India

Chapter 11

The faintest whisper of a woman’s voice, in a quiet Hindu prayer pulled me from the depths of blackness which had overwhelmed me. A cool washcloth to my face prompted me to open my eyes. Kokila, an older woman with whom I shared a connecting washroom was by my side, quietly praying. I watched, my eyes barely open, as she dipped a small square of cloth into a bowl of water and again laid it upon my forehead. Slowly I became aware of where I was, recognizing the comfort of my bed and the smell of the incense that I always had burning there.

“Miss India” she said, seeing that my eyes were finally opening. “Miss? You can hear me, yes?”

I nodded slightly, my mind finally breaking free of the fog and filling with a million questions. I remembered walking into the hotel, remembered being hot and hungry, but beyond that everything was all a blur.

“What happened?” I asked in a weak whisper.

“You fall downstairs” she said, moving the wet cloth down to my neck.

“I fell down the stairs?” I asked.

“No” she said with a slight chuckle. “Down there, downstairs. You were on the ground”

I looked at her, confused, and then remembered feeling the room spin, things starting to go black, but not being able to put my finger on what exactly had made me feel so faint.

“There is a man. He is say you are a friend to him” she said, her English broken and heavy with a Hindi accent.

Confusion again filled me as I tried desperately to grasp what was happening.

“He waits to see you. This man was being very concerned. You want that I should let him to see you?”

I remembered seeing Kevin in the lobby and again the room began to spin. I put my hand to my face, pressing my fingers against my eyes in hopes of stopping the spinning. Tears escaped my eyes and began to run down the sides of my face.

“Miss India. This man, is he a friend to you?”

I nodded my head slowly.

Kevin came in and sat on the edge of the bed beside me. I couldn’t open my eyes, not wanting to look at him for fear that the mere sight of his green eyes would melt away all of the anger for him that was in my heart and mind.

“India” he said quietly, his hand on my cheek. “I’m sorry”

‘I’m sorry’...the two words echoed in my mind as I tried desperately to find the words to say to him.

“Why?” I finally managed to ask. I opened my eyes to see him looking away from me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked softly, closing my eyes again.

“I tried.” he said after a long pause. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t”

I opened my eyes and they met his. Fresh tears began to fall.

“I tried to tell you, India, but I...I didn’t want...” he sighed deeply. “I didn’t want to ruin what was happening between us”

I turned my head away from him.

He timidly laid down beside me, his arm across my stomach.

“I knew I should tell you but I was...we were....”

“I was falling in love with you Kevin.” I said, turning back to look at him.

“I was falling in love with you too, India.” he said, reaching up to brush the hair from my face. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I....” his words trailed off and he closed his eyes, pursing his lips together tightly, obviously frustrated that he couldn’t explain.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

He opened his eyes and looked at me, looked deep into my eyes, my heart, my soul.

“Because I had to see you....I had to explain”

“But your wife....” I said, trying desperately to keep up the barriers of anger.

“I don’t love her the way....the way I love you. I can’t explain it” he said, a hint of frustration with himself in his voice.

“You loved her enough to marry her” I said matter of factly.

“I thought I loved her.” he said, taking my hand in his and staring at me, a look of determination on his face. “India, I don’t think I can explain to you. My world....well...it isn’t normal. I’m expected to do certain things....to act a certain way. When I married her it was because...” he paused, searching for the right words. “...because I thought it was expected of me.”

He explained that he and Kristen had dated for years. He explained that when his cousin had announced his engagement that he felt like he was being left behind. He felt like he needed to do what everyone thought was the right thing and marry her.

“I thought she loved me for me, not who I am” he said sadly. “It seems like the last six months she’s been more in love with her career than me. So I left.”

“You’re divorcing her?” I asked, trying desperately to squelch the hint of hope that I felt in my heart.

He looked away again and I searched his face, trying to find the answers to my questions in his silent expressions.

He looked at me, his eyes not quite meeting mine.

“Kevin? Are you divorcing her?” I asked again.

His eyes lifted to meet mine and said sadly “India, it isn’t that simple”

**

We traveled by bus, Kevin and I, to the Saptakotishwara Shrine, an ancient Shiva temple an hour from Panaji. We rode silently, our bodies close but not quite touching. I had given in to my heart and allowed myself to accept Kevin’s apology and explanation, but our future together was still hanging in the balance. It was his suggestion that we go beyond what our hearts and minds felt and touch upon a more spiritual entity to guide us.

So it was that we prayed together in the ancient temple, silently asking for guidance. I called out to the spirit of my mother, asking for understanding, direction, hope. We cast our prayers to the wind on two tiny gossamer prayer flags and watched them dance in the hot Indian breeze, waiting for the answers to our prayers.

The sounds and sights around us were lost as we sat silently, side by side, looking within ourselves for the answers. An elderly woman, draped heavily in colorful scarves, walked by us. She stopped and looked at us, smiling sweetly and spoke to us in Hindi. I listened, smiling softly to her and watched as she touched her hand to her heart, smiled to us and walked away.

“What did she say?” Kevin asked, looking to me with his emerald eyes.

“She....she said that I should tell you something...” I said, tears swelling in my eyes. “My tumko pyar karta hu” I said before a quiet sob took hold of my words.

He put his arms about me and pulled me to him.

“What does it mean?” he asked, his voice catching in his throat.

“My tumko pyar karta hu” I repeated, looking into his eyes. “means I love you”

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