Priya, who was standing on the other side of the table, staring at him while he performed his tasks, was no less a beauty in her own right. There was a marked resemblance between the siblings.
Today Priya was wearing a dainty white dress with a sprinkling of tiny red flowers and puffy sleeves. Her small feet were encased in white sandals. She, too, looked like she had gained a little weight, much needed in her case, since she was too thin for her height. From his estimate the girls were going to grow quite tall, much taller than their mother.
The two sisters were lucky to have inherited such superior genes in the appearance department. From what he’d gathered during his brief encounters with Priya, she was very sharp, too.
Beauty and brains. Oh, to be able to father such magnificent children! With his looks, his potential kids had no more chance of being born beautiful than did a baby ostrich.
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Now that Diya was more alert and learning new things, she was developing a distinct personality of her own. He peered inside her tiny ears and found nothing unusual. She was a healthy six-month-old.
Isha Tilak stood nearby and looked on anxiously, her arms folded across her middle. “How is she doing, Harish?”
He turned to face her. “Very well. You should be proud.
Everything’s right on schedule—height, weight, reflexes, color.
She’s beautiful.”
“You’re very kind.” Isha gave a pleased smile, sending a mild tingle through his blood. “And a very caring doctor.”
Lord, but the woman was attractive! She’d added a sparkle to his day the moment she’d walked into his office with her children—a breath of fresh air and sunshine.
It was good to see her smile for a change. He hadn’t seen her since the day he’d stopped at the convent to give Diya her second round of shots. Isha had later called to inform him that she was finally able to move out of the convent and into a flat of her own. He’d been tempted to ask her where, but since she hadn’t volunteered the information he’d left the matter alone.
There hadn’t been a single day when he hadn’t thought about her, wondered if she’d gone back to Dr. Bajaj for her children’s care. A number of times he had nearly dialed her mobile number, then stopped himself. But now that she was here, he was glad that she hadn’t switched doctors. In fact, she’d told him she wanted him to be Priya’s pediatrician as well.
“I don’t know about that,” he said, secretly feeling ridiculously pleased with her compliment. He couldn’t help staring at her a moment longer than necessary.
Today she looked so much more like the teenager he used to admire in college. The last couple of times he’d seen her, it had been under depressing circumstances and in a poorly lit room.
She had looked exhausted and despondent on both occasions.
But now she appeared more content, and the smile on her face just now was clearly spontaneous, not something she’d pasted on for the world to see.
Noticing the flush blooming over her neck and face, he real-136 Shobhan Bantwal
ized he’d embarrassed her by gawking too long. Quickly turning his attention back to the baby, he put the stethoscope to her chest. The heartbeat he heard was strong and vibrant. Since Priya’s inquisitive eyes were on him, he asked her, “Do you want to listen to your sister’s heartbeat?”
Priya’s face lit up. “Yesss!” It was obvious the child was thrilled to be asked to participate. Dr. Bajaj probably never allowed any such playfulness around his office.
He looked at Isha to see if she had any objections, and when she nodded, indicating she had none, he invited Priya to come around the table. He placed the eartips inside her ears. For a while he let her listen, her eyes round with awe and her mouth open. She seemed enthralled. “What do you hear?” he asked her.
Priya grinned at him in delight. “Thud, thud!”
“It’s called a heartbeat.” In brief and simple terms he explained to her how the human heart worked.
Fascinated by the experience, Priya refused to part with the stethoscope. Isha had to pry it away with a mild rebuke. “Sorry, she can be a little stubborn at times,” she explained to Harish and handed the piece of equipment back to him.
“Don’t worry; that’s how most kids are.” He put the stethoscope out of Priya’s reach and motioned Isha to approach the table and dress the baby. “Are you still nursing Diya?” He wondered if she’d run out of the formula he’d given her several weeks ago and if she needed any more samples.
As she pinned the baby’s nappy into place, Isha nodded. “But I’m slowly weaning her by supplementing with some formula in the last few weeks.”
“In that case Diya’s going to need vitamin supplements. I’ll give you some samples.” He went to the cabinet that housed his many samples and threw various containers of vitamins, formula, and baby cereals into a plastic bag and handed them to her. “These should be good for a few months.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking hesitant about accepting the bag. But she didn’t entirely resist taking it.
He wanted to ask Isha about so many other things. Did she like living on her own? How was she managing financially? Was THE
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she getting enough sleep? A dozen other questions came to mind, including whether he could help her in some way, but he re-frained from asking them. Isha Tilak’s personal life was none of his business, he reminded himself.
But she provided a few answers of her own accord. “I should give your nurse my address and phone number. I have a regular line in addition to my mobile phone now.”
“So you’ve moved somewhere close by?” he asked cautiously as he watched Isha slide the baby’s arms into the sleeves of her dress and button it up.
“It’s the new Saraf building next to State Bank. I bought a flat for us and another one that I’m renting out to an officer of the bank.”
“I’m glad you’re out of the convent. So are you still working at the orphanage?”
“Yes.”
Harish felt a pang of sympathy. “How do you manage all that and the kids?”
“Well, Priya’s in class all day, and the nuns let me bring Diya to school. So both my children are nearby. At the moment school is closed for the summer holidays, so I have a few weeks’ break.”
“That’s something, I suppose. But then it reopens in early June.” He still wasn’t happy about a woman like Isha working in such a depressing place. “Do you really need to stretch yourself that thin? I mean, can’t you pull on with the rent alone?”
She shook her head. “Not if Priya keeps outgrowing her clothes and shoes so quickly and soon Diya will be getting there, too.” Probably because his eyes fell on the kids’ new-looking clothes, she added, “At the moment I’m managing by sewing their clothes myself.”
He turned to her with raised brows. “You made the children’s clothes?”
“Yes. My neighbor has kindly donated her sewing machine to me because she’s getting too old to be able to see very well.”
“But the clothes are beautiful!”
“Oh, well . . .”
“They look like store-bought. You’re very talented.”
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She flushed at the compliment. “If there’s one thing the nuns taught me well, it’s sewing. I also happen to like it.”
On hearing her mother mention clothes, Priya proudly pointed to the outfit she had on. “Look, Doctor-kaka, I have a new dress.”
Priya had started calling him Doctor-kaka since the time she’d arrived, and it pleased him immensely. It meant the child had accepted him as family, or pseudofamily, because the official generic term for paternal uncle was kaka. He guessed that since her mother now called him by his first name, she had instructed her daughter to address him as such.
He made a production of studying the dress. “What a nice outfit!”
Suddenly Priya sa
id something that caught him by surprise.
“Mummy is making another new dress for my birthday.”
He checked her chart to verify the date of birth. “That’s right.
You have your sixth birthday coming up soon.”
“Will you come to my birthday party, Doctor-kaka? Sheila-tayi is bringing ice-cream cake and presents.”
“Cake and presents, huh? Sounds great!”
“Will you come?” Priya tugged on his sleeve.
“I—I’m not sure . . .” He glanced at Isha, not knowing what her reaction would be. He was hoping for an invitation, but she didn’t look too thrilled about her daughter’s outburst.
Instead she bent down to pick up her purse. “How much do I owe you for today’s visit, Harish?”
“Nothing.”
She became very still. “What do you mean by nothing?”
“Exactly that. You don’t owe me anything.” He patted Priya’s head. “It’s a pleasure to treat such cute and friendly patients.”
“But that’s not fair to you, Harish. This is your livelihood.
You can’t give away your professional services for free.”
He chuckled. She looked so earnest arguing her point. “I didn’t spend more than twenty minutes of my time on Diya.”
She bit her lower lip. “Are we . . . part of your charity case-load, then?”
“Of course not! I’m doing this as a friend. We were college THE
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contemporaries at one time, and I’m hoping you’d consider me a friend of the family.”
“Okay . . . then.”
Had he put his foot in his mouth again? She was clearly strapped for money and he wanted to help the only way he could. “Look, I’m sorry if you think I have ulterior motives, but I don’t. I just . . .”
He removed his glasses, wiped them with a handkerchief, and put them back on. It was an annoying nervous mannerism he’d cultivated over the years. Whenever he felt ill at ease or angry or nervous, he cleaned his glasses, giving himself a moment or two to adjust to the situation and compose himself. But now, he just couldn’t shed the habit, no matter how hard he tried. “I don’t know what to say other than to apologize if I’ve upset you in some way. That wasn’t my intent.”
She tenderly lifted the baby into her arms. “I believe you. But I’m so used to paying for everything. And Bajaj’s fee wasn’t cheap. His nurse always asked for the payment up front.”
“We operate a little differently here. I like to help my friends in whatever small way I can. So please don’t take it the wrong way.”
“All right then, I’m very grateful for your help. I don’t know what I’d do without it.” She seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. “Would you . . . um . . . mind coming for Priya’s birthday next week?” She inclined her head toward Priya, whose expression was still eager. “She obviously wants you to come.”
“Mind? Are you kidding? I’d be honored.”
“It’s not really a party as such. It’s just family—my sister-in-law, Sheila, her husband, Kumar Sathe, and their two sons, Milind and Arvind. It’s next Sunday at six o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” Never in his whole life had a child’s birthday filled him with such curious anticipation. He couldn’t wait, although the thought of meeting all those relatives of the Tilaks was a bit unnerving. But he could handle it. He knew who Kumar and Sheila Sathe were and he’d seen them around town often enough. They were very influential in local social circles and active on the club scene.
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If nothing else, the party would at least expand his network.
Socializing with the pillars of the community was a big part of being a doctor, and he didn’t do enough of it. This would be a good opportunity to start. Unfortunately, a medical practice these days had to be run like a business.
Isha started to move toward the door, so he stepped ahead of her and held open the door. “See you next week.” He waved at them.
He watched her walk through the reception area and out the main door, an oversized bag slung over one shoulder, Diya held firmly against her chest, and her free hand holding Priya’s hand.
She carried such a large burden on such slender shoulders.
He felt something stir inside him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he preferred to think of it as admiration for a remarkable woman. How had she managed to step down from a pampered princess existence and adjust to the austere lifestyle of the convent and still keep her spirits intact?
Had she been happy in her marriage to Nikhil Tilak? he wondered.
He nodded at Saroj-bayi’s curious lift of the brow, confirming his earlier instruction that she was not to bill Isha Tilak for the visit. As expected, she had argued with him about his over-generous attitude, but he’d convinced her that the Tilaks were old family friends and that all the kids’ visits would be free.
“If you keep giving free treatment to every family friend, you’ll be the poorest doctor in Palgaum,” she’d warned him.
He’d laughed at her comment. “I haven’t won that title yet, so let’s not worry about it.”
Noticing the number of people seated in his waiting room, he glanced at his watch. Back to work! He didn’t have the luxury of being able to put his feet up and fantasize about a pretty woman called Isha Ketkar . . . or rather Isha Tilak.
Besides, Saroj-bayi was giving him the look, so he motioned her to send in his next patient.
Chapter 17
Isha checked on Diya slumbering in the pretty wooden cradle.
She seemed to like sleeping in that elaborate contraption. It was an interesting piece made in the Sankheda fashion of the northwestern region of India. Its construction allowed Diya to stare at the bright colors of the multicolored painted spindles whenever she was awake.
Sheila had brought over the cradle, since she and Kumar had no intention of having any more children. Isha was grateful for the timely donation. She wondered what Ayee and Baba would have to say about that, if they only knew.
Her in-laws now knew about her presence in town. In fact, Sheila had informed them the very day Isha had purchased the flats. There was no way to keep it a secret any longer.
Apparently Ayee and Baba were furious about their daughter-in-law and grandchildren being in town. They were an embarrassment to the older Tilaks, especially if they were living in poverty.
“What the hell is Isha trying to do to us? Is she deliberately trying to ruin our reputation by making it look like we kicked her and our grandchild out, or what?” was what Baba had said, according to Sheila. “I will not tolerate such nonsense. Tell her to take the children and get out of this town.”
Sheila had tried to calm him down by explaining that Isha had not said one negative word about her in-laws to anyone, nor did she socialize with their upper-class crowd anymore. But 142 Shobhan Bantwal
Baba was allegedly on a rampage. Isha hoped he wouldn’t start a campaign to hound her out of town just to protect his precious image. Unfortunately, he had enough clout in Palgaum to make her life uncomfortable enough to drive her out.
Since they’d moved into the flat, Priya went to Sheila’s house to play with the boys at least twice a week. Isha often worried about the likelihood of her child running into her hostile grandparents.
In a small town it was inevitable that their paths would cross at some point. But Isha wanted to avoid that possibility as much as she could.
If the old folks came face-to-face with Priya, God knew how they’d react. Another spanking? Humiliate and traumatize her by some other means? Isha shuddered to think of the ways Baba could express his wrath.
She went into Priya’s bedroom and picked up the birthday dress that needed hemming. Although the second bedroom was Priya’s, and it was furnished, the little girl chose to sleep with Isha in the large master bed. Isha indulged her because Priya had become used to sleeping in the same room as her at the convent.
At the moment, Priya was at Sheila’s house, eating dinner and playing with her cousins, so Isha settled on the couch in the drawing room to finish the birthday dress. She held up the pastel-pink outfit and studied it critically for a minute. It looked rather nice.
She really did have a flair for sewing children’s clothes. It was an unexpected blessing when Mrs. Shintre next door had asked Isha if she could use an old sewing machine and a bag full of fabrics, threads, and sewing notions that had been sitting around untouched for years.
Overnight, Isha was making clothes for the children and enjoying it, too. It was becoming her savior in other ways as well.
Instead of brooding over things after the girls were tucked in bed each night, she sewed like a maniac. The result was a number of much-needed new outfits for the children, and the best thing was, she hadn’t had to spend a single rupee on them.
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What was it Harish had said about the dresses? They looked like store-bought clothes. She’d felt immensely pleased with his compliment.
Thinking of Harish, she recalled the way he’d looked at her the other day—or rather stared. She was woman enough to recognize frank admiration in a man’s eyes. She’d experienced enough of it during her college years, when boys had stared at her, sent her silly little love notes, even tried to ring her at home.
(Her parents had intercepted those calls and quickly put an end to them.)
But Harish was a grown man and the expression on his face was not that of a boy with a crush.
His gaze had left her all hot and embarrassed, but she had to admit she’d also enjoyed it. Her pulse turning erratic at his attention wasn’t an accident. She’d felt something . . . slightly disturbing.
Was he interested in her as a woman? That may well be, but she couldn’t really have any interest in him, now, could she? It wasn’t even a year since Nikhil’s demise. How could a woman totally in love with her husband have any feelings for another man? And so soon after her husband’s death?
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