Off to America

Sunita's eyes blurred, the tears held back by sheer willpower to avoid the embarrassment of making a spectacle in public. She felt like she was looking from the outside, separated from the scene at the international airport where she was the primary player.

Was she having an out-of-body experience?

Like the girls in the village who left their homes to go and live with their in-laws, Sunita, too, was apprehensive about leaving her home. However, in the girls’ cases, the transfer from their homes to their in-laws' was not far—a hop, a skip, and a jump— from one house in the village to another or, in some cases, only as far as Nawa Gao. It was easy for them to keep in touch with their families and friends. However, Sunita was not only going to the other side of the world, but she was going into a different culture that she had no clue about. While she was sometimes sad and angry about how the villagers treated her, the village had been her home. It was the only place she was comfortable and had learned to love, overlooking the derogatory remarks often dished out to her. She was the abused child who returned to the familiarity of her home, which had provided a decorum of comfort through the proximity of her parents and her friend Geeta.

Her sadness stuck to her like superglue, giving her no way to tear off the intense despair without being a disgrace to her parents. Her friend, Geeta, was a tremendous help, without whom she would never have fit in; however, rocky her life in the village had been. But aside from the gloom of leaving her village, she was more worried about the unknown, going to a place to meet a husband she hardly knew.

But the die was cast. There was no way she could back out. Her birth in the village had been a regrettable incident, and she had a feeling that with her going away, the villagers would undoubtedly be happy to find that their community was left in a purer state of being.

Sunita expected her mother and Geeta to shed tears on her leaving, but it was her father who surprised her. She saw sadness covering his eyes and felt a tinge of happiness to see her father having emotions that he had never displayed for her. Her macho father, as far as she could remember, had never hugged anyone. The sideward hug he tried with her was awkward, but she took the lead, drawing him closer with both arms around his neck. The two of them drew each other into their gloominess before he shrugged her off as if the hug was nothing more than something people did when it was time to say goodbye. But Sunita knew better when he took her by the arm a few feet away from Geeta and her mother.

"Remember, you have a direct flight to America, and food is included in the ticket Rahul purchased for you." He handed her twenty-five dollars. "The fifty dollars in your purse are for emergencies only but buy something you like with this extra money."

Sunita's controlled tears broke the barrier of her resolve not to cry and started flowing. "I will be okay, Dada, I will be okay. I will do exactly what you want me to do. It will all be very fine."

When Sunita entered the plane, she found it claustrophobic, like being in a cave, with no noticeable escape from the back. She was nervous among so many rich and important-looking people, afraid of doing something wrong, but she restrained her fear with a mock smile. She followed the cues from everyone else, putting her carry-on in the bin above before taking her seat and squeezing herself between two rather large men with their arms firmly placed on the armrest. As the plane took off, she closed her eyes, praying for her safety.

It was not long before the hostess announced that dinner would be served. Sunita's nervousness increased. She discreetly looked at the kind-looking man on her left, subtly copying how he unhooked the tray table from the seat in front, pretending confidence. Dinner, fortunately, was served without any mishap. But when she lifted the aluminum foil off her tray, she saw pieces of meat in the gravy. Sunita immediately rearranged the foil to cover the tray.

Her stomach growled, and she tried to suppress the noise by holding her stomach in, hoping nobody would hear it rumble.

"Aren't you going to eat?' the man on her left asked.

"I do not eat meat."

"Why didn't you ask the hostess for a vegetarian meal?"

"I do not want any trouble."

He smiled, then pressed a button, calling the air hostess. "She'd like a vegetarian meal."

The hostess went through her notes. "You didn't order one."

"Do not worry. I am okay."

The hostess smiled, her kind eyes soothing Sunita's anxiety but not her embarrassment. "Hold on, I'm sure we have some extras."

Sunita nervously eyed the man. "Thank you," she said, her eyes following his use of silverware.

When she arrived at the U.S. airport, she followed the crowd through immigration. The officer in a cubicle looked foreboding.

"First time in America?"

"Yes. I have never been here before. But I have done everything properly. I have a visa. It is in my passport."

He stamped her passport without a smile, and she followed the signs to get her luggage.

She stepped out of the airport looking for her husband but could not find him. Just as she started to panic, a man approached her.

"Are you Mrs. Vikram?"

Vikram? No. I am Agrawal. "Yes," she said, sighing in relief, eyeing the placard with her name on it. "My husband, Dr. Rahul Vikram, sent you?"

"Yes."

"How much is it going to cost me for the car ride?"

He smiled. "Don't worry, it's all taken care of."

When she arrived at her destination, she was mesmerized by the splendor and vastness of her new home. It was so fanciful, better than her wildest dreams. But it was also very quiet. Did anybody live here? Oh, Bhagavan, please let Rahul be at home. What will I do if nobody opens the door?

A woman opened the door.

"Hullo Mrs. Vikram. I am Mariam…Welcome to America. Did you have a good trip? I look after the house for your husband…I have been with Dr. Vikram for almost six years... Do you want me to help you unpack?"

Sunita was amazed at the way the woman spoke. Had she rehearsed it? She spoke without a break, faster than a telephone number pressed on a speed dial. Beep, beep, beep… It was hard to understand her. Didn't she have to breathe like the rest of them?

She followed Mariam into the house. How could she ask her to do anything? She was a servant but so much better dressed than her. Besides, she was so confident… as if it were her house. "No, no, I am fine. Is Dr. Rah… Rahul not here?"

"He's at the office. I will help you get settled."

Sunita shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She had held on to her bladder for a long time, but now it was getting unbearable. She crossed her legs, scared she would succumb to nature’s call, and wet her clothes. "Please Miss, can you show me where the bathroom is? I need to use it very badly."

Sunita entered the bathroom and was amazed at the size of the private bathroom attached to her bedroom. There were lotions and creams on the counter.

Were they to be applied to hide her spots?

There was no urine smell and no water on the floor. Everything was spick and speck. She barely touched anything, quickly did her business, but could not bring herself to use toilet paper without wetting it. To her horror, she spilled water on the floor. What would Mariam think when she came to clean the bathroom? She unraveled more toilet paper to wipe the water before leaving the bathroom, ensuring everything was just how it had been.

She came out of the bathroom, her face a darker shade of brown from her ordeal there. Now that the urgency of nature's call was over, she saw her room as it was, making her subconsciously exclaim, "Oh my god, it's such a large room---like half my whole house in the village."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt embarrassed. She cast her eyes to the floor. "I am finished. Please let me know where I should put my clothes and belongings?"

"Leave your luggage in the foyer. I will bring it to your room. In the meantime, let me show you around."

Sunita didn't quite understand. Foyer? "Please. My English is not very good."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Leave your luggage right here in the hallway. I will bring it to your room after I show you around. It's a rather big house." This time, Mariam talked rather slowly. Sunita felt grateful for her intuitiveness in knowing how to make it easier to understand her.

My room? Was she not going to share a room with her husband? Not that she minded. Part of her was glad to have a place where she could hide from everyone.

"Where does Dr. Ra… Rahul sleep?"

"In his room. Over there." Mariam pointed at his door."

"That is fine."

Mariam showed her around the house like a real estate agent trying to sell prime property. They returned to the foyer, and Sunita helped Mariam drag her luggage to her room.

"I am sorry for my luggage. It is very heavy."

"No need to apologize. It has to be heavy. You are moving homes."

Mariam smiled. "Do you want me to help you unpack?"

Sunita wanted to prevent Mariam from seeing what she had brought from the village. Her few belongings, including her wedding sari, seemed out-of-place and outdated in such luxurious surroundings.

"No, thank you. I will be doing that."

"Can I make you something to eat?"

"No. I am doing very fine."

After Mariam left for the day, Sunita wandered around the house. She wanted to explore Rahul's room, but it was locked.

She went outside to the swimming pool and thought of texting Geeta but realized she would be fast asleep at this time. A short time later, the lights around the swimming pool came on as if by magic. It turned the place into a wonderland like the pictures in the housing magazines she had seen at the library in Nawa Gao. But while she was awestruck by the splendor of her new home, an intense feeling of sadness came over her. There was no Geeta to admire her new home, to lord over her, and annoy her with her superficial claim to superiority over her behavior in the village. Most importantly, however, she would not be there when she woke up in the morning.

Sunita thought she heard a noise and rushed back into the house, but there was nobody there, just her overanxious imagination, nervously getting ready to greet her husband.

Rahul came home late at night.

He pecked her on the cheek. "How was your trip?"

"My trip was very fine."

There was nothing natural about his greeting. He was so awkward. His pretense at a hug was far worse than her father's clumsy effort at hugging her. Sunita felt like a teenager who did not know what to do on her first date. She wiped her sweaty palms against her kurta.

Rahul gently reprimanded her. "Please talk to me in English." Then, in a more conciliatory tone, "You have everything you need?"

"Yes, yes, everything is very fine. How are you?"

He smiled. "Good. I'm good. Did Mariam show you how to get on the internet?"

"Please do not worry. I know how to do that. I just wanted to know if there were any payments…"

He grinned. "Don't worry about charges. Mariam takes care of that." Then he pulled out his wallet and fished out a credit card. "Here, use this to buy clothes and other things you like. You can purchase most things online or call Uber to take you around. The password is our last name. You can handle that. Right? If you need help, ask Mariam."

"Yes. I have used my card in Nawa Gao, but I don't need anything."

He tilted his head from one side to the other, up and down, his eyes narrowing into slits as if assessing which parts of clothing needed changes.

He strengthened. "Some new clothes perhaps?"

Sunita wished she hadn't listened to Geeta, and bought a pair of faded jeans which seemed to be in fashion, especially for travelling. "I will buy it here," she replied.

Rahul didn't respond. Then abruptly, "Look, I have an early morning meeting. Mariam will be back by nine in the morning. Ask her for anything you need. This is your home."

Sunita stood twiddling her thumbs, not knowing if he wanted her to follow him to do her wifely duties. She was too exhausted to share his bed that night and wished she would be left alone. The remembrance of her wedding night only made matters worse.

She kept her tongue on hold, wondering what she should do. But just as he was about to open the door to his room, she called out, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. Not tonight. I am too tired."

Sunita was relieved. "When will you come back tomorrow?"

"Probably late. You don't have to wait for me. I will take you out for a drive and show you the city this weekend."

"Thank you."

Rahul went off to his room.

There was a large TV with a curved screen in her room, so different from the TV she had in her home in the village. She didn't want to switch it on, worried it would make too much noise and wake Rahul.

Sunita climbed into her queen-sized bed and crawled under the comforter on the lavender-scented sheets, clothes, and all, exhausted and lonely, missing home. Did her parents miss her?

It was 8:00 a.m. in the village. Should she text Geeta? But she did not know what to tell her. How could she explain her feelings with a text message? She would call her in the morning, but not now when she was exhausted. Sunita could no longer keep her eyes open; she shut them and sent a mental message to her friend.

"I love and miss you very, very much. Good night."