Why don’t you bring Ashok over for lunch?” Nadine was an anthropologist and had to get to the bottom of things. All these days and months she’d gotten a second hand account and now she wanted to see the mystery man in person. I somehow knew she’d be disappointed, but I also knew in a subtle sort of way, that not meeting her’s or anyone else’s expectations was to be a part of my journey.
“Wonderful! I’ll tell Roger. How does noon on Saturday sound?”
The next day, Nadine and Roger shook our hands warmly and invited us in. They were expats and had lived quietly alongside my family in Delhi for the past twenty years.
“Hello hello!” Nadine led the way. She held onto Ashok’s hand and asked him something inaudible. The two of them laughed and then we all settled into the living room.
Roger and Nadine were charming hosts. She asked questions and looked at us with interest, while Roger served the drinks. She was dressed in a simple blue tunic with white leggings. Her hair, which was normally tied back, was bouncy and open and had a silvery shine. Nadine’s made-in-India clothing made her look active and young, though she was in her sixties. During the course of the afternoon, she flitted about from the kitchen to the dining room. She left a sweet smelling fragrance behind.
Nadine asked that I come in to the kitchen to help. She was placing warm spanakopita on a platter. “It’s a traditional Greek dish.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I like him,” she said, “your Ashok.” She grabbed two pot holders. READ MORE
—Vimi Bajaj, “Nadine,” Eckleburg No. 22
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