A Sahib's Daughter (34 page)

“I was never unfaithful to Justin, strange as it may seem,” Samira felt obliged to explain. “I had very recently broken up with the baby’s father when Justin proposed to me. I think I accepted because I was heartbroken and it felt so good to be wanted by someone like Justin. So here I am.” She dissolved into tears, wondering how she would ever extricate herself from this mess.

Just then she heard Justin’s voice and saw Edward and Irene, and she was suddenly surrounded by people. She saw a look of horror flash over Irene’s face when it struck her that Bernadette must now know that Justin was not the father. This was not a skeleton they could hide in the family closet.

“Ach, Bernadette, Toby, how nice to see you,” Irene gushed. “Did you just get here?”

“Oh, we’ve been here a while,” said Toby, thinking, though not saying out loud, “long enough to know.”

“We just had to come and see you and the wee babby,” said Irene. “Sammy, you look ghastly. You need to rest. Can I hold her?”

Irene was torn in all directions, though her delight in the baby was apparent. To have simply ignored Samira would have been callous. They felt an obligation to come and see her. Their conversation in the Red Lion the day before had been painful beyond words. Justin felt a complete heel, and Edward and Irene had been devastated that their desire for a grandchild was foiled yet again.

Justin knew that Samira had told Toby and Bernadette by the look on their faces and was sorry that she had to be the one to do it. He should have telephoned them, but it was just another detail he’d overlooked.

“Yes, Samira is still in shock.” Bernadette spoke loudly, so everyone could hear. “It seems that no one thought to tell her that her husband-to-be was not physically capable of fathering a child.”

A silence came over the group. That one remark transferred the intense guilt off Samira’s shoulders on to those of Justin. He sat with his eyes lowered, confused, disappointed and ashamed. He knew he should have told her. In his frenzy to hold on to her, having believed he would never find love again, he had neglected to divulge the truth about his infertility.

Samira looked gratefully at Bernadette, realizing that Edward and Irene had been part of the conspiracy, not breathing a word about Justin’s condition to her despite their certain knowledge of it.

The sooner she could get away from all of this, the better. The pain was too much to bear.

“Did you speak to Aunt Pauline?” she asked Justin.

“Yes, I did. And she said you are welcome to go and stay as long as you want. Though you know you are welcome to stay with me, too.”

“Or with us,” piped up Bernadette. “Toby, I think we have exhausted poor Samira. It’s time for us to go. But I would love to come back tomorrow if I may.”

“Of course,” said Samira, warming to the little woman who had stood up for her, “though it will have to be in the morning. I will be released in the afternoon.”

There was an awkward silence after they left.

“Please stay with me a few more days,” said Justin. “It’s too soon for you to travel. And I insist on driving you to Pauline’s this time.”

“We should go,” Edward said. He stood up, unable to bear the tension any longer. It seemed like there was nothing left to say.

Chapter 26

Delhi 1979

Ravi could not believe how time had flown. The marriage he had so reluctantly agreed to almost a year ago was only a week away. He found himself in Delhi again, plunged into the endless preparations and expense that were deemed a necessary part of the process of uniting two people in matrimony. He wanted to see his bride-to-be as soon as possible and was encouraged to do so by his mother.

“Yes, yes, you go, Ravi. Radhika is longing to see you. Poor girl, she has been so lonely.”

But when he telephoned her, she seemed vague and preoccupied.

“Oh, Ravi? My, how nice. Tonight? No, no, it’s not possible. Okay, tomorrow.”

“She’s too busy with wedding preparations, it seems, to have time to see her bridegroom,” he reported to his mother.

“Come on, Ravi, don’t be like that. You men just don’t understand how much there is to be done.”

“But I just got here,” he said. “You’d think she’d want to see me.”

When he arrived at her house the following evening, he was greeted by her mother Pushpa, who seemed flustered to see him.

“Ravi, how nice to see you. Please come in. Radhika is just sleeping. I will call her. Take a magazine.”

He flipped through the pages of a two-year-old Time Magazine, feeling like a patient waiting to be seen by a busy doctor. A servant brought him a nimboo pani, saying that Radhika baba was now taking a bath. He read the magazine from cover to cover, or so it seemed, before Radhika appeared in a cloud of cerise and mauve chiffon and an overpowering aroma of sandalwood.

“Ravi,” she trilled. “I am so happy to see you.”

They kissed dutifully, perfunctorily. As they drove off in the car, they regarded each other surreptitiously. They hadn’t seen each other since their engagement. If not for the picture on his mantelpiece, he would have forgotten her face. He had returned to Baghrapur after their engagement to find everything changed. Not only had Samira left, but she had gone overseas. And she was engaged to Justin, someone she had only just met. Her parents had gone, too, which had seemed extraordinary to Ravi. They had retired to Darjeeling, which meant that not only had he lost Samira; he had lost Mark, too.

The club wasn’t the same without the Clarkes. The level of tennis suffered and valiant as Anita Dutt’s efforts were, she simply didn’t have Ramona’s organizational skills. Ravi took up golf, which he could play on his own, if necessary. How could everything have changed so radically in such a short time? He tried not to think about Samira. It was pointless in any case, now that she was engaged to Justin. He also wondered if he’d been right to allow his father to browbeat him into agreeing to marry Radhika.

Nevertheless, when it was time to return to Delhi for his wedding, he grew excited. He looked forward to bringing his prospective bride back to his lonely bungalow, to having a woman waiting for him when he returned home each night. The engagement period had been endless, but they had to wait for an auspicious date, they had no say in the matter.

“Where would you like to go for dinner?” he asked Radhika.

“Oh, the man should decide,” she said, emphatically. So he took her to the Ashoka Hotel, where they had a meager and mediocre meal for an atrocious price. He tried to draw her out and learn more about her. She seemed excited about the wedding, about all the jewelry and gifts they were receiving, and worried how they could possibly accommodate three hundred guests in the shamiana.

On the balcony beside the pool, couples were slow dancing to a four-piece band playing “Feelings” and “Somewhere My Love.” Chinese lanterns fluttered in the breeze, setting the dappled water alight. But when he asked Radhika to dance, so he could hold her and become part of the magic, she demurred. She said she didn’t dance and wanted to go home, seemingly impervious to the romantic setting. When they arrived at her gate, he leaned over to kiss her and tried to hold her breast. She passively submitted to his kiss and pushed his hand off her breast.

“Why, Radhika? Don’t you want me to touch you?” he protested, aroused after his prolonged celibacy. “I’m going to be your husband soon.”

“Not as yet,” she said, prudishly, leading him to wonder if she had any sexual appetite at all or whether perhaps it was being satisfied elsewhere. He drove off in a fit of temper, dissatisfied with the evening. After breakfast the next day, he communicated his dissatisfaction to his father.

“Radhika does not seem at all interested in me and won’t allow me to touch her even,” he complained.

“That’s quite normal, son. If she’s going to be your wife, she has to be careful you don’t consider her cheap or easy. Sometimes, when a woman allows her prospective husband to go too far, he starts to wonder if she allows other men these privileges and ends up deciding not to marry her. Just be patient, my boy. Your wedding night will soon be here.” He laughed and patted Ravi’s knee.

All around him was a flurry of activity. There seemed to be plenty for everyone to do except him. People were constantly arriving or leaving. Tea and sweetmeats were served by exhausted servants. It seemed nothing constructive could be achieved because of the endless and well-meaning visitors.

“I’m going to the club to play tennis,” he told his mother a little later. She was not pleased, wanting him to get involved in matters where his opinion didn’t seem relevant or heeded.

“At least show some interest, Ravi. There is so much to be done.”

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he said. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get some exercise.”

He had to get out of the house to breathe and sweat out his frustrations. Perhaps it was cold feet, but he had growing reservations about Radhika and her suitability as a partner.

And if things were bad at the bridegroom’s, Radhika’s house was in a state of pandemonium when he went to see her after lunch.

“Please tell Radhika I’m here,” he said to a female relative, one of the brightly-colored, silken butterflies that fluttered about the house. A pouting Radhika finally appeared. Obviously, she was displeased at his presence. Her hands and feet had been painted with henna, and she wore anklets with silver bells on them.

“How is my little lady today?” Ravi asked, in an attempt to make her smile. The women in the room giggled and tittered, but she remained unsmiling.

“Fine, thank you.”

“Come for a drive with me,” he urged. “Let’s go to Connaught Place for a stroll and some snacks.”

“Where’s the time?” she seemed in a hurry to get away from him.

“So you don’t want to come?” he asked, hurt.

She made an annoyed sound and frowned. “Can’t you see how busy I am? Just be happy you’re marrying me and till then don’t pester me.”

She flounced out of the room, her anklets jangling. There was a hush among the women, a shocked silence at her outburst in front of her very handsome young husband-to-be with the soft, green eyes.

“Just go and get her,” said one of the women to another.

“Where is Pushpa? She should talk to her.”

“Please wait, Ravi. We will talk to her for you.”

“There’s no need. I’m going.” He was furious with her for subjecting him to such humiliation in front of the other women.

So, she thought he was a pest, he reflected angrily, traversing down her narrow concrete driveway. All these preparations were supposed to be to celebrate their union. Yet she was so caught up in the tinsel and the glitter that she seemed to have lost sight of the meaning behind it. If there had ever been any meaning. Was there any substance to her at all, he wondered? In that moment, recalling her pouts and frowns, he knew that he couldn’t subject himself to a life with such a person. He couldn’t commit to someone so superficial, who such lack of respect toward him. The whole thing was a mistake. They should have taken more time to get to know each other. He should never have allowed his parents to coerce him into it.

He drove home and ran up the yellow marble stairs, calling for his father who was alone in his office on the third floor.

“I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“What is it, son?” He put down the newspaper, behind which he was taking refuge to escape the madness below.

Ravi was not known for his patience at the best of times, and Sunil could see that his son was very angry.

“I can’t do this. Please telephone Radhika’s father and tell him that there is to be no wedding. I refuse to marry his daughter.”

Sunil turned pale with shock. “Wait here one moment. Sit down. Let me find your mother.”

Ravi sat down, shaking. He was not going to run the risk of ruining his life for anybody, not even his parents. The look of contempt in her eyes had proved to him that she was not entering their union with any enthusiasm.

His father returned with his mother, and he knew that they would try to appease him and beg him to reconsider. But his mind was made up. He described how he had been humiliated by Radhika in front of her relations. It was not that the incident itself was so outrageous, he said, but that it was the last straw. She had not made a good impression on him. He had made a mistake in agreeing to marry her, but better to be single than spend his life with the wrong woman.