Chapter Ten- Nowhere to Go

When I was very young, I could not get through the day without an afternoon nap. After I awoke, there would be a few dazed moments in which I could not believe I was truly there, in that room; living real life and not my dreams. Because the dreams seemed more real.

I feel like that now.
In India, there are roles for everyone. Both boys and girls are expected to get a good education, but then it all changes. Girls are married off earlier than boys, and when siblings are close in age, the girl will often be married first in the family.
If everything had gone to "plan", then Pavni would be married in the next five years, and then Saawan a couple of years after. Then you are expected to have children; make a living; make a home. There were no personal choices factored in to the whole issue. Prospective grooms were selected and shown to girls like dresses. Before the selection, the parents would look at factors such as height (the taller the better), skin colour (the fairer the better), education (engineers and doctors preferred), caste (the same as theirs) and age (had to be older than the girl). All these ingredients went into the masala of how the couple looked together. In India, the concept of marriage is not the same as perhaps other parts of the world. It is an idea of honour, social status and connections, carrying on the family name and protection. Love is of course expected to happen somewhere along the way, but usually after marriage. Physical attraction could perhaps be called a "bonus".

The meaning of marriage is changing. In India, instead of the union of two perfectly matched people who connect emotionally, mentally and physically, marriage is merely companionship. Which is perfectly fine, expect for the obvious fact that when a girl having an arranged marriage looks at a boy, unless it is love at first sight, she is forced to consider factors other than whether or not she is in love with him.
Thus, the process becomes rather shallow.

So why do I tell you all this now? Because with such high expectations, many are disappointed. Even the smallest things set tongues wagging. Like for instance, Pavni roaming around with Javed. (Except they must have done more than roaming at some point because he's managed to knock her up).
Half the neighborhood is probably questioning my parents' upbringing skills right now. And if they are making such a fuss about Pavni having a boyfriend, I wonder what they'll have to say about her being pregnant.

I look to her now, her face pale after being sick.
She doesn't meet my eyes, but I know we have to talk about this. I squat down in front of her, away from the defiled gutter. "How long?" I ask. "Do you know?"
Slowly, she shakes her head. She does not even have enough energy left to ask me how I know in the first place. I sigh, but the load does not lift. Going to the doctor is out of the question. He's Pa's closest friend.

So then what to do? "Does Saawan know?"
Another shake of her head.
"Anyone?"
Another.
I feel as if my head is going to burst. I swallow, hard. "Did you...did you...want...to...or did he make you?"
For the first time, emotion creeps into her eyes. Disgust. "I asked him to."
Tears fill my eyes, not because of her condition, but because of who she has become. A terrible ache fills me, and I feel as if I have missed something. When did she grow up? My sister who would shield me from me parents' anger; my loving sister who used to plait daisy chains into my hair; the one who would always be there? When did she turn into someone who needed sex as a reprieve from our fathers' anger?
I blink rapidly, hoping she can't see them. "Let's talk somewhere else."
Something akin to a cynical smile touches her lips. "There's nowhere to go," she whispers.
And I know that that, right there, is something that every single human being feels in their life at some point or other.

And when you can't go anywhere, you do anything you can to make the present bearable.