The Forbidden Daughter

by Shobhan Bantwal

  Priya took the gift and beamed at him. “Thank you. What is it?”

  “If you’re allowed to open it now, you can see for yourself.”

  Isha laughed at the remark. “Look at the mess here. You can see all the other gifts have already been opened.”

  Priya tore open the wrapping in an instant and looked at the flat cardboard box with a mild frown. She turned it upside down. “What is this?”

  “It’s a chess set.”

  “What is a chess set?”

  “It’s a game. It has a board with squares and various pieces that have to be placed in a certain fashion inside the squares.”

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  Milind, the bright ten-year-old and know-it-all, mocked his young cousin. “Don’t you know that? I know what chess is.”

  Arvind, his cheeks still chubby from the last of the lingering baby fat, gave his brother a disdainful look. “No, you don’t!

  You can’t even play chess.”

  “Yes, I do!” Milind stood with his hands on his hips, clearly ready to take on his brother. Tussles often broke out between the two brothers at the slightest provocation.

  Sheila handed the baby over to Isha and put an end to the bickering before it got serious. “That’s enough! Dr. Salvi is a guest and doesn’t need to watch you kids fight like hooligans.”

  She gave the boys a forbidding look. “Papa will be here any minute, so you better behave yourselves.”

  The boys had a healthy fear of their father, so Milind moved to examine the chess set while his brother and Priya went back to talking to Harish.

  Isha excused herself. “I’ll be right back after I feed Diya and get her dressed.” She looked at Sheila and Harish. “Why don’t you two get acquainted in the meantime?”

  While she fed the baby, Isha kept her ears tuned to the conversation between Sheila and Harish in the drawing room. At first it sounded a little stilted, but it seemed to get smoother after a while.

  The kids kept interrupting them by asking Harish all sorts of questions. He answered them with his usual patience. Isha was amazed at how well he handled them—not condescending, like some adults. What was interesting was that the kids were listening attentively, or at least it seemed that way from what she could hear.

  Several minutes later, she had Diya dressed in her own pink dress that more or less matched her big sister’s. If only her father could see her now, lamented Isha—all rosy-cheeked smiles and soft hair beginning to curl just like Priya’s. She was such a beautiful baby.

  As she stepped outside the bedroom, the doorbell rang again.

  Arvind let Kumar in. “It’s Papa.”

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  Kumar was a large man with a belly that was steadily growing in size. Unlike his wife, who kept up her figure with exercise and a strict diet, he indulged himself when it came to eating. But he was still good-looking, with his sharp nose, hard jaw, dark mustache, and thick, straight hair with the first streaks of silver creeping in. Being a tall man, he looked imposing.

  He rubbed his hands together. “So, are we ready for some cake?” His eyes fell on Harish and he stopped in his tracks.

  Sheila jumped in to introduce Harish to her husband. They shook hands. Kumar’s sharp eyes assessed the younger and smaller man. “Dr. Salvi, hmm . . . I’ve heard your name.”

  Harish looked surprised. “You have?”

  Kumar laughed, looking a bit more relaxed, perhaps because he had heard the name Salvi somewhere. “Oh yes. Pediatrician, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some of the doctors I play badminton with at the club happen to know you.”

  “Oh . . . through the Palgaum Medical Association, I suppose.”

  “Must be,” said Kumar before he gave his full attention to Priya, who had her arms wound around his waist. “Happy Birthday, big girl,” he said, returning her hug and tugging on one pigtail. “So, did you get a lot of presents?”

  Isha watched the scene fondly as Priya proudly displayed all her gifts to her uncle.

  She felt immense gratitude to Kumar for being a surrogate father to her girls. He’d always been affectionate with Priya, just like Sheila was. There seemed to be no bias against girls in his attitude. In fact, Priya always seemed to get that little extra, sweet-angel treatment from them. And Diya was the spoiled little darling who was always being cuddled.

  The party proceeded, with the kids eating very little dinner but digging into the ice-cream cake with gusto. Harish seemed to get along well with everyone. And Kumar seemed to warm up to him considerably through dinner.

  By the end of the evening, the men were deep in discussion THE

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  over what they both seemed to be interested in—politics—

  specifically India’s foreign policy.

  Isha was glad to note Harish had lost his uneasy look and settled into the rhythm of the evening. He had wiped his glasses with his handkerchief only once so far. She had come to notice that quaint habit of his.

  Priya couldn’t have looked happier, surrounded by people who adored her and brought her presents.

  Harish got up to leave a little after nine o’clock. “Thank you for inviting me, Priya and Isha,” he said.

  Priya looked up at him. “Can you teach me how to play chess?”

  “I certainly can. I bet you’re going to be the cleverest six-year-old when you master the game,” he promised her.

  “I’m eight, and I’m cleverer than her,” said Arvind, looking very important.

  “Ten-year-olds are more clever than eight- and six-year-olds,”

  chimed in Milind, not to be outdone by the two younger kids.

  Harish handled them with remarkable tact. “A young person’s IQ increases with every year until they reach a certain age, so all three of you can be the smartest in your own age group.”

  He glanced at the boys. “Do you two also want to learn chess?”

  He got enthusiastic nods from them.

  Sheila looked a little skeptical. “Aren’t Arvind and Priya a little young for chess?”

  Harish shook his head. “My brother was seven and I was four when our father started to teach us the game. Both Satish and I were champion players by the time we hit eleven and eight.”

  “Really!” Sheila stared at him. “That young?”

  Isha wasn’t one bit surprised. The boy she’d known in college was considered a genius. She could very well believe he could beat adults at chess when he was eight.

  With a promise to start the first chess lesson the following week at Isha’s flat, Harish left. When the Sathe family departed half an hour later amidst a lot of hugs and kisses and thanks, Diya was thankfully fast asleep.

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  An exhausted Isha tidied and cleaned up the flat while Priya reluctantly got out of her dress and into her pajamas. The child’s cheeks were flushed. She was still riding high from all the attention she’d received. It would be a while before she’d wind down and get some sleep.

  Later, as she tucked Priya into bed, Isha felt a sense of peace for the first time in a long while. They’d been in the flat for a few months now and it felt like home. Slowly, even her fear about that secret disk and papers she’d hidden in her almirah was beginning to ease off. Maybe nothing would come of it.

  Everything seemed to have fallen into a comfortable pattern.

  Ever since they had moved in, they’d been offered convenient transportation by Sheila and Kumar. Isha and the girls were picked up and dropped off by Kumar’s chauffeur each day since the boys attended St. John’s School across the street from St. Mary’s. And their schedules coincided well.

  Besides, several orders for her custom-made dresses had come in, leaving her surprised and pleased. But they also left her with very little time to do anything else. She’d been working late almost every night. Sheila had done such an efficient job of showcasing her ha
ndiwork that all the society women who had girls had apparently fallen in love with it.

  Isha had been tempted during the last week or so to quit her job at the orphanage and take up dressmaking full time. But giving up a steady job was risky.

  She’d have to give the dress designing and sewing idea some serious thought, though. Until recently she hadn’t even known that she had a talent for such things. She’d done it from instinct, mostly out of necessity.

  However, could she make it on her own? Would she be able to start a small business all by herself and run it effectively?

  She’d never had to work for a living before, let alone run a business. But now, the challenge of doing something different beckoned as much as it frightened. After all, hadn’t she managed to survive, and feed and clothe her kids?

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  She remembered her father-in-law’s contemptuous remark that she’d never be able to make it on her own.

  If she could make it this far, then surely she could do other things. Riskier things. Exciting things. In fact, she was enjoying the sense of independence and accomplishment. She could see why Nikhil had liked the challenge of running a business.

  Kumar clearly thrived on his, and Harish seemed to take great pride in his medical practice.

  But then Harish would excel at most anything. He was an exceptional man with an exceptional mind—and a heart of gold.

  So, what was his personal life like? She’d been thinking about it a bit lately—in fact, too much since she’d become aware of him as more than just a doctor and acquaintance. What did he do after he ate dinner with his family and went home? Did he read, or watch TV, or was he so exhausted that he went straight to bed? What kind of a house did he live in? What were his tastes in food, movies, books, television?

  Mainly, why wasn’t he married like most men his age?

  As she slid into bed a little later, she forced her mind back to more mundane things and made a mental list of all the tasks she had to complete the next day. Running a business had its share of headaches.

  Priya, nearly asleep now, stirred beside her and mumbled something.

  Isha kissed the little girl’s head. “I’ll take care of you, baby,”

  she whispered to her daughter. “You and your sister won’t starve.

  I promise you that.”

  Chapter 19

  July 2007

  Isha observed the foursome sitting on the floor. Milind and Arvind had their brows furrowed in thought while Priya sat cross-legged, her hands cupping her face, equally contemplative.

  The fourth person was Harish. He sat with his legs crossed like Priya while he explained something to the three children.

  In the midst of the four individuals sat the chessboard, with its handsome polished finish and each piece a finely crafted specimen made of teakwood. The set had to have cost a lot of money. Isha had no idea what those things sold for, but she felt a little guilty each time she looked at it. Harish shouldn’t have bought such an expensive gift for a little girl.

  Every Thursday evening, since Priya’s birthday some months ago, the boys and Priya got a lesson in chess from Harish. All three kids had latched on to the game. Harish had explained it so well that even Priya—especially Priya—had been riveted.

  They’d started to play for about two hours each week, and from what Harish had told Isha, the children were picking up the game much faster than he’d anticipated. “Priya is an extremely bright girl,” he had said. “I don’t want to say this in front of the boys, but she’ll be ready to beat them in a few months.”

  Isha had smiled indulgently. “Oh come on, you’re just trying to make a mother feel good.”

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  “No, honestly,” he’d assured her. “She’s very good. The boys are bright but their attention span is short. It’s typical male behavior at that age. Priya, on the other hand, concentrates on the game, so she has a deeper understanding of the logic.”

  At the moment, the children played as a team of three against Harish.

  Diya had been fed earlier and put to bed, leaving Harish and the other kids to pursue their game in peace.

  Since the little one had started to crawl recently, it was hard to keep her away from the chess game. She enjoyed scattering the pieces and putting them in her mouth, driving the older children crazy. Harish always laughed about it and managed to save the game.

  “Time for dinner,” announced Isha, knowing full well the youngsters were having too much fun to think about eating.

  The kids had only a half day at school, so they could finish their homework in the afternoons and devote their evenings to learning the intriguing game of chess. But Harish usually came directly from his clinic on Thursdays. The poor man needed a break.

  “Already?” asked Priya, not bothering to look up from the chessboard. “But we just started.”

  “You started over two hours ago, pumpkin. It’s getting late and Doctor-kaka has given up his entire evening for you kids.

  It’s time to stop,” Isha said, her hands on her hips. Sternness was not one of her strong points, but she had to try her best.

  Priya was not beyond taking advantage of Harish’s kindness.

  The boys rolled their eyes and groaned dramatically.

  “Do we have to stop? Mummy’s not picking us up for at least an hour,” protested Milind.

  Harish was the one who rose to his feet and put an end to the complaints. “Yes. We all need to eat.” He patted the crew-cut hair that stood at attention on Arvind’s head. “Chess needs a lot of brain power. If you don’t get proper nutrition, then you can’t play well. So let’s all feed our brains to make them work efficiently.”

  The kids moaned some more and reluctantly went to the 160 Shobhan Bantwal

  bathroom to wash their hands, then gathered around the table.

  Isha glanced at Harish. “Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

  “Thanks, but my family’s expecting me.”

  “Why don’t you ring them and say you’re invited to eat here?” She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but Harish had started to become a part of their household. He had gradually gone from being pediatrician to grown-up friend, as well, for her children and Sheila’s.

  Kumar and Sheila seemed to like him a lot, too. In fact, they had recently switched from Bajaj to Harish for their children’s health care, which seemed to please the boys immensely. So it looked like Doctor-kaka had somehow wound up becoming an uncle of sorts—a true kaka. He was almost family.

  He looked hesitant about her invitation, like he wanted to accept, but didn’t quite know how. He took off his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief before replacing them. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “Oh, come on, Harish, you’ve been so good with the children. The least I can do is offer you a simple meal.” So far, all he’d accepted from her was an occasional cup of tea and a snack to tide him over until dinner.

  The kids joined in with their pleas for him to stay, so he pulled out his mobile phone and called his mother.

  Isha put an extra thali on the table, and they all ate together.

  The children chatted steadily with Harish. He looked completely at ease conversing with them. Isha was happy to remain mostly silent, especially since the boys were behaving so well.

  There hadn’t been a single food fight or argument between them.

  As she finished her meal, Isha realized she’d thoroughly enjoyed the evening. It felt like a family meal, just like sitting around the dinner table when Nikhil was alive.

  Then another thing struck her. She hadn’t been thinking of Nikhil much, at least not with the kind of heartache she used to suffer when images of him flitted through her mind. Her body didn’t yearn for him as much, either.

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  It looked like her brain a
nd heart had finally begun to accept Nikhil’s death and the fact that she had to move on—what was often referred to as closure. It was up to her to carry on his legacy, to make sure their children were well taken care of.

  Nikhil would have wanted his girls to have the very best they could afford, and she was determined to do exactly that.

  But what bothered her were her mixed sentiments about Harish. He fitted so well into their lives. In some ways it was a blessing, but in others it was disturbing. Was she being disloyal to Nikhil by enjoying the company of another man? And that strange sense of euphoria when she was in Harish’s presence—it wasn’t right for her to experience anything like that, was it? According to tradition she was still the grieving widow.

  She studied the three angelic faces with their matching hazel eyes focused on Harish’s face. She hadn’t been able to use the word enjoy in a long while. Simple chapatis, dal, rice, and palak-batata bhaaji—potato with spinach curry—hadn’t tasted this delicious in some time.

  When the boys were ready to go home, it was their chauffeur that showed up because Sheila and Kumar were attending a party. The house suddenly turned quiet after Milind and Arvind left.

  When it came time for Priya to go to bed, she looked plead-ingly at Harish. “Doctor- kaka, will you read Harry Potter to me?”

  “I’d love to read Harry Potter,” he replied, gazing longingly at the books on the table. “I haven’t had a chance to read a single one in the series yet.”

  Isha gave him a grateful smile. He was giving her a precious half hour to catch up on her work.

  He sat on the sofa while Priya settled herself nearby and listened to him bring to life the adventures of Harry Potter.

  Isha occupied the chair across the room and picked up her sewing, but she stole frequent glances at those two. She observed Priya looking at Harish’s face with the same rapt adoration she used to reserve for Nikhil. At the same time, Priya’s thirsty mind 162 Shobhan Bantwal

  absorbed the story like a sponge. The child rarely missed a single detail in any story. Harish was right. Priya paid close attention to the things that captured her imagination.