Page 115 of Unapologetic Obsession
I attempted what most people would do when they feel utterly helpless, I turned to God. My prayers to end this nightmare had gone unanswered. I had skippedpujas, ignoring Hindu holy days, andBhagavanhad ignored me in return. Today was supposed to be my triumphant return to my spiritual calling. Excepthewas here, wearing the same intense expression he’d worn when he cornered me in the empty classroom.
After our last encounter, I had made substantial efforts to surround myself with people and dodge Professor Maxwell with polite brush-offs. But he kept showing up at places I frequented. The “coincidences” were entirely intentional. He wanted answers, to understand why I made the first move if I didn’t want to pursue him.
I felt his presence everywhere I went—watching, waiting. Yesterday, he bumped into me in the stairwell. The day before, he was loitering near my favorite café. Each time, his frustration had grown more palpable. A hand slamming against the wallbeside me when I refused to eat lunch with him. A pen snapped in half during class when I turned down the offer to be his personal assistant.
His patience was visibly thinning. I didn’t feel safe in the classroom or outside of it, always looking over my shoulder for a shadow lurking behind me. It was reminiscent of my preteen years, when every loud sound drove me to panic. Convinced that I had somehow riled up my attacker, I avoided all interactions, never wanting to provoke anyone into assaulting me. Eye contact, speaking up, and an outgoing nature could be misconstrued and welcome trouble. For a little while, I stopped talking altogether.
It took me years to find the strength to soldier through it, only to suffer a huge setback. I despised Professor Maxwell for resurfacing these old insecurities. A man who violated the boundaries at his work in broad daylight, and in a classroom where anyone could walk in, was beyond unpredictable. I was always on alert, terrified that he might corner me again.
But I thought I would be safe today. I woke up with an unshakeable determination to return to my roots. I packed my bag with all sorts of offerings and hailed a taxi to our localmandir. Nestled between textbooks and a half-eaten granola bar lay apuja thali,a plastic bag full of bright flowers, and incense sticks. I had planned on buying theprasadfrom one of the stalls in front of the mandir.
But instead of visiting the usual sweets vendor, I was face-to-face with the last person I wanted to see.
“What are you doing here?” The city was barely awake. I assumed he couldn’t track me down at this time of day. Perhaps he had hired someone to watch me around-the-clock so he could stalk me more seamlessly.
“I asked you first.”
My impatient eyes flicked to the mandir. Wasn’t it obvious?
He glanced over his shoulder, registering the building behind him. If he had hired someone to follow me, they must be incompetent not to have figured out my destination. The giant rose-gold temple stood out against the skyline and was impossible to miss.
“You’re here to pray.” He sounded thoughtful.
“That’s what people do at a mandir.”
“I didn’t realize you prayed.”
I fixed my gaze on a crack in the pavement. Months ago, he’d asked about my dietary restrictions. I’d mentioned that I didn’t eat beef. Surely, someone as perceptive as Professor Maxwell connected the dots to my Hindu upbringing. Why was he acting like my faith was a big revelation?
He tilted his head slightly, as if I had spoken the thought out loud. “I assumed you didn’t eat beef out of cultural habit because you grew up in a Hindu household. Religious reasons didn’t cross my mind.”
Of course, it didn’t cross his mind. Professor Maxwell was the cynical type. He probably thought gods and deities were imaginations from children’s stories. And because I was into science, he hadn’t expected me to lean into my polytheistic religion.
Hopefully, he was totally turned off by me because of my beliefs.
“Yes, I’m extremely devoted to my gods. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m here for morningaarti.”
The last time I set foot inside a mandir was atDiwali, and the broad entrance steps called to me. The fragrances from the flowers planted outside mingled with the faint, sweet smoke of incense and prayer bells drifting from inside.
Professor Maxwell blocked my way with his giant body that took up most of the pavement. My fingers tightened around my tote bag as I waited for him to move.
He didn’t.
Instead, he drew my attention to his outfit—a charcoal gray cashmere sweater, perfectly tailored wool trousers, and a camel overcoat. His wardrobe had changed in the time I had known him. He was never a fan of colors, but lately, he had stuck exclusively to a neutral palette. It was as if he’d studied the Ambani aesthetic and wholeheartedly embraced it.
He did a swooping motion over his outfit. “Is this appropriate?”
“Appropriate for what?”
“For morning prayer.”
My blood turned to ice. I was furious at him for dredging up my old fears, and now, he was trying to invade my sacred space. “You’re not going inside with me.” My pitch was higher than I had intended. Luckily, it was the crack of dawn, and there weren’t many eyes on us. A few people in colorful saris and kurtas,along with jeans and hoodies, were taking their shoes off by the front steps. Their heads were bowed as they rang the brass bell at the entrance. The deep chime momentarily cut through the quiet street like a ripple in still water.
“Why not?”
“Because…” My voice caught as I searched for words. I needed an excuse. Any excuse. Mandir was the only haven left where he couldn’t reach me. “Our families hate each other, and I might know someone inside. If they see us together, they’ll report back to my father.”
“So?”
