Authors: Shilpi Somaya Gowda
“D
O YOU REALLY THINK SHE WOULD GO OFF LIKE THAT WITH
his best friend?” Kavita says, linking her arm through Jasu’s as they leave the cinema.
“Of course not,
chakli
. It’s not meant to be real life. It’s a film only.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders and leads her across the busy street during a short break in the traffic.
“Then why do they make films like that? Something that will never happen?” she says once they make it safely to the other side.
“Time-pass,
chakli
!”
“Hmmm.” The concept of simply passing time is almost as strange to Kavita as the idea that they can now afford to go to the movie theater on a whim.
“What would you like to do now,
chakli
? Something cold?” he asks as they approach an ice cream shop.
“Yes, I’ll have a cold coffee, please,” Kavita says. She’s recently discovered this sweet, creamy indulgence and finds it hard to resist on a warm evening like tonight. She used to wonder about the people
who lined up at these places, willing to spend their hard-earned rupees on such frivolity.
“
Ek
cold coffee,
ek pista
ice cream,” Jasu says to the man wearing a paper Nehru cap behind the counter. A few minutes later, he hands the tall drink to his wife, and they continue strolling. The streets and footpaths are crowded. It is Saturday evening, the one night of the week when all of Mumbai seems to shake off its worries and go out on the town. The restaurants are full of families, and later, queues will form outside the popular nightclubs. This world too is a fairly recent discovery for Kavita and Jasu.
I
T STARTED A FEW YEARS AGO, WHEN
V
IJAY TOOK THEM OUT TO
a sit-down restaurant to celebrate his sixteenth birthday. It was the first time they had been to a restaurant with tables covered in crisp white cloths. Vijay had successfully finished his Tenth Standard and started a messenger business with his friend Pulin. Kavita and Jasu still wished he would pursue a different path. “
Beta,
you are such a smart boy. You’ve gone so much further in school than we did. Why do this messenger business like a common person?” Jasu said. “You can do better. Why not find a good office job?”
“Papa, this is a good job,” Vijay said. “I am the boss. Nobody tells me what to do.” Vijay ordered for all of them, since he was the only one who could read the menu. Kavita didn’t recognize the dishes he chose, but all the food was wonderful, presented on gleaming silver trays and served to them by waiters. She felt like a queen, and she could tell from Jasu’s boisterous talk, he was proud as well. At the end of the evening, Vijay pulled out a wad of cash to pay for the check. Kavita had seen it many times by then, but each time he unfolded the thick pile of bills and counted them out, a cold hand grabbed her heart.
“I
LOVE PISTACHIO
, I
COULD EAT IT EVERY DAY
.” J
ASU FINISHES
his pale green ice cream.
“You practically do eat it every day now,” Kavita says, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Shall we take a rickshaw home?” Jasu holds her arm to guide her through the busy sidewalk. It is so much more pleasant to be able to take a rickshaw in the evening than ride the crowded train. Up ahead, a ring of people seems to be gathered around a street performer of some sort.
“What’s going on there?” Kavita says. “Musician or snake charmer? Let’s go see.” The rhythmic clapping of the crowd draws them in. A couple of men are perched up on the low stone wall to get a better look. When Kavita and Jasu finally get close enough, both of them are shocked by what they see at the center of the circle of men. It is a woman, a girl really, not older than eighteen. She is down on her knees on the ground, crying, disoriented, groping about for something. A man in the circle is holding one end of her sari, which is almost completely unraveled from her body. Her sari blouse is torn down the middle, exposing her breasts.
Jasu pushes his way to the front of the crowd and crouches down next to the girl. He turns and rips the sari out of the man’s hand and yells at him, “Dirty bastard! Have you no shame?” He tries to rewrap the garment around the girl, but finding this too cumbersome, he removes his own shirt and slips it onto her shoulders, shielding her bare skin from the hungry eyes devouring her.
“
Heh, bhaiyo,
step aside. Don’t ruin our fun!” A man calls out from the circle.
The girl’s hands finally find what they’ve been groping for—a pair of eyeglasses, now cracked and smudged with dirt. She puts them on her face, stands, and wraps herself tightly in Jasu’s shirt. Kavita looks at the girl’s face. Her forehead is too large, her eyes are set too far apart. She realizes, in an instant of horror, the girl is men
tally retarded. She sees the same flicker of recognition on Jasu’s face, which turns immediately to fury.
“Fun? This is your fun?” he yells at the men assembled around them, some of whom now peel away from the group. “
Arre,
this is shameful behavior. She is an innocent girl! How would you feel if someone treated your wife this way? Your sister? Your daughter? Heh?” Jasu, wearing only a sleeveless undershirt, gestures menacingly to the few men who remain there, unable to accept the untimely end to their entertainment.
Kavita quickly walks over to the girl and leads her away from the crowd. “You okay,
beti
?” she whispers as they stand against a tree trunk. The girl nods mutely in response. “Where do you live? You need paisa to get home?” The girl keeps nodding in the same rhythmic way, indicating neither comprehension nor agreement. Finally the crowd disperses, and Jasu joins Kavita and the girl. “I think we should escort her home,” Kavita says, having finally learned her address. Jasu nods and steps down off the curb to hail a taxi.
“A
RE YOU OKAY
?” K
AVITA ASKS
J
ASU
. T
HEY HAVE BEEN RIDING
in silence since taking the girl to her building. Jasu spoke to the lift operator there, who said he would see she got safely upstairs to her parents’ apartment.
“
Hahn,
” he says in monotone. “I was just thinking…that poor girl was so defenseless, and all those men just…If we hadn’t walked by just then, what would have become of her?”
“You did a good thing. It was brave of you.” Kavita puts her hand on his arm.
“It wasn’t bravery so much, just chance we were there. Just chance…” He trails off again, then shakes his head. “No matter. It’s done now. I hope it didn’t ruin the evening.”
“
Nai,
” she says, smiling at him. “Not at all.” Kavita doesn’t say
what she is thinking, how nice it was to hold the girl’s frail body in her arms until it stopped shaking, to wipe away her tears and stroke her long hair. To sing sweetly to her in the car, as her own mother used to sing to her. As she has imagined singing to her own secret daughter.
S
OMER STANDS AT THE SINK AFTER DINNER, HER FOREARMS COVERED
in slick yellow gloves, happy for the buzz of Asha’s presence in the house. It is her first night home for the summer after her sopho-more year at Brown. Still, Somer is tentative, not sure how it will feel to be a family again. Asha has made it clear since coming home that she considers herself independent now—refusing any help with the dirty laundry that came out of her suitcase and setting up her laptop in a private corner of her room.
And Somer and Krishnan have finally managed to find a balance predicated on plenty of space and avoiding conflict. They adhere to the easy terrain and retreat when they feel the slightest crack underneath. There was a time they argued in the open. It started almost suddenly, after Asha left. Without her presence in the house, there was no common focus for their energy, no reminder to behave well in front of her. They fought over the dozens of daily decisions that suddenly fell to them alone. Somer was not prepared for the total silence that took over the house without Asha. There was no music
emanating from her bedroom, no echoes of laughter as she chatted for hours on the phone. It was the small moments Somer missed—a good-bye at the front door, a quick poke of her head into Asha’s bedroom at night—the moments that made their home and her day feel full. After so many years with Asha at the center of her life, Somer felt lost when she was gone. But Krishnan’s life hadn’t changed much: he was mostly consumed with work, spending mornings in the operating room and afternoons at his office.
Kris, now sitting at the table with Asha, flicks at a newspaper page with his middle finger and thumb. “I can’t believe this nonsense. They’re still fighting this thing in Florida—trying to keep this poor woman attached to a feeding tube. The woman’s brain has been dead for over a decade and they won’t let her go in peace.” He removes his glasses, exhales loudly onto each of the lenses, then wipes them with a handkerchief.
“You think she’s really brain-dead?” Asha says, taking the newspaper from him.
“Yes, I do. But that’s irrelevant.” He holds his glasses up to the light and, finally satisfied, replaces them on his face. “It’s a decision between her family and her doctor.”
“What if they can’t agree?” Asha says. “Her parents want to keep her alive, and her husband doesn’t.”
“Well, her husband is her guardian,” Kris says. “At some point, the family you create is more important than the one you’re born into.” He shakes his head. “Listen, I’m telling you both right now, if I’m ever in a persistent vegetative state, you have my permission to pull the plug.”
“Isn’t there a chance she could still be cured?” Asha says.
He shakes his head. “Not unless she grows a new brain. And now the politicians are trying to interfere with stem cell research too.”
Somer observes from across the kitchen as Asha clearly enjoys
engaging with Kris in vigorous debate. She calls out, “How about a puzzle tonight? I’ll make popcorn.”
“Cool.” Asha clears the kitchen table. “I’ll get the puzzle. Hall closet?”
“Yes.” Somer retrieves the popcorn machine from the highest shelf. “I hope this still works,” she says, energized by the familiarity of puzzle night, a regular event before Asha left.
Somer pours the kernels into the machine, producing a loud rattling sound.
Asha brings back a box portraying Venetian gondolas in assorted colors floating along the canals. “So what do you think of that proposition, Dad? To fund stem cell research?”
“I think three billion dollars for research in California would be brilliant. These stem cell studies are some of the most promising I’ve seen in neuroscience.”
“You should write an editorial on that for the paper, Dad,” Asha says, crossing the kitchen. “I bet the voters would love to hear from a neurosurgeon. I can help you.”
He shakes his head, sorting through pieces. “No thank you, I’ll stick with medicine.”
The rapid-fire popping slows down and Somer shakes fluffy white popcorn into a large bowl. “Salt and butter?”
Asha tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Good, but it needs a little something.” Asha takes the popcorn bowl from her. “You and Dad start.” Somer sits down next to Krishnan, struck by how much easier it still is for him, how Asha seeks out common ground with him. Somer recalls fondly the times she played cards or Scrabble with her own father. Now, for the first time, she wonders how it made her mother feel when she blatantly favored him so.
Asha spins the spice bottle carousel. “I’m going to make a little concoction my housemates and I cook up.” She joins them at the table and offers the bowl to Kris. “Try it.”
Deep in concentration on several pieces of a blue gondola, he reaches into the bowl without looking up. “Mmm. Very good,” he says.
Somer takes a piece and is shocked at its bright red color. “Oh,” she says, putting it in her mouth, “what did you—?” She is interrupted by a cough as the pungent spices hit her throat. Somer reaches for the nearest glass of water but can’t stop coughing long enough to take a drink. Her mouth burns and her eyes are tearing.
“Spicy, but good, isn’t it? Red chili, garlic, salt, and sugar. And turmeric usually, but I don’t think you have any.” Asha takes a seat at the table with the bowl between her and Kris.
“So, I have some news.” Somer looks up and Asha continues. “You’ve heard of the Watson Foundation? They grant fellowships for college students to go abroad for a year. I applied to do a project on children living in poverty. In India.” Asha’s eyes dart back and forth between them.
Somer tries to make sense of Asha’s words, unsure what to say.
“I won.” Asha’s face explodes into a broad smile. “I won, so I’m going next year.”
“You’re…what?” Somer shakes her head.
“I can’t believe I really won. The committee said they liked my idea of working with a major newspaper there to get a special report published, and—”
“And you’re just bringing this up now?” Somer says.
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything unless I won because it’s really competitive.”
“Where in India?” Krishnan asks, oblivious to Somer’s shock.
“Mumbai.” Asha smiles at him. “So I can stay with your family. My story’s going to be on kids growing up in urban poverty. You know, in the slums, that kind of thing.” Then she reaches for Somer’s hand, still gripping a puzzle piece. “Mom, I’m not dropping out or anything, I’ll be back to graduate. It’s just a year.”
“You’ve…done all this already? It’s all planned?” Somer says.
“I thought you’d be proud.” Asha pulls back her hand. “The Watson is a really prestigious award. I arranged everything myself, I’m not asking you for money. Aren’t you happy for me?” she says, an edge of anger creeping into her voice.
Somer rubs her forehead. “Asha, you can’t just drop this on us and expect us to celebrate. You can’t make a decision like this without our input.” She looks at Kris, expecting to see her anger reflected in his face. But she finds none of the shock she feels, none of the fear riddling her mind.
How can he be so calm about this?
And, in that moment, it occurs to her.
He knew.
T
HE PUZZLE LIES UNFINISHED ON THE KITCHEN TABLE DOWNSTAIRS
while Somer strips off her clothes in the darkness of their closet. She runs the water in the bathroom faucet, listening for the sound of their bedroom door. She scrubs at her face in a way her dermatologist has warned against. When Kris enters the room a few moments later, she is fuming.
“So, you really have no problem with this?”
“Well.” He stands at the bureau and removes his watch. “I think it might be a good idea.”
“A good idea? To drop out of college and travel halfway around the world by herself? You think that’s a good idea?”
“She’s not dropping out. It’s just a year. She’ll come back and graduate, so what if it takes an extra semester or two? And she won’t be alone, she’ll have my family.” Kris untucks his shirt and begins unbuttoning it. “Look, honey, I really think this could be good for her. It’ll get her away from those liberal arts teachers, filling her head with the idea that journalism is a glamorous profession. My father can take her along to the hospital.”
“That’s your agenda? You still think you’re going to make a doctor out of her?” Somer shakes her head.
“She can still change her mind. She’ll see a whole different side of medicine over there.”
“Why don’t you just accept her for who she is?” Somer says.
“Why don’t you?” he shoots back, in a tone quiet yet accusing.
There is a moment of silence while she stares at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, she wants to go to India. She’s old enough to make that decision. She can spend time with my family, get to know her Indian culture.”
Somer stands up and heads toward the bathroom. “I can’t believe you. You are such a hypocrite. If she was talking about going anywhere other than India, you would be just as upset as I am.” She spins around to face him again. “Did you know about this?”
He rubs his eyes with his fingers and sighs heavily.
“Kris? Did you?” She feels her stomach knot.
“Yes!” He throws his hands into the air. “Yes, okay? She needed a signature on the form and she didn’t want to get into it with you if she didn’t win.”
Somer tightens the belt of her robe and wraps her arms around herself, suddenly cold. She closes her eyes and takes in this news, the admission of guilt. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you did that. You went behind my back and—” She breaks off, unable to continue.
Kris sits down on the armchair in the corner and his voice softens. “This is part of her, Somer. Just like it’s part of me. There’s no denying that.” There is silence in the room for several moments before he speaks again. “What are you afraid of?”
She forces down the lump in her throat and ticks off the reasons. “I’m afraid of her leaving college and going halfway across the world by herself. I’m afraid of her being so far away we won’t have any idea what’s happening with her.” Somer runs her hands over her face and then up over her head, continuing with a fresh string of concerns.
“I’m worried about her safety, being a girl over there, going into those slums…” She sits down on the bed again and clutches a pillow to her chest. Kris doesn’t speak and doesn’t move from his chair in the corner, where his head rests in one hand.
After several moments of silence, she clears her throat and speaks again. “Do you think she’ll try to look for…them?” She cannot bear to use the word
parent
. It assigns too much importance to people who have no connection to Asha other than biology. They have become shadowy figures in Somer’s mind over the years—nameless and faceless, distant but never far away. She knows there is no risk of them showing up one day, wanting a role in her daughter’s life. Rather, it is Asha she has always worried about. She has waited in fear for the day her daughter reaches a point of dissatisfaction with her or Kris, and goes in search of more. Somer has tried to be faultless as a parent, but still she worries that in the end, all her love for her daughter will not compensate for the loss she suffered as a baby.
“Who? Oh.” Kris rubs his eyes and looks at her. “She might, I suppose. She’d have a hard time finding them in a country like India, but she might try. She’s probably curious. It doesn’t really matter, does it? You can’t still be worried—”
“I don’t know. I realize we can’t stop her from looking if that’s what she wants, but…” She trails off, twisting a tissue around her index finger. “I just worry, that’s all. We don’t know what will happen. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“You can’t protect her forever, Somer. She’s practically an adult.”
“I know, but we’ve put all that behind us. She’s in a good place now.” Somer cannot give voice to her real fears. That she will lose Asha, even a little bit. That the bond she’s worked so hard to build will be tainted by this ghost. This, after all, is the outcome she has tried to avoid all along—why she hasn’t wanted to go back to India, why she’s never encouraged Asha’s questions about the adoption. It is at the core of almost every decision she has made since Asha came into their lives.