Page 97 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“What’s all this?” I said to Aai, pointing to the paintings on display.

“I was checking to see if you had any laundry, and I found these. Did you paint them after you saw Sameer?”

“Yes, why?”

She looked at the paintings, then at me. “I think you made the right decision with Sameer.”

“What are you saying?” I cried with weary exasperation. For the past few weeks, my life had felt like a random series of bizarre, disconnected events that I couldn’t make sense of if I tried. And this was the epitome. “Last night, you were sure Sujit was the right man for me. Today he shows how much he cares, and suddenly you flip sides? What changed, Aai?”

“I saw these paintings,” she said, as if it made perfect sense.

“What does that have to do with anything? And how do you know so much about art, anyway?

“I don’t,” she replied. “I don’t know art, Tara. I know you. I know how you feel about Sameer. He makes you happy, but he also lights a fire in you. You want that. You need that. It’s in your nature. You cannot go through life with someone who doesn’t ignite that passion, that hunger, in you. You’ll never be happy without it.”

I slumped on the edge of my bed.

“You got all this from looking at my paintings?”

“No,” she said in her soft voice. “I got it from watching you at the party today. You looked like me when I was younger. Stifled, unsure, unable to breathe. I don’t want that for you. You’re confident and fierce when you’re with Sameer. Look at these colors.” She pointed to my art. “That’s the Tara I raised.”

“There’s more to the story, Aai,” I said before breaking down into inconsolable tears.

She came around to sit on the bed with me and took me in her arms. I sobbed on her shoulder, then in her lap like I did when I was little. She stroked my hair and wiped away the tears running down my face.

“I need to tell you something,” I said, and sipped the water she had fetched. She led me out, away from the mass of paintings scattered in the room.

When we settled on the couch in the living room, I kept my eyes lowered. “I’m afraid you won’t love me the same way after you hear what I’m about to tell you,” I said, and tears trickled down my face again.

She stroked my back.

“I was involved, physically, with Sameer in college. I thought I was in love. Then suddenly, he was gone.” She continued her gentle patting, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up at her. “Except he wasn’t really out of my life. A week after he left, I discovered I was pregnant.” This time, I felt her hand leave my back. “It was the most difficult time of my life. I couldn’t figure out why he had left, and I couldn’t get in touch with him. Amar was also in Delhi, and when I texted him, he said I should ask Sameer. I wanted him to know, but there was no way to do that. Lost and distraught, I came home that weekend.”

Aai looked at me, but I kept my gaze on my knees. “The weekend that Baba had his heart attack, I was there to tell you both about it and seek your guidance. But before I could, Baba fell, and my first thought was that if I had told him, it would have surely killed him! I would have killed my father because of my selfishness.”

Aai’s hand returned to my back as I sobbed. “So I went back to Baroda and waited for Amar. When he returned two weeks later, he emptied out Sameer’s apartment. ‘He doesn’t want to ruin your life,’ Amar said when I asked about Sameer. So, I broke down and told him. He wanted to talk to Sameer, but I forbade it. If Sameer wasn’t taking my calls, I didn’t want Amar to be my conduit. I knew I wasn’t going to continue the pregnancy. Because I knew what you had done, Aai.” I finally looked up at her, and she returned a questioning frown.

“I know you sold your jewelry, your inheritance, to send me to college. I’ve always known. You and Baba went through so many hardships, and there was nothing that could stand in the way of my success. Then Dada quit his studies. I didn’t hesitate for a single moment about my decision. But Amar was my only support during that time. He stayed with me through everything like a true friend. It was the only time I accepted financial help from anyone. He accompanied me to the clinic and took care of me until I healed, both physically and emotionally.”

A fresh burst of tears erupted and continued for minutes. Aai kept caressing my back.

“I’m not upset, Tara,” Aai finally broke her silence. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to be a mother at twenty, and an unwed one at that,” she said with her old-school sensibilities, but I didn’t interrupt. “I’m sad because you had to go through it alone. You should’ve told me. I don’t know if I would’ve supported you in the right way, but I wouldn’t have let you go through it alone, my rani.” She put her hand on my head and pulled me onto her shoulder, her tears dripping onto me. She kissed my temple, and overwhelmed, I cried some more.

“You feared I would love you less, but I think you acted like a responsible adult. I wish you were sensible enough to avoid getting pregnant in the first place.”

“Like not having sex?” I whispered tentatively.

She shrugged. “Or using those things.” She meant contraceptives, but couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“We did, Aai,” I said awkwardly. “It was an accident.”

There was another awkward silence before I continued. “But Sujit has helped me so much with you. He just told me his attorney has found a way to extend your stay. How can I be ungrateful to him like this?”

“You can’t build a strong emotional bond on obligation, Tara, nor a lifetime’s worth of commitment,” Aai said softly, at the same time as the doorbell rang.

It was Sona. She entered with a restrained smile, saw my face, and rushed over. “Tara, are you alright?” she spoke in Marathi, as we always did around Aai.

“Yes,” I said. “But I still haven’t talked to Sujit.”

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