The Forbidden Daughter (18 page)

Isha felt a sudden burst of optimism shoot through her veins as she observed the grin on Sheila’s face. Her eyes gleamed with promise. “Okay. Can we do it this afternoon when Priya returns from school?”

“Why not?”

“There’s something else I need to do—go to the District Registrar’s office and apply for Diya’s birth certificate.”

“So we’ll do that, too,” assured Sheila. “I know a woman there who can get it done right away. We can go directly to her and bypass the red tape and all those clerks looking for bribes.”

“Good. I don’t have money for bribes.”

The flats in the new building were smaller than Isha had anticipated, but the price was within her budget. In fact, like she’d been hoping, if she lived as frugally as she could for a while, she could afford to buy two. The dream of renting one and living in the other seemed viable.

She was ready to just about cry with relief, especially because she’d be within walking distance from food stores, the rick-shaw stand, and the bus stop. Best of all, she could leave the convent. Since Diya’s birth, it had begun to depress her more and more.

While Sheila held the baby, Isha settled Priya beside her on the sofa and talked to the owner of the building, Mr. Saraf. He was a short, rotund man with a pudgy face that glowed with 128
Shobhan Bantwal

self-indulgence. He wore overpowering cologne. A pack of ciga-rettes and a fancy gold lighter sat on the coffee table separating the sofa from the chairs, one of which he occupied and the other was taken by Sheila. His expensive clothes and the showy décor in his office weren’t exactly subtle reminders of his rags-to-riches story.

Most everyone in town knew Saraf, the real estate baron. He was a sharp businessman, and well known for his projects. His high-rise buildings were scattered all over Palgaum’s suburbs.

He was the king of ownership flats, or condominiums, as the Americans called them.

Mr. Saraf raised an eyebrow at Isha. “Madam, are you thinking of buying the flats as an investment?”

“Not entirely, Saraf-saheb. I’m planning to live in one and rent out the other.”

“Oh . . . I see!” The man’s eyes went wide with astonishment.

Isha wondered how much he knew about her circumstances, other than the fact that Nikhil had passed on. This was the first time she’d shown her face in public since his death.

“As you know, I’m a widow now,” she explained to him.

“I am so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Tilak. I was shocked and saddened by the news about his . . . his . . .” Saraf was clearly at a loss for words.

“Thank you.”

“I buy all my tires from your shop, madam,” he said, recovering quickly. “It is an honor to do business with you.” He smiled and offered her the official papers for the purchase.

“Likewise, Mr. Saraf.” Isha glanced at the unsigned contracts for a brief moment and put them back in the envelope. Sheila had warned her not to sign anything until Kumar’s solicitor had studied and approved them. She rose to her feet and motioned Priya to do the same. “I’ll have our solicitor look at them. If everything is satisfactory, then I’ll bring the bank draft for the advance.”

“Very good, madam.” He stood up and joined his palms in a respectful good-bye.

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“We’ll give you a ring and set up an appointment,” said Isha.

“Namaste.”

They returned to the convent, listening to Priya’s chatter in the backseat while Diya slept in her mother’s lap. Perhaps sens-ing Isha’s need for quiet contemplation, Sheila was the one who conversed with Priya as she drove them back.

Isha had too much on her mind to pay attention to anything around her. She was going to become a homeowner. Despite her upbringing, she’d never really owned anything by herself.

Was she making a mistake? Would she be able to handle life on her own? The convent, in spite of its gloom, was a sheltered place, and with the nuns forming a protective circle around her, it was the perfect place to hide.

Now she’d be out in the open. People would notice and recognize her. What was she going to tell them? There was no question that she’d end up embarrassing her in-laws once people started to converse with her, pry into her circumstances—just like Saraf had tried a little while ago.

Ayee and Baba would find out soon that she was not only still in Palgaum but was about to start living not too far from them.

Would they try to drive her out of town? Or would they pretend she didn’t exist?

Chapter 15

December 2006

Isha looked around her new flat and inhaled. Who would have thought the mingled odors of fresh paint, varnish, and floor polish could be such a delight? And all this was
hers!

She couldn’t believe that the elusive insurance check had finally arrived two weeks ago. After fretting for months, she’d wept with relief at seeing the check, mainly because she could reimburse Sheila and Kumar for the huge amount of money they had loaned her.

The flat now belonged to her in the real sense. She and the children were gradually settling into their new home. Despite the odds against it happening, they had somehow managed to make it so far. New Year’s Eve was right around the corner.

They could celebrate it in their
new
home.

Nikhil would have been proud.

The maroon- and beige-striped curtains she’d hung over the drawing room windows were parted at the moment. They fluttered in the afternoon breeze, bringing in the sunshine and Palgaum’s humid air, along with the toots and bellows of traffic sounds. She had missed that familiar clatter during her five-month stay at the convent.

She tore open the envelope that had just arrived from the District Registrar’s office. It contained Diya’s birth certificate.

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Her mouth curved into a smile as she checked the information for accuracy.
Diya Nikhil Tilak
. The child that wasn’t meant to be was very much here. And now it was official. Diya was an individual with her own unique personality. She had a right to live a decent life, gain an education, pursue a career, vote for the political candidate of her choice someday, and carve out whatever kind of life she wanted.

Isha opened the
almirah
to store the certificate along with the other papers that were in the thick brown envelope she’d pulled out of the safe deposit box. She settled herself on the bed to examine its contents. Nikhil had usually dealt with the safe deposit box, so she wasn’t aware of exactly what was in the envelope. But it was time she learned.

Inside it she found three smaller white envelopes. The first one contained Priya’s birth certificate, their marriage certificate, and two passports—Nikhil’s and hers. They had needed those when they had taken trips to Nepal, Singapore, and Dubai when they were newlyweds. Before the memories of those happy trips could come barreling into her mind and bring on the tears, she quickly added Diya’s birth record to the envelope and closed the flap. She was slowly learning to shut off those upsetting memories at will.

Now
that
could undeniably be termed
progress
.

The second envelope was filled with receipts going back a few years, most of them for jewelry Nikhil had bought for her.

The third envelope was bulky, and looked crisp and new.

What could Nikhil have stowed in the safe deposit recently?

Opening it, she pulled out a computer disk and three folded sheets of paper. Curious, she unfolded and smoothed them out on the bed.

They looked like tables of some kind, statistical information.

Frowning, she studied them. Why would Nikhil keep account-ing information in a bank vault when their accountant handled everything?

The tables had been done on a computer. Since she’d often observed Nikhil work on his home computer, she knew what a 132
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spreadsheet looked like. It took her several moments to recognize what she was looking at: numbers, dates, names, and amounts in rupees.

All at once it registered. Oh God! Oh God! She went very still.

They appeared to be printouts of records from Dr. Karnik’s office. Or were they from his home? They contained data going back to the past three years. She studied the names, dates, times, fees collected. She knew some of the names—a few very well.

The money column added up to astronomical sums. The word
abortion
didn’t appear anywhere, but anyone with half a brain would know what they were: a record of abortions performed, and meticulously maintained by someone—most likely Karnik himself.

So, the man had established some sort of database. More than likely it wasn’t stored with his other paperwork—the legal kind. This probably came from a private computer.

And Nikhil had somehow managed to obtain copies! Karnik wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave it in some obvious place. So, exactly how had Nikhil come by all this? Had he confronted Karnik with these records? Is that why a desperate Karnik had stabbed him to death? Had Nikhil even had a chance to show them to the police?

She turned that over in her mind for a moment. Her heart was racing. This was vital information about something sinister.

She read some of the more familiar names once again. Shocking!

Some of her close acquaintances had had abortions. Was there no end to this obsession with producing male children? Didn’t all these bright and educated individuals recognize the folly in going against God’s will and upsetting the balance of nature?

As she digested the information, slowly a few other pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Nikhil had probably realized that starting an investigation into a dangerous matter could end his life, especially since he’d received death threats, and that’s why he had gone out and bought a large life insurance policy.

Somehow he’d known that his parents would abandon Isha and THE

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his children if he died, and he had done his best to take care of them before that happened.

So, when he was attacked so brutally, was it still a shock or had he been expecting it?

Something else started to claw at her brain. What if the killer knew that Nikhil had copies of the spreadsheets? What if he presumed Isha may be holding on to them? The killer could come after her! The thought made her shudder. She couldn’t afford to die, not when she was the only source of support for her children. She couldn’t let them become orphans.

But now that she’d discovered the evidence, should she hand it over to the police? Should she mention it to Sheila and Kumar and let them handle it? In the next instant she abandoned both the ideas. Nikhil had died because of this. She couldn’t place his sister and brother-in-law in danger. Whoever had killed Nikhil was a cold-blooded monster, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill again.

Maybe she should just ignore the whole thing and let it go? It had brought her and the family so much misery. She didn’t need any more of it.

In the end, she decided she couldn’t ignore the significance of what she held in her hands. She had to do something. But not right now, not while she needed to concentrate on putting her life back together. It was barely two weeks since they’d moved into the flat. There was still so much for her to do.

One thing at a time, she told herself. Once she’d established herself and her girls in their new home, she’d give serious thought to what she’d do with this crucial piece of evidence against Karnik.

Carefully folding the sheets of paper, she put them and the disk back in their envelope. Then she locked it up in the
almirah
. But her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Chapter 16

April 2007

Harish lifted the baby off the scale and laid her gently on the examination table. She had gained a fair amount of weight. Diya Tilak was an unusually amiable baby, too.

There was no doubt she’d grow up to be a beauty someday.

He tapped her chin with his finger. “You want to smile for me, Diya?” It came instantly, a dazzling, toothless smile that settled like a soft, warm fist around his heart. She was delightful! Too bad her father wasn’t around to see her and enjoy her presence.

Priya, who was standing on the other side of the table, staring at him while he performed his tasks, was no less a beauty in her own right. There was a marked resemblance between the siblings.

Today Priya was wearing a dainty white dress with a sprinkling of tiny red flowers and puffy sleeves. Her small feet were encased in white sandals. She, too, looked like she had gained a little weight, much needed in her case, since she was too thin for her height. From his estimate the girls were going to grow quite tall, much taller than their mother.

The two sisters were lucky to have inherited such superior genes in the appearance department. From what he’d gathered during his brief encounters with Priya, she was very sharp, too.

Beauty and brains. Oh, to be able to father such magnificent children! With his looks, his potential kids had no more chance of being born beautiful than did a baby ostrich.

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Now that Diya was more alert and learning new things, she was developing a distinct personality of her own. He peered inside her tiny ears and found nothing unusual. She was a healthy six-month-old.

Isha Tilak stood nearby and looked on anxiously, her arms folded across her middle. “How is she doing, Harish?”

He turned to face her. “Very well. You should be proud.

Everything’s right on schedule—height, weight, reflexes, color.

She’s beautiful.”

“You’re very kind.” Isha gave a pleased smile, sending a mild tingle through his blood. “And a very caring doctor.”

Lord, but the woman was attractive! She’d added a sparkle to his day the moment she’d walked into his office with her children—a breath of fresh air and sunshine.

It was good to see her smile for a change. He hadn’t seen her since the day he’d stopped at the convent to give Diya her second round of shots. Isha had later called to inform him that she was finally able to move out of the convent and into a flat of her own. He’d been tempted to ask her where, but since she hadn’t volunteered the information he’d left the matter alone.