by Anju Gattani
“Just because you are Rakesh’s wife, I tell you, doesn’t make you better than me.”
“I never—”
“You think I am blind? I see how the servants and Laal Bahadur wait hand and foot to do your bidding. ‘Choti Sahiba’ this and ‘Choti Sahiba’ that. They team up to play cricket with your little family and prefer to make your coffee over my chai.”
“Rakesh is the one who—”
“Aah, blame the husband. No one can argue with him, I tell you. Rakesh tells all the servants to do your work first and you walk around like you own it all. Your head is always high in the clouds when you prance off to charities and dinners in flashy, designer clothes. Why should my Naina sell her shares and put us out on the streets when you, Ms. Working Woman, are enjoying the life for free?”
Free? Sheetal grit her teeth. Yash was in boarding school because of Naina and Mummyji. She had been paying the price for this so-called “freedom” for ten years.
“I worked hard, too hard, to build my life and reputation,” Mummyji continued, “and I won’t give it away to anyone. Especially not you.”
***
At dinner two days later, Mummyji announced that no one would use the landline without her permission because Ajay Malhotra was expected to call Naina.
According to rumors, Ajay Malhotra had recently divorced after his wife was caught in an extramarital affair. The woman’s maiden family refused to take her back, and the Malhotras denied her entry into their home and access to her children. The fallen woman then jumped off a ten-story building and died, which made the front page of The Raigun Herald.
The expanded version that traveled through the community grapevine claimed that Ajay had been impotent and encouraged his wife to engage with a male friend. However, Ajay ended up fathering two children, which proved his manhood to the world, and all was well until Ajay discovered the male acquaintance and his wife had fallen in love. Then Ajay turned the tables on his wife and labeled her a whore in public. The unofficial story turned into the talk of the town, kept alive when pictures of the dead woman and her imprisoned lover made the front page of The Raigun Herald for a week. Both stories served as a warning to all women who were tired of their stale marriages.
***
The next morning, Megha arrived shortly after Rakesh left for the office, saying she’d been running errands and decided to check on Sheetal, but then she didn’t leave. Sheetal figured Megha was hanging around as a reminder that her baby’s delivery date was fast approaching. Sheetal didn't want to take on the responsibility of Megha's childbirth, but she couldn't outright say no to any in-law. If a mishap befell Megha or the baby, the blame would be attributed to her shortcomings, so she tactfully avoiding giving Megha a confirmed answer. With Yash in such an unstable state, how would she manage Yash plus Megha's delivery?
That evening, Sheetal sat in the Marquis Dining Room waiting for Mummyji and Naina to join her and Megha at dinner so they could begin eating. Finally, Mummyji entered, stopped beside the chair at the head of the table and announced, “Naina will remarry Ajay.”
Sheetal sat up straighter.
“You can’t send Naina back,” Megha said.
“I don’t see why not.” Mummyji pumped both hands on her hips. “She’ll fit in so well as a mother to two children. Besides, the Malhotras are so much better off financially now than eight years ago—no? And my Naina is still untarnished and available, I tell you.”
“And she’ll probably stay like that forever considering Ajay can never give her children of his own,” Megha added.
“It’s not always a question of giving, I tell you.” Mummyji crossed her arms. “It’s a question of being able to provide for. Now, if you were truly happy in your family, you wouldn’t be here so often, would you? Not right for a girl to visit the mother’s home this frequently at such short notice, and today, no notice even, uncalled for and uninvited.”
“I didn’t come uninvited,” Megha retorted. “Rakesh Bhaiya called last night for me to spend the day here. I’ll leave the moment he’s back. It’s not like I have to—”
“Didn’t you say you were here because you had some work?” Sheetal intervened. “You mentioned errands in the area.”
“Yes.” Megha pursed her lips. “I—”
“Work, no work, doesn’t matter,” Mummyji huffed. “We all know how much you miss the comforts of a Dhanraj.”
“At least, I have a husband’s home to go to, unlike Naina, who was kicked out in nine months.”
“Only because she discovered, I tell you, that Ajay was impotent and hiding the truth. Or, at least, that’s what we will tell the world. So, it’s not really Naina’s fault now because they were hiding their dirty little secret—secrets that only come out after marriage. These arranged marriages, I tell you. People use them to hide so much! Besides”—Mummyji waved a hand—“how long can Ajay go on for without a wife? He needs a woman as much as Naina needs a man. It’s mutual.”
“She’s still mentally sick,” Megha said. “Anyway, what makes you think they’ll agree to this?”
“What choice do they have, I tell you? He’s physically inadequate. There’s no cure for his... his...”—she wrinkled her nose—“incapability. So, it’s all automatic.”
“It’s wrong,” Sheetal intervened. “You’re going to ruin both their lives again.”
“What’s to ruin when they’re already ruined? They’ll make do with each other. Find a way and compromise. Isn’t that what your and Rakesh’s marriage is all about?”
Sheetal stared, speechless.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s life!” Mummyji took a seat at the table and spread a napkin over her sari. “You don’t marry for love. You marry to live and fit in with society. To get on.”
Clearly Mummyji’s mission focused on giving Naina to the best incoming offer with no thought to long-term consequences. “What about the children? Two innocent lives will be ruined because of a marriage of convenience.”
“Children?” Mummyji swiped the air. “They know nothing about what’s good for them. Food, shelter, and clothing is all I ever needed to grow, I tell you. But Baba—” She stopped. “Anyway, every woman must be paired with a man. It’s the law and the only way society will accept you.”
Just then, the phone rang.
Mummyji threw her napkin on the table, jumped to her feet, and reached for the phone on the hutch. “Hal-lo?” she raised the pitch of her voice, “Malhotraji? Expecting your call, I was—Hallo?” She stopped, turned to Sheetal, and held out the instrument. “For you.”
“Who is it?” Sheetal asked.
Megha abruptly rose from her seat and left the dining room.
“How should I know?” Mummyji thrust the receiver into Sheetal’s hands. “One of your business clients, I think, working woman that you are. Get off that phone quickly and use your mobile.” She sat down again.
“Hello?”
“Sheetal?”
Arvind. The breath caught in her throat. Sheetal left the dining room and made her way to the temple, tucked behind the stairs. “You have to stop calling me on the landline. Do you know how much trouble I’ll be in?”
“I called your mobile but you didn’t pick up and it’s urgent.”
Sheetal patted her hip and realized she must have left her phone in the studio.
“Yash is having a lot of trouble.” Static crackled, splintering Arvind’s words. “He’s bedwetting...stammering. He can barely...himself.”
“I don’t understand. I can barely hear you. Yash was never like this.”
“It’s Rakesh’s....” The connection crackled again. “He did...responsible.”
Sheetal pressed the phone to her ear.
“Was probably sleeping wh...the noise woke...went to find you and...whip...blood....”
Her heart grated her stomach. “I talked to Yash the morning he left, but he didn’t say anything.”
“Scared, dammit! The boy is scared. You have...take him
.”
“Without an official letter or call from the school, I’m not even supposed to know yet.”
“How can...be official...I haven’t filed...? Can’t...on too long. You have to...out of here.”
“There’s a week and a half until the concert.”
“Leave...Raigun.”
Her knees gave way. She slid down the wall and sat on the floor, weighing the gravity of his suggestion. “Where will I go?”
“Just get...from here.” The static ended. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
He made it sound simple, like all she had to do was walk out the door and never come back. She pulled her knees to her chest. She needed more time to build an adequate pool of savings to support Yash. “It’s wrong. I can’t just....”
“Hello? Sheetal? You there?”
How would she face society? What would she tell people? What would The Raigun Herald publish about her? A chill shuddered up her spine. “I need time.”
“You don’t have time.”
“You don’t understand. I’m not ready.”
“How much longer? Another ten years good enough? Then Yash can grow up without a mother. And when Rakesh beats him one fine day, then there will be two dead instead of one.”
She gripped a fistful of hair.
“Don’t trust anyone.”
The receiver slipped but she caught it before it dropped. Two innocent lives ruined because of a false marriage. Hadn’t she just said that to Mummyji?
“He’s your husband and look what he did to you. You have to leave him.”
The wall, the floor, everything, spun. She flattened a palm against the floor.
Arvind began describing his plan for her escape and the static resumed. She loosened her grip on the receiver. He couldn’t mean what he was saying.
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.
“He’s never going to let you go. Do you hear me?”
Sheetal rose to her feet. “Hmmm.”
“You have to do this alone and you can’t tell anyone.”
She made her way up the stairs as Arvind repeated their meeting location and the details of his plan. She bore right at the landing, another right at the south wing, and flung open the door to her studio. A draft carrying the aroma of dark roast coffee stirred the hairs on her arms.
Rakesh stood before a desert painting mounted on the easel, a steaming mug in one hand. He turned, sipped, set the mug on her worktable, and approached.
“Hello? Sheetal?” Arvind asked. “Are you there?”
“Sheetal!” Rakesh held out her cell phone. “You’re here.”
“Hello? Are you there?”
“I...uh....” She didn’t know where she was anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Crushed
Using her right hand, she reached with nerveless fingers to take the cell phone and almost dropped the receiver with Arvind still on the line. “I...I didn’t know you were here, Rakesh. You’re home early.”
“Meeting fizzed. I came for you.”
She curled her left thumb over the receiver in an effort to locate the disconnect button, but Rakesh grabbed the receiver from her.
“Who you talking to?”
“Yash,” she blurted.
“On a weekday?”
Why was Rakesh home early? “He wanted to know when we will leave for Mansali. He misses us.”
“I miss him, too. Did you tell him I won’t be there?”
“He’ll be heartbroken. You didn’t go last time.”
“Never know. He’s the compère, right?” He pressed the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” He paused. “Anyone there? Hmm. Seems like he hung up.” He walked off with the receiver.
***
Ten days before her trip to Mansali, Sheetal entered her walk-in closet and opened a folding door that concealed her travel gear. She reached for the twenty-four-inch, soft-top V.I.P. suitcase she’d taken on the previous trip but halted when her gaze fell on the scar that had occurred when the coolie jumped from the train. The V.I.P. had sufficed for a week-long trip and survived the drop impact, but she needed something more durable.
Three Louis Vuittons stacked side by side had contained all her personal belongings when she’d moved in after marriage. The only other time she’d used them was when she left Rakesh for Mama’s place to escape the Dhanrajs for a while. That’s all the triplets were good for: travel in comfort and style.
She slid the door further open and noticed a black, twenty-eight-inch, hard-top Samsonite sitting in a corner. She grabbed the handle, rolled the suitcase forward, and lay it on the floor. This should be strong enough. She knelt beside the suitcase, unclasped the metal latch, flipped open the lid, and removed a string-bag crumpled in a corner. The Samsonite would suffice for a two-to-three-week trip, but how on Earth could she pack her life inside its cavity? Her chest tightened. Could she really leave?
Maybe she could move in with Papa.
No. Rakesh would be at her throat constantly and demand custody of Yash.
Maybe she and Yash could go into hiding with Kavita and Gaurav. Kavita had proper amenities and more room in her new, two-bedroom flat. Surely, Kavita could accommodate her and Yash for a while. Besides, Rakesh would never look for them in northern Raigun, the middle- and poor-man’s enclave. Or would he? When Megha eloped, Rakesh had cruised every street corner and alley around Raigun University’s campus for days. He entered seedy bars and almost got run over by a lorry. Not just that. He’d spied on her and Arvind at The Broken Fort. Of course, he would hunt her down.
She packed in the privacy of her closet, trying hard to limit noises, in case Rakesh entered the bedroom. Half an hour later, her clothes were stacked five inches above the suitcase’s rim. Unlike Megha, there would be no return to lost luxuries. She piled on more saris, shawls, and footwear and lowered the lid but it wouldn’t close.
“Sheetal?” Rakesh called from his closet. “Ready in twenty-five minutes. We need to be at the charity dinner by seven. Don’t be late.”
Dinner! She raised a hand to her forehead. How could she forget?
She grabbed an armful of clothes from the suitcase, dumped the extra clothes on a shelf, shut the Samsonite, wheeled it behind the folding doors, pulled an ironed sari off a hanger, changed, and began pleating the silk.
“Are you ready?”
Her fingers trembled and the pleats pooled on the carpet. What if Rakesh noticed her distress? She made a fist, took slow, steady breaths, re-pleated the sari, and tucked the folds into the waist of her petticoat.
This idea of running away didn’t make sense. Arvind had asked her to run away on the day of her wedding and was asking her to do so again. People like him, maybe that’s all they knew, to run away and leave troubles behind. People like her with a family, child, and social obligations couldn’t just leave it all. There had to be another way.
She sat down at her dresser to apply her makeup just as Rakesh entered her walk-in closet.
“What’s this?” He thrust out his hand and thumped the trinket box on the dressing table, his eight-carat diamond engagement ring a contrast to the colored glass.
“Something I picked up in Mansali from a vendor. It’s so colorful.”
“Too gaudy, bright, and cheap. Best left here so I don’t have to look at it every night before I sleep.” He spun on his heels and left, slamming the bedroom door on his way out.
Sheetal got halfway down the stairs when Rakesh approached, headed back up, taking the stairs two at a time. “Forgot something important. Wait for me downstairs.”
Sheetal reached the ground floor, surprised to find Mummyji seated on the Bradford Browns.
“Such a shame, I tell you. Naina’s not well or she could have joined you at the charity dinner.”
“It’s a public event,” Sheetal said.
“And what’s the saying, I tell you? Charity begins at home. Hai Ishwar, if you wanted, you could have—”
“Where’s Naina?” Rakesh
hurried downstairs clutching a brown packet.
“What do you want?” Mummyji crossed her arms.
“Same thing you do. I want her settled in her own family.”
“You suddenly care for her? What’s wrong with you? What are you up to now, I tell you?”
“Why would I have spent all that money on her wedding in the first place if I didn’t care? There’s nothing more I want at this point than to see Naina where she belongs. With a family of her own. I’ll do what it takes to make sure that happens.”
“Like?”
He handed her the packet. “Ayurvedic tea. If nothing else, maybe this will work.”
“Never heard of such a thing, I tell you. Who ever heard of cure with tea?”
“It’s from a reputable pharmacy. Alternative medicines take longer, but they’re effective and worth the effort if Naina’s cured for good.”
“Hmm.” Mummyji held the packet between two fingertips and swiveled it this way and that. “Bharat Chaiwallah. Never heard of them, I tell you.” She handed the package back to Rakesh.
“They are reliable people, knowledgeable in Ayurveda, medicinal, and herbal teas.”
Mummyji snickered. “I don’t understand your sudden bout of affection for my Naina, I tell you, after all these years.”
“If I was up to something, I wouldn’t have thrown her a nine-hundred-million rupee wedding. It’s always been the best for Naina, the most expensive for Naina, the most elaborate for Naina. Now, all we need is for her to get on with life so we can get on with ours. But you’re always suspicious.”
“Hai Ishwar!” Mummyji scrunched her nose. “What else did you expect, I tell you, after the way you behaved last time? You nearly choked her to death.”
“I was drunk. I-I didn’t know what I was doing. I said I was sorry.”
“I don’t remember you saying so.”
“All right, I’m sorry. There. Said it.”
Did he mean it?
“I don’t think she’ll touch any of this tea business if I tell her you—”
“Tell her a friend from your club gave it to you. Make up something. As long as she gets better, there’s a hope of her getting back with Ajay or someone else and we can live in peace.”