Where Earth Meets Water by Pia Padukone

Author:Pia Padukone
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

Gita

Newspaper mornings are sacred in our lives. For a few hours, there is nothing that can disturb us. We lie around in Karom’s home—never mine, for some reason—and flip back the pages, sip coffee and read about the world happening around us. Newspaper mornings are especially lovely during the fall and winter months, when it feels appropriate to hibernate and there’s no guilt to join the city for brunch or museum tours or beach days. It feels as though we’re zipped away in a hidden pocket where time stands still. Especially in the winter, I feel cocooned in this compartment of the world where I can pore over ink-stained pages with nothing to disturb me.

It was during a newspaper morning that I achieved the crowning moment in my relationship with Karom. It’s the moment that every girl dreams of, when it’s just the two of you and the world seems as if it has stopped and your breath catches, and there’s nothing anyone can do to take away those special words: “Let’s go to India together.”

It seemed to happen organically that day, though Karom and I had been dating for three years and I’d already broached the topic for two, only to be rebuffed each time. This time it coincided with the travel section and a spread on India’s hidden art enclaves. We used these sometimes to guide our travels, heading to Maine or New York’s wine country based on a well-written article. But there are a few things I would never do with Karom, like visit Niagara Falls or the Grand Canyon, go skiing or scuba diving, or take a cruise. But there was something different this time; I could sense it before we’d even scanned the articles on the front page. I opened the article up and held it up against my chest.

“Look,” I said. “Have you heard of these? Small villages are becoming the tourist draw in India. Each one specializes in an art form and there’s a festival where you move from town to town enjoying and buying art. There are some pretty talented people.”

“We should go.”

“Yeah.” I sighed and folded the paper back as I reached for another section.

“No, really. We should. Next year.”

I looked at him skeptically. I had asked this of him so many times that I was used to being shot down. I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or feeling sorry for me. Likely the latter.

“I have to get over myself. Seriously, let’s plan it.”

I must have continued gaping at him in disbelief, because he kept nodding and finally came over and kissed me gently on the forehead.

“I want to go with you,” he said softly.

I knew that saying those words couldn’t have been easy for him. He hadn’t been to India in years, not since... I couldn’t imagine it. We had never suffered anything like that. My grandmother had arthritis; my great-aunt had cataracts. But there had never been anything drastic, anything so painful that robbed us of anything or anyone in an instant, something we could never get back.

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