,’ she said.
I kept quiet. She sat up to wear her clothes. She picked up the pillows from the
floor and placed them back on the bed. I pulled her arm and made her sit down
with me again.
‘How come you don’t ask me to run away with you?’ she asked.
‘You want me to? What if I did ask you to elope?’
‘I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt them. I already have by
choosing a Punjabi mate, but I think we can win them over, I want them to smile
on our wedding day. That’s how I imagined my marriage since I was a child. What
about you?’
I thought for a minute. ‘I don’t want to elope,’ I said.
‘Why?’
‘It’s too easy. And that doesn’t serve the greater purpose.’
Ananya stepped off the bed and brought back the leftovers. She took the
crumbs of chicken and ate them as we talked. ‘Greater purpose?’
‘Yes, these stupid biases and discrimination are the reason our country is so
screwed up. It’s Tamil first, Indian later. Punjabi first, Indian later. It has to end.’
Ananya looked at me. ‘Go on,’ she coaxed mischievously.
I continued, ‘National anthem, national currency, national teams – we won’t
marry our children outside our state. How can this intolerance be good for our
country?’
Ananya smiled. ‘Is it the chicken, is it the beer or is it the sex? What has
charged you up so much? Flatter me and say it is the sex. C’mon say it,’ she said.
‘I’m serious Ananya. This bullshit must end.’
‘And how are we making it end?’
‘Imagine our kids.’
‘I have, several times. I want them to have my face. Only your eyes,’ she said.
nora
(Nora)
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