An Unsuitable Boy - Jas Kalsi

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked Doctor Sehti, as he sat with a grim expression across the table in a small room off the acute treatment ward at the hospital in New Delhi. It was 4.30am but seemed like a lifetime since my beautiful new wife and I were enjoying dinner with friends and family at Ashands Restaurant, one of the most sought after places in town, just days after our wedding in London. Everyone was so happy for us and even I believed that this Arranged Marriage malarkey could actually work out. Of course it could, but not for me as I was to discover…

One moment she was enthusiastically showing off her new jewellery as I looked proudly on at her, that delicate nose ever so slightly turned up, those incredible almond eyes and long eyelashes, high cheekbones and cute dimples as she smiled so charmingly. I just couldn’t take my eyes of her. Yes, this was really, really good and I had married an Angel. I think I was actually falling in love because I just had ‘that’ feeling inside, with butterflies when she was near. As she secretly held my hand under the table, it felt electric, her soft hands holding mine so tightly. The more I looked at her, the stronger those feelings became and I started to remember how lovely she is to be with, the way she spoke and that happy and outgoing personality that I was drawn to. It seemed that all my concerns about going through with the arranged marriage were unfounded and that it would be exciting and wonderful finding out about this new person, building a life together and having children. However, as her gorgeous Chanel aroma wafted amongst the scent of Chicken JalFrezi, everything changed. She stopped talking, turned to me with a pained expression, pulled her hand away from mine and jumped onto the table, lifting her dress sharply and skipped across the table. Plates, food, wine and glasses came flying off and smashed onto the ground. It was pandemonium and I was frozen on the spot for what seemed like minutes but was in reality just a few seconds, absolutely gob smacked and unable to react. Then just for a moment I saw the expression of shock on everyone’s face and sudden halt of all conversation and laughter. She was screaming “sap andeh peh! sap andeh peh!”, which is Punjabi for “the snakes are coming!” and several of the guests screamed in unison, believing that there really were snakes, but we looked around and unfortunately, there weren’t any. My cousin Binda, his friend and me leapt to our feet and grabbed her, trying to pull her down, but it was like trying to capture a cat; she was scratching and biting us and it really hurt. Eventually it took five of us to wrestle her to the ground and I knew this was seriously bad when I noticed her frothing at the mouth and shaking uncontrollably. It seemed finally that her energy was running out and her heart was beating at an incredible rate; she was sweating and started to convulse violently. I remember tears streaming from my eyes as I sat in the back of the ambulance with her 15 minutes later, as she lay there, sedated, the paramedic putting the last of the protective bandages where the drip was going into her arm. I looked at her face, her eyes closed, an oxygen mask covering her mouth and her hair tied back. I was holding her hand, her long slender fingers entwined with mine as I noticed her broken nails. What had just happened? I thought to myself, as I looked at her again and reminisced about the day we first met. She was the sixth in a line of women I was introduced to, in accordance with family tradition, meeting each in their homes with their families present as they scrutinised me. Subsequently, their intended would walk into the living room carrying a tray of tea and Indian sweets, dressed up to the nines and made up to impress. I had already decided that this was the last time I was doing these visits and it was this or nothing, but the moment she walked into the room that fateful day, I knew she was the One. I was stunned by her beauty and that she was so different to any of the others, having a nice personality and so self-assured and confident. After tea, we sat and talked and I remember how she spoke about how strictly religious her parents were and that she was not allowed out much, only going to the temple every week and to Indian functions accompanied by them. We met a few times, always at her house, always with her parents close by. She talked about how she had to endure 5am cold showers as a form of penance since as long as she can remember, but that strangely, she could not recall anything before the age of 10. Something didn’t feel right the last couple of times we had met, but the wedding day was close and we weren’t allowed to see each other any more before the wedding, so I let it go. I wished now I hadn’t. The voice of the paramedic in the ambulance brought be back from my reminiscing as we arrived at the hospital and they rushed her into the emergency room at 12.15am. It was now 4.35am and Dr Sehti was still leafing through his papers and had not responded to my question about what was wrong with my wife. “She has a brain disorder called Schizophrenia, Mr Kalsi. We found Neuroleptic medication on her but she had not taken it”. It would be weeks later that I would discover her secret life of sex, drugs and a family conspiracy worthy of the Godfather.

Jas Kalsi