And Laughter Fell From the Sky (31 page)

His eyes were drawn to the wall behind the bench. A flowering vine spilled over the concrete, with unusual flowers, like little ears, or like funnels. He stepped behind the bench and touched the yellow and brick-red petals. Four long white structures, two pairs curving to meet each other at the top, nestled inside the petals. The flowers hung in chains down the wall, among the glossy long leaves.

There were so many flowers in India. Every day something new burst into bloom: rows of small purple blossoms along shrub stems, or bells of bright orange bedecking a tree. In sunny areas he’d seen profusions of the low-growing “touch-me-not,” with pink puff-ball flowers and delicate fernlike leaves that folded closed when you touched them.

An image flashed into his consciousness—Rasika on the bridge in the Japanese garden in Portland. She’d looked like a flower in her yellow sweater, under the hanging branches of the tree.

He plucked one of the firm blossoms, and then another, and placed them on his palm. He needed something to carry them. He walked out of the garden to one of the little shops lining the street opposite, bought the first cloth bag he could find—a tan sack imprinted with
ICICI BANK
—came back to the garden, and filled the bag with the blossoms. Then, on the main road again, he hailed an autorickshaw and shouted, “Aarogya Hospital.”

Abhay carried his bag of flowers into the hospital. The lobby was lit by large windows. The walls were plain white, the floor shiny gray cement. The women at the front desk wore matching green saris. They directed him to the third floor. “Ultradeluxe room,” one of them murmured. He climbed the wide stairs. His heart was beating wildly, and his palms were sweaty. At room 310 he paused. He could see, through the partly open door, that the room was full of people—Rasika’s relatives, no doubt. They were sitting in chairs and on a couple of sofas in one corner. He had expected a stark, plain room, like the rest of the hospital, but this one was paneled in wood, with curtains at the windows and blue carpeting. Ultradeluxe. He inched his way through the doorway. No one saw him yet.

Rasika was sitting up in bed. She wore a scarf around her head. He couldn’t see her hair. Maybe it had been cut short or shaved off. Her face looked blank. Her mother sat on a high stool next to the bed, holding a spoon in front of Rasika’s mouth. “You must eat, raja,” her mother said. Rasika wasn’t opening her lips.

Abhay grasped the handle of his bag firmly and strode through the crowd. All eyes turned to him. Rasika’s father stood in the far corner next to her bed, plucking at something on the wall with a fingernail. Pramod looked up from the magazine he was reading. Abhay approached the bed and stood next to Rasika’s mother.

“What?” Sujata Auntie dropped the spoon and stood up. “Get out!”

Rasika’s face was bruised, but in her eyes he seemed to see a flicker of recognition. He spilled the flowers out onto the blanket, and she put out a hand and touched a blossom.

“Get him out!” Sujata Auntie shouted. “Take him away!” A couple of rough hands grabbed Abhay’s arms.

“Yes,” Rasika said, very clearly, looking straight at Abhay.

Her mother put a hand on Rasika’s cheek. “What is it, raja?”

Rasika stared at Abhay, holding out a bloom in her cupped hands, like an offering. One of her hands had an IV taped to the back. Rasika opened her mouth and said, “Yes, I want to marry you.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Pramod cleared his throat and stood up. His magazine splashed onto the floor. “This is a very good sign,” he explained. “She remembers. She spoke a full sentence.”

Rasika’s face glowed with light. Abhay stepped toward her. Sujata Auntie held up a hand, palm outward, at Abhay. “Get out,” she said. She leaned over and, with both hands, slapped at the flowers strewn on the bed. Rasika grasped at several more blossoms and hugged them to her chest.

The hands pulled at Abhay. He shook them off. He didn’t want to create even more of a scene and disturb Rasika. He leaned toward her and whispered, “I’ll be back tomorrow,” and strode out before he was physically removed from the premises.

Rasika watched Abhay grow smaller and then disappear as he stepped out the door. She was still holding the blossoms. She felt open and free, as though she had finally turned to the sun and bloomed.

Amma said to Appa, “She did not mean it. She does not know what she is saying. She is not in her right mind.”

“I’m here,” Rasika said in Tamil. “I know. Let me eat. Where’s the food?” She set the flowers on the blanket beside her.

Her father put a spoon in her hand, and she ate rice, dal, and yogurt. She asked, “Where am I?”

“We are in Bangalore,” Appa said. “You are in a hospital. You have had an accident.”

“I thought I was in Portland,” she said. She told them about her trip. Amma shouted. Appa sat by her bed and held her hand and listened.

“Why am I in Bangalore?” she asked.

“Don’t you remember?” Amma asked. “We came here to get you married. And you had to go and ruin everything.”

Appa put a finger to his lips and said, “Shh.”

“But why would I come to India to get married? I’m going to marry Abhay.”

Amma threw up her hands and retreated to a chair on the other side of the room. Appa put his hand on her forehead. “You rest now. We will talk about all that later.”

She saw her brother standing near the window. “Pramod. Are we really in Bangalore?”

He stepped over to the bed. “Yeah.”

“Then I want you to do something for me.” She tugged at his sleeve until he leaned over, and she whispered her task into his ear.

It was so simple, now, to know what she should do. Why had she been so mixed up before?

The next day Abhay came back, carrying a garland of jasmine flowers. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to enter the room. However, Rasika’s father himself ushered Abhay to Rasika’s bedside. “She has been talking about you,” he murmured to Abhay. “I have explained to Sujata that you are helping her to recover.”

Rasika’s mother barely acknowledged Abhay’s presence. When she saw the flowers she said, “You don’t need to bring a garland. You are not marrying her yet.” But her father helped Abhay put the garland around her neck.

“It feels soft. And cool.” Rasika lifted the garland to her nose and took a deep breath. “I love jasmine.”

Her father placed a chair near her bed for Abhay. He sat down. He could feel everyone in the room looking at him: Pramod, Rasika’s parents, and an elderly woman sitting in a chair in one corner of the room, who looked like an older version of Sujata Auntie. She was knitting something, wrapping and pulling the yarn quickly and rhythmically, while keeping her eyes on Abhay.

“How’re you doing?” Abhay asked softly.

“Better, I think,” Rasika said. “I’m remembering more, and the doctors say that’s a really good sign for my brain. I remember our trip to India, and seeing you at Lalbagh. And talking to you in that little garden.”

“So you remember everything, it sounds like.”

“I can’t remember how I got hurt, though. I went—after I left you—I’m ashamed to tell you—I went—” She put her hands up to cover her face.

“Don’t worry about it,” Abhay soothed. He rubbed her upper arm, and she took her hands away and looked at him with a clear face. “Do you know what day it is today?” he asked.

“No. What day is it?”

“New Year’s Day. The first day of 2008. The first full day of our engagement.”

Rasika smiled. “I’m new now, too. I feel like I’ve been born again.” Rasika looked at her grandmother. “Pati,” she called, and the old woman set her knitting aside and strode over to the other side of Rasika’s bed. Rasika put her arms around her grandmother’s neck and whispered something in her ear. The grandmother smiled, and then held out both hands across the bed. Abhay grasped her hands, which were warm and strong. “God bless you,” the grandmother said in English. She gazed at him a moment longer, then let go and retreated back to her knitting.

“What did you say to her?” Abhay asked.

“I told her that you were the other boy.”

“What does that mean?”

Rasika smiled. “I’ll tell you later. Now I want to give you something.” From under her blanket she drew out a flat package and placed it on his lap.

“Your face is lit up with a huge smile,” he said.

“I’m happy because we’re going to be together. Open it.”

Pramod and Rasika’s father stood near the bed. Pati observed from her seat. Sujata Auntie, sitting on a sofa, held a handkerchief to her mouth and stared out the window.

Abhay removed the tape from the package and pulled out an embroidered silk jubba. “It’s beautiful. I love the color.” He held it up to the light from the window behind him. “Usually these kinds of shirts are white. Is it blue? Or green?”

“It’s two colors in one,” she said. “Looks different, depending on the angle. There’s a word for it. I can’t remember.”

“Iridescent,” said Pramod.

“Iridescent,” she repeated.

“How did you manage to go shopping from the hospital?” Abhay asked.

Pramod said, “My sister’ll figure out a way to shop no matter what.”

Everyone laughed, except Sujata Auntie.

“Actually, she sent me out to bring back a bunch of shirts from a little place we know about, and she picked this one,” Pramod said.

Abhay refolded the shirt and laid it in his lap. It was the first gift Rasika had ever given him. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. It was no use. He accepted a hanky from Pramod, dabbed at his eyes, and cleared his throat. “So you’re really feeling better?” he asked Rasika.

“She’s making a remarkable recovery, really,” Pramod said. “Her speech is improving so fast. The physical therapists are amazed at her progress.”

“I’m going to stay in India with you until you’re ready to leave,” Abhay said.

“Why?” Rasika asked. “You have important work to do. Go home, and I’ll get better and come to see you.”

“I’ll study for my GRE right here and I can apply to graduate schools online. I won’t lose any time. I just want to be with you.”

“What about your parents? They’ll be expecting you at home.”

“I just talked to my mom and dad. They were shocked to find out about your accident, but they’re thrilled that we’re getting married. They’ve always liked you.”

“I’m so happy that I’ll be their daughter-in-law.”

“They’re also really happy that I’m going to graduate school. They give you all the credit for the fact that I’ve come to my senses.”

Rasika smiled and pressed his hands in hers.

“My parents will work out a new airline ticket for me,” he said. “They agree that I should stay with you. They want you to get better.”

Rasika’s father and Pramod were still clustered around them. Her mother had approached, as well, and was standing like a sentinel on the other side of the bed. Abhay leaned close and whispered into Rasika’s ear, “I love you.”

She laughed and declared, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I love you, too.”

Epilogue

CLEVELAND BOTANICAL GARDEN,
AUGUST 2008

I
t has turned out beautifully.” Mita patted Sujata’s arm and glanced around the airy room, with French doors revealing the greenery outside. Wedding guests in Indian finery milled around the room as waitstaff cleared away the lunch plates. Rasika, wearing a gold-embroidered pale pink long skirt, blouse, and scarf, and Abhay, in a knee-length maroon embroidered kurta over calf-hugging pants, strolled hand in hand among the guests. A tall white and silver wedding cake graced one corner of the room.

“We had so much trouble with this wedding. You won’t believe.” Sujata pulled her cell phone from her waist, where it was clipped to her sari. “What could it be now? The ceremony is over. The reception is almost over.” She glanced at the screen and reclipped the phone. “My sister in India. Her daughter has run away with some Muslim boy. So my sister is calling me every day, crying. I always told her she was giving Mayuri too much freedom. We raised Rasika so she understood that she must choose a Hindu.”

Mita smiled sympathetically and pressed Sujata’s hand in both of hers. “Yes. She has chosen a Hindu, at least. Abhay—what is he going to do now?”

“As a matter of fact, he has gotten a full fellowship to the University of California at Berkeley.”

“Oh. Berkeley. Very good school. I thought he was—”

“What people think has nothing to do with reality.” Sujata touched the diamonds gracing her earlobes, and put a palm over her heart. “He has been so good to her, Mita. He stayed with us in India until we left, and then he moved back to this area—you know he was in Oregon—but he came back, just for Rasika.”

“Life is hard sometimes.” Mita patted her eyes with a hanky. “She is completely well now?”

“That is what the doctors say, thank God.” Sujata cleared her throat. “Rasika wanted an outdoor wedding. She has been through so much, so I didn’t insist on a temple wedding, but this was not easy to arrange.”

“You did wonderful job. It is too bad Kanchan could not come. He had important meeting, he said. To look at her, no one would know all trouble she has been through. Her hair is short, but still she is beautiful.”

“Where is she now?” Sujata’s eyes raked the room. “We will cut the cake in a few minutes.” Sujata’s husband was standing in a dark corner, discussing something with the videographer. Her gaze passed over Amisha Menon Nayar, who had gained even more weight since her own wedding, and who was feeding her very fat baby with a bottle. At the next table Subhash sat with his new wife, a thin, shy girl with an enormous belly—she was about seven months pregnant. Deepti brought a bowl of rice payasam and set it on the table next to the girl, but the girl shook her head.

Past tables of Abhay’s and Rasika’s college friends, Sujata’s eyes fell on the couple making their way toward the wedding cake, where Abhay’s mother was hovering. Sujata glanced at her watch. “I hope the icing has not melted.”

“It will be fine, I am sure. The air-conditioning is so cold.” Mita wrapped the palloo of her sari around her shoulders.

“Balu had to drive the priest here,” Sujata continued. “We had to pay the maintenance people here to put together the mantapa. At first they did not want us to put up our own structure, but I said, it’s just a temporary canopy. We must have this for a traditional Hindu wedding. And then of course there was the question of lighting the fire. At first the director of the garden said, absolutely not. But how can we have a Hindu wedding without the fire god as witness? I had to bring in an aluminum tray and show him how small the fire would be—hardly more than a couple of candles. Still they wanted extra for insurance.”

“They let you bring Indian food in?”

“We had to pay for their food, even though we didn’t need it. And we had to bring in our own food. I thought I would have to pay twice, but Venika said she would do it, as her contribution to the wedding. She has gotten into catering, you know.”

“Venika made cake, too?”

“She ordered it. She does not make Western desserts, but she decorated the top of each layer with silver leaf, so it looks more Indian.”

Mita nodded her head. “Very beautiful.”

Sujata shot a glance toward the far corner. “I must tell the videographer to be ready for the cake cutting.” She strode off, leaving Mita standing alone.

Rasika and Abhay, at the opposite side of the hall, were talking to his mother.

“Mom, the food was amazing,” Abhay said.

“Rice was little overcooked,” his mother said.

“No, it was great,” Rasika insisted. “You worked so hard. You must be exhausted. We are so grateful.”

“Thank you so much, Mom,” Abhay added.

Venika grasped Rasika’s and Abhay’s hands. “No need to thank. I am mother of groom. I am used to cooking. We are just glad, so glad things work out for both of you.” She let go of their hands and stroked their cheeks. “Now you both be happy together, and have good life.”

Sujata arrived with the videographer. “Don’t go too far,” she warned Abhay and Rasika. “We’ll cut the cake in five minutes.”

They strolled over to Jill’s table.

“You look so tan!” Rasika said. “Hawaii’s been good to you.”

“I don’t know why it took me so long to get there.” Jill stood up and put out a hand to touch Rasika’s gold wedding necklace. “Is this a significant symbol?” She fingered the pendant.

“Normally, you have caste symbols on your wedding necklace,” Rasika said. “But since Abhay and I don’t care about caste, we decided to choose an om on a lotus.”

A couple of little girls, wearing long silk skirts and Indian jewelry, raced past. The room was clamorous with loud adult voices and children’s shouts. The gentle plinking of the veena music, piped through the speakers, could be heard only at moments when the noise subsided somewhat.

“I love the translation of your wedding vows.” Jill opened her copy of the program.

Abhay took it from her. “I had no idea there was a translation. I just repeated whatever the priest told me to say.” He read out loud, “ ‘With these seven steps we have become friends. I am blessed with your friendship. I shall always be with you. You shall always be with me. We shall live together. We shall combine our minds in our thoughts. We shall combine our hands in our actions.’ ”

“That’s so great,” Jill said. “I thought maybe the two of you made up those vows.”

Rasika grasped the program and scanned the lines. “This was a very traditional wedding—or at least as traditional as my mother could make it. But the meaning is really so modern, isn’t it? Abhay, we should get someone to write this out in calligraphy, in Sanskrit and English, and have it framed.”

“Go for it. You’re better than I am at decorating.” He put an arm around her waist and strolled to the next table, where Chris Haldorson and his mother were seated.

“What a beautiful wedding,” Mrs. Haldorson said. Tears were shining in her eyes. “Your mother must be just beside herself.”

Chris gave him a bear hug. “I’m so happy for you, Adios!”

“Adios?” Rasika furrowed her brow at Abhay.

“It’s a long story,” Abhay said.

Chris shook hands with Rasika. “Watch out for this guy.” He nudged Abhay, then sat down and began mopping up some tamarind sauce with the last portion of his samosa. “Hey, this food is great.”

“It must be hard without your dad.” Abhay set a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

“It was his time.” Chris grasped his mother’s hand with his free hand. “So now it’s just me and Mom in the house.”

Mrs. Haldorson dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “You’ll find someone of your own soon, just like Adios here,” she said. “You’ll have a place of your own.”

“Mom, I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.” He shrugged at Abhay. “I’m being a good Indian son, right?”

Abhay laughed. “Better than me, I’m sure.”

Rasika and Abhay stepped out onto the sunny patio to talk with Seema and Jawad. Abhay waved to Dr. Ben-Aharon, sitting at a patio table gesturing to Abhay’s father, who seemed to be listening intently.

“This is a dramatic outfit.” Rasika fingered the hem of Seema’s purple spaghetti-strap top, worn over a matching slim long skirt with a slit up one leg. “It feels like silk. And the hat is great.”

Seema put a hand up to her purple head wrap. “Jawad bought the whole set for me.” She smiled at Jawad, who said, “I don’t know anything about fabric. I just like how she looks in it.”

Leaves rustled in the breeze. Rasika glistened in the sunlight.

“So I hear you two are moving to Berkeley,” Jawad said.

“We went out last month and found an apartment,” Rasika said. “And I put in applications at about a dozen banks.”

“She’s already had three phone interviews,” Abhay said proudly.

“Where are you going for your honeymoon again?” Seema asked.

“Point Reyes National Seashore,” Rasika said. “It’s near Berkeley, and of course near the ocean. I have to be near water.”

“She claims she’s going to camp with me.” Abhay raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

Rasika laughed at him. “I want to save money. My parents have spent so much on the wedding and my medical treatment. I can deal with a few nights of camping.”

Pramod leaned out the door. “Amma says we’re going to do the cake now.”

Guests streamed into the room and toward the cake. Rasika lingered behind. “Something smells lovely.” She lifted her face to the air. “I wonder what that’s from.” She walked away from the doorway, toward the urns of flowers at the edge of the patio, and bent over a stalk of white bell-shaped flowers.

“Come in.” Abhay followed after her and grasped her hand.

“Stay with me a minute.” She pulled him close. “Smell these.”

He bent down and sniffed. “Nice. Come on, everyone’s waiting.”

“I don’t want to go in yet. I don’t want this day to end.”

They stood quietly, facing away from the wedding hall. The air was very warm. Surrounding them was the low hum of insects, changing tone every so often, becoming lower and softer, or higher and louder. Above that hum, birds burbled and chirruped. Tiny insects flitted white in the sunlight, and disappeared into the shade.

“Look up,” Rasika said. They both tipped their heads back and gazed at the maple leaves above them, some dappled in shade, and some glowing pure green in the sunlight.

“Everything is so beautiful.” Rasika sighed. “I just want to hold on to this moment. Can anything ever be this beautiful again?”

“We’ll have lots more wonderful moments.” Abhay slipped an arm around her and pulled her close.

She pressed her palms together and touched her index fingers to her chin. “For all these months I’ve been so focused on getting better and planning the wedding. And now we’re married. What happens next?”

“You mean, you’re worried because there’s nothing more to plan? You just have to step through that door and eat some cake!”

She smiled. “After that, I mean. Part of me wishes I could plan our future the way I planned this wedding.”

“We can’t know what’s in store for us.” Abhay took her hands in his. “We have to proceed anyway, and the path will appear as we go.”

She touched his cheek and smiled. “I always knew you were wise.” She readjusted her gold and pink scarf over her shoulders. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, they walked through the doorway to the rest of their lives.