CHAPTER TWELVE

I was laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and thinking about the day right from the morning to that very moment. Only one thing crossed my mind, and that was Arnav. I was attracted to him. But the thought unsettled me. Arnav had plugged in his headphones and was watching something on his phone. I just couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t working again tonight.

“Kriti ji, neend nahi aa rahi hai?” Arnav asked me if I wasn’t able to sleep having, apparently noticed me tossing and turning, as he unplugged his headphones.

I simply shook my head, not bothering to find the words to answer. His voice drowned in sweetness. “Why, in fact, did you wake up so early, today?”

I sat up avoiding his stare. “I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

He put his phone and the headphones aside. He leaned into the cushions at his back. “Is there something you’d like to do?”

“No, Arnav ji.” I grabbed a pillow, the one which was still used as a barrier in between us at nights and pulled it onto my lap.

“Do you want to watch a movie with me? Should I switch on the TV? Or you know, we can watch something on the laptop?”

I denied showing no interest in his proposal. “No, Arnav ji, I don’t really feel like watching a movie either.”

“Okay, so what do you feel like doing? Please don’t say you want to do a ‘Karaoke Night’ now.” He finished the sentence in that teasing way of his.

I laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to sing right now.”

He chuckled deepening his gaze which gave me butterflies, “Okay, so what else would you like to do at this hour?”

“I think we should talk,” I said, excitedly.

“About?” He looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. That one word from him made my cautious excitement dissipate in one efficient sweep.

“There doesn’t always have to be an ‘about’ when we chat. People talk about random things, occasionally.”

“Which people?” He raised one questioning eyebrow as though he couldn’t imagine a more ridiculous notion.

“Normal people Arnav ji,” I said, beginning to lose my patience with him.

The bastard just laughed at me. “I’m sorry for that reaction, but, Kriti ji, it seems very funny to me when you talk about normal people. See, you know very well, you are definitely not normal.”

I scrunched up my face in disgust. “It is pointless to try and talk to you. Just go back to your movie.” I threw myself back down into the pillows.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He apologized immediately. I gave him an angry look.

“I do want to chat,” he made air quotes around the word ‘chat’. Like a jerk. “Kriti ji, you must have realized by now that chatting, just like shopping, is not my thing.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “I know. It’s the hardest thing for you to just talk to me. At least try. I will teach you,” I said, my decision firm.

He was again playful then said dramatically, “oh my God! This is such a disaster. I do not know how I’m ever going to learn to chat at midnight. Please, Kriti ji, teach me.”

I was stunned. I didn’t think he had it in him to actually achieve comedy. I couldn’t keep myself from giggling at his theatrics. “Yes, I can save you Arnav ji.”

Our simple, playful conversation soon turned into something with a little more substance. That was the first time Arnav actually shared with me something about his father. I asked, “Arnav ji, so you’ve got all this from him?”

He replied trying to hide away that deep emotion, “yeah, everyone says that I’m an exact picture of him. We are entirely similar in looks, and, I feel, in many other ways, too. The management qualities, and reading people’s minds, and this teasing, which irritates you,” he blinked at me, “it’s all in my genes. It came from him.” He missed him so much. “You know Kriti ji, I often wish he would have stayed with us a little longer.” He was good at hiding his feelings, but that moment the heaviness in his voice spoke loudly. I crawled nearer to him and kept my hand on his, he clutched it immediately gently brushing his thumb over my wrist. I didn’t want to stop him, but I saw him falling deeper into those memories. I whispered, “Arnav ji, he must be very happy seeing you grow up like this.” I looked at the room, “he’s here, with us, and he sees you every day. He is happy to see his son.” Arnav’s eyes sparkled and he smiled, pulling me closer, wrapping me in his embrace.

“Yeah, I feel the same.” He caressed my shoulder when I noticed the silence that had grown. He was the first to break it.

“Kriti ji,” he asked, now serious, “so what are your plans for the future?”

I was confused. Future? I was suddenly regretting my decision to ‘chat’. I was in no way ready to talk about anything related to ‘family planning’. I was not at all ready for that. I moved away, looking at him, “what do you mean, Arnav ji? What future?”

“Your future Kriti ji,” he said flippantly. “Your career.”

I was struck. This was a topic I hadn’t really considered. I am a woman, do I need to have a career, too? “Career?”

“Yes,” he adopted a stern kind of look. “You are a well-educated girl. Don’t you want to do something with that?”

I shook my head. I had no idea what to say now. I had a bucket of things to talk about just five minutes ago, and now, not even a single word came out of my mouth. “Do you want me to work? Don’t you like me being a house-wife?”

He snickered at my phrasing. “No, Kriti ji, it hardly matters to me. I just wanted to know if you’d like to do something else with your life. You must have some goals, some ambitions, something like that.”

I was again quiet. What could I have said when I hadn’t ever given a thought about as an adult? I’d spent my life preparing to be a wife, not a professional. When I was five years old, I dreamed of working as a teacher. I used to teach my imaginary students, my dolls in my bedroom. But then one day, I grew up and I learned my lesson about what exactly I could expect from my future. I’m a girl and I was not allowed to work after my marriage. It goes against our culture.

I remembered that day clearly. I sobbed bitterly into my pillow because of what I’d seen. I was ten years old and Mumma had come home with an enrollment form for some kind of training. It would have lasted two years and then she could have taught Primary school. But when she shared her dream with Daddy, he categorically shot her down. It was totally unacceptable to him. The drama in my house lasted for three days with my Daddy screaming and shouting at both of us. After three days of fighting, Mumma tore that entrance form up. I’ll never forget the tears in her eyes. I realized that day, that we women are made only for homes. We can only be homemakers, and those women who work, aren’t good wives or mothers. They fail in the roles that have been assigned to them. That’s what Daddy said at least. And I believed him. I realized that this is the reality of life for women in our world. It was the sins of my past, which made me a woman in this life. My gender was a punishment, and I burned all my dreams that night. The dreams of flying high one day.

I had known that I needed to study, I would be married to someone one day, and then I’ll raise kids. I knew that my work, my ambitions were not important to anyone. I was attracted to some things while growing up, like once, I wanted to be a singer, or maybe an actor, maybe I wanted to run a gift shop, and also be famous one day, but I never dared to share those ambitions or think about them more profoundly. I decided, in that moment, to share some of my deepest emotions, “Arnav ji, when people were busy planning out their future, their career, their goals; I just focused on my studies. I was in the tenth standard. I never thought I’d actually do anything with my degree. Even after my Masters I had never expected to work. None of the women in my family were allowed to work. So I never considered that I would. Do you want me to try and earn something?” I asked hesitantly. “Do you want me to get a job?”

Arnav closed his eyes in a slow blink, and then said, after taking a deep breath, “Kriti ji, it really doesn’t matter to me if you earn anything or not. I just mean to say that you should do something for yourself. You are an educated person. It’s a big thing to have a Master's in Literature. I just want you to recognize who you are. Give yourself some credit. I’m not saying that you need to go find a job or anything. I just want you to be happy.”

His words were like someone was telling me a story in a different language. Something, which I didn’t understand at first, but I could get the context through the emotional tempo of the narrator’s voice. I shifted a little, I’d never thought that someone would ever ask me these things. No one else had ever done that, but it was him who, for the first time in my life, really cared about my happiness, my life. I picked up all of my courage and said, “if you don’t want me to get a job or earn anything, then why should I work?”

Arnav gave a deep laugh. “See, that’s the problem. Do you really think that working is just about earning money?”

I nodded, what else could I do? I didn’t have the answers he wanted me to have.

“No Kriti ji,” he said gently, “I think everyone has passion, an inborn talent in themselves. To know who you are means recognizing and grooming that talent. Working is a part of knowing yourself. It helps us give meaning to our life. Just think about it. What talent do you have?”

I tried hard to think of something. “Arnav ji, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about this talent thing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe because you’ve just never looked hard enough. There must be something you’ve always loved to do. Me, I work because I love it. It’s not only that I’m running these restaurants because they were my father’s. I’ve known since I was sixteen that I would be running a business when I grew up because that had always attracted me. I knew I’d be in this business because, when I was a teen, Dad used to take me to work with him. Those days were the best for me. I’ve always been a foodie, and I’ve always loved serving people. That’s why I never get tired of it. Never get too frustrated. It’s not really work for me.

“You know Arunima Bhabhi is an interior designer, right? And she did her interior design certification after she got married. Maa and I were so happy when she decided that she would enroll. This whole house, all our restaurants, she did all of them. She quit taking clients because of Shreya, but she still works occasionally. The work is not for any other person, it’s for her own self, it’s her own life.”

Arunima Bhabhi was an interior designer? How come I never knew that? I knew about Maa and Chachi ji, but not her. I guess that was my mistake. I never asked her about her career. Actually, the whole topic of a profession just never crossed my mind.

“I’ve never thought this way. I just thought I’m a girl, I need to study, and one day I’ll be married.” I looked down at the pillow.

Arnav smiled gently, “It is not your mistake. No one ever showed you that it could be different. Even Akansha has done her C.A., weren’t you ever inspired by her?”

“Arnav ji, I wasn’t bold enough to go and really do anything. I just wanted to stay home. That’s why I studied in Kanpur. Akansha was bolder. She dared to face the world.”

“Who says you lack that courage? You have a name, Ms Kriti Tripathi ji. Find your identity.”

Arnav had a point. Who was I as an individual? Just an ordinary girl.

“But, I’m not Kriti Tripathi anymore. I’m Mrs. Kriti Arnav Gupta.”

Arnav again made a strange face as if trying to teach a small child some grand lesson. “No. You’re still yourself. My name, this ‘Ms.’ or ‘Mrs.’ thing, doesn’t matter. You’re still ‘Kriti’. You’re your own person. Marrying me hasn’t taken away your identity. Neither has it stopped your life. Your life is still your own.

“I would consider myself the worst husband if I let my wife be recognized in the eyes of the world by my name alone. I never want you to be known as the ‘wife of Arnav Gupta’. I want you to be known as ‘Ms. Kriti Tripathi’.”

Arnav's words stopped my heart. How could a man have such a beautiful perspective about his wife’s individuality? It was such a progressive thing in this male-dominated society, in this society where females are still struggling for their rights. A man talking to his wife about finding herself was unheard of. My mother’s life had always revolved entirely around my father. My aunts, who were all educated, all claimed advanced degrees, they never, ever talked about being granted that kind of freedom. I’d never thought that Arnav would be the one to teach me such a great lesson about life. I stared into his oceanic eyes with a deep sense of contentment. I saw his eyes sparkling with the knowledge that I finally understood his point of view.

“Thanks, Arnav ji. For telling me all this. I’m actually feeling very motivated, I will try to think of something. I had vivid interests as a kid. I wanted to do everything. I always wanted to be everything all at once.” I chuckled at my own antics.

“That’s alright, even I wanted to be Superman when I was a kid.” He laughed. “But then, times changed, I realized he was just a fictional character and I found my real passion. I just know that you’ll do something huge someday. It’s all hidden inside you. And whenever you want to talk about it I’ll be here. Right beside you. I promise.”