The Gurkha's Daughter by Prajwal Parajuly Page B

years of fitful sleep, but he didn’t mention a thing. It was his little secret, and he knew why.
    He didn’t want his wife to relax while he still tossed and turned. Letting her know that Supriya was not getting married to anyone but a Brahmin would be the end of her worries. It, however, wouldn’t be the end of his. What if her husband, a righteous Brahmin in every way, ended up treating his daughter the way he, Prabin, treated his wife? What if Supriya’s evolved into a marriage deprived of love like his was? Yes, he didn’t cheat on his wife, and he knew she didn’t cheat on him, but neither gave the other the happiness one expects from a spouse. Days went by without their having exchanged a word with each other. All the joy that came from their marriage resided in their daughter. And he didn’t wish that life for his daughter. God knows he had failed as a husband; he didn’t want another man like him, the picture-perfect Brahmin, to fail Supriya. He knew his reasons for keeping Supriya’s desire a secret were selfish, inhumane even, but he couldn’t imagine being the lone suffering person.
    â€œAll Nepali cards are ready, right?” Khusboo asked.
    â€œYes, they are,” Prabin said. “Finally. I still don’t understand why we are inviting this many people.”
    â€œI told you I wanted a court wedding,” Supriya said. “You could have given the money to me to buy a house.”
    â€œWhat an inappropriate thing to say,” Khusboo shouted. “Everything we have is yours. Will we take all our money with us when we die or what? Your husband isn’t exactly a poor man. And he’s already a deputy secretary in the government now. You’re bound to get a government job in no time. What a lucky girl.”
    â€œShe doesn’t want a government job, Khusboo,” Prabin said, inviting a pinch from Supriya. He looked forward to the battle that would ensue.
    â€œAh! The Acharyas,” Khusboo said. “Supriya Acharya.”
    â€œShe doesn’t want to change her last name,” Prabin quipped, once again hoping he had instigated a quarrel.
    Supriya’s phone rang. It was Sahil, her fiancé, and she went to her room.
    Supriya had made Prabin aware of Sahil some time ago.
    She called him one day, asked him if he was alone, and said she had something to share.
    â€œHis name is Sahil, and he’s a Baahun.”
    â€œOh, good, I don’t need to know more, of course,” Prabin joked.
    â€œGood family. A good job. A great personality. Good character.”
    â€œAll right.” He gave her the signal to continue.
    â€œOnly son.” She laughed. “Sister is in the US. No flirtatious brothers-in-law to worry about.”
    â€œHe seems perfect in every way. There must be something negative about him.”
    â€œUm, not that I can think of.”
    â€œC’mon, something.”
    â€œNo, none whatsoever.”
    â€œOkay, if not negative, something you don’t like.”
    â€œHe wears contacts and keeps losing them.”
    â€œIs that it?”
    â€œHold on.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œLet me think.” She repeated herself.
    â€œWell, if we are nitpicking, he drinks moderately. And he tends to get drunk rather fast.”
    â€œDo you think that’s serious?”
    â€œWell, I tell him that I love him all the time except when he drinks.”
    â€œWhat do you want to do when he drinks?”
    â€œKill him,” she said. “But it doesn’t worry me so much. He doesn’t go out drinking every night.”
    â€œNot a wife beater in the making?”
    â€œNo, about that I am sure.”
    â€œAlcoholic?”
    â€œThe reality of alcoholism is different for us than it’s for you, Bua. All young people drink.”
    â€œSo do I.”
    â€œYes, and Mua thinks you’re an alcoholic. See my point?”
    â€œI do.”
    The first time they met him,