Custody Read online

  ‘Custody of both children, that’s all rubbish,’ snorted Raman. ‘Because we don’t send Roohi, she doesn’t let Arjun visit me. But Roohi thinks of Ishita as her mother, Ishita herself is very reluctant to have the child’s heart divided, and she takes such good care of her, what am I to say? She is not your child? You have to send her away to someone she does not even remember clearly? I can’t do that.’

  Ishita beamed.

  ‘It’s just a visit in the holidays with her brother. The girl is with you the whole year round,’ pointed out Nandan.

  ‘Would you send your child away?’ asked the emboldened wife. ‘It’s not just a question of holidays. It’s how confused she will be, it’s the distance created between Roo and me. Suppose I were to discipline her, she can always say you are not my real mother, why should I listen? When she is an adolescent she could turn completely against me.’

  ‘At whatever cost to me, I only want their happiness,’ said Raman, who had had no idea Ishita was so busy peering into the future.

  That was the trouble with his cousin, thought Nandan, he kept muddying the issue with words like ‘happiness’, when it was rights that were in dispute. He thought for a little while, doing more violence to the pencil.

  ‘I wouldn’t ordinarily suggest this – but since she hasn’t filed for contempt, let’s wait. The longer she goes without doing anything, the stronger our position. I wonder why she is not being advised better.’

  ‘Maybe because she is in the US?’

  ‘If she wants her daughter it makes no difference where she is. She has to show she is in earnest. Otherwise her case becomes weak.’

  ‘Can’t we file contempt against her for refusing to send Arjun in the holidays? If I don’t, maybe my case will also become weak.’

  Don’t sound so hopeful, thought Ishita. We are here for Roo, not your son. And you can stop finding reasons for your ex not strengthening her position. What is it to us?

  ‘Arjun is – is – how old?’

  ‘Almost fifteen.’

  ‘In his case custody has no meaning. The boy can see you or not, as he wishes.’

  XXXIII

  Another year passed.

  In the winter holidays Roo had typhoid. She was so sick she had to go on the drip. Copies attesting to this were signed and delivered to the grandmother’s address.

  In the summer holidays, still very weak from her bout of typhoid, she was advised to recuperate in the mountains. Once there her parents sent her to a ten-day camp to help build up her stamina at an even higher altitude. The camp co-ordinator gave a signed testimonial stating how much Roohi’s fitness had increased. Once more photocopies were made and sent by registered post to Mrs Sabharwal.

  That summer was also the first time Arjun went directly to the airport from school without the usual night with his father. Raman didn’t reveal his grief to Ishita, what was the point?

  She did register, though, the absence of the usual excitement that preceded Arjun’s arrivals. For a while she said nothing. If he didn’t want to share, she should not intrude, but his persistent air of sad abstraction broke her down.

  ‘What’s the matter? Something to do with Arjun, no?’

  ‘He’s not coming here on his way to his mother.’

  ‘Why? You are his father.’

  ‘You know why. No Roohi there, no Arjun here.’

  Ishita silently put her arms around her husband, cradling his suddenly older-looking face against her body. ‘I will do whatever you want me to,’ she averred. ‘Nothing is worth seeing you like this.’

  But it was too late for that. No matter what happened, someone or the other would suffer. They sat like this for a while, Raman grateful that Ishita didn’t make her usual suggestion of let’s go and see Nandan.

  Shagun phoned.

  ‘If you’d like to meet him on the way back, let me see her.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Raman! Are you there?’

  ‘What on earth do you want? Just leave me alone.’

  ‘Oh, stop being such a cry-baby. Tell me. Are you going to let me meet Roo? If not, no Arjun ever.’

  ‘Why do you keep on linking the two children? The day you walked out that link was broken. And further destroyed when you sent Arjun to that school. You only care for yourself, not them.’

  ‘Oh, stop talking nonsense, and let me see her. It’s almost three years. She must have really grown.’

  ‘She has, yes.’

  ‘Raman, please. She is my daughter, I have rights. You can be there the whole time. What are you so afraid of?’

  ‘She has got a settled life now, something you chose not to give her. Any meeting will only be disturbing, she never mentions you.’

  ‘A child cannot forget her mother – Raman, what nonsense are you talking?’

  ‘She doesn’t want anything to do with you.’

  ‘Why don’t you ever let me speak to her? Are you hiding something?’

  ‘You can’t see her – why don’t you understand that?’

  ‘I will, when she tells me directly.’

  ‘She has another mother now – one who cares for her.’

  ‘You have turned her against me, Raman – you fucking bastard.’

  ‘And what did you do with Arjun? I no longer have a son.’

  ‘That was his choice. I did nothing.’

  ‘And this is Roohi’s choice – she wants to stay in the only home she has known, she wants to be with the mother who has looked after her devotedly every day for the last four years – even longer – before we were married.’

  ‘Oh Raman, so that’s why you married. I did think it was very sudden.’

  ‘You are a fine one to talk about sudden. Everything I did was at least above board.’

  The cell went dead.

  The grapevine in Raman’s office was activated enough for him to hear that Ashok Khanna was coming to South-East Asia as head of the region.

  From Shagun’s perspective it would be an ideal situation. Proximity to India meant it would be easier for her to start legal harassment. Well, time had weakened her case, she would find that out soon enough.

  Idly he went on the net – to gaze at pictures the previous Brand occupant had taken of Ashok’s house in Singapore – all as far from his own little set-up as was possible. Of course Ashok was going to get the good things of life, he thought, staring at the glittering blue surface of the private swimming pool. He could just imagine them holding poolside parties on the wooden deck he could see edging the water’s rim, serving drinks at the stone bar he could see tucked away under some trees to the left, cocktails in glasses that had little umbrellas sticking out of them, the cold misty alcohol smelling of lime and fruit.

  So this was where Arjun was going to spend his holidays. He could imagine his tall handsome son lounging around the deck, fêted and courted by his mother, perhaps with an admiring friend in tow. Did DPA boys visit each other during vacation?

  ‘They are going to Singapore. Head of region,’ said Raman to Ishita later that evening.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘Maybe 9/11 scared them.’

  ‘I somehow doubt that.’

  ‘Just our luck. They should stay in the US for ever. What is the need for them to come here?’

  ‘Oh, God knows. He is practically CEO now.’

  Her hands began to tremble. Were the little people once more going to be trampled underfoot?

  ‘It may not be so bad,’ said Raman, carrying her fingers to his lips to greet some garlic.

  What did he know? It could be so bad, it had been. They were not wheeler-dealers. Her husband was such a straight man – anybody could take him for a ride – anybody.

  ‘If that woman dares to come near my daughter, I am not responsible for the consequences.’

  ‘What can you do? I have told you they have the law on their side, it is we who are breaking it.’

  ‘So are you just going to wait for them to
come and take her?’

  Quarrels with the outside world easily turn inwards, and Raman now found he couldn’t bear the high pitch in which Ishita expressed her anxiety. Abruptly he let go the haldi-stained hand.

  He looked at her. She was wearing a kaftan, long, loose, unshapely, picked up from the street racks at Janpath. Her hair was unkempt, she smelt faintly of sweat and the kitchen. Don’t worry, he tried to soothe, but such words were meaningless, more fragile than straws in the wind.

  ‘I can’t help it. She is everything to me – I loved her before I loved you.’

  ‘There is no point anticipating the worst – it creates tension and upsets all of us. Think of how Roohi will feel.’

  ‘Believe me, I think of nothing else.’

  That he knew was true.

  ‘I didn’t even get ready for you,’ said Ishita forlornly. ‘And it’s so late. I don’t feel like doing anything.’

  ‘Stop this worry,’ he repeated. ‘How is it going to help if you wander around like this, looking so stressed? What will Roo think?’

  ‘What does it matter what she thinks, when I may not even have her?’

  ‘How can you say that? At the most we are talking visits.’

  ‘Visits. I know what visits mean. The kind of thing Arjun used to say to Roo – she’s not your mother, she’s not your mother. You think a twelve – thirteen – fourteen – fifteen-year-old boy can be bothered to think of all that on his own? That he would even care?’

  ‘I don’t want you to worry so much, all right? Day and night, all you do is think about this one thing.’

  ‘Fine – but if she goes away, she will be poisoned by that woman. You tell me, am I wrong?’

  ‘What can I tell you? With her present partner she has changed completely. You know I have no clue as to how her mind works.’

  ‘Didn’t she poison Arjun against me? I wanted us to have a good relationship. I knew he would not accept me as his mother. But to treat me as an enemy? If that happens with Roo I will run away and die.’

  ‘Ishu – why are you so extreme? What’ll I do if you run away and die?’

  ‘I am just telling you what I can and cannot do. And be distant from the child who was once all my heart, that is not possible for me.’

  ‘All or nothing?’

  ‘Can you be a sometime parent?’

  ‘What about her? What is she going to feel if you turn away from her?’

  ‘What do you want from me? I am doing everything I can.’

  Raman was silent, the spectre of King Solomon flitting across his mind.

  ‘What? You are just going to sit there with your head in your hands and say nothing?’

  ‘I have nothing to say.’

  Ishita glanced at him with irritation. This whole trouble was due to his foolishness in marrying such a woman. Men were so taken in by the appearance of things, but as she laid a hand on his knee, she realised it was pointless to go on pretending to view their problem from the same perspective.

  Later he thought how sick he was of children. People talked of the joys they brought; why were the sorrows so seldom mentioned, sorrows that could corrode your whole life, that far outweighed the heartache of a faithless love?

  In the mean time Nandan:

  ‘If you want to get rid of this problem, we’ll have to file another case.’

  ‘Saying what?’

  ‘Saying it is in the best interests of the child for you to have sole custody. She cries, her health is bad, she refuses to leave her stepmother.’

  ‘Yes, and how can we send her so far?’

  ‘Let us not make it an issue of distance. Shagun can always say she will come here – in fact she came once to see the minor and you sent a medical certificate. The judge will probably call the child – she is, how old?’

  ‘Seven now.’

  ‘Too young. But still we can try. And it will take some time before the hearing. We have to prove that it is in her interests not to meet the birth mother. That is difficult, you know. But otherwise we have no case.’

  ‘In her mind she only has one mother, and that is Ishita.’

  ‘All the simpler then. She just has to say so. And let us hope the judge is sympathetic.’

  And ruin the bloom of his daughter’s innocence. Introduce her to courtrooms, biological versus actual mothers, make her renounce one in favour of another in front of a judge – why should he have to put Roohi through this?

  The darkness inside Raman grew blacker. It was so palpable that it reached out and touched Nandan. He had seen parents push their children into making all kinds of statements – into saying they hated the other parent, they never wanted to see him/her again. The spirit of revenge burned bright and strong in such households. Raman’s motives might be purer, his concern for wife and child deeper, but the result would be the same. His daughter would have to make such statements in court.

  ‘We are only lucky that for whatever reason, she hasn’t made a case for contempt,’ went on Nandan. ‘The longer she takes, the less likely it is for her to succeed. To forestall that, we are filing this petition – in response to which she can either cite contempt, which will do her no good, or prevent you from seeing Arjun. Which by now is more or less what happens anyway.’

  They filed their case pleading that it would be psychologically damaging to force the minor to visit her birth mother when she had no desire to. She was happily adjusted to school, her day was full of friends, family and activities. Her stepmother and she had a loving relationship, separation would be cruel.

  Ishita meanwhile organised her forces. ‘Roo?’ she started.

  ‘Umm.’

  Ishita stared at her daughter. Since she had married Raman, she frequently heard how alike they looked. Sometimes she could see it too. In the way the child talked, moved her hands, the expressions she used. Her looks had improved too – the little face was now open, the chatter endlessly engaging, the intelligence alert.

  ‘Beti?’

  Roohi looked up – it was not like her mother to be so tentative.

  ‘What, Mama?’

  For the first time she appreciated Raman’s reluctance to swim in these murky waters. She wished she had the luxury of Raman’s hesitations.

  ‘Come here, darling.’ Ishita opened her arms. Roohi crept into them. ‘You are my precious, precious girl. You will never forget that, will you?’

  The child’s head bobbed obediently.

  ‘I wonder do you remember that other woman who once lived here?’

  The bob was indistinguishable.

  ‘Suppose, beta, she – or somebody – tried to come and take you away from me—’

  A long pause in which the full import of this was allowed to sink into the child’s mind.

  ‘Then what would you do?’

  No answer.

  ‘You have to say – darling – you will have to say that your real parents are Mama and Papa. And if anybody asks you your mama’s name, or who is your mama, you have to say … ?’ Here she tightened her grip, to emphasise the gravity of the question. ‘What will you say?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Ishita. You have to take my name, and say Ishita.’

  Roohi kept quiet.

  ‘Do you want to know why I am saying all this?’

  The daughter made no response, and so the mother had to tell her without encouragement. Once there was a wicked woman who was very beautiful. Despite having two wonderful children and a loving husband, she chose another man. The husband fell very, very sick. The boy was sent to boarding school. The girl, the sweetest little girl in the world, was left alone. Then Ishita came – she loved the father, she loved the little girl. Slowly the family that had been so wantonly destroyed was rebuilt.

  The body beneath the chin grew rigid, but these were knives that had to be wielded.

  Now the little girl was very brave. When the evil woman dragged her to court—

  ‘What’s court?’

  Court was a place where a ju
dge decided fights between people. Suppose two people are fighting over a piece of land – then they will go to court – and the judge will decide who keeps the land. When people fight over children the same thing happens. The piece of land can’t speak – can’t say oh I want to stay with this person who waters me, and gives me manure – but the child can speak. She can say, I want to stay with this person who feeds me, looks after me, gets my friends over, does everything a mother does for a daughter.

  ‘I have to do my homework, Mama.’

  ‘In a minute, darling. There is only a bit left.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Only this. Do you think you can tell the judge that you don’t want to see the woman who left you? You don’t want anything to do with her?’

  Roo nodded.

  ‘And stay with us?’

  Roo nodded again.

  That night Ishita was calmer. She had taken steps to anchor what was hers. How clearly the child had understood the whole issue! Better than her father.

  ‘Beti, what’s the matter? Every time I see you, it is with a long face. Is this why you got married?’

  Ishita immediately felt morally deficient. ‘It’s nothing, Auntie.’

  ‘When you were here you looked much better. The children keep asking after you. Where is Didi? Where is Didi?’

  ‘I also miss them, Auntie. They at least appreciated me.’

  They had. For a few hours she had distracted them from poverty, alcoholism, illiteracy and domestic violence. Her place in their lives was there for all to see.

  ‘You are not appreciated now?’

  Ishita chose not to answer this question. Instead she told Mrs Hingorani about the case they had filed.

  Now it was Mrs Hingorani’s turn to look sad. Solving family problems in court was not something she approved of. Adults should behave like adults, not like the children they were fighting over. Really, why did people have babies if they were going to subject them to the messes of their own desires?

  ‘Couldn’t it be decided out of court?’