Dying to Be Me by Anita Moorjani Read Free Book Online Page A

you know a guy by the name of Danny Moorjani?” Naina asked me over the phone as I sat at my desk at work, trying to complete the weekly sales report to meet the weekend deadline. Naina was a friend who didn’t live in Hong Kong but was visiting at the time, and we were going out for a drink after work that evening.
    “No, I’ve never met him.” I answered. “Why do you ask, and who is he?”
    “He’s a really cute Sindhi guy I met while I was in New York last summer. Apparently he lives and works in Hong Kong. I’m surprised you’ve never met him,” she answered.
    “You know me. I shy away from our community, particularly after the ‘incident’! There are a lot of Sindhi people in Hong Kong I’ve never met, so it’s hardly surprising,” I responded.
    “Well, you’re about to meet him,” she said. “I tracked him down and asked him to join us for drinks this evening.”
    Later that night, when Naina and I walked into Club ’97, a sophisticated bar and lounge in the heart of the city, I identified this man immediately, although I’d never met him before. There he was, standing casually by himself, dressed in a maroon turtle-necked sweater and black trousers. He looked over as we came through the entrance, and although he was there to meet Naina, I noticed that his gaze was following my every move as we walked toward him and sat down. Even as my friend greeted him, I saw that he didn’t look away from me, and the moment his eyes met mine, a feeling of recognition seemed to burst through each of us. It felt as though we’d known each other forever, and the sensation was electrifying. I was well aware that he was feeling exactly the same way, and we started talking.
    We connected on so many levels, and by the end of the evening, we’d exchanged phone numbers. To my excitement, he called me the very next day, and we went out for dinner together. He was incredibly romantic, bringing me flowers and taking me to a lovely restaurant, Jimmy’s Kitchen, which is still one of our favorites today.
    However, the more we were connecting over the weeks, the more I found myself pulling away, because I didn’t trust my instincts. Being with him was both quixotic and electrifying, and I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time. It scared me. I was afraid because he was Sindhi. I didn’t want to get involved with a man from my own culture, at least not now…maybe not ever.
    I knew very well that marrying within the Indian culture usually meant an alliance with the entire family. It wouldn’t be two people tying the knot, but two families. I was afraid to get involved once more in something that I’d regret. I wanted to marry the man, not all his relatives, and because I knew our culture, I was afraid. I was terrified about what his family would think of me. Would it be the same situation all over again? Did his family know about my past? Would they reject me if they knew I had a broken engagement? And how could I possibly be sure that he didn’t have expectations of me similar to those that most men from my culture have of their wives? I didn’t want to get hurt again, nor did I want to harm anyone else.
    But Danny was very patient and gave me all the time I needed, and I appreciated that about him. I found his presence irresistible, and he made me feel loved in a way I never had before. I was experiencing a battle between my heart and my mind, and my heart was winning.
    As we got to know each other, I began to realize that Danny was a lot like me. He didn’t relate to our culture either, since he’d also grown up in Hong Kong and been educated in the British school system. He rejected many of our customs, especially the ideas around women and marriage. He was always very generous and open in his affection for me, and his love felt genuine and unconditional. For the first time, I never felt any pressure that I had to be a certain way to win a man or that he had an agenda.
    Danny also had an incredible sense