Borderline Read online

At Haff ’s parents’ house, I helped around the house as much as I could to show my gratitude. I cooked and cleaned and bought groceries whenever possible. Haff was turning into a big fan of my cooking, and it gave me immense pleasure. Even though his mother, Aunty Baby, was a great cook herself, she was impressed by my cooking. While Haff ’s family adopted me and engulfed me with their love, in return, I introduced them to north Indian cuisine, and they enjoyed it.

  I had also made a few other friends, including a girl named Jasneet, who studied medicine at NYU, and her boyfriend Ron. Hafez and I would hang out with them often, since they both lived in the city and loved to party. They were both Indians, and to an extent, catered to my need for a life outside Hafez’s family, as it seemed I was becoming too dependent on them. Hafez preferred to stay at home and watch movies while I cooked for him. But with Jasneet and Ron around, I could go club-hopping in the most exciting city in the world: A city that didn’t sleep, just like me! I would try to persuade Haff to come out with us, but he usually refused and stayed home. Whenever he did come out, he didn’t really enjoy himself. I knew we were very different from each other, but I adjusted myself according to him as the days went by. I needed him and I was too much in love to want to differ from him. I would give up my own desires and choices, just to ensure that we both did and wanted the same things.

  However, not everything was as picture-perfect. My mother and sister would often call and tell me how they could not afford to have me study in America any longer, and that I should come back. But the idea of leaving Hafez was unacceptable to me. I would argue with them, and question them as to why it was all right for Sati to stay on, while I was being asked to return. Their defense was that she was almost finishing her degree, while I was at the beginning, so it would be best for us to invest the remaining resources at our disposal in her, rather than me. I, of course, would make a big fuss. At the end of these calls, I would cling to Hafez, saying, ‘I don’t want to go back.’ He would listen patiently, but neither of us could come up with a solution.

  Our university closed for the spring break. Back in India, Rana Uncle was posted as DCP Customs in Bihar. He caught some smugglers and locked them up for carrying ozone-depleting substances into the country from Nepal, for which he was to be awarded the Stratospheric Ozone Protection Award, by the United States government, in Washington. Hafez and I both went to meet up with him there, and to be present for the awards ceremony.

  I was proud of Uncle, and the fact that he and Haff seemed to be getting along made me very happy.

  ***

  Quite unexpectedly, Hafez asked me to marry him. I was ecstatic! He explained that by marrying him, I would no longer be an international student. Since he was an American citizen, I, too, would become one eventually. I could make a life for myself in the country without worrying about my mother and sister asking me to leave. We discussed the plan with our respective families and they all agreed, though with some hesitation. Hafez’s parents’ apprehension was that we were too young to get married and needed more time, but in spite of this, they gave us their blessings. My mother and Uncle were also concerned. They thought that we were acting on an impulse; would marriage actually smoothen out all that was not right between us? Hafez and I also had cultural differences, and in an effort to minimize that, I agreed to convert to Islam.

  However, something did not feel right. I wanted to marry Haff for love and companionship, and not to get a citizenship. But I was so desperate for him that I agreed to go along with his logic as long as it got me married to him. I fell in my own opinion.

  Also, despite this development making me extremely happy, it didn’t change how I felt deep inside. The anxiety that I had experienced before my father’s death returned. I was worried that something terrible was about to happen. The feeling that happiness and I couldn’t coexist refused to leave me. From a happy, confident person, I had become someone who was always extremely anxious. I was a girl who was very much in love with a boy, but terrified every second of losing him.

  ***

  Nature has a way of balancing itself.

  Sometimes death can give birth to new life instead,

  From darkness, sometimes light is born.

  Remember there cannot be a rose without the thorns.

  In May 2004, I realized I was pregnant.

  It was a strange feeling: I was both happy and confused. Finally, the happiness overtook everything else. I went to the university clinic to determine the pregnancy, and the nurse there calculated my due date to be around 10 January 2005. She also gave me a booklet for clinics in the city that performed abortions, in case I did not want to have the child.

  Instead of feeling shocked or upset about the pregnancy, I was actually feeling the opposite: Calm and peaceful. Sure it was an unwanted, unplanned pregnancy, but Haff and I were planning to get married anyway; now we would have all the more reason to do so!

  For the first time since Papa’s death, there was finally news of life. It is indeed true that life and death are a circle; they balance each other out.

  I called Haff and told him to meet me in the garden of the university campus. When he came there, I hugged him and said, ‘I’m pregnant, Haff! Can you believe it? We are getting married and I’m pregnant! Wait till I tell Mamma and Sati the news!’

  There was a moment’s silence and I wondered why he had gone quiet. I told him the news again and he said wryly, ‘I heard you, but we haven’t had sex for a long time.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you happy that I’m pregnant, and of course we had sex; don’t you remember that night?’ I reminded him of the last passionate night we had together—he wore the black condom and it burst. I had written a note in the kitchen around twenty days ago saying, ‘Take a shower and come to the room naked!’ He did just that and found I was lying on the bed waiting for him in very sensual black lingerie. He pulled out a black condom and the night infused into a steamy session of love. I do remember going to the bathroom to clean myself and in my mind I was thinking, the condom burst; I hope I don’t get pregnant.

  ‘We are going to get married, and God has given us a sign!’ I told him that I believed that this was God’s way to bring back my father’s reincarnated soul. Hafez looked horrified. ‘The sooner we get an abortion, the better,’ he said in an irritated tone.

  All the happiness that I had been experiencing melted away as soon as I heard these words from him.

  ‘No, I am not getting an abortion,’ I said sternly. ‘I am not going to kill my own child, especially when I think this is God’s gift bestowed upon me. God is about to take the pain of death away by giving me the gift of life. Our child, Haff!’

  He abruptly said he had to go and help his dad at the shop. We parted ways, and I was left feeling abandoned. I had gone from being overjoyed in one moment to being sad and alone in the very next. I had been filled with hope, and then suddenly, despair. I was afraid this hope would be cruelly crushed by the man I loved.

  However, I was determined to bring this baby out in the world.

  Chapter 10

  NEVER BETRAY YOUR BELIEFS

  Stand up to what you believe in,

  no matter what hurdles come your way.

  Those who do not fight for their rights are left with more to pay.

  I let my beliefs go astray to retain something

  that was already lost in all ways.

  I had hoped for a union, but things seemed to be going another way. My plans to get married to the man I loved were floating far away from me into the horizon: The closer I tried to get to it, the farther it went away from me. Hafez had made things clear from his end when he gave me an ultimatum: ‘This relationship will continue only if you get an abortion done.’ I tried to reason with him. ‘I don’t want to kill the child who is resting and growing in my womb,’ I said. In response, he became cold towards me, treating me as though I were a burden. I did not see any love or warmth in his heart.

  I was you
ng, and blind in love. I never questioned my love for Hafez. I never felt that it could be something other than love . . . dependence or attachment . . . too hard to let go. I did, however, begin to question his love for me. I realised that I could not live without him; the thought of him leaving me had a devastating effect on me. Hence, I gave in, even though I wanted to become a mother, and I believed that this child’s soul was my father’s. The need to be with Hafez overcame everything else. Thus, I scheduled the abortion.

  Though the clinic gave me the option of an early date, I opted for a later one. I wanted to stay pregnant for as long as I could, and experience the miracle of life growing within me. In the weeks before the abortion, I was in absolute despair. I had morning sickness which lasted the whole day. The nausea was killing me, mixed as it was with a weird kind of back pain. I was repelled by the smell of rice, eggs, onions and other items of food. My appetite disappeared, and I barely ate anything but fruit. I had to pretend that I was fine, so I continued to do all the household chores, even though I was sick.

  Hafez and I had decided not to tell our respective parents about the pregnancy, assuming they would be emotionally disturbed by the decision to abort the foetus. More importantly, I did not want to jeopardize my chances of getting married to him; not at any cost.

  Just a couple of days before the abortion was due, Hafez’s mom hosted a party at home. Hafez had grown quite close to this guy named Randy, from our college, and would spend most of his time with him rather than with me. On the day of the party, Hafez and I had gone to pick up Randy. I told him that I wouldn’t be able to eat anything at the party as I felt sick. So on the way back, I asked him to stop and buy some fruit for me. Hafez stopped the car outside the market and told me to go and get the fruit myself. I asked him politely to come with me, but he refused. He said, ‘If you don’t get out of the car in two seconds, I will drive away and you can forget about your fruit.’

  I didn’t get out of the car and as he started to drive, I pulled the emergency brakes in retaliation. Hafez got so mad that he slapped me hard in front of Randy, who was sitting in the back. I yelled at him and got out of the car. He drove away, leaving me alone outside the market.

  But that’s how his behaviour had been all along, since he had discovered the pregnancy. I was alone in it—dealing with the nausea, my emotions, and the upheaval that it had brought about in our relationship. I walked all the way back to Hafez’s house, and went straight to the bedroom. I put a pillow against my mouth so that no one could hear my howling. I cried all day and prayed to God to make things better. I felt that Hafez had started hating me. This was not the first time he had hit me, but it was the first time it had happened in front of someone else. I couldn’t believe he disrespected me so much that humiliating me in public was no longer a big deal.

  Since the day of the party until the day of the abortion, Haff and I did not talk much to each other. We went to the clinic near Columbus Circle. I was very scared of the procedure, but more scared of losing Haff. So I said a little prayer to God. I asked Him to forgive me for killing this innocent child. I even cried and then went into the operating room. They gave me general anesthesia, and as soon as the drug went into my veins, I felt a burning sensation moving up my arm and my eyes began to close. I fell asleep.

  There I was, standing beneath a waterfall, not in the middle of a garden or a forest but in the middle of the city, as cars and people passed me by. Why was I beneath a waterfall right in the middle of the city? I could not walk away as there was water all around me; it was like an ocean, one that only I could feel and see. Why was I there? Where was Papa? I called out to him to come and help me but he could not hear me. Suddenly I heard someone clap and say my name: ‘Amrita, Amrita!’ I looked around but there was no one there. I heard the voice again and this time it was louder. I got scared and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I realised I had been dreaming.

  I awoke in the recovery room of the clinic. The nurse was clapping her hands and shouting my name to wake me up from the anesthesia. It was over; the baby was dead. I tried to get up but I felt so much pain in my lower abdomen that I crumpled back on the bed. I tried again and the nurse gave me my clothes and some cotton wrapped in linen gauze to use as a pad. I was bleeding. I went to the bathroom to change and to use the pad. When I came out, I saw Hafez standing there with some flowers. He came and he hugged me. ‘Let’s go home,’ he said.

  His tone was warm, his gaze was gentle, and I could sense tenderness in his touch. I looked at him and said with a weak voice: ‘I’m in a lot of pain, but I did this for us. I love you, Hafez.’ I was waiting for a reply, but I got a kiss instead, and he opened the door of the car and said, ‘Let’s go and get your medicine, and then head home. You did well, my darling.’

  I hoped that from then on, things would get better. I still cried at night, but not because of the baby or because I thought Hafez no longer loved me. I cried because I missed my father and mother, and I missed the safety of being with them in my home, in my own country. I felt very far away from everyone and everything.

  Having an abortion is not a sin; rather, it is a choice. But it should be the woman who should make that choice. I gave up my right to choose because of my love for a man. And that was my sin: Going against my beliefs. Why did I question my beliefs for the sake of superficial, empty love? The reality was that there was no love between Hafez and I. Sadly, I had been clinging to an unfortunate obsession, mistaking it for love!

  ***

  It was a deception that was disguised as a promise.

  At some level I knew we weren’t being honest.

  I believed the lie so that I would not have to face the truth,

  Rotting inside for a long time was love’s labour’s fruit.

  Two days after the abortion, on 4 June 2004, I woke up with high fever. I called up the clinic and told them about my state. I was told to take medication and get some rest, as I had just undergone a surgical procedure and my body needed time to adjust. I was also bleeding heavily, and when I asked about it, they told me it would continue for two to four weeks.

  I had grown very weak but my nausea was finally gone, and my appetite was back. I pondered over this very welcome change while lying in bed and waiting for Hafez to come back from work. When he did, I got up and gave him a hug and told him that my fever was gone. He said he was glad I was feeling better, and went downstairs to make me some soup. The following morning, after breakfast, Hafez asked me to come for a walk with him. We hadn’t been spending much time together, so despite feeling tired, I agreed.

  We walked for a while, and then he suddenly sat down on the sidewalk and asked me to do the same. Then, in plain simple words—those that I had been trying to avoid for a long time, and those that hit me and brought me back to a world full of pain and loneliness—he made my life come crumbling down. ‘Please . . . you need to understand . . . that I don’t love you anymore,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been in love with you for quite some time now, and I think it is best that you move out. I can’t live with you anymore.’

  I started crying. I put my head on Haff ’s feet and said, ‘Please don’t do this. You promised that the only way this relationship would work was if I got an abortion. I got one for you, Haff, against all my beliefs. No, you can’t do this. I love you more than anything and anyone! Please don’t say these horrible things.’ But he was adamant. He got up and walked home, leaving me there alone.

  I was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. I was so angry and helpless that I didn’t know what to do. I could see nothing but darkness around me. I touched my belly and cried, ‘I’m sorry!’ I kept repeating those words, not sure if I were apologising to the baby I had killed, or to my father, whom I had no doubt disappointed. ‘What will I do now?’ I wondered, weeping. ‘Where will I live? How can I go on without Haff?’

  I ran back to the house and called my mother. I told her everything: About the pregnancy, the abortion, and how Haff had lef
t me and told me to move out. She was very worried and said that she would send me a ticket to come to Mumbai. She made all the arrangements, and I was supposed to fly out the following day.

  Hafez informed his parents that he did not want to be in a relationship with me any longer; that he no longer wanted to marry me. Being the kind of parents that they were, they supported him completely and did not try to change his mind.

  I packed up my things and told his parents that I would come back and take whatever belongings were left behind. I think Haff ’s mother knew about the abortion, but she never mentioned it. As I was leaving, she gave me a big hug and told me she would always be there for me.

  The journey to Mumbai passed in a haze. I couldn’t sleep; I was bleeding so heavily that I needed to use the restroom frequently. I had known all along that Haff was going to leave me. So why did I not have the courage to leave him first? I simply did not have the will to do it. I kept hoping for a miracle that would make him want to stay with me and ignored all the signs that indicated otherwise. Even now, despite everything, all I could worry about was how to get him back. Where was my self-esteem? It was non-existent.

  All I wanted was Hafez. I could not think of anything else, so I prayed that this distance that was being put between us would make him realise his mistake. I prayed that by the time I got back to the US, he would tell me he could not live without me. Not even for a second did I allow myself to think that he had wronged me. I was a puppet and he was holding the strings. My happiness and sense of peace were no longer mine; I had given them away to a man who did not care, but I still wanted him back. My mind began plotting and scheming as to how to make that happen, while choking back tears of abandonment.

  I landed in Mumbai, and knew I would have a lot to answer for to my mother—regarding the abortion and my choices about my future. But none of it mattered; all I wanted to ask her was how to get Hafez back. Although he had deceived me and was cruel to me, I still wanted him. I wondered how emotionally unstable I had become . . .