The delivery was normal and Karishma was back home with the baby within a week. The time of real emotional turmoil was now

“I won’t stay more than six months. I shouldn’t nurse her. She’d have to survive on formula anyway.”

“Do it now, Bahu Rani,” Geet said miserably, “We will wean her off your milk in six months.”

“Sooner than that,” she replied firmly, but took the baby to her breast anyway, giving into her maternal instincts.

In the following days, the firmness with which she followed her plans for her daughter brought tears to Geeta and even Siddhartha’s eyes. Siddhartha arranged for a nanny within a week of delivery. After that she sent the baby with him. The baby stayed with the nanny when he was in college and slept with him at night. She met her only in the evenings when Siddhartha brought her with him.  She had also stopped feeding her within a month.

One evening Smriti was particularly cranky. Geeta’s heart went out to the baby.

“Don’t send her back, Bahu Rani. Let her sleep with you.”

“No Chachi. Siddhartha knows how to handle her.”

“He does. But how can you…”

“This is her life, Chachi.”

“Oh such monstrosity. Why didn’t you just let her die?”

It didn’t affect Karishma in the least bit. “I’m convinced, Chachi, that miseries are all mine. She has a perfect father and she will grow up feeling loved and wanted.”

“You know what, you go back to Kolkata after six months. I will stay here and take care of her.”

“That is not possible.”

“I don’t care for my salary any longer. Pay me whatever you are paying that nanny.”

“It’s not about money. If you stayed, she will forever be connected to that family. She will never be at peace.”

“Get a divorce. Marry him. If he agrees to be the father of your child from another man, he will be happy to marry you. Won’t your Siddhartha?”

“What do you think will happen if I ask for a divorce? On what grounds will I ask for one? Will they happily let me claim that they keep murdering their daughters and hence I want a divorce? No. They will put all their might in proving that I am an irresponsible wife and mother. They will take away my daughter even if they don’t want her and she will be miserable for as long as they will let her live. Fine. There is a chance that I will win. But can I gamble with her life?”

“Karishma…” Siddhartha made to say something.

“No. Don’t say anything. Take her away. She will sleep happily in your arms. Just remember to tell her when she grows up that her mother had loved her dearly. Go now. Please.”

She didn’t let even a drop of tear escape her eyes until she was in her bed. Alone.

—

Karishma fainted as soon as they reached her doorsteps. They had been out in the park with Smriti. Sprinkling water and other household remedies didn’t bring her consciousness back. And Siddhartha noticed her lips getting dry and black. He rushed her to a doctor.

“Poisoning.”

“Poisoning? How can…”

“It seems to be insect. We have given anti-venoms. We will have to observe for next eight hours.”

Insect? Siddhartha recalled that she had cried out once in the park. “Ouch! How strongly do the mosquitoes here sting!” It wasn’t a mosquito…

She did gain consciousness for a while, but the situation was precarious. “I couldn’t have subjected myself to the indignity of suicide like Anna, Siddhartha. So, God came to my rescue with this.”

“Shut up. Don’t talk nonsense. You will get well, get a divorce, marry me, and bring up our daughter. Do you understand? I have borne with your stupid plans for too long. None of that any longer.”

She smiled weakly, “I wish I could live that dream. But now the responsibility of keeping my memories alive for you must fall on my daughter. I don’t have to tell you to love her. I know you will do that. You are already doing that. Just make sure you do tell her about me. She shouldn’t grow up without any memories of her mother. Even if it is only through the stories… There is a box of photographs and other knick knacks at house. Please take it for her. And always allow her to exercise her choices. Bring her to me once, will you, please?”

—

Five years later…

Geeta had gone back to Kolkata after Karishma’s death and as she had promised to her at her deathbed, she didn’t try to contact Siddhartha. But Mou and Siddhartha had kept in touch. She was visiting Himachal for some assignment and was staying with them for a day.

“Are you Mamma’s friend, Mou Auntie?” Smriti quickly took to her.

“Yes Darling. Her best friend.”

“Do you want to hear Mamma’s stories?”

“Sure.”

“Mamma used to go to playground on Sundays. To watch Daddy play. And one day a ball hit her. She wasn’t paying attention at all. Mamma was naughty. Like me.” The child giggled.

Mou laughed, not because she found it amusing like the little girl, but to stop herself from crying.

“And one day, Mamma got lost in a jungle. Like the princess. Daddy found her and rescued her.”

“He did, indeed!” Mou smiled fondly at her.

“Did you know?”

“Yes. I was there too. We all were very worried for her.”

“Wow! Did you also get lost?”

“No, sweetie. Only your Mamma.”

“Will you tell me more stories of Mamma, Mou Auntie?”

“All right, Smriti,” Siddhartha interjected, “Let her have some tea and snacks. You also go to Auntie and have your milk. Then you can talk to her until dinner.” He sent her to the nanny. Then he turned to Mou. “She is obsessed with Mamma’s stories. Prefers them over her fairy tales and fancy story books. Probably somewhere deep down, she knows how much her mother had done for her. But now it has reached a stage that I think I will have to invent some stories. I have run out of them,” He chuckled.

Mou also laughed.

“Sometimes I wonder if her obsession in unhealthy,” Siddhartha continued. Obviously he had longed to talk to someone openly about Karishma and Smriti, “But then I think that I owe it to Karishma. That was all she had ever wanted. That her daughter should remember her. Even if only through stories.”

“You are doing the right thing, Sir. Smriti is very lucky to have you.”

“I hope so.”

“I wish Karishma was around to see how delightful her daughter is.”

“You know what, sometimes I think that God was kind to her. He gave her an easy death. Otherwise she would have died out of grief of separation from her daughter. You should have seen how hard she was trying those days to not be emotionally vulnerable… I myself was close to breaking down so many times…”

He fell silent and Mou leaned back, losing her in the memories of her dear friend.

—

To be continued