by Alka Joshi
Malik poured a glass of water from the mutki and handed it to Kanta. Then he went to the Primus and lit the stove for tea.
The air in the room was stale with scents from the move-in ceremony the day before, but I dared not open the windows in case my neighbors overheard us. Kanta brought with her a scent even more oppressive—fear.
“She—I—Oh, Bhagwan! Where do I begin?” She put her hand to her forehead. “Those novels of mine, the English ones she reads to me. I was thinking, ‘These will help her with English. They’ll teach her things about the larger world. And she can best those snobs at her school.’ And the films I took her to! Oh, God! I didn’t know she would confuse a story in a book or film with her own life.”
I closed my eyes. Radha’s imagination, shut tight six months ago, had been pried open. Without parents to quash her dreams of romance, her imagination had allowed her to turn fiction to fact.
Kanta was older than Radha and should have known better, but I was, after all, the one responsible for my sister. What kind of steward had I been?
Kanta was still railing. “All that talk of love and romance. Fine for English girls, but not for Indian ones.” She sounded like her saas. “I should have realized how young she is, how impressionable. She takes everything to heart, absorbs it like a sponge! And she learns so quickly—it flattered me that I was her teacher. We were having fun...”
I turned away from Kanta; I couldn’t let her see me fall apart. I looked down at the map of my life on the terrazzo as my tears blurred my vision. The pattern mutated. The shapes shifted into something I no longer recognized.
Kanta choked back another sob. “Oh, Lakshmi! I can’t believe our Radha is carrying a child! She hasn’t told me who the father is. She wants you to be there when she does.”
Radha wanted to confess in public. Like the monsoon rains, so fierce they eroded our temple friezes, my sister was about to destroy the fortress I had built. No question about it: my life, as I’d designed it, was about to change. Plans, meticulously plotted, were about to unravel. The room spun. I lost my balance, gripped the window ledge to prevent myself from falling.
Malik ran to catch me, but Kanta got there first. She eased me to the floor.
“I filled her head with bukwas! Me and my books and my films and my magazines and my ideas. My pregnancy has made me starkers! That’s the only way I can explain it. I thought it was all a good thing. And it’s Radha who will pay the price. And you, Lakshmi.”
She cried harder, and distractedly, I wondered if my neighbors would assume there had been a death in the family.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
She wound her arms around my neck, wetting my chest with her hot tears, but my body felt limp, wrung out. I couldn’t comfort her.
TWELVE
April 21, 1956
Kanta and I sat side by side on her drawing room sofa. Radha stood in front of us as if she were facing a British inquisition. She wore a frock borrowed from Kanta; the Madhubala dress was ruined.
My sister glanced nervously at the carpet, then at us, then at the photos of Gandhi-ji and Kanta’s newfound goddess, Swaraswati, on the wall.
“Go on, bheti,” Kanta said encouragingly.
Radha licked the cut on her lip, the wound I’d given her last night. “I used to pass by the Jaipur Club every day on my way to Auntie’s house from school. You know, the polo grounds, at the edge of the road?”
I started to speak, but Kanta put a hand on my arm to stop me.
Radha bit her cheek. “I would see him playing polo during the holidays, and one day, he saw me. He was walking his horse to the stables. He stopped and we started talking. He told me that he was working on a Shakespeare play at his school. And asked could I rehearse it with him? So that’s what we would do. Sometimes for a half hour, sometimes an hour.”
I clawed the piping on the sofa, trying to rein in my impatience.
“And one day he told me that I looked just like Madhubala.” She blushed and looked away. “He said he had never met a prettier girl and he wished he could spend all his time with me. He thought about nothing but me all day.” My sister flicked a glance at me, then back at the floor. “It was just like the movies.”
Kanta groaned. My heart pounded.
Radha folded her hands in front of her. “I liked him. He apologized for the holiday party. The way his mother had talked to me. I told him I had gotten into so much trouble with you about it, Jiji.”
The room was closing in. My vision narrowed.
“He said you were jealous of me.” She eyed me from lowered lids. “Because you had no one in your life, and I did.”
A cold sensation spread throughout my body. Radha’s voice sounded faint, faraway.
She was talking about Ravi Singh.
* * *
When I come to, my head was in Kanta’s lap and she was pressing the end of my sari to my forehead. It felt cold. I realized why: she had wrapped ice in it. Radha sat in the armchair opposite, rubbing her hands nervously on the upholstery.
I tried to sit up, but my head spun. Kanta guided my shoulder back down. I watched the slow tak-tak-tak of the ceiling fan. My brain was still reeling from the news that Ravi Singh was the father of my sister’s baby.
“Of all the people in the world... Parvati’s son?”
Radha looked frightened yet defiant. She looked to Kanta for support. “This is why I needed you here, Auntie. I knew she wouldn’t understand, but you do, don’t you?”
Kanta’s forehead creased with worry. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She looked away.
My sister pleaded. “Make her understand, Auntie. He loves me. He cares for me. He wants this baby as much as I do—”
Hai Ram! Until now, I’d been hoping we could keep the pregnancy a secret if I could just convince her to use my sachets. “He knows about the baby? Already?”
As if she were talking to a child, Radha explained, “He doesn’t know...yet. But when I tell him, he will be so excited. He told me I’m the only girl he’s ever cared for.”
“That’s ridiculous! He’s seventeen! You’re thirteen!” I said.
Radha narrowed her eyes. “You told me that when I started my menses I became a woman.”
“I didn’t mean you were ready to have children!”
“Girls in our village have children at thirteen. Why can’t I? They have whole families before they’re twenty. I never had a family. Not really. With Maa sad all day. Pitaji drunk. And you—you ran away from Hari and only God knew where you were until I found you!”
At the mention of Hari’s name, I looked helplessly at Kanta. When Kanta came to me this morning, I had told her about my past—Hari, the beatings, all of it. I told her more than I’d ever told anyone in my life. Although it had unsettled her, she had accepted it without judgment.
Radha hiccupped. “Ravi and I will be married as soon as he learns about his child. This is his baby!”
“Lakshmi,” Kanta whispered, bringing a hand to her mouth. “What will happen when Parvati finds out?”
It was exactly what I’d been wondering.
Radha looked from me to Kanta. “Why would you be worried about his mother? Ravi is the father. He’s the only one who matters!”
I had not fully grasped how naive Radha was, how much of a secret fantasy life she had. How little I understood her feelings. How little I wanted to understand them.
I didn’t want to have to talk to her about the things she must have wondered about. Like love. How did you know when you were in love? What did it feel like? What did I know of love? I’d never experienced it. I hated to admit that I couldn’t have answered her questions. I’d hoped Kanta was doing that.
Carefully, I sat up on the sofa. Pain shot up my temples. “Radha, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have talked to you more..
. But listen to me now. You cannot marry Ravi Singh.”
“No, no, no. I won’t listen!” She was crying now, her mouth a grimace. “First you tell me I can’t go to the palace. Then you put me in a school where they make fun of my hair, my accent, what I wear. What did I ever do to you? Why do you get to do everything you want in your life, but I have to do everything you tell me to?”
I knew she was angry about being kept from the palace, but I thought we’d moved beyond that. She had Bombay-style dresses now. A sleek haircut. She was learning Western dances and how to prepare an English tea party for eight—things I wouldn’t even have known to teach her.
Perhaps it was the bewilderment on my face that made Radha jump out of her armchair and plop down next to me. She grasped my hands. Hers were wet from wiping her tears.
“Jiji, isn’t Ravi everything you want in a husband for me? He’s as handsome as a film star. He’s educated. He’s talented.” It sounded like the list I’d made when I first proposed a girl for Ravi.
Oh, you foolish girl, I wanted to scream. Instead, I kept my voice low. “Radha, Parvati Singh will never let her son marry you. She won’t let him be married at all until he graduates from university.”
She tightened her grip on my hands. “Auntie says love blossoms in the most unexpected places.” She appealed to Kanta. “Didn’t Mr. Rochester love Jane Eyre, Auntie, even though she had no money? And Lady Chatterley! Despite all her wealth, she loved a poor gamesman. And you, Auntie, you married Manu for love, not money. Why is it impossible for you to believe that Ravi and I can make a love match?”
Kanta cringed, closing her eyes. “Hai Ram!”
I sighed. “Because Parvati Singh will not allow a love match.”
Radha flung my hands aside. Her voice bubbled with fury. “You don’t care about my feelings. Or Ravi’s.”
I’d heard enough. “Kanta, tell her.”
“If I’d known—”
“Tell her!”
Kanta’s mouth twisted with sadness. She looked at Radha.
“Bheti,” she said, “I would do anything to spare you. But when Sheela Sharma turns eighteen, she will be married to Ravi Singh. The Sharmas announced it at a celebration dinner two nights ago.”
My sister looked stunned. She reached behind her, found the armchair and sat down.
Kanta said, “Manu and I were there. So was Ravi.”
“But...he told me his parents would never arrange his marriage without his consent!”
“They did ask,” Kanta said, “and he agreed.”
Radha’s eyes filled with tears.
“Bheti, did he actually say he would marry you?” Kanta asked, her voice kind.
My sister had retreated into herself. She looked so lost that I wanted to comfort her, but I knew she wouldn’t let me.
“Ravi isn’t who you think he is.” I said it as gently as I could.
“You’re just saying things to hurt me. You always do. Just like you never wanted me to find you. Never wanted me to live with you.” She turned her red-rimmed eyes toward Kanta. “That’s why I want a family, Auntie! She’s not my family. Not really. Not in the way that counts! You and Uncle are more of a family to me than she is!”
Her words felt like a hammer blow. Kanta looked at me sympathetically.
No one said anything for a while. Finally, Kanta released a long sigh and stood. She went to sit on the arm of Radha’s chair and lifted her chin with two fingers. “Listen to Lakshmi. She is your jiji. She has done everything she can to make sure you have a good future—the best. You cannot talk to her like that. Not in my house.”
I looked at Kanta with gratitude. She had spoken up for me the way no one ever had. I turned to my sister. “Radha, I arranged this marriage. I did it so—”
“You did this to me?”
“I didn’t do anything to you. I didn’t even know you were—”
Radha blinked. “Wait! Ravi’s marriage is years away! So much can change! And the way your ladies listen to you—perhaps if you talked to Ravi’s mother, Jiji...” She was desperate to change her future, as I’d been at fifteen.
I shook my head. “Parvati had her son’s future mapped out before he cut his first tooth. It was the same with her and Samir and with all generations of Singhs.”
Kanta gasped. “What if—if he doesn’t claim the baby—”
“Radha doesn’t have to have it.”
“No! I will not do anything to harm this baby! You may do that to other women, but you won’t do it to me!”
The shock on Kanta’s face told me another secret was out.
I turned to face her. “Kanta, don’t tell me you haven’t known women who had abortions. Who fell in love and didn’t take heed of the consequences. What about at university? In England?”
Kanta covered her mouth with her hand, staring first at me, then at the floor.
Radha waited, her eyes imploring my friend to side with her. In the silence, the whirring of the ceiling fan grew louder. After a pause, Kanta squeezed my sister’s shoulder gently and nodded. “They went on to marry later, often someone else. And have other children.”
Radha just shook her head. “No!”
“Lakshmi is doing the right thing.”
But that wasn’t what Radha wanted to hear. She squeezed her eyes shut. I could guess what she was thinking: What has Jiji ever done but scold me and keep me from having what I want?
Kanta put a palm on Radha’s wet cheek. “Don’t make that face. You’re far too pretty. Lakshmi told me that she didn’t know you existed until six months ago. She was shocked when you showed up, but it never occurred to her to turn you away.
“Look at me, Radha. Your sister has a very strong sense of responsibility, which I admire. You may be upset with her, but she has taken you under her roof. She has put you in an excellent school. You’ve become so sophisticated it’s easy to forget you’re only thirteen.” Kanta tugged at Radha’s frock. “Lakshmi hasn’t had an easy life.” Kanta glanced in my direction. “I understand why she left her husband. I also want you to know I don’t judge you or your sister for what’s happened. She has tried to teach you how the world works. She’s tough—I’ve seen her with you. But that’s her duty as your older sister. Whereas—” and here, she sighed “—I have been a very naughty auntie.”
Radha sat up straighter and balled her fists. “But I’ve loved having you for an auntie! No one could have been better!”
“I’m very fond of you,” she said. “But I’m not a responsible jiji. I had you read those books to me when you weren’t ready for them.” She grimaced. “I still can’t believe how thoughtless that was. I was bored and I wanted company, and you were splendid company.”
“I love those books!” Radha protested. “Where else would I have had the chance to read them?” She cut her eyes at me. “She never spends time with me. All she does is work!”
Each of Radha’s accusations felt like a slap on my cheek.
“She has to support herself.” Kanta took Radha’s hand in hers. “And you. And Malik. She’s brave, and she’s very fierce. You two are a lot alike, you know.”
Alike? I’d never thought Radha and I shared anything but the watercolors of our eyes.
“I’m lucky, Radha,” Kanta continued. “I’ve never had to support myself. Never had to worry about money. Even now my father helps us out when Manu’s civil salary falls short of our expenses. My situation is very different from yours.” She sighed. “As much as I would like it to be different for you, it’s not. You must think about money—how to pay rent, how to afford a new pair of shoes, food. As your sister has always done. I accept responsibility for what I’ve done, Radha. Your sister’s not to blame. And neither are you.”
Radha let go of Kanta’s hand. “First Jiji arranges Ravi’s marriage to someone else! Then you tell me to kill my baby?”
“Stop!” Radha sobbed. She squeezed her eyes, causing more tears to fall. Her cheeks turned pink.
Wearily, Kanta stood. “Let’s leave it for now, Lakshmi.”
The ceiling fan slowed, then stopped turning altogether.
Kanta grunted. “Baap re baap! Three times today already, the electricity has quit. Only April and it’s started to boil.” She wiped the perspiration on her neck with her sari. “We will think of something. But for now we must keep our own counsel—you, me, Radha and Manu.” She looked at me. “Radha can stay with us until we sort this out.” She didn’t look at either of us when she said this, probably to save us the embarrassment of acknowledging the wide breach between us.
Kanta pulled her pallu over her shoulders and tucked it into her petticoat. “Perhaps some tea will cool us all down?”
I thought back to the holiday party on the Singh estate where it had all started. Where Ravi and Radha had met. Where Samir had told me about the palace commission. At the beginning of that evening, I had felt hopeful; Radha and I would come to an understanding, as sisters. She was learning the ways of the city. I was helping her. But that night had ended altogether differently, in recriminations and hurt feelings.
I didn’t need tea. I needed to clear my head. I made my excuses and left, noticing the relief on Kanta’s face.
THIRTEEN
I’d asked Malik to cancel our appointments for the day. I had nowhere I had to be. So after leaving Kanta’s house, I walked. For hours. Without a destination. I thought and thought. About my failures. I’d failed as a wife to Hari. Failed as a daughter to my parents. Failed as a sister to Radha. Failed, even, to finish my house. The courtyard was bare dirt; the back fence, incomplete. The fraying cot was still fraying. All I had ever wanted was work that sustained me. What would happen to that now?