Page 13 of A Kiss in Kashmir

He envied her. “You’re so calm. I wish I could steady my energy on demand like you can. You, how do you do it?”

“Well, you can cook like a chef, and I can meditate like a yogi. We each have our own talents, right?” She laughed her trademark laugh, a giggle that always sounded like a happy jingle.

“Daneen, can we talk about what happened today? I’ve looked at the reports again. Please, my darling. Just this once.” Even as he spoke, he hoped against hope that she would listen to him.

“Talk to me about the time we met, George. I just want to hear your voice… keep talking to me. I promise you, I will make a decision soon. For the moment, please talk to me.”

“Let me bring you some water, and then we can talk.” George rushed out of the room, less for the water and more to wipe the tears off his face. He wasn’t going to let her see how weak he really was.

He returned moments later with a glass of warm water with a touch of mint and a slice of lemon, just as she always liked it. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was labored.

“Daneen? Daneen? Open your eyes. I have the water. We need to talk, my love,” George gently placed his hand under her head to lift her up. She opened her eyes as he propped her up on the pillows. She took the glass of water, held it with both her hands and began to sip it slowly.

George sat as close to her as he could. “Okay, yes, which story would you like to hear? I think I know, but your wish is my command. So tell me.” He rested one hand lightly on her arm and with the other he clutched the end of the baby blanket. This was his entire life. This was hiswhy. This was everything that meant anything to him.

Daneen smiled feebly. “Our first kiss?”

“Hah. I knew you would ask for that. It still doesn’t seem like it was nearly thirty years ago, Daneen. Let me see if I can remember it all. We were on our third date, right? Hiding from your brother Wajid and his friends?”

“Yes, we were hiding from the world. Remember how they were all angry? You, a white man, with their sister. They were furious that I would even speak to you.”

“Yes, I remember. It was in the houseboat, right? The one that your grandfather wanted to gift you?”

“No, George. How—” Daneen looked at him with dismay. “You forgot? Wait, no, you didn’t. You’re teasing me.”

“You are my dil, my heart. How could I forget anything? I am teasing! I remember clearly: it was on the shikara. I remember I had to pay him five times the going rate. Three times the rate to take us to a secluded point on Dal Lake, and the two extra times for the fact that I was a foreigner. Do you remember his name?”

“How could I forget a man who called himself Jheelwala Jackson—the Michael Jackson of the lake.”

“Yes, Jheelwala Jackson. He took us to the center of the lake. I still remember. It was cloudy, and rain threatened. He looked away when we cuddled. He had warned me to be decent. I still remember.”

Daneen held out the water glass. George placed it on the nightstand. “You were slow to kiss me then, and you are slow to tell the story now. Get to the good part, my darling.”

“And you were impatient then, and you are impatient now. I remember I leaned over to kiss you on your cheek. I will maintain to this day that it was you who turned your face towards mine, and that’s how I ended up kissing your lips. I was so worried that Jheelwala Jackson would throw us into the water.”

“And then, then you asked me to marry you and you promised me that you would love me forever,” Daneen sighed. Her voice was down to a whisper, her breathing labored. “Do you remember the song, George? The song that Jheelwala Jackson sang?”

“Yes, of course. Aacha toh hum chalte hain…” Tears rolled down George’s cheeks as he murmured the words to the fun song about two lovers talking about leaving each other and promising to return to meet again soon. It was painful to remember the words now.

“I guess it will be our forever song now.” Daneen’s voice was barely audible.

“Daneen, please.” George knew his pleading was futile. He wept openly now. She was who she was, and he knew she wasn’t going to change her mind.

“I’m going to tell you a secret now, my love,” she said. “Itwasme. That kiss? Ididturn my face towards you. I was that impatient.”

George smiled at his beloved bride, this woman who had been by his side for almost three decades. He knew her words meant only one thing.

She said, “Our forever will end soon now.”

She died the next day, just as she had lived, with grace and dignity, on her own terms and in her own way.

A week later, with a little bit of encouragement from Wajid, George packed up his life in Washington and moved to Srinagar to live in the houseboat her grandfather owned, to be near the garden where she had wanted to be buried along with the baby blanket.

Daneen had come home, and in many ways, so had George.

Chapter 6

October 2022

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