***
Vijay and Lucky again started towards the house, but again Raj signaled them to stop. He sat down beside the woman and pulled her into a sitting position. As he was maneuvering her, an old woman walked out of the kitchen and saw him. She pointed at Raj accusingly. "Who are you? What has happened?" the old woman shouted. "Aisha, what happened?"
So she is Aisha. Raj's eyes grew wide.
The old woman kept talking to herself as she stood over Raj, who now held Aisha in his arms. She clucked her tongue admonishingly. "Hundreds of times I tell her, do not fast this much. But never does she listen to me. And now look at her?" the woman said, shaking her head.
She asked Raj to carry Aisha to the sitting room, and he obeyed without a word. The old woman brought a glass of water from the kitchen and continued her complaints. "I do not understand what happened to this house. Whose evil eye has turned to this house? First the daughter ran away. The son is in the hospital. Now she falls to the floor." She motioned to Raj again, pointing to the glass of water. "Sprinkle it on her face," the old woman insisted, and Raj complied.
Aisha's eyes fluttered open, and the first face she saw was Raj's. She sat up and burst into tears. The old woman was surprised with Aisha's behavior. "Who are you?" the old woman asked Raj again.
Raj didn't know what to say. After all of these years of imaging the things he'd say to his mother if he ever found her, he now found himself without a voice, and he could only stare at Aisha. She was sitting beside him on the settee, the locket still in her hand. Aisha held the necklace out to the old woman. "Ammi, you told me he was dead."
Aisha's mother took the locket into her hand, looked at it carefully, and then at Raj. "Where did you get this?"
"Ammi, you left it with him," Aisha answered, her voice taking on an angry edge.
Aisha's mother pinched the clasp and rested her gaze on the picture of the man inside the locket. She shuffled slowly over to Raj and lifted his face in her wrinkled hands. Her eyes, once dark, were milky now with cataracts, but there was kindness there. Kindness and pain. She leaned down and kissed Raj's head with old lips, then looked deeply into his eyes. "You look exactly like Mohan," she whispered.
Raj didn't know what they were talking about, but he was certain that Aisha knew the truth about him and his past. "Who is Mohan?" Raj asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between Aisha and her mother.
Aisha spoke first. "Mohan is the man in the locket. Mohan was your father."
Raj's eyes grew misty, and he turned towards Aisha. "Please. I know I've caused you trouble, but I am begging you?I need to know everything."
Aisha put her hand on Raj's cheek. "Everything?" She looked at her mother with twenty-six years of questions in her eyes. "I don't even know everything," Aisha cried. Her mother bowed her head, and Aisha sighed deeply, her body slumping down into the cushions. She seemed to age ten years right before Raj's eyes. "Ammi, we should have tea, offer him something to drink." Her mother gave a little nod and walked towards the kitchen.
"Please, it's not necessary. I just want to know what happened. But your family, where are they?" Raj inquired uncomfortably. "I don't want to disturb them."
Aisha placed her hands over his. "My husband went to the hospital to be with my s.." Aisha cut herself off. "My husband went to sit with Shoaib. He will be at the hospital all day and early evening, so there is plenty of time. Besides, is that what you think? That after all of these years, your presence is disturbing me?"
Raj looked at Aisha's hands, which were holding his. How many years had he longed for his mother's touch?
"Come. Let's go to the kitchen," Aisha suggested, standing up and taking a moment to make sure she had regained her balance. As they entered the large, modern kitchen, Raj noticed that the table had been set for three. Aisha's mother motioned for her daughter and Raj to take their seats.
Aisha pulled out a chair and sat down wearily. She poured a cup of steaming tea for her mother and for Raj, but left her cup empty. "Where do I begin?" she sighed. "I met your father, Mohan, when I was twenty years old. I grew up in Birote, a small village in northern Pakistan, close to the border of India. Mohan was an Indian doctor who came to Birote as part of the Global Health Organization's initiative to eradicate polio from tribal regions in Pakistan, places like Birote.
"My father, Mehmood Khan, was a leader of Dhund Abbasi, the Islamic tribe that ruled Birote for centuries. I don't know if you've ever heard of Birote, but it sits across from the Jhelum River, and it is a place of great beauty. But illiteracy levels are high, particularly for women. And although the number of polio cases was increasing, the people of Birote were refusing to take the vaccine because of their religious beliefs.
"After the deadly wars between India and Pakistan in the '60s and '70s, the feelings between the border people were very hostile. Mohan was only in his mid-twenties, but he was a talented and skilled doctor. But most of the people in Birote didn't like him, just because of his nationality.
"Mohan didn't take it personally. His ego was not important to him; he only wanted to find a way to convince the villagers to allow their children to be vaccinated. So he used his charms to impress my father, and he persuaded him that it was in the best interest of the village to allow vaccinations, as the children were the future of the village. There was a lot of resistance from the other tribes and the religious leaders of Birote, but Mohan knew that if my father blessed the vaccination initiative, then no one would dare to question it, even if they didn't like it. Mohan had many talks with my father about the vaccine, about its safety and effectiveness, and how it was the best decision he could make as the leader of his village. My father grew to trust Mohan and believe in him, even though he was a Hindu Indian, and my father defended him against all the politics of the town."
Aisha paused and looked at her mother, who gently urged her to continue. "In order to win the confidence of the people, my father asked me to join Mohan in this movement. Mohan and I walked together to each and every house in Birote, door-to-door, trying to convince the people to vaccinate their children. The mothers trusted me because I was a local girl, and because they respected my father.
"Very soon, Mohan and I became good friends. He didn't care about the politics between our two nations, and religion did not matter to him. He was a doctor, and he always put people first, irrespective of their religion or nationality. I admired his passion and his dedication to helping my people, and I loved the way he cared about the children of Birote, despite the fact that their parents were citizens of a nation that was in a bitter rivalry against the land of his birth.
"But true love does not recognize differences in castes, religion, color, or nationalities. Love is a language of the eyes which has no use for spoken words. I don't remember the exact day I realized that I was in love with Mohan, because it seems that there was never a time when I was not." Aisha smiled sadly.
"I used to spend a lot of time with Mohan," Aisha continued, "and the people of Birote began to talk, but I didn't care. But Mohan knew the consequences of falling in love with me, and moreover, he did not want to betray my father's trust. So he always tried to be respectful, and keep his distance from me.
"My father wanted me to marry another Abbasi man who lived in the United States. But I wanted to break all of the restrictive chains of my upbringing and spend my life with Mohan. The more Mohan pushed me away, the more passionate I became about him. I even threatened to kill myself if he didn't marry me, and I know now that my words and threats were wrong. I have lived with this guilt all of these years, wondering how different things would have been for Mohan if I'd not been so selfish, if I'd not put that burden on him. But I was young and in love, and I did say that to him, and finally, he gave in." Aisha's voice caught in her throat, and her mother tried to get her to take a drink of tea, but Aisha waved her off. Picking up the cloth napkin, Aisha blotted her eyes and cleared her throat, and he
r mother reached out to touch her daughter's hand.
"Without telling anyone, we got married in front of a God Shiva's statue we had made for ourselves. Mohan gave me the locket you have as a wedding present. For a few months, everything was wonderful, and no one suspected that we had married. But then one day I started vomiting and couldn't stop. I did my best to hide my sickness from everyone, but my mother knew better." Here, Aisha paused and looked at her mother with a mixture of sadness and empathy. "Ammi?"
"No, Aisha," the old woman protested. "You must continue. I have made my peace with this long ago."
Aisha squeezed her mother's hands between hers, and tears began to roll down her face. "I was scared about the pregnancy, and I confessed to my mother about my love for Mohan and our secret marriage. My mother?" Aisha paused, again seeking her mother's permission. The woman nodded.
"My mother beat me for destroying my family's pride and status within the village," Aisha admitted. "She liked Mohan and believed him to be a good man, but I was carrying a Hindu man's baby. My mother knew the tribe would never allow this. I was her only daughter, and she couldn't bear the thought of seeing me lashed in front of everyone. But in Islam, abortion is considered haram, and anyway, I wanted to keep Mohan's baby. So we knew my only option was to run away with Mohan to India, where no one could find us. After a few days, my mother came to us in the middle of the night and gave us a lot of money and jewelry and helped us cross the Jhelum river and enter the Kashmir region of India.
"The next morning, the people of Birote became suspicious when they didn't see us the whole day. Talk spread quickly, and my father's rivals took advantage of the situation to stir up political hatred and to disparage my family. My mother knew she had to do something to salvage my father's position of respect in the community, so she told everyone that Mohan had kidnapped me after stealing our family's valuable possessions.
"Upon hearing this, the people of Birote quickly forgot their rivalry with my father and turned their anger on Mohan. They were incensed that a Hindu man would dare to betray the community's trust and kidnap the daughter of their leader. Their only goal was to find Mohan and kill him, as a way of regaining the pride and honor of the village."
Aisha folded and unfolded her napkin nervously. "My father was also extremely angry with himself for trusting Mohan, and he, too, thirsted for Mohan's blood. But you must understand that I do not blame my mother for her lies. As a mother and a wife, it was her duty to save her family. But she never expected the amount of trouble she'd created for Mohan, and she prayed every day for his safety. Meanwhile, my father's people traveled all around Birote and the outlying areas looking for us, even expanding their search into India.
"We changed our names and settled in a small village near Gulmarg, in a remote mountain area of Kashmir. For almost six months, no one could find us. We were extremely happy together, waiting for our baby and dreaming about our future full of love. Mohan brought in a small income by treating the local villagers. But it wasn't really about the money. Mostly he did it because he was a doctor, and helping people was as necessary to him as breathing. Unfortunately, Mohan's skill and compassion made him famous, not only in our village, but in the surrounding villages as well. I was scared for us both, but Mohan reassured me that no one in our old village could stay angry for this long, and even if they could, they wouldn't be able to find us in the middle of the mountains.
"But Mohan was wrong. When my father heard about the caring young Indian doctor, there was no doubt in his mind that it must be Mohan. He immediately led his people to our village. My mother tried to stop him but he wouldn't be dissuaded, so she insisted that she come, too. The whole trip, she prayed to Allah that she could find a way to save our lives."
Aisha stopped talking, and no one made a sound or even dared to breathe. She noticed that the tea cups were empty, so she slowly pushed her chair back and took the kettle to the stove to heat more water. Raj thought he would burst, but he knew he couldn't push her. As difficult as it was for him to hear this story, he knew it was twice as hard for her to tell it, because the guilt was hers to bear. Aisha's mother was silent as well, but Raj could tell she was upset. Aisha walked back to the table and put her hand on her mother's shoulder, and the old woman reached up and covered her daughter's hand with her own.
"We were having dinner when a number of cars surrounded our small house," Aisha sighed as she sat down. "Before we even realize what was happening, men were entering our house and they dragged Mohan outside. I was nine months pregnant, but I ran after them. My father ordered my mother to stay in the car. When I got outside, I saw my father holding a long gun to Mohan's temple, and cursing him for betraying the family and ruining his daughter. I shouted at my father to stop. That's when he looked up at me and saw my swollen belly, and for the first time, he came to know that I was pregnant."
Aisha hung her head down, and blotted at her eyes again. For nearly a full minute, she said nothing more. Raj's stomach churned, and he looked at Aisha's mom, but she also had her head cast downward. When he turned back to Aisha, she slowly raised her head and looked directly into his eyes without blinking, her cold stare holding his gaze until Raj felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Do you see how I am looking at you now? This is how my father looked at me that night. His eyes never left mine as he pulled the trigger and killed my Mohan."
Raj inadvertently let out a strangled sound, and he reflexively put his hand over his mouth. He had tears in his eyes.
Aisha was staring off into the distance, as though she could see her past playing out right before her eyes. "I saw Mohan fall. I saw his face?his beautiful, dark chocolate eyes, his perfect nose, his full lips that had smiled at me so many times and made my heart swell?and all of it just disappeared before my eyes. Mohan was there, I was happy and in love, and about to give birth to our child conceived in that love, and then?it was all just gone."
Aisha wept openly. "As I fell to the ground, I hit the doorstep and my water broke. I started screaming and crying and shouting, and my mother ran out of the car and covered me with the chaddar. The idea of his daughter giving birth to a kafir's baby was an unbearable shame and my father would not stand for it. He knew he'd never win back his villager's loyalty if he let that happen. There was only one thing left for my father to do, and he raised the gun to my head."
Aisha's mother did not try to hide the tears that silently flowed down her deeply lined face. Aisha reached over and touched her mother's cheek, wiping away a tear. "But my mother threw her body over mine and begged my father not to kill her only daughter and their only grandchild. But my life meant nothing to me anymore, and as ashamed as I am to say it now, neither did my baby's," Aisha admitted, casting a guilty look at Raj. "I died the moment that Mohan took his last breath, and I prayed that Allah would take my last breath from me. I wanted my father to kill me, because I could not imagine a life without Mohan. But the villagers pulled him away, telling him that it wasn't my fault, and that I was Mohan's victim.
"That is the last thing I remember before I fell unconscious from the pain of labor and from a shattered heart. I don't remember anything after that," Aisha concluded. As if on cue, the water reached a boil and the kettle's shrill whistle pierced the momentary silence. Aisha got up and brought the kettle back to the table, this time pouring steaming water into her mother's cup.
Aisha's mother had been listening quietly without imposing her memories on Aisha, as the story up until that point had not been hers to tell. But now, as her daughter's memories ended, her mother's began. She wrapped her small, bony hands around the cup. Her skin was paper thin, and her fragile body shivered with the effort of dredging up such painful reminders of her failures as a mother, grandmother, and protector.
When the old woman spoke, Raj could barely hear her words, and he had to lean closer to her. "I had lot of experience helping the women to give the birth," she said quietly. "Aisha gave the birth to a bea
utiful baby boy," she mused, a melancholy smile passing over her thin lips and then disappearing like a ghost. Her eyes met Raj's and held them. "As I looked at your face, my husband snatched you from my arms and was to throw you on the ground. But I begged him, for the sake of Allah, please do not do this. I said this to him as I held tightly to his legs. He kicked me hard in the stomach, telling me go away, saying, 'I do not want this harami in my house.' Again I pulled at his legs. I promised him I would leave you somewhere far away so that he would not have to see you ever.
"I tell him," she continues, her language switching to present tense as the memories before her eyes grew more vivid, "I will say to Aisha, 'your baby was born dead,' and I promise I will get her married to the man of his choosing. He thinks about this and then he opens his arms, just like this," she says, opening her frail arms, "as if it is nothing, and you fall. But I catch you, I catch you in my arms and he says to me, 'Take this harami away and keep this secret from your daughter' and I know that if I do not obey, he will kill my daughter first and then me.
"They put Aisha in the car. Still she is unconscious. I lay you on Aisha's chest for the last few moments. You look peaceful. Unknowing of what has happened to us all that night. Unknowing and innocent of what your future holds. We drive towards Pakistan and they tell me to leave you on the side of this lonely road. I take the locket from Aisha's neck and I leave it with you. I pray to Allah, ask for His forgiveness and lots of blessings for you.
"Next day, when Aisha wakes, I tell her that her baby was born dead because she fell to the ground and because of the pain of seeing her husband die, and she believes me, because I am her mother," the old woman says, her eyes glazing over, her face fallen in a mask of guilt and shame.
Aisha placed her head in her hands and rocked her body back and forth, her sobs tearing at Raj until he thought he would come undone. He reached out his hand to comfort his mother, but then hesitated and pulled it back, not knowing where the boundaries were. His grandmother continued. "Aisha blames herself for having unsuccessful labor and giving birth to the dead child - the only symbol of her love for Mohan. For Aisha, being alive means nothing. She does not care about her future anymore, and when Aisha's father arranges her marriage, she stood at alter like dead body. After the wedding, her new husband - Hina's father - brought her to America."
Aisha looked up at Raj through her tears. "How did you find me? I could have been anywhere."
Raj took the locket from her hands, opened it, and stared at her picture. "I saw you on television, when I was still in India. It was 2001 and the planes had hit the towers in New York, and you were running. A newsman stopped you and tried to interview you," Raj replied.
Aisha shook her head. "I can't believe you saw that interview. Before 9/11, I used to work as a nurse in a clinic near the World Trade Center. I was doing Mohan's work, hoping to carry on his legacy. But when the towers collapsed, I was injured from the debris, and started having breathing problems. Eventually I had to stop working at the clinic."
Aisha's eyes were bloodshot, and she wiped her nose with the damp napkin she still grasped in her hand. "You came all the way from India to find the woman in the locket? When did you get here? How did you come? Who?who?" Aisha got up from her chair and began pacing, her voice taking on a frantic tone. "Who took care of you, who found you on that road? I don't know anything about my son?" she said as she started to hyperventilate.
Now that Aisha had told her story, the realization that she had a son - a living, breathing son - and that she had no idea what his story was or who he was as a person, suddenly overwhelmed her. She abruptly stopped pacing and looked at her mother, her forehead wrinkling with concern. "Ammi, now what? What do I do? I have a husband now, children?" Aisha looked at Raj apologetically, and he lowered his eyes to stare at his hands. Aisha slowly walked back to the table and sat down in her chair. Taking Raj's hands in hers, she continued. "An hour ago, I didn't even know you existed anywhere except deep in the recesses of my heart, the place where a mother holds all of her children, even the ones who were never born. I've never told my husband about any of this; how can I tell him now? After all of this time?"
She turned to her mother again. "Ammi, they will never accept him, not after what happened with Hina, and not after I have kept these secrets for so long. How can I expect them to welcome him? Especially now, when my family is already falling apart," Aisha said, breaking into a new round of tears.
"Ammi, please," Aisha continued. "You have to help me! I don't know what to do. My son has searched for me all of these years, and you told me that he was dead!"
Her mother's eyes also brimmed with tears. "Aisha, my child," she said, her diminutive voice breaking. "I did what I had to. Had I not told you he was born dead, your father would have killed him, and maybe you and me. No matter, you would not be seeing him today, if not for my lie. I did what I thought was the best for my child, and for your child."
"But I went on with my life, Ammi. And Raj didn't get to do that. His whole life has been spent with a hole in his heart, and now I must say, 'That does not matter to me? I am your mother, but I will not be with you? I will not try to fill that space, that space where I belonged all of these years?'"
Aisha's mother only continued to weep silently, as she had no answers for her daughter's questions, no salve for her pain. Despite her advancing years, the woman remembered with total clarity the suffering her daughter had endured when she thought she'd lost her son the night she gave birth to him. Would she be able to lose her son all over again? Could she possibly bear that pain, not once, but twice in a lifetime? But of course Aisha was right; her husband and Shoaib would never accept Raj. Not just because of his fight with Shoaib, or because he'd helped a friend take Hina away from them, but because Aisha's family held certain sacred beliefs about the matriarch of their family, and to find out now that Aisha had been previously married, and that she had given birth to a child?it was too much to ask of them to accept. Aisha would end up alone, shunned by her family. A woman of Aisha's age, shunned, divorced?or worse. No, nothing good could come of the truth. But she had made decisions for her daughter once, and she knew this time her daughter's decision would have to be her own.
Raj had been listening to the exchange, but he'd also been thinking about everything and wondering what was best for all of them now. He looked at his father's picture in the locket. It made him proud to know that he had been a kind and generous man, but he was devastated to hear of how his father had died. He'd come to America to find his parents, and now he knew that his mother was all he had left, and he didn't even have her. He sympathized with Aisha's dilemma, but he'd harbored the hope that she'd be able to accept him anyway. But it didn't look as though that was going to happen, and Raj didn't want to disturb her marriage or damage her reputation with her family and the community. He realized what he had to do.
"I just wanted to know who my parents are and where I came from," Raj said, looking at Aisha. "I had no idea how much you've suffered. Losing the love of your life, all because he was from a different country? Because his religion was different than yours? Because your father cared more about his reputation than his own daughter's happiness? I can't even imagine how terrible that must have been for you, when all you wanted was just to live your life with the person you loved." Aisha wrung her hands, and Raj couldn't help but to think of Vijay and Hina.
"I understand your situation," Raj said, "and I do not want to disturb your life. You don't have to accept me. I'm happy just having found you. I'm happy because at least you know now that I exist, and I know that you exist. That's enough for me." Raj slid off his chair and bent to the ground to touch Aisha's feet and take her blessings before leaving. Aisha pulled him up and threw her arms around him, holding him tightly.
"I am so sorry! Believe me, if I'd known about you, I would not have left you alone. I am so, so sorry. I don't know what to do," Aisha cr
ied against his chest. Raj held her close and tried to imprint the feeling in his mind and his heart so that he could remember it forever. When Raj finally pulled away from her, he took his mother's hands in his. "You take care, and if you need anything, anytime, you just let me know. I will be always there for you," he said. He then walked over to his grandmother and the woman embraced him. He didn't blame her for any of this, and knew that she had made impossible decisions whose consequences had weighed heavily on her for many, many years. His grandmother gestured towards his pocket, and he took out the locket. She opened it one last time and smiled, then snapped it closed and kissed it before handing it back to Raj. He smiled sadly, gave her one last kiss on the cheek, and hurried to the door. He knew if he didn't leave now, he might not have the strength to leave at all.
As Raj opened the front door, he was startled to see Vijay and Lucky standing on the porch. They had spent the past hour peering through the front windows of the house, trying unsuccessfully to see what was going on, but now that they had been caught, Lucky's eyes widened and he tried to cover for their indiscretion by quickly reaching over and ringing the doorbell. The attempt failed miserably, and Vijay looked at him like he was crazy. Raj just shook his head.
Raj turned to Aisha. "These are my friends, Lucky and Vij- " Vijay's eyes widened, and Raj quickly recovered. "Vijeesh." Lucky and Vijay could see that Aisha's eyes were swollen and her face was puffy, but she was still beautiful. Raj looked at his mom for the last time, smiled sadly, and turned to leave.
"Raj," Aisha said. "May I have just one moment with your friends?" Raj shrugged. "I mean, alone," she added. He looked at his mother questioningly, but she offered a reassuring smile. Raj embraced her one last time, nodded to his grandmother, and jogged across the street to the park to wait for his friends.
Vijay and Lucky stood on the porch with Aisha, unsure of why they had been asked to stay behind. Lucky spoke first, since it didn't seem like Vijay was going to. "Madam, is there something we can do for you?"
"Raj will probably have a lot to say to you when you leave here, and I just want you to know that I did the best I could," Aisha said, tears threatening to spill down her face at any moment. "You are his friends. You must promise me that you will take care of him, always."
Lucky had no idea what had transpired inside the house, but her request was easy to agree to. "Yes, madam, of course. He is like the brother I never had. No worries, madam. We will take good care of him."
"Thank you, Lucky. Now, may I have a word, please, with Vijeesh?" Vijay looked at Lucky. "It's okay, Lucky. I'll be over in a minute," Vijay nodded. Lucky didn't want to leave him behind, but he reluctantly walked down the front steps. He saw Raj in the park, and headed over to meet him.
Aisha turned to face Vijay. "Thank you for coming with Raj," she said.
"He's my friend," Vijay said by way of explanation.
"Yes, he is. A very good friend. A friend who would do anything for you," Aisha said, staring into Vijay's eyes.
Vijay cleared his throat. "Yes, madam."
"You take good care of him, too."
"Yes, of course, madam."
"And you will also take good care of my daughter, won't you, Vijay?"
Vijay's face fell, and the color drained from his cheeks. "Madam? How?how did you?"
"A mother knows, Vijay. It is not as though Hina never spoke of you."
"Please, madam, I never meant any disrespect - " Vijay started.
Aisha put up her hand. "When I first came to know about you and Hina, I knew that our society would never accept your love, and I didn't want Hina to go through that pain. So even though I had nothing against you personally, I tried everything to convince her that her feelings were inappropriate, and that she couldn't continue to see you. Everything, that is, except to tell my daughter the truth about why I was so concerned. But now it doesn't matter, does it? She's run away with you."
Vijay didn't know what she was referring to when she said she hadn't told Hina the truth, but he couldn't think about that now. This was his one chance with her mother, and he struggled to find the words to impress upon her that he was a good person with good intentions, and that he'd never meant to hurt anyone. "Please," Vijay begged. "I am not trying to cause you or your family any trouble. But I love your daughter?she is the most amazing person I have ever met! I love her heart and her soul, and I love the person I am when I am with her, and she always makes me want to be better and try harder, and?" Vijay desperately tried to explain his feelings for Hina, but words were failing him. "Please, don't hate her. Hate me. She loves you all, and it was my mistake to pull her away. Maybe I should have stopped her. I could have stopped her?"
Aisha suddenly laughed out loud, which startled Vijay. "Oh, Vijay. I was just beginning to believe you for a minute. But if you honestly think that you could have stopped my daughter from following her own heart, then you obviously do not know her at all."
Vijay didn't know how to respond, since he couldn't quite decide if Aisha was amused or angry, or perhaps on the verge of a breakdown. Aisha saw his discomfort. "Vijay, I have made many, many mistakes in my life. Raising an independent daughter who believes in herself and follows her dreams is not one of them. Hina is my beautiful, capable, loving daughter. She is my heart, and because I carried her inside of me, I know her heart like it was my own. And I know that her heart belongs to you now. My husband and son, they have disowned her. But don't let their prejudice and cowardice tarnish your feelings for her. Don't look at her differently. You and Lucky and Raj?you will be her family now. Promise me that. You must promise me that," Aisha said, tears filling her eyes. She put her hands up in embarrassment and motioned for Vijay to leave. Reluctantly he turned to leave, but glanced back at her after a few steps. She had already gone back inside and closed the door behind her.
Vijay stared at the closed front door. "I promise," he said. "I promise."
Namaste New York: A Novel Page 43