by Anju Gattani
“I’m going to stop drinking. Make changes. Dr. Kishore said it’s what I need to do. Get better. I’ll do what it takes.”
“I’ve heard that before.” She lowered her brush tip to the pallette and continued without so much as a glance in his direction.
Words and talk wouldn’t win her over. He’d have to earn her trust and prove himself.
He left with the ball and took the stairs two at a time. He helped Yash pull all six stumps out of the ground then got down on his knees and began patting handfuls of loose soil back in place.
“Arrey, Sahib!” The gardeners rushed to his side. “We’ll fix the lawn. Don’t you worry. Don’t get your clothes dirty, Sahib.”
The security guard rushed over and got down on his knees. “Sahib, we fix. You no worry.”
“Nothing will happen if I pitch in.” Rakesh wiped sweat from his brow. He dug his fingers into the earth. Moist soil filled the crevices of his fingers with warmth as servants straightened bushes.
Instead of running away, the servants fussed over him, expressing concern at the dirt smudging his white clothes and lodging under his fingernails. They cared in the same way he needed to care for and hold onto his family.
***
Two days later, Rakesh opened the door of Sheetal’s studio and a draft wafted the scent of paint, turpentine, and linseed oil toward him. His attention shifted to the broken window. He needed to call someone to fix that.
Sheetal stood before her easel dotting crests of snow along a range of the Himalayas.
“Hey.” He entered and closed the door softly. “Busy?”
“Yes. This series is due next month.” Diamond bangles clinked with each brush stroke.
“I came to talk.”
She paused, turned, and raised her eyebrows as if he wasn’t worth her time.
“About your window. I’ll have Janvi cover it up with something and call a repair guy to come and take a look. Next week, maybe.”
She laid the brush on her worktable, wiped her fingers on a paint-smeared rag, and faced him.
“I played cricket with Yash again yesterday. We had fun. I want things to stay like this. Not lose what we have.” He gulped. “I want us to be a family.”
“We are.” She crossed her arms.
“I mean, a real family, like everyone else.”
“Oh, just like that?” her tone sliced the air.
Why did she have to be so judgmental? Why couldn’t she just listen? “Our son needs to live with us. Here. There are things you don’t know about boarding schools and what happens there. Older boys do things to the younger ones.”
“What things?”
“It’s an all-boys dormitory, Sheetal. Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“What are you trying to say? And how do you know?”
“Look, you’ve lived a sheltered life. There are things you don’t know, and you’ll probably never know. I know because—I just do. I grew up in a boarding school. Sometimes it’s not just the older boys. The staff, the custodians, can be perverts, too.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Why put Yash at risk? Think of this opportunity as a chance for us to come together as a family—only if we are together.”
“We tried for a long time. But with your mother and Nainaji around—”
“It’ll be different this time. I’ll try harder to—”
“To what? How will this time be different from earlier attempts?”
The back of his head throbbed. “I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, but give me a chance. We need Yash here. I know it. I feel it. We’re so much happier with him around. We’re laughing and doing things like a normal family. Like how you two spent the afternoon at my office. We can do it right and make our family right.
“I want you to know, I thought hard about what you said. I could tell from your expression that you didn’t like my idea of using the Japanese and their money to fix our problems.”
“You’re not fixing anything, Rakesh. You’re violating the law and—”
“I get it. I’m wrong. I’ll talk to Vipul Sahib and find another way.”
Sheetal leaned against the table.
She’s listening. “See! I’m already changing. I can feel the change in me. I can do it. I’ll stick to my promises. I’ve already given up smoking and I’m cutting down on the drinking.”
Wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes. “For a few days? Then you’ll go back to what you were before.”
“I even went to the doctor like you asked me to and I’m taking care of my health. I’ll do everything Dr. Kishore says.” Thoughts raced at lightning speed. “Look, I cut down to one glass of scotch over the last week. I almost stuck to my promise but then I got this letter from the bank.”
“The bank. The company. There’s always going to be an excuse. I need you to stay in your senses, to be a sensible father, a responsible father, if we’re to keep Yash here. I can’t handle Mummyji and Nainaji and raise a child—a sane child—by myself.”
“You’re—”
“I’m his mother. I feel the same way you do. Our son can never have a normal life with our million problems. He doesn’t deserve any of this craziness. He needs an environment that’s predictable and safe.”
“Safe?” He almost laughed but resisted the urge. “We have servants and guards all the time. What more security does he need?”
“Stability, Rakesh.” Sheetal pressed a palm to her forehead. “A stable home so he’s not living in fear of his own family. Can you change Nainaji and put some sanity in her? No. Because Mummyji won’t allow her to go for therapy. Can you change Mummyji? Make her less of a control freak? No. Because Mummyji owns the property. All of this is hers.” She thrust a hand in the air.
“I lost out on a huge order for the Sheraton Hotel because of Mummyji. All the paintings were ready to go. Seven orchids on four by five feet canvases, each worth three hundred and fifty thousand. But on the spur of the moment, Mummyji decided to go on a cruise and left me babysitting Nainaji, a fully grown adult. And because of that, my work was two days late. I lost the entire contract. Now I have ten paintings due by the fifteenth worth—”
“So, your career is more important than Yash?” He glanced at his watch. He needed to be at Kartik’s place in half an hour.
“Our conversation has nothing to do with career or money. Not everything about my career is tied to money.”
“No matter what I do, nothing is ever good enough for you.”
“How can Yash’s well-being have anything to do with you when you’re hardly ever around? I put aside my work to make sure your mother and sister are not poisoning Yash’s mind. Can you move us out if I asked you to? No. Because leaving will affect the company and confidence of your board members and stakeholders. I want Yash here with us, too, but that’s impossible.”
He ran a palm along the back of his head and pressed hard, but his head pounded. He had to make changes. He couldn’t be in two places at once anymore. He had to let one go.
***
At the apartment, Kartik tipped scotch from a bottle into a tumbler. Cubes of ice rattled and clinked. “I don’t get it. Why you doing this?”
Rakesh’s attention traveled up a thread dangling from a seam of Kartik’s blue shorts to the wrinkled and tattered gray T-shirt. From Kartik’s worn clothing, no one would expect him to afford a plush condo in downtown Raigun and live a carefree lifestyle. Rakesh wiped sweat from his brows and turned away from the glass Kartik offered. Kartik set the glass on the coffee table and turned back to the bar.
“She found out—no?” Kartik’s eyes hardened. “You scared? That it? A double scotch on the rocks is what you need.” Kartik poured himself a glass. Bottoms up?” Kartik edged the tumbler on the table closer to him. “Go on. Take it.”
Rakesh slid the glass back toward Kartik and left a trail of condensation on the wood. “She doesn’t know. And I’ve given up drinking.”
“You joking—no?” Kar
tik swigged the golden liquid and stared at him. “What? You serious?”
“About everything.”
“So, you—”
“I can’t do this anymore.” He took a deep breath to hold his composure and slowly released the breath. “They deserve better.”
“And me?” Kartik’s eyes narrowed. “What about me?”
Rakesh clenched his jaw. Did anyone care about him?
A nearby click was followed by a quiet whirr.
“You knew what we had was temporary and good for as long as it lasted, but we can’t go on anymore.”
“So, this is how it ends?” Kartik snapped his fingers.
Rakesh’s head seemed to prick with needles.
“Just like that? And now where do I go from here, man? You just kick me out and that’s it?” his voice deepened with anger. “I gave up a high-paying PR job with perks for some small-time, shit-hole job at the local pharmacy. ‘Be discreet and be invisible,’ you said. And this is what I get?”
“Shut up!” Rakesh thwacked the air with his hand.
“No. You fuck up.” Kartik thumped his empty glass on the table. “You fucking....” he roared like all twelve cylinders of the Lamborghini. “You can’t just fucking walk out on me as if I’m nothing.”
“My son is living away and my marriage is a shit hole. I’m screwed.” Arrows jabbed his forehead. His hands flew all over the place and he couldn’t hold them down. “I can’t take it anymore. Just go fucking wherever you want.”
Kartik paced the room, fingering the light stubble on his chin. He poured himself a second drink and pushed a glass closer to Rakesh. “All right, man. If this is it. One last scotch for old time’s sake.”
Chapter Eighteen
Letting Go
That afternoon, Sheetal and Yash waited on the Fulton Whites for the driver to return from an errand and take them to Mama’s while Naina and Mummyji argued at the Bradford Browns. Sheetal attempted to read an article in the November issue of Vogue, but couldn’t focus over Naina’s yelling. Sheetal closed the magazine and gazed at the thick anklets on the elephants’ legs. An all-boys’ dormitory with perverts? Surely, the staff underwent a background check before they were employed. Rakesh was probably making up stuff so she’d cave in. Or maybe he was trying to—
Mummyji and Naina’s argument escalated.
She could barely think.
“No husband. No one to answer to,” Mummyji shouted, “doesn’t give you the right, I tell you, to do whatever you want. How long will this sitting by the phone all day go on, as if Ajay will call. He divorced you, remarried, and has two children now. He got on with life, but you still keep waiting for that Ajay to call like he will want you back.”
“Maybe he will.” Perched beside the black telephone, Naina rolled a plastic medicine bottle back and forth between her palms.
Yash looked up from his book.
“A lone woman gone wrong. That’s what you are.” Mummyji stood and towered over Naina’s skinny frame. “Society has no place, I tell you, for a woman without a husband.”
“Like you, na?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re alone, you answer to no one either, na. You keep dumping me on the servants and Bhabhi.” She screwed the cap off the bottle and tilted the open mouth against her palm.
“I cannot, I tell you, spend the rest of my life running after you. I gave you a chance to marry and settle down.”
The Dhanrajs had gone beyond a chance. They’d bribed Ajay Malhotra into marrying Naina with an ostentatious dowry. Though Sheetal had disagreed with the plan, the relief of Naina’s absence had felt like a blessing.
“Janvi!” Naina yelled. “Water.”
Janvi hurried in with a glass of water, placed it on the table beside Naina, and left.
Naina tossed a pill in the air, cocked her head back, opened her mouth, and swayed right. The pill landed on her tongue and Naina downed it with water. “Look, Yash!” She repeated the feat, missed several tablets, but caught another.
Yash’s jaw dropped.
“Look, Yash.” Sheetal pointed to a photo spread of a fluffy brown dog in a dogfood advertisement, but Yash showed more interest in Naina’s antics.
“No shame, playing with those medicines like they are some toy. No value for anything, I tell you, because you’ve always had everything. Never had to work or live on that-side-of-town surrounded by filth, dirt, heat, and little to eat and wear. No, Sheetal?”
Why was Mummyji drawing her into their argument? “Not everyone is born a Dhanraj.”
“Exactly what I say, I tell you. But not everyone understands. How can you appreciate what we have if you have never lived without our life of plenty? No, Sheetal? You would know.”
So, Mummyji was on a mission to openly insult her just because Papa had worked his way up from the middle class? “How dare you speak about me like that in front of—”
“What to do now?” Mummyji cut her off. “No one of our rank will marry and take Naina as wife. Thirty-one is far too old and she’s—well, not untouched.” Mummyji meant “damaged.”
“But I did live a life without plenty,” Naina interrupted.
“And how long did you last, I tell you? Nine months? Now put those away!” Mummyji gestured to the bottle.
“I was like a servant there,” Naina continued, ignoring Mummyji’s order.
“More like my mark of shame.”
Naina raised a palm and rubbed her nose. “What’s there to hide now when everyone knows?”
Naina had studied up to twelfth standard and surrendered further education for a life of anticipated luxury. With no vocational training or work experience, she wasn’t qualified to secure a job and work outside the home, and she didn’t want to volunteer to help the needy.
Mummyji pumped both hands on her hips. “Can’t get rid of you and can’t live with you, I tell you. You make my life impossible. What about the proposal that came in just the other day? What’s wrong with that fellow, Praveen, I tell you? He’s thirty-three and divorced, with one child, and he lives in a three-bedroom apartment.”
“Ordinary, na?”
“What do you expect?” Mummyji paced the length of the Legacy table. The freckles on her face darkened. “No handsome young prince is coming for you, I tell you.”
“Ajay will come back.” Naina crossed her arms. “Just you wait and see.”
“That’s what you think. I am fed up trying to put sense in your head. Never listen. Never think. But think the world of yourself, like some maharani in a palace, I tell you. Take whatever man you get and be happy.”
“I don’t take leftovers.” Naina rose to her feet, thumped the bottle on the pile of magazines near an open candy dish of Gems, and walked off.
“You.” Mummyji turned to Sheetal. “Why don’t you teach her something useful so she can figure out what to do with herself?”
At that moment, the car honked its arrival.
Sheetal grabbed Yash’s hand and rushed out the door before Mummyji suggested Sheetal take Naina with her. There was simply no helping a woman who wouldn’t help herself.
***
The situation at Mama’s wasn’t any better.
Mama could barely stand without support, struggled to breathe, and her life revolved around Anjali’s shopping trips, children, and keeping up with Anjali’s social life. Papa had also grown dependent on Vikram for business matters.
That evening, as the day’s activities subsided and Yash played on the front lawn with Anjali’s children, Sheetal was able to secure some time alone. She went to Mama’s bedroom, closed the door, and sat with Mama on the bed. “You need to rest, Mama, and stop running around after everyone. Look how tired and weak you’ve become.”
Mama wrapped a pastel pink sari pallu around her head and tightened a gray shawl around her shoulders. “Never mind me. You should be proud of the smart young man Yash will grow up to be. Just like Rakeshji.”
The credit for Yash’s confidenc
e went to Stonewall’s and Arvind’s efforts, not Rakesh, who fathered Yash when he had the time. “I thought I should tell you, I met Arvind in Mansali.”
“Why?”
Didn’t Mama care to know where or how? “He’s a teacher at Yash’s school, and also his House Master.”
“Oh.” Mama frowned. “He must be settled by now.”
“He never married.”
“Probably couldn’t find a good enough girl to marry.”
“He didn’t want to, Mama.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“You talked to him?”
“What’s wrong with talking?”
“Everything.” Mama shook her head. “The more you talk, the more you know, and talking leads to other things. You should have walked away.”
Sheetal wrinkled her nose in irritation. Women from Mama’s generation believed that talking to a man in private who was not considered family must imply something more.
“Don’t nose me. You are a married woman with a son and a family, and I suppose he wants all that now. Don’t even think of ruining your marriage for him.”
Sheetal turned away from Mama.
“That look on your face tells me you’re still thinking of him.”
“Mama—”
“Didn’t you say you and Rakesh were having trouble?”
“Not trouble, but something feels wrong in our relationship.”
“And now you meet and talk to that Arvind again. What else do you expect to happen?”
I shouldn’t have told Mama anything.
Sheetal fluffed two pillows and placed them between Mama and the headboard. “You’re acting like I went out with him on a date or I—”
“Things go wrong when you wish for something and want it bad enough.”
Had Sheetal somehow secretly invited Arvind back into her life with that wish on Karva Chauth? “He was a friend, nothing more.”
“Put your heart back in your marriage.” Mama wheezed and bent forward. “Or there will be nothing left.” She straightened. “There’s something I want to talk about.”
From Mama’s tone, the talk didn’t sound good.