The Unlikely Adventures of the Shergill Sisters

by Balli Kaur Jaswal

  It was little Shirina curiously rifling through Rajni’s things one day who found a pack of cigarettes. Not knowing exactly what they were, she carted her new find around the house until Mum spotted her. Rajni came home from school that afternoon to find her bed covered in a display of everything she had kept hidden—the short skirts and tube tops borrowed from Nadia’s older cousin, the cigarettes, a coaster she had nicked from the club, and photographs of scenes Mum would never allow: Rajni with a boy’s arm casually slung around her shoulder, Rajni in a low-cut top, pouting her painted lips for the camera. Those pictures were proof of another life. Rajni took some pride in them because they reminded her that she wasn’t what those mean girls said she was.

  The trip to India afterward had two purposes. The first, Mum had already suggested a few weeks before uncovering Rajni’s double life. There had been problems communicating with Dad’s family over the sale of his land. Mum was entitled to the land Dad had owned, but every time she called Dad’s relatives, it seemed they were occupied with something else, or the person Mum wanted to speak to wasn’t there. Soon, whatever savings Dad left behind would not cover the costs of running a household. The sale of Dad’s land in Punjab would be helpful. If Dad’s family were avoiding her, she needed to go to India in person to sort things out. The trip would also be a good opportunity for Rajni to reconnect with her culture. Buying another ticket at the last minute was an additional expense but worth every penny, by Mum’s calculations. The price of letting her daughter spend the whole summer going wild in Britain was much steeper.

  They started off in Mum’s brother’s house in Punjab, where the days were filled with rounds of visits over samosas and steaming cups of tea. Rajni spent every afternoon in the sitting room of some cousin or uncle she’d never heard of, politely nodding to questions and squirming under their curious gazes. The female cousins had unplucked eyebrows and wore their hair in thick plaits. Rajni prided herself in taking better care of her appearance. Whenever she was allowed to use the house phone, she called her friend Nadia, who was stuck on a similar visit in Delhi. They jokingly made a plan to break Rajni out of this house. “We could say you got kidnapped. British citizen abducted abroad!” Nadia giggled.

  Meanwhile, Mum was making little progress wading through the bureaucratic nightmare of inheriting her husband’s land. Dad’s relatives rarely answered calls. They had never been kind to her anyway—after she had three daughters, they had even less reason to involve her in family decisions. When Mum did manage to get in touch with Dad’s relatives, they were aloof and rude to her. Rajni witnessed her throwing the phone down in anger several times after yet another conversation which brought her no closer to getting what was rightfully hers.

  Mum’s presence in India wasn’t helping her at all. She started looking into getting lawyers involved, but everything had to be done through family-member networks there, and her brother was reluctant to let people know that there was a family conflict brewing. “It’s starting to get embarrassing,” Rajni overheard her uncle saying to Mum. “You’re looking desperate, and hard-up.” It wasn’t the image that they portrayed to their neighbors, of their sister who was doing well in England.

  Image had become more important to Mum than ever. Again, she began to fret about what people would say about her, and whether she was ruining her chances at getting her daughters married one day if word traveled from Punjab to London that she had returned to India to scrabble for loose change after her husband died (the land was worth more than that, but by the time the rumors reached London, Mum would be portrayed as a scheming, calculative widow).

  The stress took a toll on Mum and she grew impatient with Rajni, who wore her foreignness in Punjab like a badge of honor. Rajni’s eyes glazed over when her cousins spoke rapidly in Punjabi. She made a face when her aunties joked that she’d be ready for marriage in a few years. “In England, people get educated before getting married,” she replied pointedly, knowing she was being condescending. They took a trip to Amritsar and the Wagah Border to watch the changing-of-the-guards ceremony one day, and all Rajni could do was sulk and refuse to participate.

  “Do you think you’re too good for all of this?” Mum asked that night, as they got ready for bed. “Is this what I raised you in England for, so you could come to India and look down on everyone?” Moonlight spilled through the window and gave her face a sickly, bluish tint. At the border, Mum had joined the dancing and looked happier than Rajni had seen her in a long time. Rajni blinked back tears but made sure Mum didn’t see her getting upset. Of course she felt guilty for being difficult but she just wanted to be back in London. The whole stupid trip was Mum’s idea anyway—hadn’t this punishment gone on long enough? She was dying to get back to a nightclub again, to dance away her pain. Instead, they still had one more visit to get through, and Rajni was dreading it.

  The visit to Delhi on the way back to London was more about Thaya-ji’s family saving face than anything else. Despite the unpleasantness of his stay in London, they had to reciprocate Mum’s hospitality by hosting them for a few days. Mum saw it as her last opportunity to claim Dad’s land. Thaya-ji of all people would understand how devastating the loss would be, having had to sell his portion cheaply to pay off debts. “We might have to offer him some of our land money to persuade him to help us,” Mum said to Rajni as they settled into their seats on the train out of Punjab. “But it’s worth a try.”

  Thaya-ji and his wife were polite at first, but it quickly became clear that the tension from his visit had not dissolved—Rajni noticed them frequently exchanging glances and making smug comments about Mum’s return to India. The payback was obvious one night when Thaya-ji started talking about his time in London. “It’s funny, isn’t it,” he said to his wife, within earshot of Mum and Rajni. “I arrived in England and the first thing I saw was one of our own men holding a mop and bucket. It made me think about all the success these people brag about from miles away, when the reality is quite different.”

  “Don’t say anything,” Mum warned Rajni.

  The atmosphere in the flat was suffocating. Rajni hated being nice to an uncle who treated them so poorly but Mum warned her not to talk back to him—all he wanted was for them to be remorseful, and then he’d probably help them out. Mum recalled a more generous time, when Thaya-ji supported Dad’s education, and even sold some of his property to help Dad get started out in England. “It’s his duty to help,” Mum said. “That’s why he seemed so arrogant during that visit—he was uncomfortable taking any charity from his younger brother.”

  Rajni thought Mum was being naive, but Mum insisted that Thaya-ji wouldn’t let his younger brother’s family languish. It wouldn’t be the honorable thing to do, and one thing Thaya-ji repeatedly made clear was the importance of honor.

  They had three days in Delhi. Rajni found a chance to talk to Nadia again one afternoon, and found out that Delhi had an exciting nightlife, none of which she would have any exposure to if she spent the entire trip with her relatives. She lamented to Nadia that she was going to return to England having spent her whole summer indoors, being a dutiful Indian daughter. “All bloody day, I’m just sitting here with my mouth shut, bored to tears,” Rajni said. “At least you’ve got your cousin to hang out with.” Nadia’s cousin, a first-year fashion design college student, had taken her shopping in Khan Market and brought her to a store in Karol Bagh that had the most genuine-looking knockoff handbags.

  “Just another couple of days and you’ll be back in London,” Nadia said. “You have a sweet-sixteenth party to look forward to at the end of August, don’t think I haven’t forgotten!”

  “I don’t think I can take another minute of this,” Rajni said. She paused as a shadow passed in the hallway—one of the adults walking by. A moment passed, and then Mum called out to Rajni from the kitchen. “Come and help make the rotis, Rajni. Rajni? Where are you? Are you on the phone? Calls aren’t free, you know.”

  “Did you hear that?” Rajni aske
d Nadia between gritted teeth. “I have to go, but seriously. Save me.”

  “Come out and meet me tonight,” Nadia said. “We’ll celebrate your birthday a little early.” She gave Rajni some directions, and assured her that she would get her home before anybody noticed she was gone. After hanging up, Rajni kept the directions in mind, but she knew it was too risky to try to sneak out of the apartment. Only a few more days, she reminded herself as she headed to the kitchen to help Mum.

  “Blend the dough,” Mum instructed, handing Rajni a bowl of flour. “Don’t put too much water in there—it was too sticky last time. Hai, what are you doing? Didn’t I just say not too much water? What kind of daughter-in-law will you make, not even knowing how to cook proper rotis?”

  The kind of daughter-in-law who would tell her husband to make his own dinner if he’s going to criticize, Rajni thought, but she didn’t say anything. Nadia’s offer to take her out that night became more tempting. A plan began to form in Rajni’s mind—her relatives usually went to sleep early and from sharing a room with Mum on this trip, Rajni knew that she was a deep sleeper. The blare of traffic outside the window didn’t stir her, and it would take a lot for her to wake up in the middle of the night and notice Rajni was gone.

  Dinner seemed to drag on that night. There was an agonizing wait for everybody to go to bed, but Rajni knew that once they were asleep, she had to move quickly. Under her pillow, she had hidden a tank top and the pair of tight jeans that Mum forbade her to wear here unless she wore a loose and long kurti top over them. She grabbed these clothes and her small makeup pouch, and slipped to the bathroom to change. Before tiptoeing out of the house, she checked Nadia’s directions again. It looked like it would be a quick walk to the main road, and then Rajni would be able to find her way from there.

  Just stepping out into the night air made Rajni feel free. The lane was crowded with discarded styrofoam cases from a nearby warehouse and shadows seemed to swallow up the path, but Rajni was carried along by the thrill of her escapade. Finally, she was doing things on her own terms. She dodged a motorcycle as it came hurtling down the street with no warning. The driver looked at her suspiciously and called out something as he passed. Rajni hurried along toward the lights of the main road in the distance. Adrenaline fizzed through her bloodstream. She couldn’t wait to see Nadia. They’ve been keeping me like a bloody prisoner, she’d shriek when they reunited.

  As Rajni approached the end of the lane, she realized that the main road was farther away than she thought. A crumbling brick wall with shards of broken glass glued to the top blocked her from going any farther. Beyond it was another neighborhood of low-slung apartment buildings, lined crookedly like old teeth. Lights shone between the buildings but now Rajni wasn’t sure if they were coming from the main road at all. She had to hurry—Nadia was probably wondering where she was.

  Rajni made a turn, and then another turn, and when it seemed like she was getting somewhere, she found herself heading toward a dead end again. The neighborhood seemed walled in by darkness, and there were spaces she was afraid to enter. At this time of the night, only men were out. Rajni’s presence was noticeable—conversations stopped as she hurried past, keeping her head down. The catcalling was loud and ugly. Some men followed her, chuckling as she picked up her pace. Stray dogs stretched their limbs lazily and stared at Rajni with indifference as she searched for a way back home.

  Somehow, Rajni finally emerged from the neighborhood and onto the main road, but Nadia wasn’t anywhere in sight. It had been nearly an hour since their set meeting time and they had agreed that if Rajni was late, it meant that she’d been caught. Now the chance of getting caught didn’t seem nearly as dangerous. At least she’d be indoors.

  Instinct told Rajni that the convenience stores—those that were still open at this hour—weren’t safe places to enter or ask for help. She trained her eyes on the way ahead to avoid the grins that gleamed from men’s faces. She wished she couldn’t hear the things they were saying. How much? What will you do for me? The panic was making her knees shake but she kept walking, almost breaking into a run when she spotted the police station.

  It was early morning when Rajni arrived back at the apartment with two officers at her side. She had had to wait in the station for another hour and answer questions even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. The officer who questioned her took pleasure in giving her a hard time. His eyes roamed across her bare arms and lingered at the hint of cleavage that her tank top exposed. Her makeup was smudged and she had her arms crossed over her chest when she walked into the door of the flat, aware of how she looked and what everybody thought. Her relatives stood like chess pieces, waiting for somebody to let them move. Mum’s pale, stricken face at that moment never left her memory. She pulled Rajni by the elbow into the bedroom and began shouting at her. “What the hell were you thinking?” she cried. “Going out like that. You shouldn’t have bothered coming back!”

  Those were the words that hurt most. Mum had no idea how frightening the experience had been for Rajni. She didn’t think she was ever going to make it back to the apartment. Tears burned her eyes as Mum continued to berate her. Everything Rajni did was wrong, disappointing, shameful. What kind of example was she setting for her little sisters? What would her father say if he knew what she had become? The mention of Dad struck a nerve, and she responded before she really understood what she was saying.

  “Oh, and you’re such an upstanding person?” Rajni cried. “You probably pushed Dad and killed him because you were sleeping with that driving instructor.”

  The room froze. Rajni’s uncle and auntie had been shadows in her periphery during this argument, but now she was very aware of their presence. She could practically hear the questions forming in their minds after hearing her accusation. It wasn’t true. Rajni knew it, and Mum knew that she knew it. But once the words flew out of her mouth, they took on a meaning that would haunt Rajni for years to come.

  For Thaya-ji, it was all the proof they needed that Mum wasn’t worthy of the land. “I wanted to help, but if this is the truth, then I cannot,” he said with a dramatic sigh. His sad reluctance was exaggerated—Rajni could see his eyes shining with excitement at the excuse to get Mum off their backs. This had been her last chance—once they returned to London, Thaya-ji would see the lawyers and make the calls to claim the land for himself. With Mum’s reputation in tatters, nobody would dispute him.

  By the time the word spread to Dad’s and Mum’s families, the story took on mythic proportions. In their imaginations, Rajni had sneaked out with a boy, several boys, there was alcohol on her breath, she stumbled into the house, she was incoherent, she had had to do a few favors for those police officers before they would bring her home. Mum’s chances of getting the land were ruined.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As Rajni recounted all of these memories aloud, she was aware that Jezmeen was paying close attention. This was what Jezmeen wanted to know.

  “I always blamed myself for all the hardship that you all endured afterward,” Rajni said. “I know Mum got back on her feet eventually, but you and Shirina had to deal with having very little. Mum was always so stressed out, and I felt like I had caused that. The whole situation was enough to scare me straight.”

  “That’s when you changed,” Jezmeen recalled. “I was too young to really question it but I remember that when you returned from the trip, you were more stern. You threw out all of the makeup I used to nick from your room.”

  “The makeup, the outfits, everything. It made me feel like I was doing something to help. I told myself that I was still me, but I just needed a break. My rebellion against Mum had really hurt our family. Then . . .” She sighed. “Then I went to university, met Kabir, and married him as soon as I graduated. I didn’t miss the fighting with Mum.”

  “Raj, you didn’t hurt our family,” Jezmeen said. “Those relatives did. They spread hurtful rumors and they withheld something from Mum that she badly needed. They�
�re the immoral ones, not you.”

  “I know that now,” Rajni said. Her eyes were filled with tears. She fumbled for the packet of tissues in her purse. “I know it and I don’t know it. I know in my head that it’s not fair to feel responsible for all of that loss, but things could have gone differently for Mum, and for you guys.”

  “Or not,” Jezmeen said. “That brother of Dad’s probably never intended to give up his land. And so what, Raj? We all survived. It wasn’t the worst childhood. We had a roof over our heads. Auntie Roopi looked out for us. You looked out for us.”

  “I didn’t. I just nagged and hovered over you to keep you from letting Mum down the way I had.”

  “It didn’t work, though,” Jezmeen said with a grin. “I spent most of my life telling you to shove it.”

  “What about Shirina? She had such a rotten time growing up that she ran away and into the arms of another family.”

  “Also not your fault,” Jezmeen said firmly. “You said yourself that Mum took way too much responsibility for Dad’s death—the evil eye and all that. You’re doing the same thing. You’re making connections between something that happened years ago as if you’re the only reason those things were possible. We’ve all made our own choices. You’re the one who always reminds me of that. You tell your students and Anil the same thing as well.”

  Anil. Rajni shut her eyes and tipped her head back. “Anil’s certainly made his choice,” she muttered.

  “What do you mean?”

  She might as well tell Jezmeen. Those engagement pictures would probably be up on his social media sites soon. “He’s engaged.”

  “What? I didn’t even know he was seeing someone.”

  “Me neither. She’s thirty-six.”

  Jezmeen’s eyes grew wide. Rajni took in a breath. “They’re having a baby.”