10– Bittersweet homecoming

Artha

Since it had been last minute, brother could only get two empty seats next to each other, the other seat was right at the back. The loner seat was mine.

“I can't even remember if I locked my door.” Dean was telling Arjun as we walked down the aisle, looking for our seats. “This is a one-way ticket, how long are we gonna stay for?”

I was following behind them.

 “I don't know, D. Indian weddings are so complicated.”

“I hope I switched off my stove.” D continued.

Arjun groaned. “If you're going to complain all the way then go sit on Artha's seat.”

“Or you go sit on Artha's seat.” He responded. “I don't want to have to hear you complain about how much you don't want to get married for 19 hours.”

“Oh, my friend, I do want to get married now actually.” He answered as he moved into his seat.

“Is that why you sent us last minute invitations?”

“Would you have rather not been invited?”

“They say that when someone invites you last minute, you shouldn’t accept the invitation because it means that they were not planning on inviting you in the first place.”

I was going to walk past when Dean suddenly took my hand. My heart almost beat out of my chest. What was he thinking taking my hand like that when brother was around? I looked over at Arjun to see if he had caught a glimpse of this. He was busy putting his luggage on the overhead compartment, talking, but not looking.

I shot Dean an are-you-crazy? look. He proceeded to want to touch my face, but I pulled away.

“You okay?” He whispered.

I nodded quickly, turning away just before Arjun turned to face us.

“It's like 5am in India, why is dad sending me messages.” Arjun said as he sat down.

“What did he say?” I heard Dean say as I walked past their seat.

“He sent me a picture.”

I passed the other passengers as they all fiddled around, packing away their luggage, shifting around in their seats or changing channels on the seatback screens. The air smelt fresh and felt cool. The last time I had been on a plane, I must have been 10 or 11. I had blurred memories of dad picking me up from school in the middle of class, my clothes already in his car, and driving us to the airport.

I found my seat at the back. I only had two hours to pack for this flight, so I just packed a few of my dresses that I thought would be wedding worthy.

Oh no! I just realized that I forgot to pack shoes. Who packs a dress but forgets the shoes, Artha? I groaned in frustration, getting the attention of the man sitting next to me. He stared at me briefly and frowned. I raised an eyebrow at him and waited for him to look away before I looked away. What are you looking at?

I sighed, could this day get any worse? I was really going to spend 19 hours in this flight with having to stare at the back of Dean's head from a distance. He and I had always fantasized about our honeymoon, saying that we would use it as an opportunity to both travel out of the continent since he had never left North America before.

Now here we were, leaving the continent, on the same flight, for an unexpected wedding and sitting 8 rows away from each other. How nice.

Arjun

“He sent me a picture of the girl.”

Dean leaned closer to me as I opened the image.

“Oooh!” He beamed. And then when I opened the image, “Woah... she actually looks so... beautiful.”

It took me a brief moment, but I recognized the face. Dad sent her name with the picture, saying that he had taken the picture today at the henna ceremony. But I didn't have to read it to know who she was.

Preetah Arora.

She still looked the same. The only difference was that she looked older, more woman-like.

She was wearing a scarf over her head, smiling from ear to ear and holding up her hands to display her painted hands. On her palms, in Hindi, I read my name.

“What do you think about her?” Dean nudged me, bringing me back to reality.

“Not bad.” I responded, switching off my screen.

“Not bad? Is that all you have to say?” Dean asked me, grinning. “This girl looks hot, dude.”

“It's a half picture.” I argued.

“So? Look at her face, and smile...”

“Why are you trying so hard to make me believe she’s all that?”

“Why are you being stubborn?”

“Why haven't you had a girlfriend for the past 2 years?”

“Touché.”

I laughed at him, he joined in later, telling me that he was waiting for the right one.

As he went on, my mind trailed off. How in the world did my family in India only pick Preetah Arora for me to marry? Out of all the women in India, as over-populated as it was, why Preetah? Does she know that I am the man coming from America to marry her?

“Arjun!” I remember how she called me from her desk. She had looked so scared, desperate, and anxious at the same time. I remember my heart ringing in my ears as she started walking towards me. I don't remember if she said anything or what it was, but I remember her continue stepping closer to me. Why did she come so close? What did her friend convince her to do? If dad hadn't walked in, what would she have done?

I remember her smiling at me, the same huge smile in the picture, with her dimples. In the picture though, the dimples did not look as deep as they were that day, when she smiled at me.

I was nervous that day, my palms were sweating and hands trembling. She was the most beautiful girl in our class, she had the darkest hair and thickest. I often watched it bounce whenever she walked to the board or out of the class. Since she was a top achiever, she was always being called up to the front of the class. The teachers said that I was shy, so they rather called her up, not knowing that she too was shy. They didn't see it, but I saw it. Preetah's hands were always trembling softly whenever she was at the front. Always. And her mouth always dried up, as a result, she would always lick her bottom lip whenever she spoke.

With her scarf over her head in that picture, I wondered whether her hair was as pitch dark as it was in high school. Dark hair that matched her dark bushy eyebrows, and long eyelashes. All that, coupled with thick brown lips.

Along with those memories, came the abrupt arrival of the nightmares and scars...

My mind began to banter... how could I marry someone that I loathed for so long? Someone whose memories I used as unsavoury motivation. I gnashed my teeth and clenched my fist as a few of those traumatic memories quickly clouded my thoughts, one after another.

Dad, strucking me across the jaw - I saw my 18-year-old-self fly to the ground, in front of the girl he liked and grunt in agony. As he continued hitting me, I spat blood.

“Take off your clothes!” Dad had roared at me when we stepped into the house. He didn't care that my 5-year-old sister was in the room. He ripped my clothes when I didn't obey and whipped me with a bundle of electrical wires until I was too weak to cry.

He tormented me for the rest of that year, and the following, until I was rescued by that bursary.

If I hadn't come across that bursary and applied, I wouldn't have been selected, and if I hadn't been trying to get away, I wouldn't have applied.

Since Preetah was as smart as me, she motivated me to push harder without even being aware of it.

But that was not the only way she motivated me. Because of what she did that day, she had unleashed my father's deep-seated hostility. She had created a partner for my psychological abuse- physical scars. So I hated her for that, every single day, until I left.

***

We landed in Lal Bahadur Shastri Airport around 12am. I remember the joy I felt the last time I was here, waiting for my flight to America. I felt like a leashed dog finally set free. I remember marvelling at the magnitude of the place and its blinding lights. But here I was, 10 years later, having set foot in many many airports, that this particular one seemed too familiar.

“I am still surprised that they have airports this grand in India.” Dean was amazed. “Doesn't look much different than ours.”

“How far is the hotel from here?” Artha asked me.

“They said 10 minutes’ drive.”

“I need a bed right now.” Dean said and then let out an exhausted yawn. “How many rooms did you book?”

“Five.” I answered, as I gestured to a taxi.

“Five?” Dean stopped me just for clarity.

“He's being sarcastic.” Artha answered him.

“You know... there's a really good night club close to the hotel.” I nudged him. “I checked online. It has good reviews.”

“And?” Artha answered.

“I am not talking to you, since when does clubs concern you?” I asked, as the taxi driver began loading our luggage into his trunk quickly, like he was rushing to take us where we needed to be.

She rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Don't be rude to her!” Dean grinned, throwing an arm over her.

I walked to them, removed his arm from around her neck, and then entered the taxi.

That made Dean laugh. “So overprotective, geez.” He said after he came in on the other side, after Artha.

“Am I not supposed to be?” I answered. “Driver, we are going to Taj Ganges Hotel.”

“Okay.” The driver, responded. His Indian accent was thick, like father's.”

“As I was saying, there's this really nice-looking club, I think it will be lit. Let's go.”

“Aren't you tired?” Artha asked, giving an attitude.

“It's my wedding tomorrow...” I then looked at the time. “Actually today, in a couple of hours.” I grinned.

“I thought you were not happy about getting married.” Artha sounded nonchalant.

“So you want like a bachelor party?”

“Yes, D!” I reached over Artha to shake his arm wildly. “We're in a different country, let's do something exciting!”

“Like what?” Dean answered, unenthusiastically. He didn't seem keen.

“Why are you being so boring?” I shook his arm again, trying to instil in him the vigour I felt. Perhaps it was the 18-year-old me speaking, wanting to defy everything I was taught while I was here.

“Dean is tired—”

“I told you; this has nothing to do with you.” I sucked my teeth, annoyed with her constant interruptions. “D, we go drop our luggage, shower or whatever, and then go.”

“I am tired, bro. She's right.” Dean told me. “You need to be fresh anyway, your wedding is in a couple of hours.”

Maybe it was just me trying to block out my traumatic experiences in this country, but I didn't see myself lying on a bed and staring at the ceiling. The adrenaline spiked my veins, washing out every bit of tiredness I felt when I was on the plane.

“Then let's go see my wife then.” I smiled at him.

Dean laughed. “You're not serious.”

“I am serious.” I laughed.

“It's 12 in the morning, she's fast asleep right now, getting in her beauty sleep.”

“I'll wake her.”

“You're acting like a teenager in love, Arjun.”

“I'm not in love, I just want to do something out of the ordinary.”

“You can't see her before the wedding, it's bad luck.” Artha said, keeping her eyes on whatever she was doing on her phone.

“Apparently, Indian girls are so innocent and so good, I wanna see her.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Artha asked me, pulling a disgusted face.

“You know what, it's my wedding day, I'll do whatever I want.” I told them.

I didn't go to her; I didn't even know her house. I didn't have her number also. So we went to that club, Dean came with me, after refusing so much. After we dropped Artha to her room, Dean changed his mind and decided to join me. Said that he was coming to keep me safe.

At the club, we met a group of girls and had an enjoyable time collectively. We stayed for two hours and then decided to go back. I picked the prettiest girl in the group and took her back to the hotel with me. Dean refused to take any of the others, saying that he was too drunk and just wanted to sleep.

With the girl there, there was nothing to think about, except her body. I could block out the sounds of the electrical wires against my bare skin, my dad's angry shouting, Artha's crying, and the pain those memories carried.

Dean

We got back around 3am. I wasn’t that drunk. I knew that in a couple of hours we would have to be up early again, so I went easy on the shots and glasses of whiskey. Arjun was the one gulping down glasses of liquor as if he was not planning on waking up at all.

I leaned against the white door and knocked. The corridor was well lit and just a few doors away, Arjun was slumming it with some girl from the club so chances of him leaving his room right now was 1 out of 100. So, I was safe.

After a few more knocks Artha finally responded.

“Who is it?” She sounded sleepy.

“Me…” I whispered. “Dean…”

When she opened the door, she poked her head out to look down the corridor. She looked afraid. “Where’s Arjun?”

I went for her waist and began kissed her neck. “He is in his room.”

“You smell like alcohol.” She said as I pulled her into the room.

“And you smell fruity. Hmm.”

“Did you guys go out?”

I nodded and then began giving her pecks.

“So, you acted like you didn’t want to go and as soon as I turned my back you…”

She trailed off and gave into my kisses. She smelt of her bodywash; cranberry… As we locked lips, I ran my hands through her hair, feeling its fullness. I carried her to the bed and laid her down, climbing on top.

I look forward to the day that I would be able to go all the way. The day I would make her hold on tightly to my bear body and hear her scream in pleasure. My little Artha…

I climbed off her and laid beside her. She cozed up closely to me and kissed me a couple of times on my lips before laying on my chest and falling asleep.

I took out my phone and checked my inbox. Before opening a particular message, I looked to her to see if she was indeed sleeping.

It read: So u went to India wo me :( How long u staying? IMY.

The message came with a headless shot of her in a red bra with one of the straps hanging down her shoulder.

I quickly looked over at Artha and then messaged back: Sorry, I was busy. Miss your body. Don’t know how long we gonna stay. Good night (it’s 3am here). ILY.

I selected the messages and deleted it. After setting an alarm for 6am, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and then pulled Artha’s body on top of mine. She smiled at me when she woke up.

“Aren’t you going to sleep in your room?” She asked.

“You’re chasing me away already?” I smiled back at her. “I just got here, I miss you…”

“Where did you and Arjun go?”

“To wherever he wanted us to go.” I answered and then yawned. “You know your brother.”

“He wants me to be so perfect, but he can go to clubs and change girls like the weather.”

“Hm…” I turned my head to the side; I was physically exhausted. The flight was long, and then having to go clubbing with Arjun to ensure he came back to the room on time drained me even more. And whenever Artha started complaining about Arjun, she never stopped. “Let’s not think about him, we’re here together, in this moment, me and you...”

“In India.” She grinned.

“Exactly, in a different country.”

“Different continent.”

I nodded and then we shared a long kiss. “I love you, bear.”

“I love you, D.”

We were quiet for a while.

“You know,” she began, “I forgot to pack my heels.”

I chuckled. “We can go buy you one before the wedding.”

She nodded and then placed her face in the crook of my neck. A few seconds later, her breathing got heavier, and faster, she was asleep again.

I tightened my grip around her and sighed a peaceful sigh. It did not take me long to fall asleep after that.