The Midnight Rose by Lucinda Riley Page A

was still the ultimate jewel in the crown.
    However, Ari was aware that, even if his five years in England had contributed to his need to prove that he was as worthy and clever as any of the English boys there, the integral drive to succeed came from within himself. And he also realized that, by eschewing all the qualities that made his race so unique, he had become as much an imperialist as those who had once ruled his country. He had lost his Indian soul.
    On Sunday evening, Ari walked out of his apartment block and asked the first person he met on Juhu Tara Road for directions to thenearest temple. Out of embarrassment, he explained that he was a stranger to Mumbai.
    Once inside the temple, he removed his shoes and went through the rituals of worship and prayer that years ago had been as instinctive to him as breathing but now felt strange and foreign. Ari made puja offerings, not as he had done on his rare visits in the past few years to Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, but to Parvati, the goddess of love and to Vishnu, the all-powerful preserver and protector. He asked them for forgiveness, especially for the way he had exiled himself from his parents. And he pleaded for Lali to return to him.
    When he arrived home, calmer now, Ari immediately called his parents. And it was his mother who answered.
    “Hello, Ma. I—”
    “What is it, beta ?”
    The fact that she had heard immediately that something was wrong brought the tears to his eyes again and he broke down. He begged forgiveness of her, his father and his brothers and sisters. “I’m so sorry, Ma, really,” he wept.
    “My son, it breaks my heart to hear you. Is it Lali who has broken yours?”
    Ari paused. “How did you know, Ma?”
    “Did she not tell you that she came to see us two weeks ago?”
    “No, she didn’t.”
    “I see.”
    “What did she say, Ma?” he asked.
    “She said”—Ari heard Samina sigh—“that she couldn’t wait any longer for you to commit to her. That she was sure now it was because you didn’t love her enough and that it was best she set you free. You know how much she wanted a family, pyara .”
    “Yes. Yes, of course I did. And I still do. Please believe me, Ma, I love her. I miss her . . . I want her to come home. If you know where she is, tell her that from me. I—” Ari could not speak anymore.
    “Oh, my son, I’m so sorry, but she won’t be coming home to you.”
    “Why not?” Ari could hear that he sounded like a spoiled three-year-old child, asking why he couldn’t have his favorite toy to play with.
    “I’m sorry that it’s me who has to tell you this, but perhaps it’s best that you know. I’m sure you remember that her parents had arranged a marriage for her, which she refused to accept when she met you.”
    “Yes.” Ari remembered it vaguely. “Some cousin near Kolkata, Iseem to recall. He was a farmer and much older than she was. Lali said she loathed him on sight.”
    “Well, maybe she did and maybe she didn’t,” Samina said, equivocating, “but she married him yesterday.”
    Ari was shocked into silence.
    “Ari, are you there?”
    “Yes.” Ari managed to find his voice. “Why? I don’t understand—”
    “I do,” replied his mother quietly. “Lali is almost thirty years old, Ari. She has no trade or profession by which to earn her own living, and her parents are too poor to provide a dowry. She said that at least she would be safe and secure financially with this older man for the rest of her life.”
    “What?!” Ari could hardly believe the words his mother was saying. “But Ma, she was safe and secure here, with me! I may not have given her enough time, but I gave her everything I could financially.”
    “Yes, but you neglected to give her the one thing she needed. That every woman would like, especially in India.”
    “You mean marriage?” Ari groaned.
    “Of course. As Lali said herself, if you had tired of her, you could have thrown her onto the streets with nothing.