The Forbidden Daughter (6 page)

“She seems to need more discipline than any other child I know,” said Ayee, looking nonchalant as she chewed on the last of her breakfast. “God knows you and Nikhil never tried to teach her to be a good girl. Someone has to.”

The bitter truth struck Isha in that instant. These people de-spised her and her child. Now that Nikhil was gone, they resented them even more, especially because in their warped minds they were convinced that Isha’s unborn daughter was responsible for Nikhil’s death. They were hurting from losing their beloved son and needed someone to blame for their pain.

Isha and the innocent babe in her womb were convenient scape-goats and therefore by association Priya was also to blame.

Why hadn’t Isha seen that earlier? Maybe losing Nikhil had made her deaf and blind to everything else around her.

But now her eyes were wide open to the truth.

The elder Tilaks were misguided individuals and she and Priya had no place in their home. Things were never going to get better for them, either. Matter of fact, they were only going to get worse. How long was she going to sit around and watch her daughter getting abused?

If Priya was subjected to this, how much was the new baby going to suffer, the one they’d labeled a bad omen and a curse?

They probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill her in their smug, self-righteous way and justify it in some fashion.

No wonder they condoned Karnik’s decadent practices.

The urgent and potent need she felt to get out of that house didn’t really surprise Isha. It had been building up gradually over a period of several weeks.

Right after being told about the results of the sonogram, Ayee 38
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had started sharing little tidbits of gossip. “Did you know Mrs. Datar’s daughter had an abortion? Good thing, too, since it would have been a third girl.”

When Nikhil and Isha had reacted with outrage, Baba had merely added his chauvinistic opinion. “When modern technology has made it possible to pick and choose the sex of one’s progeny, is it not stupidity to ignore it?”

“It is stupidity to interfere with nature, Baba,” Nikhil had countered. “You and Ayee are religious, God-fearing Brahmins.

How can you even think such things when you have a fancy
pooja
room and you pray twice a day and celebrate all the religious festivals with such devotion? In fact, I’m tempted to report that idiot Dr. Karnik to the police.”

His father had sternly warned Nikhil against any such action.

“Don’t get involved in Dr. Karnik’s affairs. He is a good person and a loyal customer, and he is only doing what his patients ask him to do.”

“Even if it is highly illegal?” Nikhil had looked at his father in total disbelief. “Baba, do you know there is a law against even
revealing
the sex of an unborn child? Do you have
any
idea how many female children in this country are cruelly destroyed either as fetuses or newborns?”

“Bogus statistics cooked up by feminist groups!” was Baba’s disdainful response. “What Karnik does with his medical practice is none of our business. You stay out of it, you hear?” It was a clear warning.

Nikhil had never again mentioned reporting against Karnik, and of course Isha had immediately switched doctors after that disturbing ultrasound appointment. But every day after that point the debate over abortion had insinuated itself into the conversation in the Tilak home, until it had come to a head when Ayee and Baba had come right out and ordered Nikhil and Isha to schedule an abortion.

“We
forbid
you to have the child,” Baba had said to them.

“What is the point in having another girl? We need a
boy
to carry on the family tradition.”

For once Nikhil had put on his most intimidating expression THE

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and stared his father down, making Isha’s heart swell with pride. “You have no right to forbid a child from coming into this world,” he’d countered. “Neither you nor Dr. Karnik can play God. So I would appreciate your not bringing up this topic again. From now on, the word abortion is
not
to be mentioned in my presence or Isha’s, or Priya’s, for that matter.”

He had thrown his mother a blistering glance, silently warning her to keep her mouth shut, too.

Amazingly the “A” word had never been brought up again, at least while Nikhil was alive.

So now, as Isha’s heart was breaking over how her father-in-law had punished her grieving child, she knew the time had come to go off on her own. God alone knew where she would go or how she’d survive. She had no real skills, no more than a bachelor’s degree, and one and a half children to protect, but she couldn’t live in this sorry excuse for a home a minute longer.

She waited till Priya’s sobbing subsided, then turned to her in-laws. “I think you’re clearly trying to tell me to get out and take my child with me, aren’t you?”

Ayee remained silent and pretended to look out the window.

The servants had retreated from the room but stood just inside the kitchen door, riveted by the unfolding drama. They were probably making plans on how best to spread the juicy gossip.

They lived for such moments.

Baba took a sharp breath, his color still high. “With Nikhil gone, I personally don’t care what you and your daughter do.”

“Is this how much you care for your son’s memory and his child—your granddaughter, your flesh and blood?” Isha shot back bitterly. “According to you, she and the unborn child have no right to exist. Well, let me tell you this much: you can sleep in peace tonight because I’m taking Priya and leaving you right now.”

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Baba snorted and went back to his chair. “You have no family; you have nothing.”

“I’ll go to my cousin’s home in Mumbai if necessary. Anywhere is better than being here, where girls are considered no more than insects to be exterminated.” She grabbed Priya’s hand 40
Shobhan Bantwal

and dragged her upstairs. Sundari followed them, wiping away the tears that rolled down her wizened cheeks. She was a sweet and dedicated woman who was much more than a servant.

Within a short time, Isha managed to pack three large suitcases with Sundari’s help, all the while aware of Priya staring in grim silence. The child was clearly traumatized and confused by everything that was happening.

But what could Isha say to her daughter? Priya was too young to understand what was going on around her, so Isha let her sit on the bed, clutching her favorite doll close to her chest.

Her tear-swollen eyes looked at Isha as if she wanted to ask a hundred questions but didn’t quite know how.

“Isha-
bayi,
please don’t leave,” pleaded Sundari for the umpteenth time. “Where you will go with Priya-baby and your belly filled with one more?”

“I can’t stay here any longer, Sundari. Didn’t you see how Baba beat up Priya? Do you think he’ll spare my other child if she cries? Every time they cry, they will remind Baba and Ayee of their dead son.”

“Why not go to Sheila-
bayi
’s house, then? It will be a good home for Priya-baby, no? I will come with you,” said Sundari, a simple woman who probably couldn’t comprehend Isha’s logic.

Isha patted Sundari’s brown, work-worn hand. “It’s kind of you to offer, but your place is here. You have worked for Ayee and Baba almost all your life. I’m the outsider and I need to go.”

“But where will you stay, and what will you eat? What will Priya-baby eat?”

Isha sighed with regret at seeing the old woman looking so brokenhearted. She was so caring, so kind. “Please, Sundari, try to understand. I’m not going to harm Priya. I’ll make sure she has enough to eat.”

As Isha went about packing things, taking only a few essentials for herself, including some pictures of Nikhil, but plenty of Priya’s belongings, she tried to beat her brain to think of where she could go. She had no family, as Baba had gleefully reminded her. All her close friends were couples that belonged to the elite Palgaum crowd and they were friendly with the elder Tilaks, as well.

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Sheila was sympathetic and affectionate, but she was still a Tilak, and Isha would never put Sheila in the position of being forced to choose between her parents and her sister-in-law and niece. That would be grossly unfair.

In the end, the convent came to mind as a possible safe haven, at least as a provisional shelter until she handed the insurance claim to their agent. She hadn’t submitted it yet because she hadn’t seen the need for money. Now she had no choice but to cash in the policy.

She had heard somewhere that the nuns who ran the parochial school that she’d attended in her childhood occasionally gave shelter to needy women on a temporary basis. Besides, how long could the insurance settlement take—four weeks, maybe six? She would use the money to buy a place of her own and then see if she could find herself a job.

In fact, quite recently Nikhil had talked about investing in some real estate, perhaps buying one or two flats in that shiny new high-rise building that was in their neighborhood. She could follow up on that idea and buy two flats, since the insurance money would likely be enough to buy two. Living in one and renting the other as a source of income sounded like a viable idea.

She convinced herself she could do it. She didn’t need the Tilaks and their jaundiced philosophy. She could make it on her own. And she would.

There were two thousand rupees and change—something Nikhil and she kept in their room at all times for small, unexpected expenses—in her
almirah,
or armoire. She shoved the money into her handbag. There was plenty more cash in Baba’s safe, several hundred thousand rupees that were earmarked for emergencies, but she wasn’t going to beg for that. Baba wouldn’t have given her a
paisa
of it anyway.

Picking up the phone, Isha called for a taxi. A few minutes later Sundari and she dragged the suitcases out the bedroom door and onto the landing. Still sniffling, Priya reluctantly put on her uniform, a blue pinafore and white blouse, then slipped into her red raincoat. “Why did you put my things in a suitcase?” she finally asked.

42
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“Because we’re going away,” Isha replied.

“Why?”

“We can’t stay here anymore. We’re not welcome here.”

Priya seemed to give it some thought. “Are Papa and Sundari going with us?”

With a tired sigh Isha tried her best to explain once again that Papa was
never
going with them anywhere. Ever. Sundari couldn’t go with them for other reasons.

“Where are we going?” Priya asked, hugging her doll closer.

“At the moment, I don’t know. Maybe to the convent.”

“I don’t like the convent.” Priya’s mouth settled into a thin, stubborn line.

Isha sat next to Priya on the bed and gently cupped the small face in both her hands. It broke her heart to tear her child away from the only home she’d known. “I’m sorry, pumpkin. It’s not my favorite place, either. But we may have to stay there for a few days. Just trust me, okay?” She placed a soft kiss on the flushed forehead. “Everything will be okay soon, I promise.”

There was no response from Priya, but her silence was enough acquiescence.

When Sundari and Isha hauled the suitcases downstairs, they found that Baba had already left for work. Ayee was reading the paper. Isha stood before her. “Looks like you got your wish, Ayee. Someday, I hope you’ll realize that with Priya and your other grandchild gone, you will have lost all links to your only son. For Nikhil’s sake I hope you don’t suffer too much grief when that happens.”

“I have already suffered more than my share of grief. There is no more left.” Ayee gave Isha and Priya a disinterested look and went back to her newspaper. She clearly didn’t believe a word Isha had said. Priya and Isha could have been leaving on a shopping spree for all the interest Ayee showed in their departure.

Sundari put her palms together before Ayee in a desperate plea.

“Ayee-saheb, please stop them from going—at least for the sake of peace for Nikhil-saheb’s soul.”

“Where can they go?” asked Ayee. “By this evening they will be back.”

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Perhaps realizing finally that she wasn’t going to get any help from her employer, Sundari stood by the door, the anguish on her face squeezing at Isha’s heart. In her faded cotton sari and her gray hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, she was the very image of a doting grandmother. If only Isha had a definite place to go to, she’d have taken Sundari with her.

And she wished she could take her own car, too. The tempta-tion to climb into the driver’s seat of the silver Maruti Esteem Nikhil had bought for her recently tugged at her, but she suppressed it. She didn’t want anything of value from the Tilaks.

Besides, how was she going to afford the petrol and the car’s up-keep?

By the time the taxi arrived, Priya was more or less back to normal. Sundari offered both of them hugs and tearful words of advice to Priya. “Be a good girl and eat the food on your plate, baby. Don’t give Mummy any trouble. And say your prayers every night.”

Priya readily got into the seat next to Isha. She probably still harbored the hope that the two of them were going on a trip somewhere, and that Papa was magically going to appear.

Their first stop was the bank, where Isha went to the safety deposit box and retrieved the insurance policy that Nikhil had secreted away so his parents wouldn’t find out about it. They’d never have understood the need for a man taking out a policy and naming his young wife as the sole beneficiary.

And now Nikhil’s forethought had come in handy. Did he have a premonition that his end was near? Was that why he’d taken out such a large policy, and so recently? Something must have compelled him to do it. More and more she was convinced of that, considering how he’d made haste to contact the agent secretly and put the plan in motion.

He’d told only Isha about the policy, warning her never to mention it to his parents. When asked about the need for such secrecy, he’d simply said, “It’s for you and the children. What if something happens to me?”