Bombay Mixx

Bombay Mixx - Chapter Five - Part One

Looking away as though it was hard for him to say whilst looking at me, he continued, ‘her name is Shampa and she was the daughter of my father’s friend from back home. The arrangement was for me to marry her so I could work over here, which I agreed to, but when I realised, after a few months of the marriage, that I wasn’t in love with her, I needed to get out. I told her I thought we should divorce but she wouldn’t agree to it. She started to hurt herself, threatened to tell the authorities it was a forced marriage, when I suggested separating or anything divorce related, and kept saying we could work things out but we were completely different and I knew I couldn’t go on with it. Eventually, to avoid the drama, I started to live a separate life. I moved into the spare room and after a few weeks of arguing about this, she accepted it. We married in January and by October I met your mother, moved out two months after and started divorce proceedings. There were a few protests, lies of pregnancies and threats from her but eventually I just ignored them and moved into a small flat with your mother and never looked back. Your grandmother never approved of me marrying your mother and disowned me, unless I agreed to get back with Shampa and that is everything to date.’

By this point, the main meal had come but I couldn’t take a bite.

I was in shock.

Although I knew about this woman, I didn’t know the extent of their married life. Separate bedrooms? Months of unhappiness? Self harm? I needed to know more as I started to feel sorry for her. ‘I can’t imagine how you coped with that dad,’ I said sympathetically as I held onto his hand to show my support, ‘but how do you know she was lying about being pregnant?’ I asked cautiously.

As he thought about it, he shook his head and replied, ‘I asked her for the proof and she couldn’t provide it.’

I didn’t want to push it any further, so I vowed to help him get mum back no matter how hard it might be and that I didn’t judge him for his past.

We tried to change the topic and attempted to finish the large courses my dad had ordered.

‘So, how is your new job going, Nita?’ my dad enquired as he beckoned the waiter for the cheque. ‘Really good thanks. It’s a bit more work but the money is good, the people are really nice and I get to network a bit more, so all in all I’m a happy bunny,’ I grinned.

‘That’s great hun, now all you need is a man in your life and I won’t have to worry about you as much anymore,’ he replied with a smile on his face.

I hated it when the conversation got to the, ‘relationship topic’!

I know our parents want the best for us but really does this topic always need to be shoved into a conversation if you’re single?

I tried my best not to look annoyed, especially as I was still a little raw about my Angus experience (no matter how much I protest otherwise), and with a shrug of the shoulders I replied, ‘dad, you know it’s not the 1950s and women can have a life without a man, right?’

Dad chuckled to himself as I always reminded him of mum, when I got my feminist stance on. He cupped my hands as he saw my cheeks going red, like I was going to have a tantrum in the middle of town, when I was a toddler and said gently, ‘I know you can survive by yourself Nita. You’re my strong little button but I want to see you happy with someone who can make you as happy as your mother makes me…that is why I mentioned you to Kumar. You remember him, right? We used to work together and then he went off to open his own restaurant?’

I didn’t like where this was going.

You see, my father always saw himself as, let’s say, a Cilla Black type of person, who believed every single man and woman should have a partner and he was the one to find them.

Now, after many disastrous dates for Renesh, tantrums from Gabrielle, I was usually quite safe…until now it seems!

I moved my hands away in preparation for the horror that he was about to show me.

He pulled a picture from his pocket, turned it over and handed it to me.

‘Before you look at it, I know your brother and sister have told you the tales of all the “horrific” dates they have been on from my meddling but I have learnt from these mistakes and I really think you will like Yatin,’ he pleaded as I turned the picture over slowly and held it under the light.

I was speechless.

He wasn’t what I was expecting at all.

He looked around 5”11, maybe 6”0, dark, short, styled hair, athletic body, which was encased in a designer grey suit, a smile that was created for a toothpaste advert and green eyes that could have me staring, dreamily into them for years.

‘He’s 32, works in stocks and shares but he’s a good boy cos he also helps out with the books at his father’s restaurant. Never married, no children, he has bought his own flat in Mill Hill, and he drives a nice car,’ my dad continued, trying his best to sell him to me.

I didn’t tell him I was already sold from the picture, so I tried to play it cool and managed to stammer, ‘he looks nice. I wouldn’t say no if he wanted to go for a drink,’ and with that we left the restaurant with determination in our eyes and goals of getting my mum and dad back together and improving my fading love life with this Bollywood prince, Yatin.