chapter XXII

Facing my window, I fight to hold back the tears as Shilpi drags her luggage out of the room. Ma is talking to Shilpi’s uncle Amal at the door but I can hardly compose myself enough to face them. With a smile on her face, Shilpi approaches me and promises that she will wait for me to return to India and, for the last time, she touches my feet.

From my window, I see Shipli and Amal mount a rickshaw and head down the street. I stand in the window for some time, but she never turns around to see me.

Once Shilpi and Amal are out of sight, I check the drawers of our nightstand, only to find it entirely empty except for Shilpi’s vermilion and the butterfly hair clip I had presented her. A check of the almirah reveals that every last trace of Shilpi was gone forever. Even our wedding photos and their negatives I had placed carefully in my bookcase are missing.

It was as if she had never been here.

The finality of it all hits me hard and I am overcome with emotion. I knew that she was leaving, but my brain couldn’t fathom the notion that my wife could abandon me so permanently.

Ma assures me that it is for the best. She has spoken to the woman with whom I’d had some relationship the previous year. Ma has invited her to spend tomorrow night at our place. Only the knowledge that my lover would be returning preserves my sanity. Previously I had been quite in love with her. Unfortunately, our relationship never really materialized into anything tangible.

Of course, relationships require time and Shilpi had not given me that. Only three weeks have passed since our “wedding.”

Tomar sate naroke zabo

“I would follow you to hell,” Shilpi had told me daily during her stay.

Slowly it dawns on me that I never knew Shilpi at all. I knew my Shilpi and I would never forget her. The true Shilpi Nath, however, was never revealed to me.

Gradually the understanding that she had never wanted to be married to me becomes evident. She had only wanted a Green Card to join her Aunt Gita in America. Her aim was to earn US dollars to send to her uncle Amal.

After Shilpi had left, there was some particularly foul odor lingering in our apartment. Everyone commented on it and we examined every square inch of the flat to locate the source. It would be a week before the stench would finally subside. I lit many sticks of incense to help eliminate it.

Within two days, Ma demands my gold necklace that Shilpi’s family gave to me. I had sworn never to remove it from my body, and even now I give it up reluctantly. It is melted down the next day.

Nobody mentions Shilpi’s name again. It is strictly taboo in our home. Mini, my neighbor advises me, “If she comes back, I don’t think you should accept her.”

Even Protima, our faithful maid [pictured above], is beaming as she performs the arduous task of scrubbing the floors of our large apartment. Many other maids have refused to work for us as our four bedroom flat requires so much effort to clean. Squatting as she polishes the marble floor with her rag and bucket, Protima has a satisfied smile on her face. Everything seems to have returned to status quo.

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