“You have to find a way to convince Dad,” I tell Mom as I roll out dough to make chapattis, trying my hardest to make them as round as Mom makes them and failing entirely, despite my best efforts to mentally calculate the force of the pressure I’m using and the angle I’m rolling at. “I don’t understand why he won’t even entertain the idea when I’m not opposed to it.”
I told him I’d get married if it’d save the company, and Dad lost his mind, refusing to speak to me at all, let alone tell me anything about which company we’d merge with, or who I’d even marry.
Mom sighs as she watches her infamous lamb curry simmer on the stove. It’s Dad’s favorite, and she makes it every time we need to convince him of something. This time, I worry it may not be enough. “Raya,” Mom says, her voice soft. When she looks at me, her gaze is pained. “To be honest, I’m on the same page as your dad. I do want the merger to proceed, but not with you as collateral.”
I place my hand on her arm and draw a shaky breath. “This could save the company. You know that losing our business will mean losing a little part of Dad, don’t you?”
She falls silent and turns away from me to grab her spice tray, clearly just wanting to get out of this conversation that we’ve had a thousand times over now. “Had our roles been reversed, and Dad had to make a sacrifice for my happiness, he’d do it without a second thought. If nothing else, I should be given all the information so I can make an informed decision.”
“It’s different,” Mom says, her tone exasperated. “You’re our daughter, Raya. It’s our duty to take care of you, to protect you.”
I run a hand through my long hair, trying my hardest to remain patient. “I’m not a child anymore, Mom. You raised me better than this — how could you possibly expect me to turn a blind eye when I could solve all our problems?”
I watch as Mom makes masala chai, my favorite. She hand blends all the ingredients into a fine powder once a month, and despite following her instructions to the letter, I’ve never been able to get it quite right, so now she just sends me off with a jar of her mix instead.
“I expect you to do it because these aren’t your problems to solve, Raya.” I watch as she adds milk to the tea on the stove. “You can keep coming home every single evening instead of staying in your dorm where you’re supposed to be,” she side-eyes me and shakes her head, “and we can keep having this conversation every single time, but it won’t change a thing.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice breaking. “The man I’d marry… is he truly so bad?”
Mom hesitates and shakes her head. “No,” she says, sighing. “Honestly, he’s exactly the kind of person that I think you’ll end up with, from what I can tell about him, anyway.”
She pours me a cup of steaming hot tea, and I take it from her carefully. “Then what is the issue? Truly, Mom. I’m just trying to understand.”
She nods to herself and takes a deep breath, her thumb brushing over the Ganesh pendant around her neck. “Okay,” she whispers, seemingly more to herself than to me. “Why don’t we sit for a moment?”
She leads me to the breakfast bar, and nerves rush through me. Mom rarely sits me down for a conversation — all our talks happen while I help her cook. The few times she’s sat me down, it’s been because of something serious.
She takes my hand, her expression conflicted. “The reason your dad is so opposed to the mere idea of an arranged marriage is because of me.” She looks down and draws a shaky breath. “You see, Raya… the day I turned eighteen was also the day I got married.”
I frown, certain that can’t be right. I’ve seen Mom and Dad’s wedding photos, and while she looked young, she wasn’t eighteen.
“It was an arranged marriage with a man I’d never even met before. Your maternal grandfather, who you’ve never met, arranged it. The man in question was someone from the village in India that my parents were born in, and I had no say in the matter. As it turned out, neither did he.”
I stare at my mother in shock. “What?”
She nods, her expression haunted. “Things were different back then, Raya. You just didn’t choose your own partner — your parents would choose for you. He seemed great on paper since he was well-educated, and our background was similar. Besides, our parents grew up together and moved here from India around the same time. It seemed like a good match, except he already had someone he loved.”
I stare at Mom, unsure what to say. I’d never have guessed that she’d been married before Dad. They’re so happy together, and it truly seems like they’re each other’s first and only love. I suppose that might still be true.
“Unfortunately, he blamed me for the marriage when I had even less of a choice than he ever did, and within a matter of weeks, he became… hard to live with. I tried going back home, but my family kept telling me to make things work, and that divorce wasn’t an option.”
“So that’s why I’ve never met your side of the family,” I murmur. I knew they’d fallen out, but I was never quite sure why. As I grew older, I assumed it was because Mom married outside of her culture, and perhaps that was part of it, but the full story is clearly a lot more complex.
She nods. “I didn’t have the courage to escape that marriage, knowing that my family didn’t support me. They’re very traditional, and once I’d gotten married, they wouldn’t let me move back home. I could go home for weeks at a time, but eventually, I was sent back to my husband, until I just couldn’t take it anymore.” She raises a trembling hand and pushes her hair behind her ear, her expression filled with heartache. “I’d been working for your dad at the time, and one day, he saw the bruises on my skin. He helped me unconditionally. Your dad saved me, Raya.”
I bite down on my lip to keep my emotions in check, shocked by Mom’s story and the role Dad played in it. I knew they met while she was working for him, but this isn’t what I’d been imagining all these years. It’s surprising that she’s still able to smile the way she does when she’s been through so much.
“Your father is terrified that my fate will befall you, honey. The mere idea of an arranged marriage fills him with worries for your safety, and nothing I do or say will convince him that I was just unlucky, and that what happened to me could’ve happened even if my first marriage had been a love marriage. All of my cousins are in successfully and happy arranged marriages, so I don’t fully share Dad’s worries, but I do understand where he’s coming from. There are risks to marrying someone you don’t truly know, and the one thing your father will never do is risk your safety.”
I nod and cross my arms, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, Mom.” I say eventually, wishing I were one of those people that just knows the right thing to say at the right time. “I wish you never had to go through that, and I’m really grateful Dad was there for you.”
She smiles at me and brushes my hair out of my face. “Me too, sweetie. Your father is the reason why I’m opposed to an arranged marriage for you. I want you to have a grand love story of your own, and I want you to be with someone of your own choosing.”
For reasons I can’t quite explain, my thoughts drift to Lex and the way we danced together, the stories we shared with each other. If I had a choice, would I choose to spend another evening with him, laughing and playing truth or dare until we’re barely able to stay awake?
I sigh and let my eyes fall closed for a moment.
Yes.
A thousand times over.
