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Fall 2007

It’s the weekend after Labor Day. Akaash is going to visit us. According to Lakshmi, he tried but was unable to get the days off during Labor Day. It’s a time when all the senior and regular doctors get priority in taking a holiday. The junior members and interns must take their place and work extra hours. Therefore, he has picked a weekend after that and will come to our house on a Friday.

It’s early in the morning, and we are just sitting down for breakfast. It is unusual for Lakshmi to be up early and to notice the surroundings. It has been like this for a few days. She has become more aware of cleanliness around the house and wants everything stacked up in place.

“Why do you have to leave all this mess on the table?” Lakshmi says, looking at the magazines and newspapers piled up on the coffee table in our family room.

She walks over and starts making neat piles of what’s on the table. There are magazines. Mom likes People. Dad, the New Yorker. And me? I like Sports Illustrated. Usually, we leave the magazines where we were sitting and don’t bother to keep them all stacked up neatly unless the cleaning ladies are coming.

“It has always been like that,” I say. “What’s got into you? Are you on a clean-up mission? It’s our house, not a museum.”

“It’s just. It’s. Everything looks messy. What will a visitor say if they look at this?” Lakshmi is upset.

“Visitor?” I look at her like I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Yes.” She raises her voice in irritation.

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry.” I say, suddenly realizing that Aakash is coming.

Mom is glad that things are progressing well, and she wants to make the best of it. She has overheard Lakshmi and me talking.

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean up everything this afternoon.” Then she turns to me and instructs me to clean up my room. “Take the guitar and other stuff out of your room and to the basement, and put fresh towels and a new soap bar in the bathroom. Also, lay out a new toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, saluting her like a soldier.

Mom thinks of everything. I’m amazed. She feels like we should do what they do in five-star hotels. People forget things, and you don’t want to embarrass them in a strange place, where they may be too intimidated to ask.

She laughs and says, “You’re funny sometimes, you know.” 

I notice that Lakshmi has disappeared somewhere. I have heard her complain to Mom that she has nothing to wear. Perhaps she has gone upstairs to her room to take inventory of her clothes. I don’t understand why girls never have anything to wear when something new happens. I can understand if it’s for a party or a celebration such as a wedding. But, for some stranger visiting? I guess Lakshmi wants to look her best when Akaash arrives. Is she getting interested in him? I wonder. But like mom always says. “It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed.” Clothes are what define you, she had said, and it’s always good to make a good impression. As for me, I’m good with a pair of jeans and a t-shirt or maybe a polo shirt.

Two days before Akaash is to arrive, Mom is busy preparing snacks that she thinks Akaash may like. Mom’s banana bread is her unique creation. However, she doesn’t know if Akaash is a sweets lover. Not to miss a chance to please him, she prepares some hot and spicy snacks too, as she had made for last Diwali. Dad does not contribute to this. He’s busy planning activities, although in my mind it should be left to Lakshmi and Akaash to decide what they want to do. I know it’s not going to be a typical “date” like in America. I mean, if a couple lives locally, it is easy for them to get together and do stuff to get more acquainted. But this is a special case. Someone has introduced the boy. He doesn’t live in the neighborhood or attend the same school as the girl. I am curious to see how everything shapes up. 

Mom wants to keep Aakash happy during his visit to our home. She’s planning what to cook for the three days.

“What should I cook on the first day when Aakash arrives here?” Mom asks Dad.

“I don’t know.” Dad wants to be non-committal. He pauses and then adds. “I think we should keep it simple on the first day. He’ll be traveling and tired.”

“That’s more reason we should feed him well.” Mom replies.

Mom finally decides to make a typical Maharashtrian meal for the first day — Varan-Bhat (an all-time favorite of Indian children), poli, potato bhaji, cucumber raita, and tomato soup.

“I’ll decide something else for the next two days,” she says.

Akaash is to arrive late at night after finishing his day shift. Dad has already checked the traffic on the Jersey Turnpike on the computer. From Philly to Fairfax, it should not be more than three hours max in good traffic.

“It’s green all the way,” he says, adding, “he should be here by ten at the most.”

We decided not to wait for him for dinner. After all, even if he comes on time, we cannot just start eating as soon as he arrives. It’s the first time we are meeting him. There would be introductions and small talk about his work and his parents. 

After dinner, I retire to the basement, my temporary location for the weekend. I practice on my guitar as usual and then read the Sports Illustrated article on LeBron James. I don’t realize it is past ten-thirty, close to eleven. I hear some discussion going on upstairs. It’s dad, then mom, and then Lakshmi. I want to find out what’s going on.

“What’s up?” I ask as I climb the stairs and walk into the family room.

Dad is sitting on the sofa, watching the local news, his face all drawn out as if he is worried. Mom is in the kitchen with Lakshmi. Both are quiet. I hope Akaash hasn’t gotten into an accident or something, God forbid.

“What’s going on? Would someone care to tell me?” I ask.

“Don’t know, Beta,” Mom says. She is calm as usual. “He should have been here by now. He left at five-thirty according to the text he sent Lakshmi.”

“It’s Friday, Mom,” I say. “Maybe he’s stuck in traffic.”

“But he’s not even answering his phone.” Lakshmi joins the conversation. “I bet he’s taken the wrong turn and is circling the east DC neighborhoods.”

“Yes,” I add. “I don’t drive a car, but I have heard people say that they sometimes miss staying in the right lanes on I-95 as they merge into the beltway and they end up on the other side of DC.”

“What’re we going to do?” Lakshmi is anxious.

I walk over to Dad.

“Any news on the TV?” I ask. “Accidents or traffic jams?”

“No, nothing,” he says. “Maybe they said something, and I missed it.”

“That’s weird,” I say. “Sometimes the reporters are late in reporting.”

We all gather in the family room and sit quietly, watching TV with Dad. It’s one of those moments when it is difficult to decide what to do. On one hand, you want to do something but don’t know what. On the other hand, you think of the worst that could happen and feel that you should have done something to prevent it.

I yawn as the wall clock strikes. When I look up, it is 11:30. I start pacing the family room, then take a break to look outside from the front door sidelight windows. I see lights from a car turning into our driveway.

“Everyone,” I call out, “looks like our guest finally made it.”

Mom, Lakshmi, and Dad gather in the foyer with me. I am not sure whether I should wait for him to ring the bell or open the door and step outside. I decide to remain inside. When the doorbell rings, I open the door. I am surprised to see a young man, of medium build and a bit taller than me and sporting a stylish beard, enter with a small weekender bag. This is Akaash, I say to myself. He is all smiles, not nervous at all. We greet him.  

“Welcome to Virginia,” Dad says as he escorts him to the family room. Since it was already late, there was no time for small talk. Dad recommends that Aakash eat.

Mom walks over to the kitchen to get the food ready, but not before knowingly glancing at Dad to show her approval. I am surprised to see Lakshmi follow her.

We all sit around the breakfast table, which is homier than sitting at the formal dining room table. Dad looks at Mom, then Akaash, and doesn’t know how to start the conversation. Lakshmi is quiet.

“You want anything to drink, beer?” I ask. “I’m not old enough to drink, but I can get you one from the fridge in the garage.”

“No, I’m good,” he replies.

He’s Americanized already, I think. No Indian accent, and the way he talks sounds as though he’s always lived in this country. Maybe it’s because of the contact with the patients in the hospital. Mom starts placing the food on the table. Lakshmi places the plate in front of Aakash with the cutlery and a glass of water. Aakash thanked her. Mom keeps looking at him, wanting to say something.

“You must be hungry,” she says in her calm voice. “What time did you leave? Did you have any problem getting here?”

She doesn’t want to convey our anxiety. We all suspect something happened on the way here for him to be this late.

“Oh, man!” Akaash starts in earnest. “I forgot my cell phone in my room, and only realized it as I was about to enter the highway. I had to go back. Traffic on the highway was okay. Then near the…before Baltimore…” he waits as if to remember something before saying, “White Marsh, is it? I see a dark cloud of smoke a bit ahead of me. Police cruisers and fire engines were trying to make their way. Everyone was trying to merge into one lane to let them pass. In the chaos, I heard a bang, and a push behind me, and my car lurched forward.”

“Oh! My God,” Mom almost shouts.

“Yes. Someone had rear-ended me. I had to get out and see the damage.”

“Was it a lot?” Dad wants to know. Lakshmi has a worried look.

“A fender bender. The insurance will probably cover it. It wasn’t my fault. But it shook me up for a while.”

“I can imagine that. Well, the main thing is that you are okay,” Dad tries to console him. “These things happen. It was beyond your control.”

“After the road cleared, I saw a school bus on the side, partially burned. Probably had an engine fire. I didn’t text or call you because I didn’t want you all to worry about me.”

“We understand. Now that you are here, eat, and rest.” Mom says.

We wait till he has finished his dinner. He must be hungry because he finishes everything on his plate. I notice he hasn’t said anything to Lakshmi during the whole time. Neither has she said anything. They glance at each other a couple of times.

“This is fantastic. I haven’t had a meal like this in a long time.” Aakash says elongating the word long.

“Well,” Mom remarks. “I can imagine you not having a home-cooked meal. Do you cook?”

“Sometimes. But nothing like this. I eat in the hospital cafeteria most of the time. Then there is pizza. I go to Indian restaurants with my Indian colleagues.”

We are up until way past 1:00 am and finally retire for the night.

I meet Akaash for breakfast the next morning. It’s about 8.30. He’s dressed casually in athletic sweats and is sitting at the table eating cereal. He doesn’t show any weariness from the travel from the night before or the accident. Mom says Lakshmi is getting ready and will join us shortly. Dad has planned a day for them. They are going to visit the museums and see the monuments in DC. Dad has given him directions and a little booklet about the city. 

“Seventeenth Street is where you normally get parking,” Dad says. He is reading the Post while drinking his tea. “From there, you can walk to the White House and the Mall. You are young. You can walk to the Lincoln, Vietnam, and World War memorials. Roosevelt and Jefferson are on the other side.”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Lakshmi says. She has come down and is ready to leave. “We’ll manage.”

Mom asks if she should pack any snacks and water for them.

“Water,” Akaash says.

Confident man, I say to myself. Maybe doctors are trained that way.

That afternoon, I had my band practice, so I could not be home until six in the evening. When I return, Dad is sitting by himself in the family room, reading the New Yorker.

“Where’s everyone?” I ask.

“Don’t know,” he says, not even looking up.

“Are they back from DC?”

“No, not yet.”

“There’s a lot of walking, and I hope they found parking.”

“I gave them all the directions they needed.” Dad doesn’t seem worried.

Mom wonders if she should start cooking or wait till Lakshmi and Akaash are back. She decides to cook for everyone. When the pair hasn’t shown up by eight, we eat without waiting for them.

We hear the front door open at 8.30 pm. Dad gets up and walks to the foyer.

“Well? How did you like our capital city?” Dad asks Akaash.

“We didn’t go to the city,” Akaash says nonchalantly.

“You didn’t? But I gave you all the information.”

“We decided we can do that some other time.”

“What did you do then?” Dad sounds confused. Is he upset that they didn’t listen to his suggestions? I don’t know. Is it going to be like this in the future? A son-in-law who has his own mind and makes decisions by himself. We sit at the breakfast table. Lakshmi and Aakash sit together on the long edge, and Dad and I sit on the two ends. Mom is heating the food.

“We stayed in the vicinity. There’s so much to do here. Lakshmi wanted to show me the Workhouse art gallery in Lorton. They have so many studios with resident artists. We talked to a painter from Russia.” Aakash explains.

“It used to be a maximum-security prison,” Mom says.

“Yes, that’s what I heard. Then we went to Burke Lake Park. We rented a boat and went sailing in the lake.”

“That’s great,” I say. I’m happy that they did some fun things rather than touring monuments, which is boring in my mind.

Dad looks at me as if I am a smart aleck. His looks tell me I should keep quiet.

“Yes,” Akaash continues. “Then we stopped at an Italian restaurant in the Fair Oaks Mall. What’s it called? Brio? They had a happy hour.”

“Sounds like you guys had a great time! Did they card you?” I say, forgetting that I was supposed to keep my mouth shut.

Akaash doesn’t answer.

“You haven’t eaten dinner, I hope,” Mom asks Lakshmi. “We were waiting for you, but since it was getting late, we ate. I made simple Khichadi with some pappadams.”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Lakshmi says in a calm voice. She’s all smiles and looks like she is in a good mood. “We didn’t have a full dinner. So, we’ll eat some.”

We, young people, are always hungry, I say to myself.

The next day, Sunday, Mom makes Idli/Sambar. Dad enquires Akaash about his family in India. We watch some Sunday shows on TV. Akaash leaves in the afternoon. Mom packs some Idlis, the banana bread, and the snacks for him to take with him.

“Thank you so much, aunty,” Aakash says as he takes the bag from Mom. “Thank you for the delicious food. Thank you, uncle, for your hospitality, and Arjun, you should visit Philly sometimes.”

Lakshmi is quiet. Maybe they had talked enough during their outings. We all say bye to him from the front stoop. Dad asks Aakash to drive carefully and let us know when he has reached.

“Such a nice fellow,” Dad says after Aakash leaves.

“I wouldn’t argue with that,” Mom replies and then turns to me and asks, “What do you think, Arjun? Do you like him?”

I say I do, especially his confidence and level of assimilation into the US. He seems to have adjusted well, in my mind. “It’s not what I think. The important thing is Lakshmi. What does she think?” I add.

Lakshmi, as usual, is upstairs on her phone. Probably talking to her friends and filling them in on her “date.”

“We’ll know in time,” Mom says and goes upstairs to rest.

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