Imaginary Men Read Free Page A

together.
    Auntie returns to my side. “Ah, the
saptapadi
!” she whispers in my ear. Her breath emits the odor of garlic. “Step one pays homage to the Almighty, the next is a promise of cooperation, the third a promise of discipline. The fourth is a promise to discover joy, the fifth is for the sake of children, the sixth is for family prosperity, and the seventh is for the blessing of mutual company.”
    â€œWhy don’t they just dance as they do in Hindi movies?” I say. I like the promise to discover joy, but I’d gladly discard the other six steps. The wedding ceremony ends, and the bride and groom kneel to touch the feet of their elders.
    There’s a rush as relatives and friends gather to bestow their blessings. I weave through the crowd and hug Durga, who exudes the scents of sweat and jasmine perfume.
    â€œCongratulations, sweetie. Long life together and much happiness.” I hold her warm hands in mine.
    Tears brighten her eyes. “Thank you, Didi, and now you’re the one who should be congratulated. Finally engaged. I thought you were too scared!” She kisses my cheeks. She has always called me Didi, “elder sister.”
    I’m in such trouble now. “I’m not marrying Pee-wee—I mean, Nikhil Ghose. Just so we have that straight, right?”
    â€œOf course you’re not. But he must be devastated, nah? You have a mystery man!”
    â€œNews travels fast in India.” I was in the bathroom for all of five minutes.
    â€œEveryone knows. Congratulations.” Amit shakes my hand with his large one. Close up, he looks even more like Johnny Depp with a permanent tan.
    â€œThanks, I think.”
    â€œYou and your fiancé must visit us in our new house!” Durga says.
    â€œWhen I’m ready for the boondocks.”
    She and Amit live in a protected suburb of Los Angeles, where lawns unfold like perfect green napkins. “Why don’t you move to San Francisco, near me?”
    â€œIs the city any place to raise children, Lina? What with gangs and burglaries—”
    â€œI’ve never had a problem. I have a view of Coit Tower and the city lights. I can even go out on the roof.” I don’t go on the roof too often these days. Roofs are romantic places made for two.
    â€œWhen you marry, you may have to move,” Durga says. “Children need playgrounds, not views. You can’t have them falling off the roof.”
    â€œI haven’t thought that far ahead.” My skin prickles with irritation. I don’t have a real man, and already she’s talking about children.
    â€œThe time is coming sooner than you think, nah?” Amit winks as we’re carried along on a current of guests heading inside for the reception.
    In the dining room on the first floor, Auntie has spread a feast on long tables—rice and
dahl
, curry and potatoes, and sweet
roshogollas
for dessert. I hide in the crowd, but Ma finds me in a heartbeat. She’s slim, with a moon-shaped face and frizzy hair like mine. She looks truly Indian in her traditional green sari, the
bindi
on her forehead; you’d never know she wears jeans to the university in Santa Barbara, where she teaches mechanical engineering.
    â€œMy little girl is leaving. The full impact is just now hitting, nah?” She presses a hand to her chest as if damming a torrent of tears.
    â€œYou can visit them in boondockville.”
    Ma shakes her head. “What’s your mother supposed to feel when her daughter is married? Is she not supposed to shed tears of joy and grief?”
    â€œI’m sorry. It’s been a trying day. All the festivities. I hope this goes off well, or people will accuse me of setting up a bad match.”
    â€œFinally, you’ve found a good match for yourself too.” Ma touches my cheek. “Ah, Lina. After Nathu, I never thought—”
    â€œMa—” I take her hand from my cheek and hold her