Page 171 of 12 Years
‘What do I do?’
‘For what?’
‘To get my husband’s attention? To talk to him for a few minutes after work?’
‘I’m here only.’
‘But are you listening to me?’
‘I heard you. You’re going to New York next week.’
‘Forget it,’ I said and stormed back into the bedroom.
If this were a one-off thing, it would’ve been okay. But this was the norm. In fact, even as I was telling him about work, I already knew that Parimal wouldn’t listen to me, and that he wouldn’t ever admit to it. That’s the thing about marriage. Five years of being with someone is enough time to let you predict their annoying behavioural patterns.
Parimal followed me in. ‘You get upset over little things. I just had to make a short work call,’ he said.
‘Never mind. Let’s get ready. We have to go to your parents’ for dinner.’
‘I know Dr Aditi Jain personally,’ said Parimal’s father. ‘Just meet her. She’ll sort out whatever issue there is.’
Parimal and I sat around the dining table with his parents. Over dal baati churma, we discussed IVF and what else we could do to get me pregnant and provide the family with a much-needed son.
‘I’ve already gone to two doctors. My tests came back fine,’ I said. ‘And I tried IVF once. It was painful and it didn’t work.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me either,’ Parimal said.
‘If Aditi does the IVF, pregnancy chance is hundred per cent,’ said Parimal’s mother.
‘Fine. I’ll meet her,’ I said with a resigned air. ‘Though I don’t think we need to have a child so soon. I’m only twenty-seven.’
‘What do you mean soon?’ Parimal’s mother looked shocked. ‘More than five years since your marriage. Everyone in society asks me, “What happened? Why no good news yet? Any problem?” What do I tell them?’
How about telling them that your son is a lousy lover? That he neither knows how to get his wife in the mood nor what to do with her in bed? Or that he isn’t even interested in sex. And that neither am I now.
‘You’re trying naturally also, right?’ she said.
I guess it was a civilized way of asking if we were having sex. But no, we weren’t. And since I couldn’t tell her that, I did what a bahu is supposed to do—pretend to be shy and look down at the food.
‘Mom, please stop,’ Parimal said.
‘What is there to feel shy? This is important—’
‘Payal will go to Aditi. Leave it, Supriya. Payal beta, did you try the churma?’ Parimal’s father said, interrupting his wife and saving us all from further humiliation.
‘Parimal, I want to talk to you,’ I said.
‘About what?’ Parimal said, hands on the steering wheel. We were in the car, driving back home from his parents’ place. ‘And before I forget, can you get me some formal shirts from New York?’
‘Fine, I will. But I need to talk to you—’
‘Actually, get them from duty-free. That’ll be cheaper. No VAT, you see,’ he said, interrupting me again.
‘Parimal, I’ll get you your shirts from New York and save you the VAT. Now, can we talk? About us?’ I said.
‘What about us?’ he said, surprised.
‘How is our marriage, you think?’
