The New Collected Short Stories Read online

  The phone on his desk rang. There’s a car waiting for you at the front door, sir.’

  Jamwal had rarely been known to cross the dance floor for a woman, let alone an ocean.

  When the 747 touched down at San Francisco International Airport at five forty-five the following morning, Jamwal took the first available cab and headed for the Palo Alto Hotel.

  Some discreet enquiries at the concierge’s desk, accompanied by a ten-dollar bill, produced the information he required. After a quick shower, shave and change of clothes, another cab drove him across to the university campus.

  When the smartly dressed young man wearing a Harvard tie walked into the registrar’s office and asked where he might find Miss Nisha Chowdhury, the woman behind the counter smiled and directed him to the north block, room forty-three.

  As Jamwal strolled across the campus, few students were to be seen, other than early morning joggers or those returning from very late-night parties. It brought back memories of Harvard.

  When he reached the north block, he made no attempt to enter the building, fearing he might find her with another man. He took a seat on a bench facing the front door and waited. He checked his watch every few minutes, and began to wonder if she had already gone to breakfast. A dozen thoughts flashed through his mind while he waited. What would he do if she appeared on Sanjay Promit’s arm? He’d slink back to Delhi on the next flight, lick his wounds and move on to the next girl. But what if she was away for the weekend and didn’t plan to return until Monday morning, when term began? He had several pressing appointments on Monday, none of whom would be impressed to learn that Jamwal was on the other side of the world chasing a girl he’d only met twice – well, three times if you counted the pigtail incident.

  When she came through the swing doors, he immediately knew why he’d circled half the globe to sit on a wooden bench at eight o’clock in the morning.

  Nisha walked straight past him. She wasn’t ignoring Jamwal this time, but simply hadn’t registered who it was sitting on the bench. Even when he rose to greet her, she didn’t immediately recognize him, perhaps because he was the last person on earth she expected to see. Suddenly her whole face lit up, and it seemed only natural that he should take her in his arms.

  ‘What brings you to Stanford, Jamwal?’ she asked once he’d released her.

  ‘You,’ he replied simply.

  ‘But why—’ she began.

  ‘I’m just trying to make up for tying you to a lamp post.’

  ‘I could still be there for all you cared,’ she said, grinning. ‘So tell me, Jamwal, have you already had breakfast with another woman?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be here if there was another woman,’ he said.

  ‘I was only teasing,’ she said softly, surprised that he had risen so easily to her bait. Not at all his reputation. She took his hand as they walked across the lawn together.

  Jamwal could always recall exactly how they had spent the rest of that day. They ate breakfast in the refectory with five hundred chattering students; walked hand-in-hand around the lake – several times; lunched at Benny’s diner in a corner booth, and only left when they became aware that they were the last customers. They talked about going to the theatre, a film, perhaps a concert, and even checked what was playing at the Globe, but in the end they just walked and talked.

  When he took Nisha back to the north block just after midnight, he kissed her for the first time, but made no attempt to cross the threshold. The gossip columnists had got that wrong as well, at least that was something his mother would approve of. His final words before they parted were, ‘You do realize that we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together?’

  Jamwal couldn’t sleep on the long flight back to Delhi as he thought about how he would break the news to his parents that he had fallen in love. Within moments of landing, he was on the phone to Nisha to let her know what he’d decided to do.

  ‘I’m going to fly up to Jaipur during the week and tell my parents that I’ve found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, and ask for their blessing.’

  ‘No, my darling,’ she pleaded. ‘I don’t think it would be wise to do that while I’m stuck here on the other side of the world. Perhaps we should wait until I return.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re having second thoughts?’ he asked in a subdued voice.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ she replied calmly, ‘but I also have to think about how I break the news to my parents, and I’d prefer not to do it over the phone. After all, my father may be just as opposed to the marriage as yours.’

  Jamwal reluctantly agreed that they should do nothing until Nisha had graduated and returned to Delhi. He thought about visiting his brother in Chennai and asking him to act as an intermediary, but just as quickly dismissed the idea, only too aware that in time he would have to face up to his father. He would have discussed the problem with his sister Silpa, but however much she might have wanted to keep his secret, within days she would have shared it with their mother.

  In the end Jamwal didn’t even tell his closest friends why he boarded a flight to San Francisco every Friday afternoon, and why his phone bill had recently tripled.

  As each week went by, he became more certain that he’d found the only woman he would ever love. He also accepted that he couldn’t put off telling his parents for much longer.

  Every Saturday morning Nisha would be standing by the arrivals gate at San Francisco International airport waiting for him to appear. On Sunday evening, he would be among the last passengers to have their passports checked before boarding the overnight flight to Delhi.

  When Nisha walked up on to the stage to be awarded her degree by the President of Stanford, two proud parents were sitting in the fifth row warmly applauding their daughter.

  A young man was standing at the back of the hall, applauding just as enthusiastically. But when Nisha stepped down from the stage to join her parents for the reception, Jamwal decided the time had come to slip away. When he arrived back at his hotel, the concierge handed him a message:

  Jamwal,

  Why don’t you join us for dinner at the Bel Air?

  Shyam Chowdhury

  It became clear to Jamwal within moments of meeting Nisha’s parents that they had known about the relationship for some time, and they left him in no doubt that they were delighted to have a double cause for celebration: their daughter’s graduation from Stanford, and meeting the man there she’d fallen in love with.

  The dinner lasted long into the night, and Jamwal found it easy to relax in the company of Nisha’s parents. He only wished . . .

  ‘A toast to my daughter on her graduation day,’ said Shyam Chowdhury, raising his glass.

  ‘Daddy, you’ve already proposed that toast at least six times,’ said Nisha.

  ‘Is that right?’ he said, raising his glass a seventh time. ‘Then let’s toast Jamwal’s graduation day.’

  ‘I’m afraid that was several years ago, sir,’ said Jamwal.

  Nisha’s father laughed, and turning to his prospective son-in-law, said, ‘If you plan to marry my daughter, young man, then the time has come for me to ask you about your future.’

  ‘That may well depend, sir, on whether my father decides to cut me off, or simply sacrifice me to the gods,’ he replied. Nobody laughed.

  ‘You have to remember, Jamwal,’ said Nisha’s father, placing his glass back on the table, ‘that you are the son of a maharaja, a Rajput, whereas Nisha is the daughter of a—’

  ‘I don’t give a damn about that,’ said Jamwal.

  ‘I feel sure you don’t,’ said Shyam Chowdhury. ‘But I have no doubt that your father does, and that he always will. He is a proud man, steeped in the Hindi tradition. So if you decide to go ahead and marry my daughter against his wishes, you must be prepared to face the consequences.’

  ‘I appreciate what you are saying, sir,’ said Jamwal, now calmer. ‘I love my parents, and will always respect their traditions. But I have ma