"They're also really happy that I'm going to graduate school. They give you all the credit for the fact that I've come to my senses."

Rasika smiled and pressed his hands in hers.

"My parents will work out a new airline ticket for me," he said. "They agree that I should stay with you. They want you to get better."

Rasika's father and Pramod were still cl.u.s.tered around them. Her mother had approached, as well, and was standing like a sentinel on the other side of the bed. Abhay leaned close and whispered into Rasika's ear, "I love you."

She laughed and declared, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I love you, too."

Epilogue.

CLEVELAND BOTANICAL GARDEN,.

AUGUST 2008.

It has turned out beautifully." Mita patted Sujata's arm and glanced around the airy room, with French doors revealing the greenery outside. Wedding guests in Indian finery milled around the room as waitstaff cleared away the lunch plates. Rasika, wearing a gold-embroidered pale pink long skirt, blouse, and scarf, and Abhay, in a knee-length maroon embroidered kurta over calf-hugging pants, strolled hand in hand among the guests. A tall white and silver wedding cake graced one corner of the room.

"We had so much trouble with this wedding. You won't believe." Sujata pulled her cell phone from her waist, where it was clipped to her sari. "What could it be now? The ceremony is over. The reception is almost over." She glanced at the screen and reclipped the phone. "My sister in India. Her daughter has run away with some Muslim boy. So my sister is calling me every day, crying. I always told her she was giving Mayuri too much freedom. We raised Rasika so she understood that she must choose a Hindu."

Mita smiled sympathetically and pressed Sujata's hand in both of hers. "Yes. She has chosen a Hindu, at least. Abhay-what is he going to do now?"

"As a matter of fact, he has gotten a full fellowship to the University of California at Berkeley."

"Oh. Berkeley. Very good school. I thought he was-"

"What people think has nothing to do with reality." Sujata touched the diamonds gracing her earlobes, and put a palm over her heart. "He has been so good to her, Mita. He stayed with us in India until we left, and then he moved back to this area-you know he was in Oregon-but he came back, just for Rasika."

"Life is hard sometimes." Mita patted her eyes with a hanky. "She is completely well now?"

"That is what the doctors say, thank G.o.d." Sujata cleared her throat. "Rasika wanted an outdoor wedding. She has been through so much, so I didn't insist on a temple wedding, but this was not easy to arrange."

"You did wonderful job. It is too bad Kanchan could not come. He had important meeting, he said. To look at her, no one would know all trouble she has been through. Her hair is short, but still she is beautiful."

"Where is she now?" Sujata's eyes raked the room. "We will cut the cake in a few minutes." Sujata's husband was standing in a dark corner, discussing something with the videographer. Her gaze pa.s.sed over Amisha Menon Nayar, who had gained even more weight since her own wedding, and who was feeding her very fat baby with a bottle. At the next table Subhash sat with his new wife, a thin, shy girl with an enormous belly-she was about seven months pregnant. Deepti brought a bowl of rice payasam and set it on the table next to the girl, but the girl shook her head.

Past tables of Abhay's and Rasika's college friends, Sujata's eyes fell on the couple making their way toward the wedding cake, where Abhay's mother was hovering. Sujata glanced at her watch. "I hope the icing has not melted."

"It will be fine, I am sure. The air-conditioning is so cold." Mita wrapped the palloo of her sari around her shoulders.

"Balu had to drive the priest here," Sujata continued. "We had to pay the maintenance people here to put together the mantapa. At first they did not want us to put up our own structure, but I said, it's just a temporary canopy. We must have this for a traditional Hindu wedding. And then of course there was the question of lighting the fire. At first the director of the garden said, absolutely not. But how can we have a Hindu wedding without the fire G.o.d as witness? I had to bring in an aluminum tray and show him how small the fire would be-hardly more than a couple of candles. Still they wanted extra for insurance."

"They let you bring Indian food in?"

"We had to pay for their food, even though we didn't need it. And we had to bring in our own food. I thought I would have to pay twice, but Venika said she would do it, as her contribution to the wedding. She has gotten into catering, you know."

"Venika made cake, too?"

"She ordered it. She does not make Western desserts, but she decorated the top of each layer with silver leaf, so it looks more Indian."

Mita nodded her head. "Very beautiful."

Sujata shot a glance toward the far corner. "I must tell the videographer to be ready for the cake cutting." She strode off, leaving Mita standing alone.

Rasika and Abhay, at the opposite side of the hall, were talking to his mother.

"Mom, the food was amazing," Abhay said.

"Rice was little overcooked," his mother said.

"No, it was great," Rasika insisted. "You worked so hard. You must be exhausted. We are so grateful."

"Thank you so much, Mom," Abhay added.

Venika grasped Rasika's and Abhay's hands. "No need to thank. I am mother of groom. I am used to cooking. We are just glad, so glad things work out for both of you." She let go of their hands and stroked their cheeks. "Now you both be happy together, and have good life."

Sujata arrived with the videographer. "Don't go too far," she warned Abhay and Rasika. "We'll cut the cake in five minutes."

They strolled over to Jill's table.

"You look so tan!" Rasika said. "Hawaii's been good to you."

"I don't know why it took me so long to get there." Jill stood up and put out a hand to touch Rasika's gold wedding necklace. "Is this a significant symbol?" She fingered the pendant.

"Normally, you have caste symbols on your wedding necklace," Rasika said. "But since Abhay and I don't care about caste, we decided to choose an om on a lotus."

A couple of little girls, wearing long silk skirts and Indian jewelry, raced past. The room was clamorous with loud adult voices and children's shouts. The gentle plinking of the veena music, piped through the speakers, could be heard only at moments when the noise subsided somewhat.

"I love the translation of your wedding vows." Jill opened her copy of the program.

Abhay took it from her. "I had no idea there was a translation. I just repeated whatever the priest told me to say." He read out loud, " 'With these seven steps we have become friends. I am blessed with your friendship. I shall always be with you. You shall always be with me. We shall live together. We shall combine our minds in our thoughts. We shall combine our hands in our actions.' "

"That's so great," Jill said. "I thought maybe the two of you made up those vows."

Rasika grasped the program and scanned the lines. "This was a very traditional wedding-or at least as traditional as my mother could make it. But the meaning is really so modern, isn't it? Abhay, we should get someone to write this out in calligraphy, in Sanskrit and English, and have it framed."

"Go for it. You're better than I am at decorating." He put an arm around her waist and strolled to the next table, where Chris Haldorson and his mother were seated.

"What a beautiful wedding," Mrs. Haldorson said. Tears were shining in her eyes. "Your mother must be just beside herself."

Chris gave him a bear hug. "I'm so happy for you, Adios!"

"Adios?" Rasika furrowed her brow at Abhay.

"It's a long story," Abhay said.

Chris shook hands with Rasika. "Watch out for this guy." He nudged Abhay, then sat down and began mopping up some tamarind sauce with the last portion of his samosa. "Hey, this food is great."

"It must be hard without your dad." Abhay set a hand on Chris's shoulder.

"It was his time." Chris grasped his mother's hand with his free hand. "So now it's just me and Mom in the house."

Mrs. Haldorson dabbed her eyes with a napkin. "You'll find someone of your own soon, just like Adios here," she said. "You'll have a place of your own."

"Mom, I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me." He shrugged at Abhay. "I'm being a good Indian son, right?"

Abhay laughed. "Better than me, I'm sure."

Rasika and Abhay stepped out onto the sunny patio to talk with Seema and Jawad. Abhay waved to Dr. Ben-Aharon, sitting at a patio table gesturing to Abhay's father, who seemed to be listening intently.

"This is a dramatic outfit." Rasika fingered the hem of Seema's purple spaghetti-strap top, worn over a matching slim long skirt with a slit up one leg. "It feels like silk. And the hat is great."

Seema put a hand up to her purple head wrap. "Jawad bought the whole set for me." She smiled at Jawad, who said, "I don't know anything about fabric. I just like how she looks in it."

Leaves rustled in the breeze. Rasika glistened in the sunlight.

"So I hear you two are moving to Berkeley," Jawad said.

"We went out last month and found an apartment," Rasika said. "And I put in applications at about a dozen banks."

"She's already had three phone interviews," Abhay said proudly.

"Where are you going for your honeymoon again?" Seema asked.

"Point Reyes National Seash.o.r.e," Rasika said. "It's near Berkeley, and of course near the ocean. I have to be near water."

"She claims she's going to camp with me." Abhay raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

Rasika laughed at him. "I want to save money. My parents have spent so much on the wedding and my medical treatment. I can deal with a few nights of camping."

Pramod leaned out the door. "Amma says we're going to do the cake now."

Guests streamed into the room and toward the cake. Rasika lingered behind. "Something smells lovely." She lifted her face to the air. "I wonder what that's from." She walked away from the doorway, toward the urns of flowers at the edge of the patio, and bent over a stalk of white bell-shaped flowers.

"Come in." Abhay followed after her and grasped her hand.

"Stay with me a minute." She pulled him close. "Smell these."

He bent down and sniffed. "Nice. Come on, everyone's waiting."

"I don't want to go in yet. I don't want this day to end."

They stood quietly, facing away from the wedding hall. The air was very warm. Surrounding them was the low hum of insects, changing tone every so often, becoming lower and softer, or higher and louder. Above that hum, birds burbled and chirruped. Tiny insects flitted white in the sunlight, and disappeared into the shade.

"Look up," Rasika said. They both tipped their heads back and gazed at the maple leaves above them, some dappled in shade, and some glowing pure green in the sunlight.

"Everything is so beautiful." Rasika sighed. "I just want to hold on to this moment. Can anything ever be this beautiful again?"

"We'll have lots more wonderful moments." Abhay slipped an arm around her and pulled her close.

She pressed her palms together and touched her index fingers to her chin. "For all these months I've been so focused on getting better and planning the wedding. And now we're married. What happens next?"

"You mean, you're worried because there's nothing more to plan? You just have to step through that door and eat some cake!"

She smiled. "After that, I mean. Part of me wishes I could plan our future the way I planned this wedding."

"We can't know what's in store for us." Abhay took her hands in his. "We have to proceed anyway, and the path will appear as we go."

She touched his cheek and smiled. "I always knew you were wise." She readjusted her gold and pink scarf over her shoulders. "I'm ready. Let's go."

Hand in hand, they walked through the doorway to the rest of their lives.

Acknowledgments.

This novel was inspired by The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton. I have always been fascinated and frustrated by the character of Lily Bart in Wharton's novel. Her situation-the need she felt to fit into her society by marrying the right kind of person-seemed so similar to the situation faced by many Indian-Americans, who feel pressure to enter into an arranged marriage. So, I wanted to explore a Lily-type character who is a modern-day Indian-American woman.

The character of Lawrence Selden in The House of Mirth represents an alternative to Lily's gilded-cage society. Selden's world is about art and music and has a bit more freedom in terms of behavior. Yet Selden always seemed too sure of himself, leading me to wonder: did he ever have any doubts about his own choices? I wanted to explore this question by creating a Selden-type character who is seeking his place in the world, who has a vision of what a perfect society would be like, but who is not able to find it.

My friend Sally Kearney was the first person to read a draft of this novel, and her enthusiasm for the story gave me confidence.

My agent, Jenni Ferrari-Adler with Brick House Literary Agents, was able to see the potential of this novel and worked hard to help me realize it. Her guidance and good judgment have been invaluable. Also at Brick House, Sally Wofford-Girand, Melissa Sarver, and Miya Dunets provided valuable feedback and suggestions.

My editor, Maya Ziv, has been tireless with her perceptive questions and suggestions. She has helped me smoothly navigate the journey to a published book. Mary Sa.s.so, Maggie Oberrender, and Jennifer Hart in the HarperCollins marketing department were early, enthusiastic supporters. Emin Mancheril designed an evocative cover, and Sh.e.l.ly Perron did a thorough job copyediting.

I would like to thank my family for their general love and support, as well as for their enthusiasm for this novel and their suggestions: my husband, Mark Winstein; my parents, Vimala and V.V. Sreenivasan; and my brother, Sharad Sreenivasan. My two sons provide lots of fun and help me keep life in perspective.

I have benefited greatly, in my life and my writing, from cla.s.ses I've taken through Landmark Education, and meditation techniques I've learned through Swami Nithyananda's Life Bliss Foundation. I would like to thank both organizations for their contributions to my life.