Read Online The World We Found by Thrity Umrigar - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thrity Umrigar
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caught Laleh’s eye and knew that she was feeling the same claustrophobia.
“Why didn’t you put your foot down, Nishta?” Laleh asked. “When he first began flirting with all this stuff?”
Nishta smiled. “You don’t have enough time to hear the answer to that, my Lal,” she said gently. “It’s a very long story.”
Laleh flushed, as if she’d heard the deflection and the mild rebuke in Nishta’s voice. “Sorry,” she said. She looked sheepish for half a second but then let out a snort. “We can’t leave you like this, Nishta. Not after having found you after all this time. Tell me, how can we help?”
“She’s the same old Lal,” Nishta said to Kavita. “Still wants to fix the world.” She shrugged. “It’s okay, really. I’ve probably made my life sound worse than it is. Iqbal’s a decent man. And I don’t usually feel sorry for myself. It’s just that seeing both of you is reminding me of the gap between my life as it is and what I’d dreamed it would be.”
Laleh leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. “But maddest of all—to see life as it is and not as it should be,” she quoted softly. Man of La Mancha had been one of their favorite movies. They had often skipped classes to take in a rerun at the Strand.
The other two smiled in immediate recognition. “Too much sanity may be madness,” Kavita recited.
“Perhaps to be too practical is madness,” Nishta added. She paused. “God. I used to know the entire speech.”
“He was a handsome man, that Peter O’Toole,” Laleh said.
Nishta turned toward Laleh. “Speaking of handsome men, how’s Adish?”
“Nice.” Laleh grinned. “Smooth. Good transition. I’ll tell him. He’ll be flattered. He’s fine. About ten kilos more than I’d like him to be, but fine.”
“And you, Ka? Any man—anyone special in your life?”
Kavita caught the stumble in Nishta’s voice. Nishta knows, she thought. Ingrid’s warm, attentive face swam before her eyes briefly. “Nobody special, I’m afraid,” she said, hating the quiver in her voice, hating herself for her dishonesty.
“Kavita’s one of Bombay’s top architects, you know,” Laleh said. “She has no time for romance and all that stuff.”
“And I look after my mother,” Kavita added. “Rohit—you remember my older brother?—lives in town, but he’s married. So of course the spinster daughter has to take care of Ma.” She tried to keep her tone light but thought that it came out petulant.
Nishta’s eyes darkened with an emotion Kavita couldn’t read. “It sounds like a good life, Ka,” she said vaguely.
There was a short, awkward silence, and then Nishta said, “So you’re both going to see Armaiti?”
“We are,” Laleh said. “And we’re still hoping you’ll go with us, Nishta. Surely Iqbal will understand.” Her voice took on a new urgency. “She—she probably won’t make it until the end of the year. She’s hoping we can go while she’s still feeling good.”
“I’ve only been out of India once,” Nishta said. “Imagine. Remember how we used to talk about traveling together to see the Pyramids and the Galapagos Islands and the Louvre? Well, he’s only taken me out of the country once. And guess where? To Dubai. Only because his brother lives there and sent us tickets. It was awful. A totally artificial place. I hated it. Iqbal was very impressed. He’s easily impressed, these days. Especially if it involves Islam.”
This time, they heard the anger in her voice. “Perhaps we could travel a little bit around the U.S. after we see Armaiti,” Kavita ventured. “If you came, that is.”
Nishta made a dismissive sound. “It’s no use, Kavita. He’ll never let me go.” Something flared in her eyes. “He’ll be afraid I’d never come back if I went.”
Kavita looked away, embarrassed by what she saw in Nishta’s eyes. But Laleh looked her squarely in the face. “And would you? Come back, I mean?”
Nishta held her
“Why didn’t you put your foot down, Nishta?” Laleh asked. “When he first began flirting with all this stuff?”
Nishta smiled. “You don’t have enough time to hear the answer to that, my Lal,” she said gently. “It’s a very long story.”
Laleh flushed, as if she’d heard the deflection and the mild rebuke in Nishta’s voice. “Sorry,” she said. She looked sheepish for half a second but then let out a snort. “We can’t leave you like this, Nishta. Not after having found you after all this time. Tell me, how can we help?”
“She’s the same old Lal,” Nishta said to Kavita. “Still wants to fix the world.” She shrugged. “It’s okay, really. I’ve probably made my life sound worse than it is. Iqbal’s a decent man. And I don’t usually feel sorry for myself. It’s just that seeing both of you is reminding me of the gap between my life as it is and what I’d dreamed it would be.”
Laleh leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. “But maddest of all—to see life as it is and not as it should be,” she quoted softly. Man of La Mancha had been one of their favorite movies. They had often skipped classes to take in a rerun at the Strand.
The other two smiled in immediate recognition. “Too much sanity may be madness,” Kavita recited.
“Perhaps to be too practical is madness,” Nishta added. She paused. “God. I used to know the entire speech.”
“He was a handsome man, that Peter O’Toole,” Laleh said.
Nishta turned toward Laleh. “Speaking of handsome men, how’s Adish?”
“Nice.” Laleh grinned. “Smooth. Good transition. I’ll tell him. He’ll be flattered. He’s fine. About ten kilos more than I’d like him to be, but fine.”
“And you, Ka? Any man—anyone special in your life?”
Kavita caught the stumble in Nishta’s voice. Nishta knows, she thought. Ingrid’s warm, attentive face swam before her eyes briefly. “Nobody special, I’m afraid,” she said, hating the quiver in her voice, hating herself for her dishonesty.
“Kavita’s one of Bombay’s top architects, you know,” Laleh said. “She has no time for romance and all that stuff.”
“And I look after my mother,” Kavita added. “Rohit—you remember my older brother?—lives in town, but he’s married. So of course the spinster daughter has to take care of Ma.” She tried to keep her tone light but thought that it came out petulant.
Nishta’s eyes darkened with an emotion Kavita couldn’t read. “It sounds like a good life, Ka,” she said vaguely.
There was a short, awkward silence, and then Nishta said, “So you’re both going to see Armaiti?”
“We are,” Laleh said. “And we’re still hoping you’ll go with us, Nishta. Surely Iqbal will understand.” Her voice took on a new urgency. “She—she probably won’t make it until the end of the year. She’s hoping we can go while she’s still feeling good.”
“I’ve only been out of India once,” Nishta said. “Imagine. Remember how we used to talk about traveling together to see the Pyramids and the Galapagos Islands and the Louvre? Well, he’s only taken me out of the country once. And guess where? To Dubai. Only because his brother lives there and sent us tickets. It was awful. A totally artificial place. I hated it. Iqbal was very impressed. He’s easily impressed, these days. Especially if it involves Islam.”
This time, they heard the anger in her voice. “Perhaps we could travel a little bit around the U.S. after we see Armaiti,” Kavita ventured. “If you came, that is.”
Nishta made a dismissive sound. “It’s no use, Kavita. He’ll never let me go.” Something flared in her eyes. “He’ll be afraid I’d never come back if I went.”
Kavita looked away, embarrassed by what she saw in Nishta’s eyes. But Laleh looked her squarely in the face. “And would you? Come back, I mean?”
Nishta held her
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