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  This made Roohi cling even tighter. The child was five years old, what would she know of love? thought Ishita drearily, it was not even a fair question. Children love whoever satisfies their needs. It was that simple. It was Ishita’s needs that demanded more complex inputs.

  XXXII

  One year passed.

  In this year there were two sets of holidays.

  Each time Roohi had a major illness.

  Once it was measles.

  Once chickenpox.

  Certificates verifying the child’s state of health made their way to Mrs Sabharwal’s residence.

  During the year Shagun’s shadow hung persistently over the Kaushik household. What would her countermoves be? Contempt of court? Kidnapping? Setting Mrs Sabharwal up as a decoy, luring the innocent Roohi into her lair? How many people could Ishita warn her daughter against? Her former mother? Her former naani? Her brother (unfortunately not former)?

  Day by day she enveloped Roo in a fierce and fearful love. The child was hers, if there was justice in the world she would remain hers. To this end she fasted, to this end she turned religious, to this end she surreptitiously visited astrologers and numerologists. Her fingers sprouted myriad gems glinting from thick gold settings: topaz, moonstone, ruby, amethyst. She who had objected to the pearl her mother had forced her to wear during her first marriage.

  ‘I am told I should change the child’s name,’ she said to her husband. ‘That will ensure she remain with us. Roohi is not auspicious.’

  ‘Leave her name, will you? The letter R was taken from her horoscope.’

  ‘It can be any other R. Roopali, Rupa, Rudrani, Rohini, Rehana, Rekha, Rashmi, Rasalika, Roshni . . .’

  ‘Not one of them is as nice as Roohi. Call her what you like at home, but we cannot change her name.’

  Ishita resented this disinclination to consider the child’s bad stars, but she could do nothing except rename her Roopali in her mind and call her Roopi at home. Close enough to Roohi to not antagonise the father.

  Isolated from Raman in these matters, Ishita went to Swarg Nivas with her troubles. A certain set for her mother – anything to do with Arjun, a certain set for her mother-in-law – anything to do with Roohi. And for Mrs Hingorani the doubts she had about herself.

  ‘I used to be a straightforward girl, Auntie, until I married Raman. I didn’t know in families everybody hears what suits them, nobody cares for the truth.’

  ‘Perhaps there isn’t one truth, Ish. We see things through the distorting mirrors of our interests. Understandable in a way.’

  ‘But I am always suspect. Even with Raman I have to be so careful because there are always his feelings about Arjun to be considered. And to tell you the truth, Auntie, though the two children are linked in his mind, they are not in mine. That’s the fundamental difference.’

  ‘He must surely understand that.’

  ‘He only understands what he wants to. Sometimes I think it doesn’t bother him that Shagun has greater rights over Roopi than me. Though she was the one who ran off and left her. How is that fair, Auntie, how is that fair?’

  ‘The tyranny of blood,’ observed Mrs Hingorani, who applied this truth to a variety of contexts. She had long known of Ishita’s devotion to Roo, and could easily imagine the child’s trauma, torn between two mothers, two homes, two countries.

  ‘And then there is all this tension of lying about Roopi’s illnesses. I feel we might be punished one day by her really falling sick. It’s only when I sense how much Roo needs me that I have the courage to go on. For her sake.’

  Ishita was always a very intense girl, decided Mrs Hingorani. Though the child did seem to benefit from so much attention. She looked better, talked more. If anybody deserved happiness it was Ishu. And with these thoughts she accompanied Ishita downstairs to embark on her evening walk.

  *

  For two years, before such contact ceased, Raman saw Arjun on his visits to and from his mother. It came to a combined total of two days and four nights per annum. He prolonged the precious moments of contact by driving his son to Dehradun, taking leave from office, dispensing with the driver so there would be just the two of them during the six-hour journey.

  Gone was the question of sharing any holidays. ‘Mama says she is doing you a favour by allowing you to meet me at the airport and keep me the whole night,’ the son informed his father. ‘She doesn’t get to see Roo.’

  ‘But then how would you reach your school?’

  ‘There is a teacher for airport duty. We spend the night in Delhi, then take the school bus the next day.’

  ‘Isn’t a father better than a teacher?’

  ‘A mother is also better . . .’ His voice trailed off; clearly this was a lesson that had been learned inadequately.

  ‘Of course a mother has her place but she has to be around,’ said Raman. ‘Roo needs her routine. She doesn’t keep well. Every time she has fallen sick we have sent medical certificates to your Alaknanda grandmother, who I am sure has passed them on to your mother.’

  ‘Mama says all those certificates are fake. I told her I have never seen Roo ill.’

  ‘How much do you see her, that you know whether she is ill or not? You are at home only one night, and that too very jet-lagged. In fact it would be nice if you paid more attention to your sister.’

  ‘Mama says if you don’t send Roohi, she will tell her lawyer to do something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something. I have forgotten. Why don’t you ask her?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘She is very busy with her work, otherwise she would have come long ago and taken her. I said I would help her.’

  ‘But beta, you can’t just take someone. It’s against the law.’

  ‘Mama says she has rights.’

  ‘She does, but I have custody.’

  Every time his son talked of his sister in this way, Raman felt dragged into the position of respondent, making statements to the shadowy plaintiff that lurked behind Arjun’s words. It made him uncomfortable, yet these were pronouncements that needed a counter-view. He was sure a similar process was not operating back in New York.

  ‘So,’ he said, determined to change the topic, ‘how is your mother’s import-export going?’

  ‘Good. Some days she goes to a store. She took me there. It’s really really big. Everybody knew her. They called her Shay-gun. She is a consultant now.’

  ‘Everything in America is big. Is she a buyer by any chance?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Raman was left with a burning curiosity that there would be no means of ever satisfying. He couldn’t imagine Shagun working. Wasn’t she part of all the travel Ashok did? Or maybe that wasn’t as much fun as she had first thought. He hoped that was the case. Then what was she to do, this once-upon-a-time mother?

  He put Shagun out of his mind and turned his attention back to his son. He had to rely on the little time he had to get an idea of Arjun’s life. It was a heavy burden to place on a few hours, and the hours seldom measured up.

  ‘So where else do you go? Last time you mentioned friends.’

  ‘Museums.’

  ‘You went to museums with your friends?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But you would never do that here.’

  ‘It’s for a school report. About Asian art. I volunteered.’

  ‘So. You have the best of both worlds.’

  Arjun looked as though this was a natural state of affairs. A smooth impermeable mantle of privilege had already begun to envelop him. Soon he would outdo his father in confidence.

  ‘How do you feel about school now? You are bigger, things must be easier?’

  ‘Oh, I love it, Papa. I don’t even mind going back after the holidays.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Things are different now I am getting to be a senior. Even the teachers give us more respect.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘They are more like people we can
relate to. That’s important, you know, Papa. It’s important to make people your friends. To know how to get them over to your side.’

  ‘Yes, I am sure it is important. Do they teach you that in school?’

  ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘I see. So it’s just something you picked up on the way?’

  ‘Ya.’

  ‘What is it like with Ashok? Do you two get along?’

  ‘Oh yes. He was head boy, you know.’

  ‘I do know. That one achievement stands him in good stead even now, it seems.’

  Arjun looked puzzled, but did not ask what he meant, and Raman did not want to tap into the resentment he still felt over his son’s changing schools. He should just turn out OK. That was all he asked the powers that ruled the universe, that his innocent son not suffer for the sins of his parents.

  The boy was going to be fifteen soon. He had an incipient moustache, he was taller than him, his voice was breaking, his body was more angular.

  Each time he saw him Raman felt startled at the changes, the totally natural changes. And each time he worried at the rate the boy was growing, and the little time he had with him before he became a man with his character fixed.

  As he struggled to reach out to his son, he felt an impenetrability that disturbed him. The earlier sullenness had gone, but slowly a stranger was taking his place.

  ‘How was Dehradun?’ asked Ishita the next evening. Always the bright cheerfulness on his return, always the husband who was tired and ill-tempered, always the fretting about the son which led to arguments about the daughter.

  Dehradun was fine, he said, but for how long could they keep Roohi from Shagun?

  He was careful not to say ‘her mother’, that phrase had caused some of their most serious fights.

  ‘Why? Did Arjun say something?’

  ‘He says Shagun is doing me a favour, letting me see him for the few hours I do.’

  Ishita said nothing. She knew how her husband felt, but really, what could she do? This situation was not of her making.

  ‘He also says she is going to see her lawyer about Roo.’

  ‘It’s just talk. If she had to file a contempt-of-court case, wouldn’t she have done it by now? Not sent a message through Arjun, who doesn’t even know what he is saying.’

  ‘Maybe she was waiting. She must have accepted that some of those certificates were valid. She’s not heartless, to insist her daughter travels while she is sick.’

  If, said Ishita in icy tones, he still thought of Roopi as that woman’s daughter, he was certainly free to send her.

  Why were women so emotional? he demanded in turn. Contempt of court was a possibility they had to consider, the risk would increase the more they didn’t send her – this was what they needed to discuss, not his existential freedom.

  A month later when an unidentified number appeared on his mobile Raman picked it up leisurely – expecting another marketing call.

  ‘Raman?’

  ‘Shagun?’

  ‘Is now a good time to talk?’

  It had been a year since he had last heard her voice. Many, many times he had rehearsed speeches for just such an occasion, but at this crucial moment they abandoned him, and he responded with a concern that had lurked unacknowledged in some remote recess of his mind.

  ‘How are you? I wondered about you when the 9/11 thing happened.’

  ‘If we had died, you would have got to know.’

  ‘Is it a sin to enquire after you? We still have our children in common – unless that is a link you want to deny.’

  ‘That’s just it. We don’t have Roo in common. Why don’t you let me see her? I have been very patient, you can’t deny that.’

  ‘I don’t, but you left her when she was just a baby. You are not in her life any more.’

  ‘And why is that? Because you don’t want it. Now I am telling you that if you don’t send Roohi, I am going to file a case. And you are never going to see Arjun again. Never. Not even that one day to and from the airport.’

  ‘It’s less than twenty-four hours. And that’s the only way there is going to be any brother–sister connection.’

  ‘You want connection, you send her here. Anyway I am going to win my case. I am just trying to spare us both the hassles of the legal system. Think about it, will you?’

  And she disconnected the phone.

  Raman recounted this conversation to Ishita with reluctance. Her responses to anything to do with Shagun and Roohi were usually vehement.

  Now she said, ‘She is threatening you. Why hasn’t she done anything till now?’

  ‘She wanted to avoid a case. Who wouldn’t?’

  ‘It will be hard for her to fight if she is not in the country, no?’

  ‘Not really. She can always get power of attorney.’

  ‘Then why hasn’t she?’

  ‘I don’t know. I believe she is working.’

  ‘She? Working?’

  ‘Whatever it is,’ he said impatiently, ‘I have told you the gist of the conversation. There is no use speculating about her life.’

  ‘But you can still see him in school, no?’

  ‘For how long? A few hours in a term. What does that mean?’

  Ishita said nothing more. Her husband was not to be trusted as far as his ex-wife or son were concerned. Even a conversation about them left him irascible and touchy.

  Over the next few days her sense of danger intensified. She saw a sword dangling over the family life she had created so painstakingly. That sword must be cut down, assiduously blunted, so that it never had the power to threaten.

  Her husband’s messy first marriage kept intruding into their present existence, and though he didn’t mention it, she knew Shagun must have blackmailed him with Arjun. That was also why she could not rely on him.

  Oh Mama,

  Yesterday Ashok and I had a major, major fight, so major that I have not heard from him for one whole day. He is travelling, but when did that stop him? He has even phoned me from airplanes! (Costs 8 dollars a minute.)

  It happened so suddenly I still cannot figure out what upset him. I just mentioned that once we are in Singapore I could devote more energy to seeing Roo. THAT’S ALL I SAID. He shouted that he was sick of my suffering, no matter how hard he tried I went on thinking of the same thing. Either I should take more concrete steps to get Roo or not miss her at all.

  How unreasonable. Didn’t I phone Raman, threaten him with a contempt case? Further threaten him with not seeing Arjun? Appealed to his better self? Now Ashok feels I should come up with a more effective strategy.

  What strategy? I could kidnap her – I am willing to do that – once I am in Delhi it won’t even be difficult. So I kidnap her, but then what? Roo is not like Arjun, she is younger, doesn’t understand things, cries, whines, you have to spend a lot of time with her, be patient. Arjun on the other hand is easy to deal with, boarding school has taught him independence. He and Ashok bond whenever he is here.

  Can I imagine all this happening with Roo? Not in a million years. And wouldn’t that pull us apart? – I’m just a little afraid, Mama, and if this makes me a bad horrible person, then that’s the way it is. But I need to feel Ashok is ready to take the responsibility of a child – I don’t want to be a single parent – it won’t work – not with both of us wanting different things out of our marriage.

  In my heart of hearts Mama, I want Ashok to take over. Where divorce was concerned, he was involved in each detail. Dealing with the lawyers, working out stratagems, understanding the implications of everything. It’s all so complicated.

  He mentioned Madz. Why couldn’t I liaise with him instead of expecting him to take care of issues around the children? Didn’t he have enough on his plate?

  I guess I must realise that ultimately they are my children not his. That’s what hurts. Arjun maybe he looks upon as his own, but he has – if I am honest – never shown much interest in Roo.

  Perhaps I was foolish to be
lieve, but he did promise to keep me happy for ever. Not that I have reproached him with anything. Our life together would not have been possible if I had regretted my past.

  Still. What happened to that promise? I guess when you are in love you experience some momentary delusion, then the glow fades and things look ordinary again. Of course, I adore my life here, but sometimes I feel its foundations are fragile.

  Sorry to unburden myself like this Mama. In New York there are few people I can tell such problems to.

  S

  Mama! Please! I am fine!!!!

  I won’t tell you anything if you get so upset. Couples quarrel you know. Honestly, how on earth could you think he would leave me – just because of one fight!? In fact he is coming back today. From the airport he plans that we hire a car and go somewhere – a surprise destination. This is his way of making up.

  Anyway I always go to the airport to receive him. I put on the things he likes to see me in, elegant western clothes of which I now have quite a collection. This time white silky shirt, black pants, tan leather boots, red scarf, black coat – he says I have western style and an eastern heart.

  S

  *

  A few weeks after the Dehradun trip, Ishita brought up the subject again. In order to protect their interests, examine their options, wouldn’t it be a good idea to consult Nandan? As it was they lurched from holiday to holiday, wondering what plausible excuse to make each time. It was better to regularise the situation.

  Next Sunday, the business-cum-pleasure meeting at Swarg Nivas.

  Nandan said, ‘She has filed nothing yet.’

  ‘But she can, can’t she?’

  ‘Of course she can.’

  ‘But look at how small Roo is. Besides, it wasn’t possible to send her, sick, school admissions, sick again, surely when you are young childhood illnesses are believable,’ said Ishita.

  ‘We’ve gone through this before,’ said Nandan, jiggling his pencil violently between his first two fingers, looking at Ishita. ‘You have to abide by the decision of the judge, otherwise what is the point of the legal process? As for too small, if that objection was not made earlier, when she was even smaller, you cannot make it a point of consideration now. If the brother can go, why not the sister with him? And then you have custody of both children, it will look bad, very bad.’