Page 39 of Can This Be Love?

The thought behind the gift tugged at the strings of my heart and I felt my throat tighten. There is something so sacred about childhood, so pure and innocent that in touching a bit of mine, Purva had given me the best gift possible. Clutching the box to my heart, I looked up at Purva, only to find him staring at me.

‘I…’ I tried, but stopped. ‘The … the…’ I tried again, now deeply embarrassed at the tears that were beginning to stream down my face.

‘Shh,’ said Purva, looking mortified and bending low to wipe my tears with his hands. ‘Silly girl…’

The tears refused to stop.

‘This … this … is…’ I blubbered.

Purva pulled me closer and I drew towards the comforting wafts of chloroform like it was a magnet.

‘Shhh … hey … come on … don’t cry … please…’ he pleaded softly. Purva took my face in his hands and kissed my moist eyes. Each kiss, each word so tender and so full of gentle, innocent love that I could do little to stop the fresh wave of tears. Wrapped tightly in Purva’s arms, feeling the safest I could possibly feel, images of me huddled over my laptop, reading email after email from Rajeev, flashed before my eyes and brought a fresh wave of guilt-ridden tears.

What the hell am I doing?

Purva, you are too nice, too good and too honest to be with someone like me.

16

5 April 2013, 5.00 a.m.

No, of course I will not open Rediffmail to see if there is an email from Rajeev today.

9.00 a.m.

‘Any calls from Anu?’ I asked, turning to look at Pitajee. In return for aloo paranthas cooked by me, Pitajee had agreed to drop me off at office twice that week. As he drove his fancy car, I munched on an apple, reflecting on the advantages of knowing how to cook. My paranthas, when I cook them now, turn out perfectly round and very soft. I am officially the type of parantha-making daughter-in-law that any mother-in-law would be proud of.

‘Yes.’

‘What? What did she say?’ I said, surprised.

‘I don’t think there is anything wrong with Govind.’

‘There will never be anything wrong with Govind,’ I said ruefully.

‘So…’

‘So we don’t know why Ahya called Anu home.’

Pitajee put his foot on the break and car came to a sudden halt. Turning off the ignition, Pitajee turned around to face me.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked, taken aback.

‘Kas,’ said Pitajee, his jaws set firm. ‘Why am I not good enough?’

I put a hand on Pitajee’s.

‘Is it just because I decided to sit for the MBA entrance and not the IAS exam? An exam will decide whom I get to marry? Or is it something else? Why am I not good enough?’ he fumed, frustration darkening his usually good-humoured face.

‘You may not be good enough for Ahya and Govind, but for Anu you will always be the best … and that is what really matters, does it not?’ I said, smiling.

Pitajee stared at me for a moment, opened his mouth and then shut it again.

‘You will always be good enough for Anu, Pitajee,’ I repeated.

For a moment, the darkness lingered in his eyes and I wondered what he would say next. But the dark clouds lifted from Pitajee’s face and the sun shone clearer. The old, lovable Pitajee was back.

I smiled a very maternal smile.

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