The Novels: “Everything is Finite” & “Life is Just a Moment”

During their final lengthy conversation, Seerat fantasizes about her own wedding, 

“...I began to see things that weren’t there. I could see the glee on Prathak’s face when realizing the bridal party had stolen his shoes, one of the many traditional wedding games intended to melt the ice. I could feel the steadiness beneath me from being hoisted on my uncle’s shoulders for maalai maatral, and inhaled the floral fragrance from the garlands we held. I heard the laughter as we dodged the other’s attempts to throw them around our necks, making a game of it for each other’s joy. The creak of the oonjal swing we would sit on, rocking back and forth, up and down, while eating sweets and sipping milk offered by our aunties. Mangalyadharanam. My favorite part. Pure warmth pulsing through me as Prathak tied the thread around my neck, symbolizing our new bond. Looked deep into the heat and crackle of the sacred fire as we slowly circled it as one during sapthapadi. The comfort of his hands against my back as we would walk outside to find the double star Arundhati in ursa major, symbolizing how our lives would from now on revolve around each other and their needs as well as our own. 

I could see all of it. So vividly. But it all felt so far away.”

Life Is Just A Moment

They waited in slush in front of Raja’s Uncle’s house, aware they stopped knowing how to talk after their miscarriage. 

They had not planned on getting pregnant. They were still in their 20s; still relatively early in a life partnership; still burdened with immense student-loan debts they could barely chip away at; still making modest incomes in an increasingly unaffordable city. Still happy as they were. 

They were not settled, far from it. Priya sporadically debated applying for further schooling, wondering if further investment would yield more satisfying results. Raja grew up in the general area, but did not want to stay for much longer. Their social lives were transient; school friends had moved far away or lost touch, co-workers were busy with their own lives after shifts, strangers were searching for everything besides what Priya or Raja wanted to offer. Time was perpetually too limited to spend or share. Work and errands consumed much more of the day than they desired. 

It had turned out that young adult life was far from what either expected. It was isolating and confusing. Overwhelming and limiting. There were always barriers between what one wanted and what one could have. Practicality took priority over desire, which meant acceptance had taken the place of contentment. 

For these reasons, they were both grateful for the consistent, steady presence of the other. Raja appreciated Priya’s consideration for him, her spontaneity in all things, and her passion towards her interests. Priya loved the gentleness with which Raja approached the world, the dedication and drive he held, and his determination to not be like his parents were. They had been together three years, were neither’s first serious relationship, and until the pregnancy test two months ago, had not yet seriously considered whether they had already achieved the family life they wanted. 

Raja toed the puddle forming at the front step. He hated events like these, family holiday parties. The questions bored him, and left him not knowing what to ask others about in response. He didn’t want to see his parents. He didn’t really know most of these people, was merely invited out of familial obligation because he still lived near them. He didn’t want to be poked and prodded about his (disappointing) work or (lack of) religion. Mostly, he didn’t want to have to pretend to be okay. The one thing he did want to talk about was the one thing he did not know how to bring up. 

Priya would have loved to talk about it. In fact, it was consuming her, the way their lives had been completely shaken twice in the span of a month. First the unplanned pregnancy, then the unexpected loss. The shock had only just worn down. She had plowed through the first couple weeks in a daze, focused on moving forward. Now the adrenaline had declined, darkness loomed, heaviness fell upon her. Her therapy sessions since then seemed to end right as they were finally getting somewhere. Two days ago at work, she burst into tears at her desk watching an ad on YouTube. 

The door opened. Raja’s Uncle and Auntie smiled, unknowingly. The couple entered the home, relieved to be free from the silence. 

Soon, Raja and Priya were standing side-by-side in a circle of his Aunties, Uncles, and cousins, sipping sodas and picking at snacks on small plates that left spice powder on their fingertips. It was Navaratri Golu, and most of his family was here for the Hindu New Year celebration. This was one of four Golu’s being hosted in a two week span, and Raja and Priya were now considered adult enough to be required to try and attend all of them. 

Raja could feel attention boring down on him. Disappointment. He knew that to most of his family, he had gone to the least impressive college, had the least notable career (if you could even call it that), and wasn’t moving with urgency towards settling down. He wasn’t religious, he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, and he cared little for the family values of honor and purity he was raised with. To his family, Raja’s life was deeply unimpressive, and therefore could not be satisfying. He had never felt seen or understood at home growing up and had recently realized that this would never change. Raja was different, he didn’t fit here, they didn’t get him. No one here knew about the pregnancy, and he doubted any of them ever would. 

When he was growing up, he thought the point of these drawn out dinners and pujas was to maintain family connections and traditions. He now knew that this was a secondary benefit. The primary purpose was to gossip and boast. 

Did you know that Dev Uncle’s daughter is going to an Ivy? 

I learnt earlier that Kavia got promoted and now has an office with a secretary! 

Have you heard that my Lakshmi is pregnant? 

Priya froze. The conversations that had coalesced around her in an aura of noise had silenced. 

“Twins! They already had a little boy and are now expecting two more in the summer.” 

The members of Raja’s family in the circle gleamed and praised God and congratulated the Auntie on her grandchildren-to-be so lavishly that Priya had to excuse herself. 

Suddenly, Priya was outside, watching her breath turn to clouds in front of her face. She didn’t realize she had forgotten her jacket until she was already out. She looked around the block. Typical upper-middle-class suburbia, single family houses evenly spaced out on a well-paved street. Lawns and fences, driveways with multiple cars. It was quiet, and as she walked down the path and turned along the street, the noise from the house behind her got softer and softer till imperceptible. 

When she decided she had gotten out of sight, she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the lighter and joint she had hidden in it. She lit it, took an inhale, exhaled, then repeated the process twice more. Her vision blurred, spun, then normalized. She felt vibration behind her eyes, tingling in her limbs. She took another hit, too much this time, and coughed the smoke out, which echoed through the street.

Sneaking a joint during these events used to be their thing. She didn’t like coming to these either. It was painfully obvious how Raja’s family felt about him, and that they viewed Priya as their way to make Raja see their side of things, just because she was Indian and from a “good family” too. She hated it. Hated how they made Raja feel less than, how they made her feel her purpose was tied to serving others, how they didn’t seem to care about her beyond that. 

Since Raja’s family elders didn’t drink, the weed he and Priya snuck in would be their escape. Sometime during the night one or both would have had enough; a quick walk outside later and they were ready for the second half of the evening. 

She knew he was worried about her, trying in the ways he knew how to be supportive and caring. Raja would invite her to open up, but she was at a loss. Priya felt bad. This much she knew, but “bad” seemed far too limiting. She felt so many things and she felt too much. 

She preserved the remaining half-joint for Raja. The high wore off quickly, it had hardly hit at all. She somehow felt worse than before.

Priya walked back into the party and began searching for Raja. These things were only bearable because they could exchange jokes during them. She found him in the living room with his older sister and her young son. The child was holding Raja’s hand, swinging his arm excitedly and narrating. It was not evident who seemed happier, Raja giving his beaming nephew his full attention. She liked seeing him this side of him. Selfless and generous. Devoted to the care and love of another without expecting anything in return. The way Raja loved those around him demonstrated his goodness. 

Raja tried to pay attention to his nephew’s story but it had taken so many turns that he had gotten lost, and was once again struck by how much the boy had grown in such a short time. It amazed him how so many of the cliches turned out to be true; he is growing up so fast, he has changed so much so quickly, his happiness does make Raja happier.

Raja’s brother-in-law joined them, putting an arm around his wife and touseling his son’s hair. Raja was happy for his sister, she had created a life for herself that was enviable; fulfilling career, full social circle, adoring family. When he looked at the three of them, he realized that his nephew would grow up confident and secure in being loved and accepted in a way that neither Raja nor his sister ever were. His nephew won’t have fear at home, he will know he can trust his parents. It won’t be triggering for him to hear them say his name. He’ll feel like he belongs and is wanted. Raja realized that his sister and her husband had created that climate together, without having had it growing up. He realized that his Akka may have already achieved the life she desired. 

And what if Raja wanted different things?

Three months ago, he had not thought particularly in depth about having children. He knew he didn’t want them yet but was open to, and anticipating, a later change of heart. He wasn’t going to make plans around it, but wouldn’t actively avoid it. If he earned enough to truly save, he’d have done so with the possibility of children in mind. 

He knew Priya planned to have children but wanted to wait until she knew she was in her life partnership, and that she had every intention of staying on her birth control until trying to conceive. He was rational enough to see that while she loved him, they weren’t perfect, and there would always be the possibility things didn’t work out for them. But that never seemed urgent or pressing, so it didn’t bother him.

Priya had been late before, but never was concerned about it. She always felt she knew her body, that she was in tune with it. But when she realized she was late in mid-November, she felt it was different. Raja held her hand while they waited for enough time to elapse before looking at the test, and later he went with her to each doctor's appointment until the end. 

At first he felt joy. The image of him, Priya, and a child together for the rest of his life was welcoming, comforting. He had not realized that he was always searching for a home like the one he now knew he would create for their child. He suddenly felt a sense of purpose, true purpose, and a validation that Priya was the person he was to spend his life with. Their wide-ranging conversations were open, direct, and honest; they were on the same page. 

The communication continued for a bit after the miscarriage, but lately had dwindled, plateaued. How many times can you say the same things? Things had changed for each of them too, it wouldn’t have been possible for them to not have, and neither knew how to approach that. There was one other thing Raja didn’t know how to broach with Priya- the relief he had felt in recent days as the shock waned. 

Raja had discovered that he was terrified of becoming a father. He had no idea what a good father looked like, he had never seen one growing up. The adults he knew were, at best, distant or apathetic, and actively harmful at worst. He didn’t even know what he wanted or needed in life; where to live, what to do for a career, what relationships and hobbies to devote attention to and which to let be. He had a tough enough time caring for himself and Priya, how could he take on a child? Plus, Raja had grown accustomed to the perks of a household having two incomes and no children: lazy weekends, occasional dinners out, freedom. If he was going to be a parent, he wanted it to be at a time he confidently chose, not what it almost was. It almost felt morally wrong to be a parent if he didn’t feel confident in wanting to be a father. 

Priya didn’t know he felt this way. Watching Raja with his family, Priya was hit with a wave of love for him and the relationship they had built. She knew he was nervous about repeating familial shortcomings, but she had seen him around children. He was great with them, he loved them. He’d make a wonderful father. 

But what if they weren’t compatible for that chapter in her life?

Priya had every intention of getting pregnant again, just not until she was engaged or married. She knew neither of them were ready to commit to marriage yet, and that didn’t bother her, three years was still relatively early, but now there was a pressure there hadn’t been before. If Raja wasn’t someone she thought she could marry and parent with, was there a reason to stay together any longer?

Raja was wonderful, he was sweet and kind, thoughtful and generous, sensitive and caring. He cared deeply about her and showed her regularly. He would make a great parent to a child. 

But she was realizing the different things they wanted would be a problem later on. Even if they both wanted to be parents, they were still living in the here and now and mostly delaying any talk of the long-term. Were they going to stay in Boston? What were their career ambitions? How did they imagine those things interacting with familial responsibilities? Would they raise their child with one religion or let them choose? How Indian should their home be? How settled would they be life-wise once they had a kid? 

These things didn’t really matter now, but they could later. They could build resentment later if one or both of them had to sacrifice meaningfully for a life that wasn’t fully satisfying. 

Priya thought about this in the Uber home. Her head rested on Raja’s shoulder, his right arm around her while he read an article on his phone with his left hand. She had laid her head down thinking she’d doze off, but she was unable to. Was this wrong? She wanted to talk to him about this, but there was so much else she needed to talk about first, and if they opened those topics up there was no telling what all would spill out and then it could get out of control and unravel and then everything could become a mess and just like that they’re over. 

And what if that’s not what she wants either?

As they get out of the Uber and walk up the path to their apartment door, his arm is still around her. 

“Hey,”

She looked up, they hadn’t said a word in quite some time. 

“Do you have the joint?” he said, pulling the sides of his jacket together and then pointing at her pocket. 

“Oh, um…yeah. Here.” She fumbled in her pocket and handed him the half-joint. “I…I forgot to tell you, but I needed some air midway through that.” 

Raja looked at the joint and then at Priya, before taking it. “It was when Lakshmi Auntie mentioned the twins right?” He said softly, as if he was reciting a clear fact. “You were gone for about a half hour.”

Priya nodded, feeling regretful. “I’m sorry I went without you. That was shitty.”

He shrugged, “It’s no big deal. You needed to clear your head.” 

“I guess.” She looked around behind Raja, watching people walk up and down the main street towards the park at the end of their block. She felt acutely aware of how life moves forward at the same steady clip for all people regardless of how it is disparately affecting them.
“You know, we can talk about the…we can talk about it.”

Priya looked up, scoffed. “You can’t even name it.”

“The miscarriage. We can talk about the miscarriage and how we feel and what we want and all that.” Raja and Priya held their eye contact, as if waiting to see who would break off first. 

She reached for his hand, and took the remaining joint from it. Priya rubbed it between her fingers, looking around the block. When she looked back at Raja, he was also looking away.  “You really want to do that?”

“I do. But I’m not going to force you. If you need more time that’s okay.”

Priya looked around. This was what she wanted, a chance to discuss it all and lay it bare, but this wasn’t when she wanted to do it. Did that matter? Do you get to choose life’s moments? Didn’t the last three months exemplify how false that choice is?

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.”

Chapter ONE

Raja and Priya’s apartment was on the top floor of a two-story building on a quiet side street of Allston, a middle/working-class residential neighborhood of Boston. They shared the building with a interracial lesbian couple in their early 30s who had a young child, and the rest of the block resembled the building- a racially diverse group of people a little too old to consider themselves fresh out of school, but too young to feel Adult. 

Raja and Priya had a shoe rack and mat on the landing in front of their door, which opened into a small nook abutting the living room. They had a kitchen, one bathroom, and two bedrooms, one of which was their bedroom and the other was converted into an art/music studio. 

The first thing anyone noticed when walking into their apartment were the records. They were everywhere. Seven multi-level racks of vinyl records placed at different spots on the living room perimeter. The walls were covered with ticket stubs from concerts, movies, and games, cards and letters from friends, family, and coworkers, and photos from their lives before and with each other. They had recently sold their television for a mini-projector, so really the only space on the walls unadorned was the rectangle between two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves where they projected whatever they were streaming. They shared the habit of writing in their books, so the shelves' contents were not just the creations of artists past, but the capturing of Raja and Priya’s reactions, feelings, thoughts. A moment in time made tangible, tactile, and permanent. 

They agreed to save any discussion of their situation until the next day, recognizing that neither was mentally prepared for a conversation about the miscarriage. Priya, a morning person, began her nightly routine to wind down after what had been an exhausting evening. After giving Raja a long hug and soft kiss, she went to the bedroom and tried to fall asleep.

For Raja, the late hours of night were the most connected he felt with himself. No one else was around or expecting anything of him, he was allowed to follow whatever his heart desired. It was the easiest part of his day, which typically was full of work, chores, obligations, anxieties. He didn’t have to worry about spending the time “correctly” or being “productive”, he could just do or not do whatever he wanted. It was freedom, something he never had growing up and didn’t feel truly until moving in with Priya. 

Raja had a bit of a routine for this time of night. First, he’d scan the racks for the record he wanted. Raja liked a wide variety of genres and styles so this could take some time. He’d typically set the kettle in the kitchen to make tea while he browsed, though today being a weekend, he opted for red wine. He’d take the record out of the rice-paper sleeve, scan the track listing, and if it suited him, bring it to the turntable that was between the bookcases. The turntable was not fancy but not a starter’s one either, somewhere in the middle. The speakers however, were something Raja carefully budgeted and saved four months for, and they filled the room without being overwhelming. Once the music was on, Raja would grind up some weed and smoke a bowl out of a living room window. He’d follow this with reading, watching tennis or basketball with the sound off, writing, maybe later on making some music of his own, or, truly, whatever his heart desired. 

Putting Frank Ocean’s “Blonde” on the turntable, Raja adjusted the speaker volume and the first chord of “Nikes” pulsed through the room. “Blonde” was one of Raja’s most frequently played records, the hazy psychedelic atmosphere combined with the lush harmonies over vulnerable lyrics created an album perfect for staring at the ceiling and getting lost in space. Raja cracked open a window and cold air rushed in. He lit the pipe and took the first hit, feeling heat in his upper chest and watching the smoke soar out from his lips. He eased into a chair at the living room table next to the window, feeling his world unsteady beneath him as the song’s second half began. 

“We’ll let you guys prophesize/We gon’ see the future first/ Living so the last night feels like a past life“

Raja and Priya met at a record store three years ago. It was the type of small space where you could see everyone there at any point. Bins of records lined the walls with more bins underneath and on a rectangular table in the center of the room. Raja was browsing at the table, flipping through a stack of 70’s soul/funk, when Priya walked in. She was with a friend, planning on making this one of multiple stops while out that day. He was by himself; he came to the store every week then and still does now. He loved the routine of browsing the racks until finding something he felt he must own, records and concerts were the only entertainment he really spent money on.

He saw her walk in, but was hesitant to disturb her, especially since she wasn’t alone. She would be the first person he approached for this reason that had been a total stranger prior to his saying hello. He hadn’t left the house planning on meeting anyone. He suddenly felt aware of his appearance, his outfit, and his behavior. Raja tried to refocus on looking through the stacks, but he kept getting distracted by her voice. 

Priya had noticed Raja but hadn’t thought much about it; she was quickly fascinated by the artwork on the records and the walls, and moved on to a stack of one-dollar used-jazz records, her favorite genre. Though she loved music, Priya had never been in a record store before and was quickly captivated by the immense amount to explore. While she came with her friend, they were browsing separately, and Priya soon moved onto a bin of newer r&b releases. 

When she picked up and started reading the back of Rihanna’s “Anti”, Raja’s confidence rose above his lingering nervousness, and he went over to introduce himself. 

Raja was not inexperienced, he’d had a serious girlfriend during his last two years of college and shorter, less serious relationships as well since then. So he was a little nervous, but had been around enough to know that nothing awful could happen in this attempted interaction. Priya looked up as Raja neared, and he pointed at the record she was holding. 

“I really love that album. I think it’s my favorite of her’s.”

“This one? Yeah it’s so good. Honestly, they’re all good, but I agree this one is the best as a continuous listen album.”

It had been about ten minutes since he had seen her walk in, and he was now fully noticing her appearance. She had shoulder-length dark hair and was wearing faded jeans and a light-colored t-shirt. She had almond shaped eyes that shone brightly and her voice was warm and inviting. She didn’t seem bothered that he was interrupting her shopping. Actually, Raja could tell that she was happy to talk to him. 

And she was. Priya may not have been observing Raja as consistently as he was observing her, but she had noticed him in the store and thought he was cute. She thought his lips were very attractive, full and red. He was wearing a casual button-down over green pants and white sneakers. He had a relaxed, easy-going air about him, and she found it attractive that he seemed not bothered to be shopping alone. 

While talking about the record, Priya revealed she hadn’t ever listened to a vinyl and this was actually her first time in a record store. If she was nervous Raja would be judgmental, she needn’t have been. That wasn’t his style. 

“They let you check out the record in the store here to make sure you like it, can I show you?”

She smiled, nodded. Raja went to one of the employees to request the headphones, and then gestured for Priya to join him in the corner. The employee returned with a custom pair that would allow both to have one ear covered, and Raja quickly explained the controls on the turntable and showed Priya how to play the record. He had a gentle disposition and spoke with excitement and no condescension. She was especially delighted by the feeling of placing the needle on the vinyl and watching the record begin to spin. 

 At first it was a little bit awkward, standing so close together, each suddenly very aware of how they were reacting to the music. How much is too much? But soon they both were bobbing to the beat, and by the time track three, “Kiss It Better”, came on they were jamming. 

“It sounds so deep and full, I can hear all the layers!”

He nodded, smiling, head moving to the drums. 

Priya wanted to keep talking to Raja, so she asked if he’d be interested in getting a coffee at the cafe next door. He agreed. 

His involvement with Priya rose at a pace far faster than any prior. They kissed on their first official date, she was at his apartment two days later when they slept together for the first time, and they were exclusive within a month. When they first said “I love you” it felt natural, he didn’t question it like he had in previous instances. 

This was what life had been building towards. He felt that now. Raja had spent his whole childhood responsible for others, putting others needs and wants over his own, and living in fear. He was safe now, he was comfortable now, and he was free now.

 It took Raja a moment to realize the first side of the record had finished, and that the room was silent. Normally, he’d have immediately flipped the record, but his therapist had been pushing him to sit with himself more and he stayed at the table. He took a deep breath in and a slow exhale out, feeling his chest fill and then contract. The world began to slow down. 

Raja was uncomfortable. Perpetually uncomfortable. He didn’t feel connected to himself, save for these spare moments of night, and hardly ever felt present. Was this what life was? Was this all he was? 

Raja felt like he was failing. Failing his partner, failing his community, failing himself. He felt incompetent. He felt his relationship vulnerable to the unpredictable rhythm of tragedy and Adult Life. 

Prior to the pregnancy, Raja wasn’t concerned about having a purpose in life. He was content with being a young person working through things and figuring life out. After the miscarriage, he realized that the purpose he’d stumbled into wasn’t what he wanted - so what was? Was there anything?

“So how did you get into collecting records?” Priya asked him before taking a sip of her coffee. They had come here from the record store and were sitting at the counter in front of the glass storefront, seeing passersby on the street. 

“I’ve always loved music, so that was the starting point. I also like having tangible things to collect, stuff I can hold and look at. I went to a record store one day - I was just bored and looking for something to do - and really fell in love with that experience of discovery, so a year or so later I bought my first turntable for relatively cheap.”

“That makes sense, yeah I really enjoyed that feeling today of finding all these unique recordings, there were so many I never knew about even from artists I love.”

Raja nodded, feeling seen.

“Do you ever listen to live albums?” 

“Sometimes, I don’t really seek them out unless pointed to one though.”

“I think my favorite records to collect are live albums, because you hear the fans, you hear the crowd work, you hear the improvisation. I love it. I feel like I’m there, but, maybe more accurately, I feel like I’m seeing it for how it really was. And with the older artists, those fans weren’t there with cell phones to record it all or be distracted. It’s all these people sharing an experience together and it’s on this one record that you can listen to and hold.”

Priya smiled. “So romantic.”

“Isn’t it? That’s the other nice thing about records, there’s a level of intentionality you need to have to listen to one. Gotta take it out of the cover, place the needle just right, set up the speakers. It’s harder than just clicking a button on your phone. But that’s what I like about it, it makes me sit and sink into the moment. It makes it something more meaningful and enjoyable, for me at least.” 

They met up again a week later for dinner and had their first kiss. It wasn’t quite as seamless as their first conversations, both feeling nervous and awkward at times. Priya remembered early into the night that dinner was always a challenging interaction for two near-strangers, it’s a long time to do nothing but talk and watch each other eat. But when Raja walked her to the T, she felt a desire to see him again. Raja, who thought the date went well actually, was delighted when she accepted his offer a couple days later to go for an after-work drink. 

This time things went easier, back in the rhythm of their beginning conversations. When they finished their drink and stepped outside, they realized they’d be heading in opposite directions. Raja leaned in for what he thought would be a goodnight kiss, but when their lips pressed each other, Priya put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him to her. An hour later she was lying between his bedsheets with her head on his chest, wondering if she’d ever feel as sure of anything as she did that she was happy right now. And he was wondering the same thing. 

Eventually, Raja flipped the record over. While he waited for the needle to reach the first notes, he poked his head into the bedroom, and saw Priya sleeping. She was usually asleep before he was, and the moments in which he caught her resting, fully at peace, made him content. Priya had left the lamp on his end table on so that Raja would be able to find his way to her. 

Why did things have to be so complicated now? Why couldn’t this just be a thing that happened, and then back to normal? Why did everything have to change? And why was he so afraid of what these changes could be?

He came back to the living room, his eyes observing all the mementos on the wall. The notes, the concert and movie tickets, the photos. He dragged his fingers across the edges of the vinyls in a crate, feeling the rhythmic bump and pause as they moved from one to the other. This room, this apartment, this home, they were all something the two of them created. Something they could hold and feel and listen to and look at. The moments summed together to something much grander than he ever could have imagined. And perhaps that is the course of things, perhaps this is time. A beast that moves at its own strumming pace, pulling us along with it in merely one direction, together or not. Perhaps this is fate. A dragon-like force that dictates that which seems controllable. Perhaps this is life. A series of moments and nothing more. 

Maybe this is love. To give yourself fully now because then is gone and soon may not come.