There was a gripping in Anil’s chest from the guilt he felt over his father’s death, which presented itself at unexpected moments.
Charlie laid his hand on Anil’s arm. “Sorry, mate. I only meant . . .”
“No, it’s all right,” Anil said. “When will you decide?”
“I won’t hear about the job until March or April. But don’t look so glum, mate. We’ve got at least six more months to hang out. Plenty of time for you to learn to drink a proper pint.” Charlie grinned and excused himself to the restroom before rounds began.
Anil returned to the coffee cart for a fresh cup of tea, to which he added generous portions of milk and cinnamon powder, a poor substitute for his mother’s chai masala.
“Hey, man.” Trey approached the cart. “Triple espresso,” he said to the barista. Anil noticed the shadows under his eyes. He’d been watching Trey’s behavior carefully but hadn’t seen any signs that he might be using again. “Listen,” Trey said. “I spoke with Singer and Martin about your project, but they’re both too busy to take on anything else.” He took his espresso cup from the barista. “But listen, I’ve got another idea.” He led Anil away from the cart. “I can add your name to my paper. Tanaka doesn’t know what’s going on day to day. I’ll tell him we’ve been working on it together, okay?” He pulled the lid off the paper cup and took a sip. “Let’s meet up after work tomorrow, and I’ll fill you in on the study. Horseshoe, eight o’clock?” Trey drained his espresso and tossed the cup into the trash.
Anil had a sunken feeling in his stomach. “Okay.”
“Trust me, Patel, it’ll be fine,” Trey said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Just make sure you have some solid recommendations.”
HEEDING TREY’S advice, the next week, Anil sat across from Sonia, separated by their lunch trays. The cafeteria had recently introduced a vegetable lasagna he was eager to taste, but first he launched into his speech about why he’d decided to apply for a cardiology fellowship and believed he was qualified. Sonia waited until he finished, then smiled. “Look, Anil, I’ll write you a recommendation letter for whatever you want. If it’s cardiology, so be it. Personally, I think it’s a waste for you to spend your days with electronics and draped patients, but that’s your choice. It’s your career, not mine.”
“Thanks, Sonia.” Anil sat back in his chair, the tension leaving his shoulders. Sonia’s reference was the last piece he needed for his fellowship application. “I know I haven’t always been the easiest guy to work with.”
Sonia shrugged. “I don’t place a lot of value on easy, Patel. And I wouldn’t mind having you around here a few more years. How’s the rest of your application coming along?”
“Pretty good.” Anil took his first bite of the lasagna, which was surprisingly good. “Eric Stern said he’ll write me a letter as well, and I’m waiting to hear back on one more.”
“And that research project you were trying to get going in Cardiology?”
“Yeah.” Anil pushed the wavy noodles around his plate with a fork. “It’s going well.”
“Oh good,” Sonia said. “You found a sponsor, then? Who is it?”
“You want some hot sauce?” Anil put down his fork. “This is kind of bland, huh?” He got up from the table and meandered around the cafeteria. How could he explain his partnership with Trey, his sudden reversal of opinion? A bottle of Tabasco taunted him from a nearby table. He picked it up and returned to Sonia, then doused his food with it.
“You were saying, about your cardio research? You got a sponsor?”
“Yeah, actually I . . . I took your advice and teamed up with Trey Crandall on his study. So it’s all good. Thanks for that suggestion.” Trey had blown him off twice. Anil didn’t know anything about the project other than the subject, and that, he’d only learned from Tanaka months ago. He hoped Sonia wouldn’t ask him any more questions about it.
Sonia sat back in her chair. “Really?” She smirked at him and shook her head. “Patel, you really surprise me sometimes. Well, good for you. I have no idea how you can manage two research projects, but it’ll definitely help your applications.”
Her approval seared him with guilt. Anil took the opening to change the topic, asking about her new role as chief medical resident. They chatted about one of his patients waiting for a liver transplant, and the scandal of a junior resident who’d driven over the border to Mexico on his weekend off and hadn’t come back for four days. Sonia even spoke about her family for the first time since he’d known her—about the younger sister who was soon graduating from medical school and oblivious to what lay ahead in her internship.
Although their conversation never veered too far from the professional, there was an undeniable warmth between them. Anil thought of the first time he’d worked with Sonia, in the ICU on call overnight, when he’d missed the ruptured aneurysm. The mortality and morbidity conference, where she’d saved his ass. How she’d stitched him up the night after Baldev had been attacked. The ridiculous gauntlet she’d put him through in Oncology, forcing him to diagnose a brain tumor with nothing more than his eyes and hands. Anil had learned a tremendous amount under Sonia, and he’d become a better physician for it. As uncomfortable as that conversation about her divorce had been, their relationship seemed to have grown after having broached it. They were not yet equals, and perhaps they would never be. But he had earned her respect and support, and her opinion mattered to him—perhaps, he was surprised to realize—more than anyone else’s at Parkview.
THE SUSPICIOUS ENGINE
ANIL CLIMBED INTO THE CAR WITH MAHESH AND BALDEV, ON their way out for a celebratory dinner. “Listen to this,” he said to his roommates. “My family called me a few days ago, and I have to call them back this weekend.”
“Again?” Baldev shook his head. “Anil, why don’t you tell them to use one of those services? For two, three hundred rupees, they can go to someone to broker their disputes. There are businesses now—you can be done with the whole thing.”
“What are you saying?” Mahesh cocked his head to one side. “This is his family coming to him, not some stranger. It’s his duty to help, his honor.”
“Well, I’m stuck with the role for now,” Anil said. “So listen to this one and tell me what you think.” He leaned forward from the backseat. “One of my cousins decided he didn’t want to be a farmer like the rest of the family. Everyone says he’s too lazy to do the work. He says agriculture is an old practice that doesn’t generate enough income, so he decided to start a business converting car engines to run on natural gas rather than diesel.”
“Why?” Baldev asked.
“Because diesel petrol is so expensive in India,” Mahesh said. “The government charges a huge tax.”
“Right,” Anil said. “Natural gas is much cheaper, but they don’t sell cars that run on it. So my cousin started this business converting the engines.”
“Very clever.” Baldev nodded approvingly.
“Yes, but the converted engines are a little more unstable,” Anil said. “That is, there’s more of a risk something will go wrong, and there can be . . . an explosion.”
In the rearview mirror, Anil could see Mahesh’s eyes widen.
“Of course, nobody knew this in the beginning, and my cousin needed help getting the business started. He had no capital, so he went to another uncle who owns one of the bigger plots of land. My cousin asked him to make an investment in the business—twenty thousand rupees to buy some tools and supplies. That was about six months ago, and everything was going well. My cousin’s business was getting off the ground, he was getting more customers. He was starting to pay my uncle back, a little bit at a time.”
“Then?” Baldev said.
“Then one of his customers suffered an accident. He filled his tank with natural gas and, when he turned on the ignition, there was a small explosion. He didn’t die, but he lost one of his legs.” Anil looked back and forth between them before continuing. “So this fellow, the customer, has c
ome to our family for compensation. He can no longer earn a living with only one leg, and he says it’s my cousin’s fault, he did something wrong to the engine. My cousin says he warned his customer about the dangers, and the customer was careless when he filled the tank. No one else was there, so no one really knows. But here’s the problem: my cousin has no money, so there’s no way he can satisfy the man. No one else in the family has the kind of money this man needs to take care of his family. Except my uncle.”
“The one—” Mahesh started.
“Right, the one who made the initial investment,” Anil said. “But that uncle already gave a lot of his savings to my cousin to start the business, and now he feels betrayed. My uncle was trying to be supportive, and now he’s mixed up in all this business. And to make matters worse, apparently this fellow, the customer, has a reputation for trying to scam money out of people. According to my brother Chandu, who has some shady friends himself, he tried to squeeze money out of his factory boss not long ago. So no one can really be sure of his story. But,” Anil held up a forefinger, “he is missing a leg. That much has been verified.”
His roommates silently deliberated on the situation for a few moments as they waited at a red light. “Well, I say buyer beware,” Baldev offered. “That fellow knew there was some risk involved, like there is with everything. If he purchased a machete to break open coconuts and chopped off his own hand by mistake, would he go to the man who sold him the machete and complain? There are always risks involved. At least it’s a leg, not an arm. The streets of Delhi are full of one-legged men who travel on their wheelie-boards faster than me. There are plenty of ways he can make a living.”
Mahesh shook his head forcefully. “I don’t agree, Baldev. Think of their karma. Anil’s cousin and uncle are involved, even indirectly, in the maiming of another person. If they don’t do something to atone, they’ll come back as . . . ants in the next life. Is that really worth a few rupees?”
“My mother always says, never step on an ant.” Baldev grinned.
Mahesh continued, “Anyway, if it were me, I would offer some compensation to the customer’s family, and a nice box of sweets. Maybe the whole family can pitch in together?”
“That would be nice,” Anil said. “The problem is, everyone in the family’s fighting over this. Some people are angry with my uncle for encouraging my cousin’s scheme in the first place. My uncle’s really mad at my cousin—well, everyone’s mad at my cousin. But my cousin’s upset too. He feels like the family’s abandoning him because he went out on his own and tried to do something different.” Anil paused. “And I understand him, in a way. It’s not easy to strike out on your own when everyone expects something of you.”
Mahesh shook his head as he pulled into a parking spot. “Well, I think you should encourage your family to take responsibility for this fellow, the one-legged one. A tragedy has occurred, and someone has to pay. Your family is in a position to do so.”
“No way,” Baldev said. “It was an accident, pure and simple. It’s not your cousin’s fault. Are you responsible for every patient in the hospital who dies on your watch?”
Anil climbed out of the car, no closer to an answer than before. Primum non nocere, he recalled from the Hippocratic oath he’d recited when graduating from medical college. First, do no harm.
AFTER WAITING for forty minutes in the crowded bar of the hottest new Asian restaurant in Dallas, Anil and his roommates were seated in a black leather semicircle booth.
“To new beginnings.” Mahesh held up his drink, a silly grin plastered on his face. Months had passed since he had told his parents about Yaalini, and he was smiling again.
“New beginnings,” Baldev toasted. “And to the prospect of Mahesh finally getting laid.”
Mahesh shook his head, but the grin remained. He took a deep sip from the small ceramic cup, then squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. “God, what is this stuff?” He stared into the clear liquid remaining in the cup.
“Sake.” Baldev reached over and slapped Mahesh’s shoulder. “Japanese rice drink. Very good for your health.” He winked at Anil. “Improves masculine virility, which you’ll need for your wedding night. One hundred percent guaranteed.” He refilled Mahesh’s cup. “Drink up.”
“Have you set a date?” Anil sniffed at the sake, which reminded him of antiseptic solution.
Mahesh popped an edamame pod into his mouth. “Not yet. We’re waiting on her parents, still hoping they’ll change their minds.” He took another big gulp of sake. Anil wondered how long it would take for an alcohol novice to start feeling the effects. Mahesh was already so giddy, it would be hard to tell. “Yaalini doesn’t say so, but it’s important to her, I know it is. How can you get married without your parents?”
“What else can you do?” Anil stabbed at a tempura-crusted onion with his chopsticks.
“They’re really hung up on caste,” Mahesh said. “My parents tried to explain it works differently in our community, but they’re stuck on the idea we’re all descended from farmers.” Mahesh tipped his sake cup to his lips. “Never mind I have a master’s degree from IIT.”
“Well,” Anil said, “at least you have your parents behind you.”
After several difficult conversations over the past few months, Mahesh’s parents had come around to the idea of his marrying Yaalini. Their prejudices had a hierarchy and, as it turned out, Yaalini met their most important criteria of being Hindu and vegetarian. With their friends fretting over their children marrying Muslims and meat-eaters, Mahesh’s parents came to the conclusion that their son’s choice could have been much worse. In Yaalini, they’d even found some things they could boast about, such as her high caste and master’s degree. Mahesh’s mother insisted on planning the wedding herself in Ahmadabad, as good preparation for the marriage of Mahesh’s younger sister in a few years.
“True, true.” Mahesh wobbled his head, his eyes beginning to lose their focus. “So, Baldev, what did you decide? Are you going to tell your parents about Trinity?”
“Man, I don’t know,” Baldev said. “They’re just so crazy happy about my moving to India. I haven’t had the heart.”
Baldev had decided, with Trinity’s urging, to accept the assignment in Bangalore. They would move there together for a contractual minimum of two years and live in Palm Meadows, an expatriate enclave far from the bustling city core. Baldev would be responsible for hiring and managing IT support staff at the electronic giant’s new call center, a role for which he would be paid handsomely. After the successful completion of his assignment, he would return to the company’s headquarters in Dallas with a promotion.
Trinity had resigned from her job at the hospital and signed up for a six-month course in therapeutic yoga at Bangalore’s leading yoga college. She planned to incorporate new techniques she learned there into her physical-therapy practice. The boom of companies in Bangalore, their employees working on computers and phones around the clock, had led to a rise in carpal tunnel syndrome and other repetitive stress injuries. Trinity’s American experience would help her find work, but Baldev’s expatriate package was generous enough that she didn’t have to. Anil was impressed, and a little envious. He couldn’t imagine Amber, for whom Dallas had been such a drastic change, offering to move to India with him.
“Don’t be a coward, man.” Mahesh slurred his words slightly. “If you love her, you should tell them.”
Baldev laughed. “Oh, look who’s talking like a big man now, heh?” He picked up a sushi roll with his fingers. “Yeah, I might just have to do that. She might be worth breaking my parents’ hearts.”
“What would be worse, do you think, for your parents?” Anil asked, the sake having loosened his tongue. “An American? Or a Muslim? Or a lower-caste girl?” He leaned forward. “Or a divorcée?”
“Ohhh!” Baldev howled, slapping his leg. “That girl from the hospital, Sonia? You finally going to give it a go, Anil?”
“No.” Anil shook his head. “No w
ay.”
“Then who? You got your eye on someone else?”
“No, no,” Anil said, “just a hypothetical question. There’s a . . . situation in my village back home. A dispute I’m sorting out. A woman who . . . So the question is, could you get your parents to accept someone who’d been married before?” He tapped his feet alternately under the table, waiting for their responses.
“Not my parents,” Mahesh said. “No way. They barely came around to Yaalini, and she’s only from a different region of India. No Muslims, no Americans, and definitely no used goods. My parents would not stand for any of that.” He swigged the rest of his sake.
“I don’t know,” Baldev said. “Depends on the circumstances. I think my parents might be open to Trinity if they thought she could take care of me as well as an Indian wife. And she’s been doing a damn good job of that, I’d say.”
“And her parents?” Anil asked.
Baldev shrugged. “They’re hippies from Seattle; they’re fine with me. Trinity’s dated every color of the rainbow. Her folks are planning to come visit us in India.” He thumped Anil on the shoulder. “Listen, you can’t think your way out of these questions, doctor.” He pounded his closed fist against his chest. “You’ve got to go with your gut. Your heart.” He poured more sake into each of their cups and held his up in the air. “Courage, gentlemen!” They toasted again, Mahesh sloshing some onto the table.
PART IV
28
THE DATE OF MAHESH AND YAALINI’S WEDDING IN AHMADABAD was set. Mahesh’s mother had taken on the wedding preparations with fervor. Over one thousand guests had received invitations with embossed illustrations of Ganesha, the elephant-headed god invoked for marriage ceremonies. Five days of activities had been planned, including a henna night for the women, and a party with live folk music and dancing the night before the ceremony. It was not an extravagant wedding by urban Indian standards, but it was a meaningful demonstration of Mahesh’s parents’ enthusiasm for the nuptials. The way they had warmed to the idea over the past few months made Anil unexpectedly hopeful.