Avasa

The concert has been a success. Most people came just to see if a bunch of girls could actually play their instruments right. Many of them had probably been waiting for us to fall. I guess we showed them, ripping through sixteen original songs and a few covers in two hours.

The crowd had been fiercely divided, though. We had lots to say in between songs, and we got plenty of reactions. We opened with -- what else -- our first feminist track, "I'm Not a Good Little Indian Girl", which set the tone for the rest of the evening.

We sang about politics, we sang about corruption, we sang an ode to the people that got killed in communal riots in Gujarat, we sang about our hatred for the indifferent, Prada-wearing Indian elite, we sang about the plight of homosexuals, we sang about love and we sang about sex.

I really don't think anyone was expecting that kind of controversy. We took them by . But we had energy on stage, and the crowd was feeding off it. By the end of it, we had whipped them up into a frenzy, and we finished off with a cover of Black Flag's "Rise Above" that had the crowd on its feet screaming along with us: "We are tired of your abuse / Try to stop us, it's no use." We were cheered off as we left.

Back at Avi's house, we make love in her basement. We're both in a post-coital stupor, lying naked and sweaty on the floor, kissing.

When I can breathe again, I push her to the side and turn to face her. "Tell me something, Avi. We've been together for what, like, a year now. Why do you always get to be in charge in bed?"

"So that you have all the fun."

I make a face. "Yeah, that's great, but why can't I ever go down on you?"

"Because it's all for you." She's being so naïve.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Well, I don't know," she says, and it's obvious she thinks she's humoring me. "Isn't this how we defined the relationship right from the start?"

"*We*?" I say disbelievingly. "*We* didn't define anything! *You* did the defining...I was too inexperienced to argue."

"You know, I have issues with giving up control."

"And I have issues with not knowing any technique!" I shoot back. "Look, I know you have sexual boundaries and I should respect them and all that. But I'm sorry, I'm dying to get on top...and weren't *you* the one who said 'don't knock it till you've tried it'?"

She considers this. "Well..."

"Well?" I prod her with my elbow.

"Well, okay," she says finally.

YES! I think to myself. "I'll be right back," I tell her, and rummage through my bagpack.

"What are you doing?" asks Avi in an amused voice.

"Just wait," I say. I'll be damned if I don't make her come ten times tonight.

I turn the lights on slightly, but leave them dim. I walk back to Avi. "Get up," I say softly, offering her my hands.

She looks confused, but obeys.

I put my arms around her waist and kiss her on the mouth. She kisses back aggressively, but I'm letting her know that this is my ballgame. I bite her lip and start planting quick kisses all over her face and mouth. She starts smiling. I can hear her breathing get quicker.

I press my lips against hers, parting them with my tongue. The kiss consumes her. I can feel that she has no clue where she is or whose hands are exploring her naked body...for that moment, the kiss is all there is.

I stop kissing for a second. As our lips part, I feel an electricity shoot through my entire body. I let my hands rest on her bare shoulders, squeezing the strong muscles on her back, staring into her dark eyes, and watching them stare back. Not taking my eyes off her, I reach down into the box I took out of my bagpack. When I take my hand out, she sees my fingers covered with paint.

"Where did you get that from?"

"Shhh," I say, putting a finger from my free hand to her lips. "Stole it after the festival."

I run a finger lightly from the base of her neck down her stomach and to her mound, leaving a trail of paint over her body. I can feel her quiver slightly in front of me. I dip the fingers on my other hand in the paint as well. I run my hands over the sides of her body, and down over her hips.

I drop to my knees so that my face is at the same level as her navel. I kiss her stomach, and stare up at her face. She puts her hands in my hair. I run my hands all over her legs -- the inside of her thighs and her calves and her knees. I can feel them buckling.

I pull her down so that she is lying on the cold floor with me above her. I gaze at her body. Her nipples are completely erect. "You are beautiful," I whisper. I dip my fingers into the paint again. I rub paint over her shoulders, letting my hands wander near her breasts, but not quite touching them. She breathes quietly.

Slowly, I start fondling her breasts, smearing paint all over them. Her body is covered with colour. I cup both her breasts in my hands and kiss her hard. My tongue meets hers; she is staring at me with her eyes wide, almost as if she is overawed by my sudden display of aggression.

I make her turn over on the floor. I use my hand to trace patterns on her back and hips with the paint in my hand. I slip a finger between her buttocks and touch her love bud, which is ready and waiting. She calls out my name. "Right there, Nadya. Don't stop."

"Not yet, sweetheart," I whisper. I lower my lips to kiss down her back, running my tongue over it in baroque patterns. I nudge her to turn over, and I lie on top of her, kissing her mouth, letting my hands touch her arms, the sides of her body, and the insides of her legs. I start trailing kisses down her body, starting from her neck, her collarbone, over her breasts, her stomach, and finally, just above her mound, where I can see her clitoris erect and begging for my touch, and her pussy glistening.

She can't help but make the 'oomph' sound, over and over.

I stop kissing and smile at her. She has her back arched and she is staring at the ceiling, her face showing an expression of pure ecstasy. I have loved letting her make love to me in the past...but I never even realized what I was missing by letting her be the sole giver.

She returns my gaze. Her eyes are blazing. Her body is shuddering in my arms, screaming out to me, "What are you waiting for?" She is a contradiction. Always the giver, today she is more demanding than I ever thought she could be.

And she is so very, very wet.

We entwine our legs together. I kiss her more, and grope her breasts frantically. I press closer, and my hands go to her waist, as our bodies begin their delicious grinding with a desperate urgency.

Her low moaning is getting louder, louder...almost becoming a scream. Something has happened to her. She has let me touch her, let me release pent-up desire inside of her. Sweat is pouring out of every pore in Avi's body. The salty scent fills the air and pervades my senses. Then suddenly, as if realizing she has made the awful mistake of letting her guard down, as if she's not completely ready to surrender to me yet, she wraps her arms around my back tightly, kissing my chin and neck.

Soon we are wrestling, both of us trying to gain control. Our bodies thrash against each other, our tongues licking, sucking, exploring, both of us eager to please the other. I bring up my knee and rub it against her clitoris. She loses control instantly, dropping backwards, letting out an almost animal-like scream.

I move in for the kill. I fondle her breasts with one hand, and let the other hand rub against her clitoris, back and forth, back and forth, until she is holding her head in her hands, her mouth wide open, gasping, sighing, breathless. Her eyes look pleading. Kiss me. Touch me. Love me now.

I drop between her legs. I run my tongue over the insides of her thighs, enjoying the tremors I am creating through them. I wrap my arms around her legs, holding them down. I lick her clitoris, sucking it gently. She is bucking wildly now, and I am moving my tongue in time with her body, lapping up her juices.

I bring a finger to her pussy while I lick her clitoris. I enter her slowly, inserting one finger, then a second, then a third. I can feel her walls closing in on my fingers. Her screams have become soft whimpers.

"Ohhh, yesss...ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhh, Nadya..."

I let my fingers probe deeper and deeper. Her body jerks involuntarily, as her orgasm takes over her. I resume licking her clitoris, this time, at an excruciatingly slow pace. She lets out a primal scream again. A second orgasm wracks her body, followed by a third.

As we nestle into a comfortable embrace, I realize faintly that the paint on her body has rubbed off on mine. We must look like quite a sight...bodies naked, glistening with sweat, and covered with paint. I look at the angel I'm holding in my arms, and watch her regain her breath.

She is finally able to speak. "That was...that was...wow." I kiss her lightly on the lips. She gets up, and for a minute I think she wants to be back in control again. Then she says, almost childlike, "Do it again."

 

"Yaar, check this out," says Debbie eagerly. We're in Avi's basement, reading the reviews we've gotten in the college newsletter. She starts reading. "'Desi Insurrection is out to reinvent Indian rock 'n' roll. With their quintessential punk style, these women break taboos and sing about things India doesn't dare talk about. But don't think the politics comes before the music. Are they guitars? Are they knives? Who can tell the difference?'" She beams at the rest of us.

I whoop and raise my fist in the air. "Allll fucking riiiight!"

Avi, who's standing behind me with her arms around my waist, kisses the side of my face. "We did it!" she says, hugging me.

We all exchange high-fives and hugs. We plan the next concert for a bit, and then Debbie and Nandini leave.

"Finally, alone!" I say.

"Yeah, let's get you out of those clothes," says Avi, grabbing me. "I owe you for last night, anyway." She starts kissing my mouth.

"Hmmm, last night," I murmur. "I hate to sound arrogant, but *I* was good. Brilliantly executed, flawless sex."

Avi raises an eyebrow. "I beg to differ. The second time, you sneezed in the middle of stomach kisses and such."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I ask, innocently. "I'm a little deaf from all your screaming last night."

She smiles. She kisses me hard and starts pushing my shirt up. "Mhhhhmmm," I sigh. I pull her T-shirt up over her head. She isn't wearing a bra. She kisses my neck.

"You know what?" I suddenly remember. "Graduation's coming up."

"Uh-hmmm." She's too busy nibbling on my left breast.

I bite my lip to keep myself from yelping. "My parents are going to come."

Her head pops up. "Okay."

"You know we can't tell them anything," I say.

"Understood. But I do want to meet them."

"Okay," I say hesitantly, playing with her hair.

"What?" she asks sharply. "You don't seem too enthusiastic."

"Avi, I don't know how to explain this," I say. "This is a country where gender stereotypes are practically carved in stone."

"And you think that because I don't have a degree in full-fledged femininity, your parents will think I'm some freak and say something weird that will embarrass you."

"I'm just trying to avoid another argument like we had with Alka that day."

"So you're suggesting that I don't even meet them at all."

"No...yes...well, maybe." I wish I didn't have to do this to her. But I know my parents and their middle class morals. They will judge her, and they will judge me, and they will tell me to stay away from her. It's just safer this way.

She puts her shirt back on and moves away from me. "Bhai will be back soon," she says. "I have to drop him to the airport."

"I'll come with you."

"Okay."

"Avi." She looks so hurt. "Avi, I swear I'm just trying to protect us."

"I get it," she nods grimly. All I want to do is kiss her and tell her I love her so much, but something in her face holds me back.


******


We've done many more concerts that went well. We've even toured to New Delhi and performed there.

Graduation came and went. My parents are not too happy that I'm in a band. "What are you going to do with your life?" asks my mother. "Sing songs and dance?"

"Mom."

"What Mom?" she argues. "Is this why we paid for you to go to a good college? Nadya, this is not the type of behaviour any good Indian family wants from their future -in-law."

"Mom, I graduated college with honours," I argue. "I have a day-job. Music is my passion. And I do it for charity, for God's sake. And as for no good family liking this type of behaviour, well, tough. This is who I am. I won't marry someone who can't deal with it."

"Nadya," says my father sternly. "I'm afraid I can't allow this to go on for too long. You can have your fun for now. But when those marriage proposals start coming in, you have to stop."

"I can't promise anything."

The truth is, meeting my parents after such a long time has been a real shock for me. A check. I've been so engrossed in my work and music and Avi, I'd almost forgotten that all that freedom would be drastically cut short when my parents came into the picture.

It's already started.

I'm staying with my parents in a hotel right now. I haven't seen Avi in two weeks. I called her a couple of times, but couldn't talk to her for too long.

"Nadya?" my mother is asking me.

"Hmmm?"

"Come back with us. To Allahabad."

"Mom, I have a job in Mumbai now. I'm looking for an apartment these days."

"You can't live alone," says my father.

"Papa, what is wrong with you people?" I try to reason with them. "I'm not a little girl any more. I have a job. I'm going to be independent now. And as for living alone, I'm going to get a roommate. So you needn't worry."

My father puts an arm around me. "How can I not worry about my favourite daughter?" he says. "I don't care what you say, you'll always be a little girl to me."

"Papa."

"What Papa?" he says. "Come back with us to Allahabad. You can get a job there."

"I can't, Papa."

"And everyone wants to meet you, anyway," says my mother. "The family. They want to know how my beautiful daughter has turned out. Now is the time. We want to see you settled down."

"Mom, I'm not ready just yet."

"What nonsense, beta?" asks my mother with a wave of her hand. "You know, Mumbai has made you far too Westernized. This is our culture."

"No, this is *unfair*."

"Why don't you want to get married?" says my father. "We're not forcing you to marry just anyone. Marry someone you like."

"Who I haven't met yet."

"But you will if you come to Allahabad," says my mother.

"Or I could, if I went to grad school in a year," I say.

"No!" says my father. "I'm not letting you marry some idiot from abroad. God knows what silly things you might do if you find someone there."

"Good God," I sigh. "This is ridiculous."

My father pats my back. "You are stubborn. Okay, let's compromise. Come to Allahabad for a short while. A month. The whole family's missed you. Then you can come back to Mumbai and do your job and concerts and whatever."

"Okay, okay," I say, resigning. "But only for a month."

 

I didn't even get to kiss Avi goodbye. I just called her up to tell her I had to leave for a month. I promised that I would be back and that we would live together. She told me she loved me. Before I could tell her the same, my parents came into my hotel room, so I had to settle for just saying, "Take care."

The family...oh, God, I'd forgotten how huge my family is. I must have a hundred cousins, at least. Toss in the aunts and uncles, and you've got yourself a par-tay.

As soon as I get back, I'm informed that there are three weddings in the family coming up soon. My family wants me to stay at least one more month so that I can attend all the weddings. I grudgingly agree.

But the interesting thing is, I get all dressed up in cultural garb -- you know, ghararas and saris -- and I find myself actually having fun. The singing and dancing, the food -- I really love it all. For a while, I even let myself forget that I'm leading a double life. That I've got a girlfriend waiting for me in Mumbai.

Yet, I can *feel* that I'm being checked out at the weddings. You know, by mothers looking for prospective wives for their sons. They are all telling me that I look terrific and that I am going to make someone the luckiest man in the world some day.

It feels like such a meat market atmosphere. I hate it. But this is the way things are here.

I miss Avi.

I've called her a few times, but I don't get a moment's privacy, with my cousins and relatives frolicking all over the place.

"I'm sick of this," I complain to Saima, who's also home on her semester break. "I want to go back to Mumbai. I hate leaving Avi alone."

"Well, what did you expect, Nadya?" asks Saima. "This was bound to happen some day."

"I know, but I just want to get the hell out of here. I want to see her again."

Saima gets serious. "You know...I feel bad for her. Avi. She probably had no clue this was coming. Why didn't you prep her?"

She's right. I feel a pang of guilt. "Well, I was so caught up in my own dream world, I completely forgot about this."

She shakes her head. "I don't know how you're going to manage this."

"So what should I do, Saima?" I say, getting disconcerted. "Just end it? Tell her to leave?"

"Maybe."

"What is the matter with you?" I'm shocked at the suggestion. "I can't do that. I'm in love with her."

"And what about her?" asks Saima. "Aren't you setting her up? What if things don't work out? She's going to be hurt and lonely and broken. And it'll be your fault."

"Things will work out."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Saima looks away. "I hope you know, Tehmina Auntie is talking about you to our parents. I mean, about getting you engaged to her son."

"To Yasir?" I grimace. "YUCK! I wouldn't marry him if I were straight. He's so...borrrring. Not to mention he's one of those selectively-religious people. 'Let me use religion whenever it's convenient for me.' He's a fucking moron. And an asshole to boot."

"Stop missing the point."

"I won't agree to it," I say. "I'll just fend off proposals."

"Nadya, for how long?"

"What's my other option, Saima? That I get married? That I be miserable and make my husband miserable?"

"How do you know you'll be miserable?"

"You know, I'm beginning to think you've never actually believed that I'm lesbian."

"Well, I don't know...maybe you *can* live a heterosexual lifestyle...I think you've been too hasty to rule it out."

"Saima!" I nearly start yelling. "I'm GAY. G-A-Y. Gay. That means, I like girls. I do NOT get attracted to boys. How else am I supposed to convince you?"

She sighs. "Well, then, I don't know what you're going to do."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I sneer.

"Naaadya!" I hear my mother calling me. "Come here, meet your cousin Yasir. Remember him?"

Oh, GAWD.


******


"Come back, Nadya," Avi is insistent over the phone.

"Believe me, I don't want to stay here," I say. "But there are so many goddamned weddings. It's like all everyone wants to do is eat and get married and have babies."

"I miss you, Nadya."

"I know." My heart breaks for her. "I miss you so much."


"But you've got your family to keep you preoccupied. I'm all alone here."

"I'm so sorry, Avi. You don't know how much I'm dying to see you...and to touch you..."

"Babe, just promise me you'll be back soon."

"I will, I will. I love--"

I hear the shuffling of feet behind me. I turn around to see Yasir standing there, looking horrified.

Fuck.

I hang up the phone.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks.

"That's none of your business, Yasir," I answer evenly.

"Excuse me?" he yells. "We're supposed to be getting engaged, do you know that?"

"Says who?" I scoff. I get up and look him in the eye. "Have I said yes yet? Have I given you the go-ahead? Don't flatter yourself."

My mother enters the room. "Oh, look at you two chitchatting," she cooes.

I think my head is going to explode because of all the stupidity around me. What, does everyone have the I.Q. of a dinosaur here?

Yasir smiles his "nice-boy" smile at her. I want to slap him.

"You make such a nice jori," she continues. Mom, STOP!

"Uh, yeah, well," I say. "I've gotta go. I promised Saima I'd take her out for ice-cream."

"Okay, beta," she says. "Don't stay out too late."

Yeah, yeah. Just get me the hell out of here.


******


"Papa, I can see what's happening here." I face my father at the lunch table. For once, it is just our immediate family. Our cousins are spending the night at someone else's house.

"What?" he asks, not shifting his gaze from the newspaper.

"You're just trying to coax me to stay a little bit longer each day. And you're hoping that I ultimately get married and stay here."

"Not at all, beta." What a lie.

"Papa, please don't lie to me. I know what you're trying to do here. I've kept my end of the deal, in fact, I've kept more than my end. It's been two months. I'm going back to Mumbai. I'm going to lose my job if you don't let me go back."

"You have an excellent resume," says my father. "You can get a job anywhere you want."

"Papa, this is my career we're talking about," I say, nudging Saima to join in my defense.

"Uh, yeah," she says. "Yeah. Papa, she has to go back. She's got a great job in Mumbai."

"You stay out of this, Saima. Nadya knows why she has to stay."

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Well, it's no secret, beta," says my father. My mother is silent. I suspect something's up.

"What are you talking about?"

"Yasir told us. About that phone call. You obviously have some love interest in Mumbai." That weasel.

"So what if I do?"

My father looks at me severely. "Well, first of all, you went behind my back. That's mistake number one. Second, you've been calling him from here without telling us. Mistake number two. And third, you've obviously had some kind of physical relationship with him. Big, big mistake." He looks back at the paper. His voice is getting quieter, the way it does when he is angry. "How ungrateful are you? After all we've done for you? Scraped together the cash to put you through college? Don't you care at all about the family's reputation?"

I'm flabbergasted. I don't know what to say to this. "What are you going to do?" I ask, somewhat meekly.

"You will stay here, Nadya, where I can keep an eye on you."

"That's not fair. This is my life."

"That's where you're wrong," he says. "Stop being so selfish. So many people care about you so much. They want to see you happy. You might hate us now, but you will thank us later. You will know that this is for your own good."

Arguing with him is futile. The years have taught me that much. Tradition is tradition, and no-one is allowed to question it.

I get up without a word and go to my room. I take out a picture of myself and Avi. She's got her arms around me and is giving me a on the cheek. I stare at the picture. I let myself cry.

 

I must have cried myself to sleep. I open my eyes. My parents are sitting on my bed. Saima is sitting in the corner. She looks scared.

The picture is not in my hands any more.

My head is a little groggy. It takes me a minute to put two and two together.

"What is this, Nadya?" asks my father, waving the picture at me.

"That's my girlfriend," I say quietly.

My mother's face has become an 'O'. She gasps.

My father is trying to contain himself. "So...just to make sure we've got this right...you've been in a relationship with a woman."

"Yes, Papa."

"Why?"

"Because I'm gay."

"What?"

"I'm a lesbian, Papa."

"There's no such thing in our culture."

I roll my eyes. "I *think* I'm a case in point." I get off my bed and head for the bathroom. My father blocks my way. "Can I wash my face, please?"

He looks at me angrily. Before I know it I feel something hard hit my face. I realize that he just slapped me. He has never hit me before. He is shaking with rage.

"Don't hit her!" yells my mother.

"You shut up," he tells her gruffly. "She's disgraced the family. What will we ever do if this gets out? We will be ruined. Saima will not get married because of *you*, Nadya. If you don't care about us, care about *her*."

My parents are so clueless. Saima would gladly stay unmarried until grad school.

"Papa, I can't change. I was born this way."

My mother has started crying softly. My father is looking at me like I've lost my mind.

He stares at me. I can feel my knees give way. "Fine. If you're going to be that way, you'll just have to stay here. In this house. You're not going anywhere."


******


"Avi, it's over."

I can't believe I'm actually saying these words. It has been almost three months since I last saw Avi. Time doesn't heal anything...time just makes the wounds deeper. I don't remember a single second of any day where I have not missed her. I cannot make her wait any longer.

There is a long silence at the other end of the line.

"Why?" she asks finally.

"Because I can't deal with this. I can't deal with putting my family through this. They've done a lot for me, you know."

"And me? What about me? And the band? Don't we mean anything to you?"

"Avi." I take a deep breath, and try to control my emotions. "I'm sorry. But I can't do anything about it. My parents know about us. If they find you, they will have you arrested or something. Trust me...it's better this way."

"What happened to the girl I fell in love with?" I can hear the pain in her voice. "The one who wanted to fight? The one who solved problems resolutely?"

"She gave up," I say dismally.

"Nadya, you can't give up so soon. I thought we had something real."

"You're speaking in the past tense."

"Because *you're* making it sound like that!" She's raising her voice now.

"I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do!" she says. "Don't you remember our concerts? When you sang, 'We are born with a chance! Now I'm gonna have my chance!' Don't you want your chance?"

"It's not going to happen, Avi," I say in a dull voice.

"Listen to me, Nadya. Just listen. I want you. I love you. I would do anything for you. Do you hear me? I would break *every* single bone in my body if it would make you happy. Why are you throwing all of that away?"

We are both crying.

"Avi, my hands are tied," I sob. "My family is not going to let me leave. Rumours are flying. I have to stay here. For my parents' sake. Their social status is being jeopardized. Their reputation. I can't come back." I pause and hold back my tears. "We can't be together any more. It's too hard."

There is a long silence. I steady my voice. "I'm serious, Avi. No arguments. Go back to Michigan. It's over."

I hear her crying softly. I know she believes me. And then a click. The line has gone dead.


******


It's Friday night. I've just come home after some shopping. My parents have left town for the weekend, and Saima is out with her friends. I don't mind. I've become very anti-social. I just want to think about Avi in solitude.

I am sitting down glumly on the couch and watching TV. The doorbell rings. Probably Saima coming back. I open the door.

It's Yasir.

"What do you want?" I snap.

"Easy, Nadya," he says. "I just thought I'd drop by to see you."

"What for?"

He grins at me evilly. "We've heard. About you and your...shall we say...rambunctious lifestyle in Mumbai."

"What are you talking about?" I say. "And who the hell is 'we'?"

"My friends and I."

I notice for the first time that three other guys are leaning against his car.

"Yasir, what the hell is going on?" I'm trying not to show him that I'm scared.

"Well, I thought maybe we could come over and get a taste."

"Well, that won't be necessary," I retort. "There's nothing here for you. Get lost. Or believe me I will tell my parents."

"Do you really think they're going to believe anything you say now?"

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, baby," he says, staring at me lustfully. "Talk dirty. I like that."

"Get out of my house, NOW." I start pushing him away, but he's too strong for me.

He and his friends move in. I think I've started crying. Pathetic, I know.

"Leave me alone," I say, tears streaming down my face. "Don't you dare touch me."

Yasir grabs me. I start screaming and hitting and kicking him as hard as I can. I claw at his face and jam my elbow in his stomach.

"This bitch has too much spunk," he groans to his friends. "Fucking tie and gag her already." He looks at me. "This is for disgracing the family, you whore."

I don't know what's happening next. It's as if my mind is trying to ignore it. I think I'm being tied to a bed. I think I'm trying to scream, but no sound is coming out. I think I'm going to pass out soon. And then pain...just pain...and darkness.

I'm sure that I am murmuring Avi's name the entire time, hoping that she will come for me. I've closed my eyes.

I open my eyes after what seems like an eternity. The pain is still there. I see Saima looking down at me. I can see Mohan. I see Avi's face, looking concerned. Where am I? I look around, trying to gather my bearings. I see drab green walls. I think I'm in a hospital.

"What...?" I begin.

"Shhh," I hear Avi's voice. I feel her soft lips press against my forehead. I feel her holding my hand. I want to tell her how much I've missed her. "Go to sleep. We'll talk later."

"Don't leave me," I murmur.

"I'm right here."

I hear some talk between the three of them. But I'm too tired to understand anything.

 

I wake up. I can't move. Drab green walls again. And bandages. Lots of bandages. And beeping. And my body is aching all over.

"You're up," smiles Avi. She takes my hand and kisses my nose lightly. She sits next to me on the bed, fondling my hair.

I have a vague recollection of the previous night's events. "Where's Saima?" I ask. "And Moe?"

"Saima's packing your suitcase," she says. "Moe's gone to book us a couple of tickets. I'm getting you out of here."

This takes a minute to sink in. "How?" I ask.

"I talked to the ," she continues. "He says you'll get discharged tomorrow night. You're hurt, but there aren't any broken bones or internal bleeding. We can leave before your parents get back."

"Are you serious?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Do Nandini and Debbie know?"

"No. I thought I shouldn't bother them."

"How did you find out?"

"Your sister called me last night," she says. "I called Mohan and we took the next flight. Got here in a couple of hours." She looks out the window for a second. "Saima was amazingly calm. She found you, called an ambulance, checked you into the hospital. I was a wreck by the time I got here. I cried all the way on the flight. Saima and Moe kept me together."

I silently say a prayer of thanks for Saima and Mohan. "Do my parents know?"

"No," she says. "We kept it very hush-hush. We've told the doctors not to tell anyone. They understand. They know what it's like."

"Avi," I say, not sure where to start. There are so many things I want to tell her. I raise my hand to her face, and stroke her cheek. She buries her face in my palm and kisses it tenderly.

"Don't say anything," she says, covering my hand with hers.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have left you alone like that. It's just, I didn't want to see you get hurt."

"I know that, Nadya."

"I know I don't have any right to expect anything of you after the way I treated you. But I need you to know that regardless of how you feel, I still love you. Always."

Without a word, she gets inside the bed with me, and slips an arm around me, careful not to disturb my bandages and bruises. She cups my face in her hands and kisses my lips gently. "I was going to leave India," she says. "In fact, a few hours before your sister called me, I was just about catch the flight to Michigan. My bags were packed and everything. I was going to say goodbye to this country and to you forever."

I wait for her to continue.

"But I couldn't do it. I wanted to see you one last time. So I cancelled the flight. And two hours later, Saima called me. And I knew it then. I knew that you needed me just as much as I need you. I knew that I can't live without you. You see, I love you, too. Always."

Last night's events are coming back to me. "It was Yasir," I mumble.

Her lower lip is quivering with anger. "I know. Saima didn't see him but she guessed it was him. Son of a bitch. The problem is, we don't even have any way of proving anything. No-one saw them. Moe thinks prosecution will be a waste of time...and Saima thinks your parents won't even agree to it because it's 'in the family'."

She stares out into space. "If I ever see the bastards who did this to you...I will fucking kill them. I had sworn I would never let this happen to you...not after what I went through...I had promised myself that I would protect you, and I didn't."

I'm a little more awake now. I stare at her face quizzically. "What you went through?"

"Why do you think Bhai and I left India, Nadya?" she asks sadly. "When it happened to me, I was just eleven. It was a family member. Bhai was still young and my parents had died. All sorts of horrible scandals were being spread in the family. The police was useless. Everyone had shut us out. But he wanted me to live my life...so he went to Michigan and took me with him."

It all makes sense now. Why she's so strong and self-reliant. Why she wants to take care of me. She's been burned, just like me. And she's a survivor.

"Avi," I look at her longingly. My arms are aching too much, otherwise I would hold her in them. "Stay with me. Take me with you. Take me home."

She doesn't say anything, and we gaze at each other for a while. Then she gets up and locks the door of the room. She comes back, and starts unbuttoning my hospital gown, very gently so that I don't feel any pain. She pulls it to the side, so that she can see my body, the naked swell of my breasts, my black and blue skin. She peppers my entire body with soft, gentle kisses -- so carefully, so tenderly. She doesn't leave even an inch of my skin uncovered with kisses.

The pain is already beginning to subside. I am moaning her name. She is promising that she will save me. I never want this moment to end.

This is not sex. This is better than sex. This is an intimacy that I know I will never have with anyone except her.

I often wonder, how do you tell your lover exactly how much you love her? I mean, it isn't really something you can measure, right? For one thing, I don't even think it's a finite quantity, at least not for me. Nothing you say will ever do justice to what you're really feeling.

And it ticks me off, because it leaves me feeling unfulfilled and frustrated.

And usually I can deal with it, but there are some moments where the tenderness pent up inside me is so intense that I think I'm going explode. Like right now. I'm lying awake in bed, and staring at her. She isn't moving. She is fast asleep. I'm aching to touch her, but I don't want to wake her. So I'll content myself by just gazing at her...her beautiful cropped hair flopping over her heart-shaped, slightly freckled face, her chiselled nose, her corrugated, fierce eyebrows, her pronounced cheekbones, her soft pink lips, her closed eyes, the corners of which crinkle whenever she smiles.

She is my warrior, my rock, my truth. Avasa -- her name means 'independence.' Dark circles lie under her long eyelashes, reminding me of everything we've been through together. I AM, because of HER, and every time I close my eyes and remember, it only serves to reinforce how she validates my very existence.

We've been living together in Michigan ever since we left that day. She's going to law school, and I'm studying social development. Nandini and Debbie call us often. She and Deb still perform with other bands. Nandini and Samir are finally living happily ever after.

Mohan and my sister got married -- which I find sooo cute -- and last I heard, he's been trying to convince her that Velcro is really part of a larger scheme to increase noise pollution and snag perfectly good clothes, and anyone who doesn't agree with him is just jaded. I suspect the honeymoon has been interesting.

My parents don't speak to me any more. I believe they publically disavowed knowing me. I was heartbroken. I wrote them letters. I don't think they ever read them. I've given up on it now.

Avi and I -- well, we're closer than ever. I don't think I could've survived what happened without her. She went with me to every single therapy session. I have never been so scared in my life...but she gives me a reason to keep living.

She proposed to me soon after we got here. We got married in Vermont. The sex keeps getting better. She lets me top more often now. It's all very new to me, though. I mean, she even asked *me* to strap it on a couple of times...now what is THAT about?

She stirs. I think she's waking up. I lean over and kiss her neck. She puts her arm around my back, letting me get on top of her. "Morning," I whisper. She smiles at me, and we kiss.

I move down her body, kissing her breasts through her T-shirt, my hands on her waist. She starts breathing faster. I can hear her heartbeat.

"Babe," she's saying, her sleepy eyes so full of love.

"Hmmm?" I murmur.

"I just had the weirdest dream."

"Yeah?" I ask, lifting up her shirt and kissing her stomach.

"I dreamt that we were back in India...you, me, Saima, Mohan, Nandini, Debbie and Samir."

"Really?" I push her shirt further up to reveal her bare breasts.

"Yeah, we'd just finished a reunion concert."

I take her nipples into my mouth hungrily.

She smiles blissfully. "I was teaching in a college. You were a human rights activist."

I look up at her and start kissing her chin and neck. "What else?"

"We'd all pooled in money, and started running an orphanage."

I let my hands squeeze her breasts. She moans. "And what happened at the end?"

"I don't know." She squints, as if trying to remember. "It didn't say."

I kiss her eyes. "So it could be a happy or sad ending."

"It's a fifty-fifty even split."

"Do you think it's worth the risk?"

She wraps her arms around my back tightly. "For me, anything's worth it if it might make your dreams come true." She rolls me over so that she is above me, and kisses my mouth. "I know you want to go back to India, Nadya. I know you want to go back so badly that it hurts. When the furor has died down, we'll go."

"You mean that?"

"You know I would go anywhere you go." She kisses the tip of my nose. "You've been watching me sleep for the last hour, Nadya. What've you been thinking?"

I'm blushing. "Something I can't really put into words." Does she even know just how much I love her?

"I can make a good guess," she says impishly. Then, she gazes into my eyes and says, simply, "I know."

THE END