Page 62 of One Indian Girl

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‘No, I don’t care.’

‘You sure? If I were the sweet and innocent girl you met, whatever that means, you were also the sweet boy who talked about feminism while we walked in Manhattan. Remember?You will inspire other girls? Women need to show men they are no less?’

‘I don’t care about your bonus. Okay? That is not what this is about.’

‘So then what? Explain to me. Why is it wrong for us to discuss the future if we have lived with each other for almost two years?’

‘I am not sure,’ he said.

‘About what?’

‘I don’t know. Suppose we marry each other. We will start a family, have kids, right?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ I said.

‘So I am thinking. I don’t know. I had this idea of what the mother of my kids would be like.’

‘Huh? Mother of your kids?’ I said. Sometimes, Debu talks such whacko stuff, I wonder what they smoke in their ad agency offices.

‘Yeah. It’s important, right? What kind of mother I want for my kids,’ Debu said.

‘Sure. I want a good father for my kids too. Can you come to the point?’

‘So are you going to keep working like this or leave work once you have kids?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. I’d like to work if possible.’

‘You think you can?’

‘Let’s see. Will have to work it out. If I make as much money as I do I can afford full-time help, take a house close to work, have our parents come...’

He interrupted me.

‘See, this is what I am not sure about.’

‘What?’

‘When you talk in such practical terms.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Like, if you are like this, in this hard job, “fire the workers” kind of role, would you even be affectionate towards our kids?’

‘What the fuck, Debu!’ I shouted.

‘See, now you are losing it. Then you say you want to discuss things!’

‘This is not a discussion. You are talking bullshit. Making sweeping judgements.’

‘I am not. Okay, I like you. I love you. But I want my kids’ mother to be at home for them.’

‘Maybe I will be. If needed.’

‘See, you are not sure. You have this hi-fi mega-paying job.’

‘My job will have nothing to do with my commitment as a mother. Do you get it?’

We stared at each other in silence for about thirty seconds. He finally spoke again.‘I don’t think I can do this. Really, I can’t.’