Serving Crazy With Curry Read Online Free PDF

apart? They had loved, loved so much, and now … nothing? The years had taken their toll. He'd worked hard, too hard, working late always, going away on business trips, always gone, to the point that when she was in labor with Devi, Avi drove her to the hospital via his office where he spent ten minutes and two contractions sorting out some matter. His priorities shifted and Saroj, whose place had been number one on his list, had slowly slipped to nonexistent.
    They'd stopped communicating as he'd started spending longer hours in the office, and then when he semi-retired it'd been so long since they'd spoken that conversing was difficult, and after a few jerky and unsuccessful attempts they gave up. A promised second honeymoon to Paris ended with him meeting some clients and Saroj walking by the Seine alone, marveling at the Notre Dame, the outdoor cafes, the romantic city without the man she'd always wanted to see it with.
    “Devi didn't do it because of me, did she, Avi?” Saroj asked, her fingers shaking as she slipped the last button into its little buttonhole.
    Avi took a step back, walked around her, and left the walk-in closet without answering Saroj's question.
    They drove to the hospital in Saroj's Mercedes. When they were together, Saroj always drove. It was habit. It started when they'd just married, still in India all those years ago. They'd inherited Vasu's old white Padmini Premier and always, Saroj drove it when they were together. Avi was competent at driving even without his right arm. Nevertheless, it was Saroj who sat in the driver's seat.
    The first time Saroj compared Shobha and Devi was when she was in labor with Devi. It was natural for a woman who had been inlabor for more than thirty-five hours to feel some resentment toward the baby responsible for that mountain of pain.
    Even now Saroj felt guilty when she remembered how she'd howled, complained, and in general made a fool of herself. She'd now forgotten the physical pain, but remembered the embarrassment of having Avi tell her how it was wrong to blame the child.
    “Come on, Saroj, don't blame the child. You wanted a second child and so did I. Blame me … our child is without fault,” Avi had said seriously while allowing Saroj to crush his hand as she rode through another contraction.
    So it started then. Avi was always on Devi's side, always protecting her, no matter what her crime. Shobha and Avi had waged battles over the subject of Avi taking it easy on Devi, helping her become “a dependent loser.”
    Shobha was perfect as a baby. Born in the afternoon after putting Saroj through just five quick hours of labor, Shobha emerged with minimal pushing. A week after her birth, Shobha started sleeping for six hours every night, and within two months she was pulling eight hours a night. Saroj was surprised at how wonderfully easy Shobha was. All new mothers told her that she would be bleary-eyed, desperate for sleep, the first year of her baby's life, but for Saroj it had been easier than learning her ABCs.
    And then, four years later, came Devi!
    Well, she never really came out, rather had to be pulled out. After thirty-five hours of labor, Saroj finally dilated to the coveted ten centimeters and started to push, with hardly any energy left after so many hours of pain. After pushing for almost two hours, the doctor said that maybe it would be best to do a C-section. At that point Saroj wanted so desperately to get the baby out of her body, she all but shoved a knife into the doctor's hand.
    Devi came out looking beautiful, not scrunched up by being squeezed through the vagina like Shobha had, and Saroj had sighed and told Avi, “This girl's going to be trouble.”
    And Devi was trouble. She was a colicky baby, screaming and crying every day for at least three to four hours until she was three months old. There were times when Saroj was sure that she would go deaf if she heard Devi cry anymore.
    After colic, there had been the ear infections,