A Scandalous Secret

by Jaishree Misra

  The expression on Keshav’s face changed instantly. After a moment’s confusion, he walked up to Sonya and tried to peer into her face but it was covered by her hands, tears flowing copiously between her fingers. He then held her by the shoulders, his voice now suddenly gentle. ‘Hey, c’mon, stop crying. Didi will be so angry with me too’. But Sonya continued to bawl, wiping her eyes and nose with the palms of her hands as she could find no tissues in her pocket. ‘I won’t leave you here to take a taxi, okay?’ Keshav said, trying to compensate for his earlier outburst as Sonya now collapsed against him completely, burying her face in his chest. He looked frantically around for Estella.

  ‘It’s not … it’s not you …’ Sonya finally managed to mumble against his shirt.

  ‘Not, me? Thank God! I thought you were being snobbish because I was just a driver. You just were so angry with me all the time!’

  ‘No, you haven’t upset me at all, and I’m not angry with you …’ Sonya hiccupped.

  ‘Then what is it? Why are you crying so badly?’

  ‘I don’t know …’ she wailed, drawing away even though it was nice to have someone hold her. All her gut instinct about Keshav was melting away as she was enjoying the feel of his arms around her shoulders.

  Keshav tried again, looking intently at her face. ‘Has someone done something to upset you? Some eve-teasing or something?’

  Sonya did not know what eve-teasing was but she guessed from Keshav’s gesture that he thought the gaggle of boys in the next room might have been rude in some way. She shook her head. ‘No, no, please don’t go fighting with them! It’s just … just …’ She trailed off, falling back against Keshav’s chest again.

  At that moment, Estella walked in. She nearly dropped her camera in astonishment at seeing Sonya, all red in the face and weeping in Keshav’s arms. ‘Hey, hon, what is it? Why are you crying? What have you …’ She shot an accusing look at Keshav as though it had to be his fault.

  Keshav dropped his hands from Sonya’s shoulders and tried to push her away. But Sonya continued to cling to him while explaining to Estella, ‘No, it wasn’t anything he did, Stel! It’s just … it just became all too much for me. I think it’s the heat … or maybe just everything else …’

  ‘What has become too much? What is everything else?’ Keshav asked, still terribly confused.

  Estella decided to take charge. ‘It’s a long story, Keshav, and I’m not sure we can tell you the whole thing just yet. Sonya’s just overwhelmed by some stuff going on in her life, that’s all.’ She gave Sonya a questioning look, seeming unwilling to divulge all to Keshav.

  But Sonya, warm and comforted in Keshav’s arms, said, ‘Let’s go sit under a tree somewhere and we’ll tell you all about it. I think that’s the least we can do now …’

  An hour later, stretched out flat on their backs side-by-side under the shade of a large mango tree, Estella and Sonya recounted the story of what had brought them to India. Keshav, who had been largely silent through their narration, keen to hear all the details, reached a hand out to Sonya. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier,’ he said. ‘You have a major decision ahead of you and I can really understand the tension you must be going through.’

  Sonya squeezed Keshav’s hand and continued to hold it loosely as she looked up through the branches of the tree at the bright blue sky. She felt suddenly awash with pleasure at having bridged the horrible gulf that had formed so unnecessarily between them. It was suddenly so heartwarming to think that she might have made a friend here in India, someone who could really help in whatever way he could. Sonya turned her head towards him and said impulsively, ‘And I’m so sorry I was so crabby with you, Keshav. It was childish of me to take out my personal problems on you like that. Will you ever forgive me?’

  His dark eyes looked back at her as he gave her a slow smile. Sonya’s heart did a little squeezy turnover. Estella was right, Keshav did look a bit like Robert Pattinson! Something around the chin and jaw, perhaps. Estella looked on, seeming suddenly a little wary.

  ‘I don’t know about “crabby” but I do know what “hungry” means,’ Keshav said, patting his abdomen. ‘Shall we go to Paratheywali Gali and fill up our stomachs first? Mine is growling,’ he replied.

  Estella sat up. ‘I’ve been trying all day to say that name … Praataa … but I’m afraid I’m totally stumped by it.’

  ‘Stumped?’ Keshav asked. ‘To me that’s a cricket word.’

  ‘Yes, it’s meant to come from cricket, I think. Means the same thing: knocked out,’ Sonya laughed.

  Keshav shook his head as he got up and dusted the grass off his clothes. ‘You people do speak English really stupidly sometimes, same words with many different meanings,’ he complained.

  Sonya and Estella dissolved into laughter and Estella clarified. ‘No, it’s you who speaks English funny sometimes.’

  ‘Me? But everyone here praises my English! We in India are taught to speak English properly in our schools, with grammar lessons and all that. Maybe only the way we say things is different. You know like accent and all,’ Keshav protested.

  Sonya took his hand again as they started to walk back towards the car park. ‘Your English is just beautiful, Keshav,’ she said. ‘And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially not Estella who’s really just a jumped-up chav.’ She dodged behind Keshav as Estella raised her camera bag to whack her.

  Laughing, Keshav said, ‘No fighting, girls. Don’t behave like chavs. But tell me, what does “chav” mean?’

  Suddenly conscious of her hand in his, Sonya sneaked a glance at Keshav and, possibly because he did not want her to withdraw it, he squeezed her palm tightly. They walked along, and Sonya felt suddenly shy at this unexpected turn their relationship had taken. No words had been exchanged to signify such a momentous change but the shift was palpable and, during the rest of the afternoon, Sonya found herself reaching for Keshav’s arm whenever the opportunity arose. Using silly excuses such as needing his help to cross lanes and parking lots, enjoying having someone in this alien environent to rely on. Keshav too seemed conscious of the unexpected transformation in his status and, at a craft bazaar called Dilli Haat, he bought a conch-shell necklace and clipped it around Sonya’s neck in an extravagant gesture of new-found friendship.

  On seeing this, Estella’s expression – which had been mildly perturbed on first spotting Sonya and Keshav walking hand in hand – now turned seriously anxious. When Keshav went to buy a round of tea, she used the opportunity to whisper a kindly warning but Sonya shrugged it off. ‘I don’t think I want to “go easy”, Stel, even though that’s undoubtedly sound advice. Keshav’s lovely, so sweet and kind. I really do need something like this to help distract me from everything that brought me to India.’ Estella did not look much reassured and so Sonya added a tad sheepishly, ‘And … um … with regard to me flirting a bit with Keshav, I’d broken up with Tim before leaving anyway … been meaning to tell you …’

  ‘No, I wasn’t thinking of old Tim. No, it’s this that worries me. All this … Keshav … India … it’s all so alien, really …’ Estella waved her hand around her as she trailed off, unable to express her concern fully. Then she spoke swiftly, suddenly conscious that Keshav would be back before too long. ‘I meant to say it earlier today too but just didn’t get the chance. I think he’s completely potty about you, Sonya.’

  ‘No way,’ Sonya said, outwardly embarrassed but secretly pleased.

  ‘Oh yes he is. I spotted it first thing this morning. He seems to secretly examine your every movement, it’s a bit eerie. Which is probably why he was so upset by your giving him the brush-off at first. I say “go easy” more for his sake, actually. You won’t break his heart, will you? Don’t go forgetting that we only have a few days here in Delhi.’

  Sonya shook her head. ‘I don’t intend hurting him at all, Stel,’ she said vehemently. ‘And I’m not rushing into anything anyway. It’s just that I feel a bit ridiculous about all that I said earlie
r. In a way, I feel I kinda need to make up for having been such a cow earlier, y’know …’

  ‘I know. But it’s worth remembering that we barely know him, hon. And he does live in a completely different world to ours too.’

  They stopped talking as Keshav arrived, carrying sweet tea in three earthen cups. He passed the cups around before sitting down and turning to the girls, his eyes shining with a strange excitement. ‘Listen, I want to help you with this problem that has brought you to my country,’ he said. ‘You need someone like me to help you to track down Sonya’s mother and I think together we can come up with a really good plan.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Neha watched the landscape change as the car she was travelling in descended the mountains. She had bid goodbye to Arif at Ananda but not before exchanging telephone numbers and email addresses, and a solemn promise that he would contact her when he passed through Delhi to catch his flight back to LA next week.

  ‘I want you to meet Sharat too,’ Neha had said before ordering, ‘Come and have dinner!’

  Arif had nodded, although he too would have been aware of how precarious Neha’s position was when she got back home. No mention was made of the problem awaiting her as both of them were conscious of the Ananda staff who had also lined up to bid Neha goodbye. Arif and she had discussed Sonya’s letter in detail and the only solution they had managed to come up with was that Neha should explain matters to Sonya if she did make contact, and appeal to her better nature to remain discreet about it for everyone’s sake.

  ‘Surely she’ll understand what you had gone through then. And at such a young age,’ Arif had insisted.

  But Neha had been less optimistic. ‘She’s exactly that age now, Arif. And may have a very different sense of right and wrong to the one I did then. Also, who knows what she’s been through in her own life? She may be a very angry young woman. And not without good reason, you must admit.’

  Neha felt that familiar prickle of fear pass through her body as she thought again of the consequences of her secret being revealed. Thanks to Arif’s company, there had been moments during these past few days in Ananda when she had not thought about it at all but now, on the road back to Delhi and her beloved husband, the aching fear with which she had departed her home was slowly overcoming her again. What would it be like to lose Sharat, she wondered? From friends who had been through terrible crises in their marriages, Neha knew how lucky she had been to have never had to seriously consider that question before. But now, here it was, staring her right in the face. It would be the equivalent of taking a knife and carving a hole in Sharat’s chest, when he found out about her lies. Despite his apparent urbanity, he was at heart a small-town Lucknow lad with a deeply conservative streak, and what she had done would seem the ultimate betrayal to him. She had no doubt about that.

  ‘What I love most about you is your honesty, Neha. Yes, that’s what I fell in love with when we first met three years ago.’

  ‘Honesty!? For heaven’s sake, there must be other qualities a man would mention – sexy, doe-eyed, “home-maker”, that’s a big one in India – and you go for honesty! Only someone like you, Sharat Chaturvedi!’

  They had been celebrating their third wedding anniversary at their favourite Chinese restaurant just down the road from their new house. It had been a high point in their lives: they had recently moved into the Prithviraj Road bungalow that Sharat had inherited from his grandparents in the summer. Neha was happily occupied with refurbishing the place and visiting art fairs around the world in search of the best paintings and artefacts for the house. And their childlessness was a sorrow that had not revealed itself yet.

  Neha tried to distract herself by looking out of the car window for the road signs to Haridwar. She had asked to be taken there for the religious ritual of Ganga Aarti before catching the night train back to Delhi. There was something faintly comforting about the belief that the holy river absolved everyone who bathed in it of all their sins, but even Neha knew she was now clutching at straws.

  The car pulled up at the jetty from where Neha was to take a boat to the opposite bank. Parmarth Ashram lay across the river that flowed briskly past, brown and choppy, and Neha trailed her hand in the water as the boat chugged its way across. She joined the crowds that were thronging the ashram for evening worship and took her place on the steps overlooking the river. Dozens of small boys clad in orange and red robes – trainee priests at the ashram – were already chanting bhajans as the sun started to sink towards the river. The chanting grew louder as the sun disappeared in a blaze of orange, and oil lamps were passed from hand to hand. The sensory experience was so intense that, for a moment, Neha forgot everything, giving herself up to the river and to the gods. She closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness, taking an impulsive vow that, rather than live with the pain and shame of hurting Sharat, she would return to the River Ganges and allow it to take her life.

  ‘D’you know, if anything were to happen to you, Neha, I’d take my life and join you wherever you had gone.’ He had been depressed that day by the news of a tragic accident that had killed a young cousin.

  ‘Shush, don’t talk like that, Sharat. Nothing’s going to happen to me.’

  ‘No, really, Neha,’ he insisted, ‘we don’t even have to worry about children and what will happen to them. In that sense we are lucky. We should make a pact that neither of us will even attempt to live without the other …’

  She barely slept on the train and, when it pulled into New Delhi railway station, an hour late, she found a text message from Sharat, saying that the car and driver would be waiting for her in the VIP car park near the Ajmeri Gate entrance. A porter carried her suitcase to the car park and she picked her way past sleeping beggars and ragged bundles of clothes. On spotting her, the driver ran to get her suitcase and she climbed into the car, weary and exhausted. Delhi had finally gone to sleep at that late hour. She didn’t usually get to see the city like this, calm and traffic-free, eerily beautiful through the smoked glass windows of the car. But she could not truly relish any of it. All she wanted at this point was to be in her home and near Sharat, both of which she was soon about to lose.

  The house was quiet as she walked in. Ram Singh hurried down the corridor to get her suitcase out of the car. Neha’s whispered enquiry about Sharat revealed that he had gone to sleep. It was, after all, just past midnight and Sharat was an early riser. Neha let herself into their bedroom. The curtains were drawn and although she couldn’t see Sharat in the dark, she could hear his soft snores from the direction of the bed. Slipping off her shoes, Neha crawled under the razai and wrapped her arm around the sleeping body of her husband. She felt him stir slightly before he settled back against the familiarity of her curves with a deep sigh. Neha could feel the steady beat of Sharat’s heart under her palm and she tenderly kissed one shoulder blade. Her entire being melted with love for her husband. He was worth fighting tooth and nail for and she was damned if she was going to give up her marriage without doing her best to save it first.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After Keshav had deposited Sonya and Estella back at the Mahajan household in time for dinner, they spent a little time with the family in their TV lounge before turning in for their baths and bed. Typically, Estella was out for the count as soon as her head had touched the pillow but Sonya spent a sleepless night, listening to the sounds of all sorts of unfamiliar creatures coming to life outside the window. She tried to count a persistent frog’s croaks in a bid to fall asleep but got to two thousand before finally giving up. Her eyes were wide open, her nerves on edge. Then, getting up to splash water over her face for the umpteenth time, she told herself that it was the heat that was preventing her from falling asleep. Or perhaps it was her stomach that was still a little dicky from all the unfamiliar foods she had introduced to it since arriving in India. She eyed herself dubiously in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. Of course, it was none of those things. It wasn’t even the annoying disappeara
nce of Neha Chaturvedi, to be honest. Without a doubt, her current restless state was all due to what Estella had referred to as ‘The Keshav Effect’. She’d be kidding herself if she tried blaming the heat or food or anything else. It was all very well trying to convince Estella of this earlier but what was the point in pulling the wool over her own eyes?

  Sonya glared at herself. In her white cotton nightshirt, face scrubbed free of make-up and hair pulled back off her face in a pink scrunchie, she looked like a bewildered and frightened little girl. And that’s exactly how she felt. No boy had ever made her feel like this before: not just confused but also oddly insecure. Here she was in this exotic land in these incredible circumstances and now she’d met a boy like no other in the UK. Perhaps it wasn’t Keshav inveigling his way under her skin but India playing tricks on her mind. Many who had visited the country had written about its propensity to baffle and confound, like Forster in Passage to India, a book that had gripped Sonya when she had read it at school. She had subsequently got the film version of it from Blockbuster and watched it all by herself, knowing that it wasn’t really Mum and Dad’s scene. Sonya now piled her hair up on top of her head and twisted her neck around, wondering if she even looked a bit like Judy Davis who had played Adela Quested.

  Sonya returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, retying her hair in exasperation in order to keep it off her sweaty neck. She cast an annoyed glance at Estella, supine and snoring peacefully. Despite being a terrible flirt sometimes, dear old Estella wasn’t half the romantic she was, invariably stepping back at exactly the right moment, almost never making an ass of herself. As for Sonya, despite having started off on such a bad note with Keshav only this morning, she had managed a bizarre three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turnaround in her feelings for him. What was it with her? Was it because she had been instantly attracted to Keshav that she had initially put up such fierce defences? And – even if the attraction was now mutual (and surely it was, given all the hand-holding and necklace-buying) – what was she to do about their total and complete incompatibility? And the fact that they only had a few days in Delhi? Estella was quite correct in warning her of it too. After all, she wasn’t really the type to indulge in a one-night stand.