Unwanted Girl

by M. K. Schiller

Chapter 11

  The Choice Less

  Life in the Indian village was a duality of belonging and separatism. There were divisions based on caste and an ancient hierarchal system governing the rules of socializing. In this, there was comfort since you knew your place. In the old days, it would determine your occupation, the people you associated with, the amount of education you could receive, and whom you would marry. Having a clear demarcated path kept you from falling off the road and slamming head first into a ditch. As the village modernized, the concept became more muddled, though its most basic principles held true.

  Asha was a peculiar girl. She loved the village and its simple life, but each new book she read whispered of other places and possibilities. In those hours, she found interesting people and lives so different from her own. The brave women who said outlandish things and outlandish women who did brave things became her personal heroes.

  Gripping pangs of guilt often pricked at her heart for wanting to leave her home. After all, she had a loving family…well, at least a loving mother. Her father didn’t much care for her, and she had attributed this to his ceaseless mourning for a lost son. A brother she’d never known, but clearly, he must have been capable of great things to create an air of grief in their small home, even fourteen years after his death. At times, the sorrow seeped from the walls of their one-room mud house, suffocating the three inhabitants.

  Asha’s father would mutter about his aching bones and curse the loss of his child. Asha’s mother would tear up and offer her daughter a half-hearted smile. Asha tried to make herself smaller, hoping for invisibility, which she managed to achieve frequently. In those times, she would seek refuge in journeying to a new place, and her chosen mode of transport was always contained within the pages of a book.

  When she was fifteen, the infectious melancholy manifested itself physically. Asha and Nalini had nursed Depal through many bouts of illness. Even though Depal never showed affection to the child, Asha had a sense of obligation to her father. His well-being was her priority. But this time it was Nalini who fell ill. Her mother rarely complained and refused to acknowledge any pain, so to watch her lay down on the thin mat in the middle of the day caused a sense of foreboding in Asha.

  She skipped school to tend to her mother. She took over in the house, making the dinners and doing all of the chores. Her father grumbled tirelessly of how she lacked the skills of her mother. The deepening lines in his face conveyed that his grievances came from a place of fear rather than criticism.

  “Asha, bring the water,” Nalini ordered. She had always been a tiny woman, but her body took on a new frailty, which frightened her daughter. She watched in horror as her mother coughed and sputtered until blood poured from her mouth.

  “You’re very sick,” Asha cried, wiping the thick, red liquid and trying not wretch.

  “My time is near, beta.”

  “No!” Asha screamed, as if the Gods would respond to temper tantrums. “I won’t let you go.”

  Nalini managed a small laugh. “My dear, sweet, beautiful girl, I may die, but I will never be gone from you. I will exist in your life forever. I will be recreated in a better form, and I shall always watch over you.”

  Asha didn’t want to hear about any other life her mother would go to. She wanted her in the present. In this life…her life.

  Sister Sarah came on that day. Nalini had been sick for over a week. The arrival of a visitor, especially one as prominent as Sarah, circulated among the town like a wild fire. All of the village women crowded into their small home, offering Sarah tea and sweets from their meager supplies.

  “Thank you, but I’m here to take care of Nalini. That is my purpose.” Sarah’s response was both firm and polite.

  “Sister, don’t worry about her. That’s no work for you. We can watch over her. You’re a guest,” they all chimed, picking up where the last women left off. Asha wondered why they hadn’t visited earlier if they wanted to take care of her mother so badly.

  “It is my duty to her.”

  “Why?” they asked, looking from one to the other, trying to find answers for the strange white woman’s behavior.

  “She is my friend,” Sarah said simply.

  Although there had been whispers about the odd relationship between the two women and Sarah’s favoring Asha as a teacher’s pet, the women reacted with shock. A Catholic nun and a Hindu village woman being friends, sounded like the preamble to a joke.

  Nalini coughed then. Sarah’s eyes widened. She instructed Asha to cover her mouth immediately. In the seconds that followed, Sarah’s typical docile demeanor transformed as she yelled commands in a mixture of several languages. Asha would have translated, but she’d been told to cover her mouth. It didn’t matter because the gestures Sarah made were clear.

  “Get out of the house,” she told the women. “She may have consumption. It’s contagious.”

  She pointed toward the door, and the women fled as if a wild animal were chasing them. Then she gave Asha money and told her to fetch the doctor in the city. Sarah’s doctor.

  Asha ran until her legs ached before finding a cab. The doctor, a middle-aged woman with short hair, didn’t hide her disdain for being summoned to a villager’s home. She quickly verified Nalini didn’t have consumption, but she did suffer from a serious lung infection.

  “She won’t survive this,” the doctor said, wiping her stethoscope against her sari.

  “What if we take her to a hospital? They can do X-rays. Give her medicine,” Sarah suggested.

  The doctor shook her head. “It’s too late, Sister. I can give you pills to make her comfortable, but she will not recover.”

  In the end, the teenage girl and Catholic nun took care of Nalini, making her as comfortable as possible in her final days. Depal chose to stay with friends, grumbling that it would be improper to stay in the same house with a woman who wasn’t family.

  “Shall I leave?” Sarah asked. “So you can be with your family?”

  Nalini shook her head in a small movement. “I have already told him what I need to. He will take care of Asha. He promised to find a suitable match for her.”

  “No,” Sarah said. “She’s too young.”

  “He will wait a few years, but it has to be soon.”

  “Nalini, the child is capable of doing great things.”

  “Do you think getting married and having children is not a great thing?”

  Sarah wiped her forehead and sighed, her voice dropping to a whisper. Standing outside, Asha peered at them from the lone window of the house.

  “She can see there is more to the world than this place,” Sarah said.

  “What use is the world to a single village girl? You fill her head with dreams she can never attain.”

  “That’s not true. She’s my smartest pupil.”

  “Her education is a waste. A hobby born of indulgence.”

  “How can you say that? It is never a waste to educate someone.”

  “It is if they cannot use it.”

  Their voices grew louder. Nalini’s sounded raspy and Sarah’s strained.

  “Nalini, we both love her. Tell Depal not to do this. Please. I don’t want to fight with you, but we both know he will follow your wishes. You have the power to change her life. You’re being cruel.”

  “You think I don’t want the best for her? We both do, but my ideas are truth and yours are lies, like the books you give her to read. She will never achieve the greatness you have in mind, and that is the greatest kind of cruelty.”

  Asha couldn’t stand anymore. To hear the two women she loved bicker about her well-being confused and upset her. Her mother was dying. Why was Sister Sarah being so stubborn at a time like this? Sarah’s words came back to her from years before. You must always be the peacekeeper.

  She scurried back into the house. Nalini’s bed lay in the center of the room to make it easier for Sarah to tend to her. Sarah sat cross-legged, hunched over Asha’s mother, holding her hand. Althou
gh their positions conveyed tenderness, both of them were frustrated.

  “Don’t fight,” Asha said.

  “Asha, this is not your concern,” Sarah reprimanded. “You must stop eavesdropping.”

  “It is my concern. You are speaking about me.”

  “We both want what’s best for you,” Sarah said.

  “My daughter, you will find happiness in this life. The village is where you belong. Being a mother and wife is a woman’s natural course,” Nalini offered. Sarah looked hurt, but then again, Sarah’s words hurt Nalini, too.

  “I never said she shouldn’t marry,” Sarah countered. “Why not let her finish school? She could go to university. I can help her. She can see the world.”

  “I can do both,” Asha said. Her voice wavered slightly, but there was a conviction in her statement that made both women take notice. The girl walked around the two women in three slow circles.

  “What are you doing?” Sarah asked, although her shoulders slumped in defeat as if she understood.

  Upon completing the third circle, Asha fell to her knees, taking her mother and Sarah’s hands in each of hers. “I have been on my trip around the universe. Now I can get married.” She gazed at each woman. “Both of you are my world, and by circling you, I have seen everything.”

  Nalini beamed with triumph. Sarah wiped a tear from her eye but offered Asha a small nod.

  * * * *

  The months following her mother’s death marked a period of great mourning for Asha. The grief stayed with her as if burned into her soul, like a wound that never closed. Because her life changed so rapidly, she couldn’t sort out when one time ended and another began.

  She returned from school one afternoon to find strangers in her house. Strangers, in their tight-knit community, were rarer than a white tiger in the jungle.

  A tall man with dark eyes, a sour-faced older woman, and a young boy with a sweet smile sat on their shabby chairs. The young boy had the face of a cherub and messy hair. She recognized him from school. He was in a lower class. She smiled back, and he waved at her before his mother pinched his arm.

  “Asha, make tea,” Depal ordered.

  Asha gathered the supplies, concentrating on making the least amount of noise possible so she would not miss the conversation.

  “She is quite beautiful, Uncle,” the man said.

  “She looks weak,” the sour-faced woman replied. “She won’t be able to work on a farm.”

  “You’re mistaken. She can make fine tea and food. She works hard,” Depal offered. Upon hearing her father extol her virtues, something he never did, Asha’s skin prickled and her hands shook.

  She served them tea in clay cups. The man with dark eyes assessed her, his gaze lingering far too long. She felt a small flutter of something unfamiliar in her stomach…a mixture of indigestion, fear, and something else. He was handsome.

  “We have issues with this match,” the sour-faced woman declared. Obviously, she was the speaker for the group.

  “Tell me of your concerns so I may eliminate them,” Depal offered.

  “There are certain rumors of her birth. If she is not a legitimate child of your village, it will cause problems for our family. She could have bad blood inside her. She could be born of a poor caste, or she may even be…Muslim.” The woman’s shudder was so exaggerated Asha might have laughed, except her heart beat too wildly for any silly sound.

  “Vicious village gossip,” Depal said. “She is my daughter. And as your son has said, she is beautiful. In fact, I’d wager she’s the most beautiful girl in any village, including yours. She’s obedient, as well, and will make a good daughter-in-law for you. She will produce many sons for you.”

  Asha’s body tensed with every word as the confusion gave way to the cold clarity of the situation. He was arranging her marriage already? She dared not speak or state her mind on the matter, for Depal was right. She wasn’t a brave or outlandish woman. In the end, she was an obedient girl.

  “Hmpf,” the lady replied, not satisfied, but she also didn’t venture further into buried secrets of the past. Asha had heard the rumors herself. Children had called her a throwaway girl. She’d asked her mother before, but Nalini dismissed it, stating they were jealous.

  “Is there anything else? She has many possible suitors,” Depal said, crossing his arms in the gruff manner he used when telling a lie.

  “As does my Aditi. Our farm is profitable. My son is smart and good-looking. There are many girls in line for his hand. The dowry you offer is insulting.”

  “It is not up for negotiation. I will not pay any more, nor will I pay anything once she is married. If the offer is not suitable, then I think our business is done.”

  “No, Uncle, please don’t get angry. We will discuss it,” the tall man, who must have been Aditi, stated. “I will give you my answer within a week.”

  Asha risked a glance at him. He may become my husband. He had thick dark hair and a pleasant smile, but his lips coiled more than curled. His eyes grew darker with every passing second.

  Asha confronted Depal once the visitors had left. “Ma said you would wait.”

  “Ma is gone, isn’t she?” Depal retorted, a new harshness in his voice that had surfaced since Nalini’s death.

  “I want to finish school at least.”

  There was a bitter edge in his laugh, causing Asha to wince. “Stupid, selfish girl! You are nothing but a thief in my home, and I will be glad to get rid of you.”

  “What do you mean, Papa? What did they mean about the rumors?” Depal was quiet for a moment, appearing to regret the words, but Asha made the mistake of prodding on. “I refuse to get married, Papa. Not until I finish school.”

  He made a motion to slap her. She shut her eyes and braced herself in anticipation, but nothing happened. Instead, he used his words to leave a mark much deeper than any physical injury. “No one is concerned with your wants. Your real parents failed to kill you, and their failure has been my misery. I never wanted you. I’ve struggled to support you, and now I have to pay to marry you off. Your marriage prospects are slim as it is, but as long as the truth is shielded in whispers, there is a chance. Open your eyes!” he screamed. She complied.

  He clasped her hand and dragged her to the other side of the room. There, in the cupboard under Nalini’s saris, he picked up an old wooden crate. Asha was surprised by it. The house was small and their possessions slim. How had she never seen it? He grabbed her hand and ran it down the lid so she could feel each puncture hole. Splinters pierced her skin, and she screamed, begging him to stop. When he let her go, she retreated into a far corner. Covering her ears, she sunk to the floor.

  “This is what your real parents wanted for you.”

  He flung the box at her. It hit the wall next to her before shattering on the ground. Asha’s tears were warm and heavy as she replayed her father’s words. Only he wasn’t her father. He was just a man who’d carried a burden for the last fifteen years. She pulled her legs up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth as tears rolled down her face. The splinters in her fingers dug deeper into her skin. Splinters from the now broken box.

  Her birthright.

  Her casket.

  * * * *

  Sister Sarah’s attempts to comfort the child were met with great obstacles.

  “I don’t have any parents. No one wanted me,” the child cried, her head in Sarah’s lap.

  Sarah combed though her hair. “That’s not true. Your mother loved you.”

  “I was a second-hand placeholder for her dead son.”

  Sarah lifted the child’s chin and made her look into her eyes. “Nalini was your mother. She saved you. She loved you. She didn’t have much to give, but she gave it all to you freely.” Sarah told her the story of how Asha had come into their lives. How Nalini had walked many kilometers before bringing her to Sarah. How they both prayed over her, and God gave them the answers.

  “Do you think I’m Muslim, Sister?”

 
“It’s possible your parents were. The Muslim village isn’t far. But child, it doesn’t matter who you were born to. Muslim, Hindu, Christian, or Jew are all paths to the same place. The same sun shines on all roads. It warms my body just as it warms yours. What matters is how you live your life when you walk along your path.”

  Asha was young, but she realized what a difficult statement it was for Sarah. Not because she didn’t believe it, but because she did, despite her vows. “Child, God has a plan for all of us. It’s not always clear, but there is a reason you survived. I choose to believe you are a blessing that came to your mother when she needed one the most. And to myself.”

  “To you?”

  “Yes, because when I held you, I felt whole for the first time in my life.”

  The girl absorbed the woman’s words, her sobs weakening. “Why did you hide the truth from me?”

  “We didn’t do it to deceive you, honey. We did it so you wouldn’t feel the loss of what never was. So you’d be happy in your life.”

  “I will be miserable now.”

  “This doesn’t change anything.”

  “He’s going to marry me off. That changes everything.”

  Sarah wiped the girl’s tears. “Not if I have any say.”

  Asha laughed, and surprisingly, it took on the same bitter quality as Depal’s. “You don’t, Sister.”

  True to her word, Sarah tried to stop the wedding. She even went so far as to offer Depal money not to marry Asha off. Depal, embarrassed and angered by the nun’s offer, demanded she leave and never set foot in his house again.

  Asha married a month later. Everyone said the union suffered from disproportion. The girl, lacking in both wealth and pure blood, would taint her new family. Asha didn’t contemplate her life too much. She didn’t have a choice in the matter so why waste time dwelling on it? If she refused marriage, her father would cast her out. If she sought refuge with Sarah, the school would come under scrutiny, and there would finally be a reckoning, which could result in its closure.

  She could run away to the city, and then what? Panhandler and prostitute were the occupations available to a girl like her. Why was she fighting the proposition of marrying a handsome man and living in a nice house where she could form her own family? That wasn’t just the right choice, but the only one.