Mish' Fiction

“Daddy!” Smriti clung to him like her life depended on it. It probably did. “I am so, so sorry, Daddy. Please forgive me. I don’t know…”

“No sweetheart. I am sorry. I should have told you the truth. And I will rectify that mistake as soon as we go back. Let me thank her… Who is she?”

“My step mother.”

“Her mother had saved her once, seventeen years ago. You saved her today,” Siddhartha told her, “She is fortunate to have two women like you as mothers.”

“I wish I were as brave as Karishma. I’d have had a daughter only slightly younger to her then.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ruchi turned to Mou, “You are the journalist?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t you do something about it? Not every woman is as brave as…”

“The only reason we didn’t do anything,” Siddhartha replied instead of Mou, “Was because Karishma did not want Smriti to be dragged into this. She wanted her to have an uncomplicated life. But now Vikram has involved her in this. There is no reason for us to avoid facing it head on. But are you ready to let your family members go to jail?”

“I don’t give a damn.”

“A sting operation is in order, then,” Mou assured her.

—

Smriti told them about how she had come to know about being adopted and why she had been so curious about her past. Then she sat listening in silence, tears flowing unrestrained from her eyes, as Siddhartha and Mou told her the story of Karishma and how she had saved her.

“Enough darling,” Siddhartha held her, “Stop crying. The nightmare is over. We are going back home tomorrow.”

Smriti nodded, but still overcome with guilt, she burst into apologies, “I was so rude to you Daddy. I’m so, so sorry.”

He smiled, “I wouldn’t mind if you called me Prof. Sen once in a while. Your Mamma used to call me that.”

That made her smile.

“Go now and wash your face. Let me see my bright, little girl again. I don’t like this crying baby.”

When Smriti went out of the room, Siddhartha turned to Mou. “I am surprised that they haven’t come after us yet. If they went to such lengths to get that property, will they let her go so easily?”

Mou smiled. “Ruchi had called me. She told them that she was forced by me to help Smriti. That I had done a sting operation in that clinic, when she had gone there with one of the younger women of the family and had captured them on camera. That The family’s secret could be outed on TVif she didn’t help Smriti or if they tried to come after her.”

“Is that true?”

“No. I will do one now, of course. But I haven’t done any. She just made all that up.”

“Thank God!”

“He was so deceitful Daddy,” Smriti talked about Vikram Jain, “So convincingly acting that he was missing his daughter all these years. All this while killing so many others. Even his mother showed her true colors quickly. But not him.”

“I can imagine that,” Mou said.

“You were right, Mou Auntie. Men are hopeless. I will never marry.”

“Arr… But not all are. Your Daddy isn’t.”

“Yes. But he is one of a kind. Even you couldn’t find another, could you?”

Siddhartha and Mou burst out laughing.

“Don’t be so hasty, Darling. You will find one who is good for you. Just make sure he has your Daddy’s approval,” Mou said jocularly.

“I will never do anything without Daddy’s approval,” Smriti was somber.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself,” Siddhartha stroked her head lovingly, “Men might be hopeless. But if women, instead of being servile, took their decisions and destinies in their hands, nothing can stop them. Didn’t your Mamma save you? And she didn’t even fight head on.”

“Mamma was brave, wasn’t she Papa? And a true feminist.”

“Yes. She not only exercised her choices, she even created them. She was no Anna.”

“Anna?”

He smiled indulgently, “We will discuss when you have read Anna Karenina.”

“That’s a thick book, Daddy. And an ancient one too.”

“Yes. You mother, and even Mou Auntie, had read it for an assignment.”

Mou smiled nostalgically.

“It will take me a lifetime.” Smriti was inclined towards Sciences unlike her mother. The thick classics were daunting for her.

Siddhartha chuckled. “It’s okay. You focus on what you have chosen to study. ”

“I need a new phone. Those wretched, greedy people stole my phone.”

“A small price to pay for having you back safely.”

“And for making me appreciate what I have, Daddy,” she smiled at him. She had become mature all of a sudden.

“I will buy you one,” Mou said, “Let’s go. We can do with a little outing right now. How does an iPhone sound?”

“iPhone?” Smriti’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Don’t buy something so costly Mou,” Siddhartha objected, “She doesn’t need it.”

“She has learned the greatest lesson in life today. She deserves a great reward. Let’s go.”

Siddhartha did not object to that. “Let’s go,” he said cheerfully.

– The End –

The woman started shooing her away, and scared out of her wits, Smriti fled the garden. In her frenzied state, she ran against a woman as soon as she entered the house.

“Steady child,” she heard a kindly voice and it calmed her down.

“I… I am sorry…”

“What happened?”

“There was an old woman in the garden… Are there ghosts?”

She chuckled, “No. It must be Geeta. An old servant here. But she has grown senile and blabbers nonsense. Don’t mind her.”

“Okay!” Smriti was relieved and could now converse normally. “I don’t know you,” she said.

“My name is Ruchi and I am Vikram’s wife,” she replied.

“Oh!” she looked confused. How should she react to her stepmother? She had still to come to terms with the identities of her mother and father. And here there was a whole clan of relations  – some of them complicated.

“Well… Second wife,” Ruchi clarified with a smile, “Do you want some tea or coffee?”

“I don’t drink tea. Can I… have some milk, Auntie?”

“Sure. That’s a nice habit.”

—

“I need to get my clothes…” Smriti told her grandmother at the breakfast table, “They are at Mou Auntie’s place.” All the men were there. But the two of them were the only women having breakfast. All others were either in the kitchen or waiting on them.

“There is no need to go there. She was the one who corrupted your mother. We will buy you new ones.”

Smriti was not convinced. If Mou Auntie and Daddy were such bad people, as they were making them to be, how could she be good enough to be acceptable to them? She had been brought up by them, after all. If she was not bad…

Outwardly, though, she said nothing. But she was now anxious to talk to Siddhartha. She decided to call him up. But where was her phone? Where had she kept it? She was almost sure that it was in her pocket when she had gone to her room. But right now she could not find it anywhere.

“Relax,” her grandmother told her, “It must be somewhere here. And anyway. Who do you want to call up this early in the morning?”

A little later, she went to shop for her clothes. Even though the shop was close-by, she wasn’t allowed to go alone or carry any money. One of her cousins accompanied her and made all the payments.

Towards the evening, her newly discovered family paradise was completely shattered. She heard some commotion near the main gate. It turned out that Mou was there trying to get in and meet her. Smriti tried to tell the guards that she should be allowed in, but they paid no attention.

“Dadi. Let her come in. Or let me go out. It’s Mou Auntie,” she finally pleaded with her grandmother. But instead of listening to her, she dragged her back.

“I know very well who she is. You don’t need to meet that disgusting woman.”

“She is not disgusting,” Smriti started crying.

“There my child. I know it is hard on you. But believe me. We know what is best for you. Stop crying and don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”

Smriti had realized by then that nothing was right in this family. She didn’t know what was wrong, but something was. She was almost a prisoner here. She had to get out. But even phone had disappeared. She was sure, now, that it was not an accident.

She also realized that losing her temper would not help her. She would have to appear calm and plan her escape.

In her room, she found Ruchi waiting for her. “Auntie?”

“Were you unhappy in your adoptive family, Smriti?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Don’t be scared of me. I will tell you the truth. You made a mistake by coming here.”

“I did.”

“They did not know about your existence until a few days back. Even now, they don’t care about what happens to you. I don’t know if your mother had a lover or not, but taking you away from here was the best thing she did for you. Right now they have brought you here only because you are the key to your mother’s property. Once they have acquired that, they don’t care a bit for where you go.”

“What do I do now? I can’t find my phone. I can’t go out anywhere. Nobody listens to me.”

“Do you remember anyone’s number?”

“Daddy’s. But who would lend me a phone?”

“Don’t call now. Listen to me carefully. I am going to temple tomorrow. You behave well for the rest of the day today. I would suggest you go back and pretend to be interested in your grandmother’s talks. Tomorrow morning I will suggest that you come to temple with me. Agree to that. She should allow that. We’d have the driver with us. But you can call from my phone when we are inside the temple.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

“Not too soon. Let’s get the plan to work. You go back. I will slip out from your room when nobody is watching.”

—

“Daddy!”

“Smriti. Darling, is that you? Where are you?” Siddhartha started crying on phone.

“Daddy. Can I come back?”

“What kind of question is that? Where are you? At their home? I and Mou Auntie are coming right away.”

“You are in Kolkata?”

“Of course, I had to come.”

“I am not at his home. You give the phone to Mou Auntie. I am giving it to Ruchi Auntie who is helping me. Please come quickly, Daddy.”

Ruchi explained the location of the temple to Mou and gave her the directions. “Remember to come to the back door and call on this number. We must avoid alerting the driver, who is waiting at the front door,” she concluded.

“How did they know who I was?” Smriti asked Ruchi while they waited for Siddhartha and Mou.

“Srinivas was the man. He did everything possible. Sent detectives after you. Even got your DNA test done to ensure that…”

“DNA test?”

“He had obtained a sample of your hair.”

“Ruchi Auntie. I will never be able to repay you for your help.”

“You will. If we are able to save even one girl after this…”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Here. They are calling. Let’s go.”

—

To be continued

“Eloped?” Her eyes grew moist.

“I am so sorry, Smriti,” he touched her shoulder and she did not jerk him off, “I understand that all this must have come as a shock to you. But I am sure you want to meet your family, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t know. I must talk to Mou Auntie…”

“Mou? She was the one who had dragged you away when you were telling me who your mother was, wasn’t she? And she was the one who lied to you that your mother’s family does not live there. Can’t you see what is going on? I’d suggest you come with me right away.”

“You are a stranger. How can I trust you? I am not coming anywhere,” despite the emotional upheaval, she was careful. She was having her fair share of doubts.

“I understand your hesitation. And I am glad that you are not careless about your security. But you do want answers, right? See, there is this coffee shop in the market nearby. Hardly two kilometers from here. I am writing down the address for you. You can hail a taxi and come there. I will bring you father there.”

“What’s his name?”

“Vikram Jain.”

She took the address from him and nodded.

“Wait for me. It won’t take more than half an hour,” Srinivas said before parting.

—

“Smriti!” Vikram hugged her so warmly as soon as he saw her that Srinivas was impressed by his acting skills.

“Your father. Mr. Vikram Jain,” he formally introduced him and smiled.

Smriti was awkward and short of words. It was difficult for her to accept that all this was for real. “Do you have your wedding photographs,” she suddenly asked.

Vikram was puzzled, but reacted quickly. “Of course. Why?”

“Have you brought them?”

“Umm… no… But you will come home, right? We have been looking for you for so many years now. Your grandmother is dying to meet you. You can see the photographs there.”

“No. I want to see the photographs first.”

“All right. Let me call them at home.”

Smriti looked on blankly as he made the call. “I don’t care where they are stuffed Mummy… Yes, get them… Right away… If that’s what my daughter wants, that’s what she must have!” he added the last sentence for Smriti’s advantage, although the phone was already disconnected by then.

“It will take some time,” he smiled at her, “I am sorry. But you will understand that memories of your mother are hurtful.”

“Why?”

“Why? She is the reason you grew up away from your family. She deserted us and eloped with her lover…”

Something sounded extremely wrong with the accusations being made on her mother and Daddy. But Smriti didn’t know what an alternative story could be. So, she stayed silent. While they waited for the album, she received a call from Mou. She assured her that she was in the market, she knew her way around, and she would be back shortly.

When the albums arrived at length, she recognized her mother very well and tears started flowing down her cheeks.

“There, there. Don’t cry my princess. It’s all right. You have found your family back. Everything will be all right now. Come. Let’s meet you grandmother, cousins, aunts and uncles.”

Mou called again. Smriti was already at Vikram’s house by then.

“I’m with my father, Mou Auntie.”

“When did Prof. Sen come to Kolkata?”

“Not him. My real father.”

“Smriti,” Mou was alarmed, “What are you talking about? Who are you with?”

“Mr. Vikram Jain, my father.”

“Oh my God! How did you… Smriti, you must come back. Where are you? I will come and pick you up.”

“No Mou Auntie. I will stay here for now.”

“Smriti. Please…”

Smriti disconnected the call. Not surprisingly, immediately afterwards, she received a call from Siddhartha.

“Darling please. You must listen to me…”

“Is he or is he not my father, Daddy?”

“Go back to Mou Auntie. I will come there and we will talk.”

“Is he or is he not my father?”

Siddhartha’s sigh was audible. “Yes. Now…”

“Thank you, Prof. Sen. I have been deceived for seventeen years. Now let me find out the truth for myself,” she disconnected the call and switched off her phone.

Siddhartha broke into sobs. It was worse than his worst nightmares. Then he collected himself and stepped out to arrange for his journey to Kolkata praying furiously for his daughter’s safety meanwhile.

At Jains’ house, Vikram’s mother fussed over Smriti, making her feel uncomfortable with her overbearing hospitality. What made her particularly uneasy was how she was ordering around the women of the household as if they were indentured servants. There wasn’t a trace of respect or civility in her manners towards them. She didn’t get a chance to speak to anyone else in the family that day. After dinner, she was shown to her room by her grandmother. She also got her a nightie to change into and asked her to make do with it for the night. They would get her new clothes in the morning.

As Smriti lied down on the bed, her heart was in turmoil. She had expected a more positive resolution to the mystery of her parents. She had hoped that the story about her parents being her Daddy’s friends was true and some acceptable twist to it could explain the stories he had told her about Mamma. But this had taken a most unpleasant turn. Mamma had run away, while her husband was alive. To her lover? Daddy? She tried to be liberal. May be they were really in love and this marriage was not working for Mamma. But what could explain keeping the truth from her for all these years. Didn’t she deserve to know about her family, even if Mamma wanted to have nothing to do with them?

How uncomfortable it all was! But it was truth. And she had to accept it, even if it was bitter.

She didn’t sleep well that night. Her life had turned upside down. There was hardly a scope for peaceful sleep. Her room overlooked the garden of the house. It looked like a good refuge form the normal humbug of the big city. She got out of the bed at four in the morning and went to the garden. She walked around aimlessly for almost an hour, when an old woman suddenly came to her.  The way she had appeared out of the blue and her haunted looks scared Smriti. She recoiled from her.

“Bahu Rani… What are you doing here? Don’t you know they will kill your daughter? What did you come back for? Go away, go away….”

—

To be continued

Srinivas was representing Vikram Jain. Karishma’s mother had died. Her father, in his will, had left some property and money to her mother, which after her death was to go to Karishma or her children. Karishma was dead, and there were no children. Vikram was claiming that it should come to her legal heir, which was her husband. Her brother and cousins believed that property should go back to them. And a legal battle was on. Srinivas had been at Karishma’s home to try and persuade her family to give up.

The half-uttered word “Karish…” lingered in his mind. Could she mean Karishma? Who else could it be? But… He decided to find out more about the girl. He made a call to a private detective, whose service he often used to help his clients. It didn’t take him to long to find out where she had come from and who her father was.

—

“Mr. Jain. Did you dead wife have anything to do with Dharmshala?” he asked his client.

Vikram was startled, “Dharmshala? Why?”

“Just answer me.”

“She was in Dharmshala when she died.”

“Why?”

“Some astrologer nonsense. Why are you asking though?”

“How did she die?”

“Some poisonous insect had stung her.”

“Are you sure she did not die in childbirth?”

“Childbirth? What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Was she alone?”

“No. Our old maid – Geeta – was with her.”

“Can I speak to her?”

“She is too old and infirm now. Still stays in our house, but has practically lost her mind. But what exactly are you getting at? She had died childless.”

“I’m not so sure of that. There is this girl from Dharmshala I met…” he showed him the pictures of Smriti that his detective had taken.

Vikram was disconcerted. Even after all these years, he could not miss the striking similarities in Smriti’s and Karishma’s features.

“What happened, Mr. Jain?”

“She looks so much like her… like Karishma, I mean. You said she is from Dharmshala?”

“So, my conjecture could be right.”

“It’s quite nonsensical. How can it be her child? She died in Dharmshala…”

“I agree that there might be things we do not know. It might all even be a coincidence. It might be that she is your wife’s child, but not yours…”

“Impossible,” his egoistic self won’t let him admit something like that.

“There are more queer things I have seen in my profession, Mr. Jain. My intention is only to help you with the case, and nothing else. Neither to malign, nor to glorify you family’s prestige. What will be of interest to you is that I met her outside Guptas’ residence. And she said that her mother had grown up in that house. That’s why she had come there. I asked her mother’s name. She said Karish… But Mou took her away before she could complete.”

“Mou?”

“Mou Bhattacharya. She is the editor of New India. I have known her for quite some time. Keeps meeting me for work.”

“Editor? As in she has been a journalist?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“If I remember correctly, Karishma had a journalist friend by that name.”

“Hmm,” Srinivas was even more interested now, “If she is not your child, then we don’t want to waste time on her. But if she is yours, and still a minor, she can be your jackpot.”

“How will we find out?”

“Everything costs money. I did a little digging around at my expense, but…”

“Don’t worry about that. Whether or not it helps with the case, this mystery is worth solving.”

“We will have to get a DNA test done.”

“How will you get her sample?”

“Don’t worry.”

Vikram asked his mother to get some information out from Geeta about their stay in Dharmshala. But the woman would not say anything coherent. They were successful with their plan of DNA test however. With a little snooping around, they had a sample of Samriti’s hair the very next day. Srinivas’ detective managed to get it while she was shopping with Mou. The DNA test was rushed and the result surprised and shocked the Jain family.

“So, she had planned all this? She knew it was a girl, went away to Dharmshala and gave away the baby? Possibly died in childbirth? And what was Geeta doing? Was she also involved in the conspiracy?” They all wondered.

“We can’t know all that unless we find her adoptive father, who is not here,” Srinivas said, “But his absence is a good thing. Right now here is how things stand. The girl would not be eighteen. So, she is Mr. Jain’s daughter and a minor. She was given away without your knowledge. You can claim her guardianship, and get the property that belongs to her and…”

—

“Hi Smriti,” Srinivas found her in a park near Mou’s house. Mou was still at work; so she was wandering there alone. Used to the cool weather, pollution-free environment and vast empty spaces in Dharmshala, she was feeling suffocated in Kolkata. She was almost regretting extending her stay by two weeks. She hadn’t been able to find out anything about her real family. The city was so big and confusing that she didn’t even know how to go back to her mother’s house.

She didn’t recognize Srinivas at first and looked alarmed at being addressed by him.

“Looks like you have forgotten. I am Mou’s friend. Srinivas, the lawyer. We met near your mother’s house.”

“Oh! Hi,” she stepped back increasing the distance between them, recalling what Mou had told her about him.

“I think you came away from there. Why didn’t you meet your mother’s family?”

“They don’t stay there.”

“Why? Unless I am mistaken, wasn’t your mother Karishma?”

“How… how do you know?”

“I know your entire family well. And your mother’s family very much stays in that house. Were you told otherwise?”

Smriti was stunned. Srinivas liked the effect his information produced. This was just what he had hoped for.

“If that is the case, I think you do not know about your real father at all. Do you even know that your father stays in Kolkata and the man you call your father is not really…”

“You know him too? He is alive?”

“I know him very well and he is alive and healthy. And I am very happy that I will carry the good news to him that his daughter has been found. They were so anxious for you. They didn’t know where your mother had eloped with you, or who her lover was.”

—

To be continued

“Daddy. I have finished milk. A full glass of it. Mou Auntie. Now tell me the stories.”

“Sure. Come here. Or do you want to walk outside?”

“Outside.”

“She is fond of outdoors.

“Like both of you.”

“Yes. She can already trek with me on the nearby hills,” Siddhartha’s eyes tinkled with fatherly pride.

“Once your Mamma and I had a fight…” Mou began her story.

“You used to fight?”

“Yes. All the time.”

“But fighting is not good.”

“You can fight with friends. But you must make up quickly.”

“Daddy. You are my friend, right?”

“Yes,” Siddhartha grinned, knowing where this was going.

“Then I can fight with you.”

“But you must make up quickly,” Mou reminded her.

“As soon as Daddy brings me chocolate, I make up.”

Mou and Siddhartha laughed out loud, much to Smriti’s delight.

Smriti was still very active after they had come back in to the house. “Shall I show you Mamma’s photos, Mou Auntie?”

“Sure.”

“I recognize you in some of the photos.”

“You do? That’s very clever.”

“But Daddy doesn’t have any of their wedding photographs. He said they were destroyed in an accident.”

Mou looked uncomfortably at Siddhartha, who smiled helplessly.

“Do you have any photos of their wedding on your phone, Mou Auntie?”

“No sweetheart. I didn’t have a camera phone then.”

“How sad! I will bring the photographs,” she ran off to her room.

—

“It was really good of you to come, Mou,” Siddhartha said when she made to leave the next morning.

“Time flies, Prof. Sen. I had meant to come much earlier. But something or the other…”

“Make time now… I need a replenishment of Mamma stories,” he said jocularly.

“Don’t worry. She is old enough now. I will talk to her on phone and supply those.”

—

Another 12 years later.

“You have written so many exams. I’m sure you will get through one of them, darling. Must you go to Kolkata as well?” Smriti was done with her board examinations and was now writing entrance tests for various medical colleges.

“What is the harm, Daddy? Why leave anything to chance?”

“It’s too far. And I am not able to come with you.”

“I have been to Bangalore, Daddy. And Mou Auntie will be there to receive me as soon as I reach.”

“The weather is horrible. You are not used to it at all.”

“So it was in Chennai. Now really. You must stop making alibis and let me go, Daddy.”

Siddhartha gave up. He usually did, when it was only his feelings, and not rationality, that meant to stop Smriti from doing something. Because Karishma had wanted him to give her choices. But he must have a chat with Mou and ask her to keep away from Karishma’s families, especially her husband’s. The fact that Smriti had grown up to look so similar to Karishma made him even more uneasy on this occasion.

Smriti was so insistent on going to Kolkata for the same reason for which Siddhartha wanted to stop her. To find out about her true identity. She knew that her mother was from Kolkata. And a few months back she had discovered that Siddhartha was not her father. It had started in the biology class, when the teacher had told them about the relationship between the blood group of parents and children. Along with her friend Tanu, she had tried to guess her mother’s blood group. But she had realized that hers and Siddhartha’s blood groups were not compatible at all. If the father had Siddhartha’s blood group, his child could not have had Smriti’s, irrespective of what mother’s was. She had meant to go to the teacher, but Tanu had stopped her.

“I think I know the reason,” she had said.

“What?”

“I have overheard my parents… I think… you are adopted.”

Smriti’s first reaction had been of disbelief. But the proof was right before her eyes.  What should she do? Who should she ask?

“Please don’t tell anyone that I told you about this, Smriti,” Tanu had pleaded, “My parents hadn’t meant for me to know it…”

Smriti had gone to her old nanny. The woman was now quite old and sick. She had initially refused to say anything, but had finally relented. “Your parents were his friends and they had died in an accident. But don’t tell him anything, sweetie. He loves you so much. He has devoted his life to you. He would be heartbroken.”

Smriti could not disagree with that, but the question of her origins, her identity gnawed at her. She was particularly perplexed because all her life, Sidhartha had told her stories of her mother as if they were married. But if she was adopted, then where was her father? What were these stories? What exactly was her mother’s relationship with Siddhartha? She saw this trip to Kolkata as a possibility to answer these questions. Not only she prevailed upon Siddhartha to allow her to go, she also made her trip two-weeks long. “This is the last exam, Daddy. I can take a holiday,” she had reasoned, “And I am sure Mou Auntie doesn’t mind.”

—

Smriti had pestered Mou to take her to see the house her mother had grown up in. Mou had lied to her that her family no longer lived there and Mou wouldn’t know anyone even if they were there. But even if she could see it only from outside, she must see it.

While they stood at some distance from the house, someone came out of it. Mou was startled to see that it was a lawyer of her acquaintance. Not wanting to be noticed, she tried to hurry Smriti away, but the lawyer had seen her.

“Mou. Hi.”

“Hi Srinivas.”

“Hello,” he also turned to Smriti had greeted her. Mou felt compelled to introduce them.

“This is Smriti, my friend’s daughter. Smriti. Srinivas is a very famous lawyer in Kolkata and I often meet him for my work…”

“So what are you doing here?” Srinivas interjected before Mou could give an alibi to go.

“My mother had grown up in this house,” Smirit replied, before Mou could, “Since I was visiting Kolkata, I wanted to see it.”

“Is it? What’s her name?” Srinivas was suddenly more interested.

“Karish…”

“I’m getting late, Smriti. Sorry Srinivas. We must rush off.” She practically dragged Smriti away.

“What happened, Mou Auntie?”

“He is a creep, Smriti. Too bad I have to meet him for work. Else I would not want to even recognize him. Especially when I am with you,” Mou replied truthfully. She had assigned his unnecessary curiosity about Smriti to his usual sleaziness.

Although Mou did, in general, not want anyone to know about Smriti and Karishma, she hadn’t imagined that the lawyer would have particular interest in knowing about it.

“Why did you never marry, Mou Auntie?” Smriti asked Mou that evening.

“Because men are hopeless.”

“Daddy is not.”

“No sweetie. Your Daddy is not. But he was taken. What could I do?”

Smriti chuckled.

—

To be continued

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

As per their plan, they went to a hospital slightly far from where Siddhartha stayed, and pretended being husband and wife. When the baby was to be born, the birth certificate would have his name as the father. So, she could stay with him even after Karishma left. Technically, it would be invalid, but who was going to question the baby’s parentage if Vikram and his family didn’t know about it. To his colleagues, he’d say that he had adopted a friend’s baby because they died in an accident.

The baby was due in six months. It meant Karishma would have another six months to spend with her daughter.

“You are still as interested in sports,” Karishma remarked. It was a Sunday morning and they were having breakfast at her house. He had come there directly after finishing his game of tennis.

“I had slackened off, to be honest. But now I am picking up again.”

“Ah! Why now?”

“Now there is reason to stay healthy and live long,” he smiled.

He needed to live well to bring up her daughter.  Her eyes expressed the gratitude she didn’t voice.

“You will tell her about me, won’t you, Siddhartha?” her voice was heavy with longing ad emotions. With his repeated insistence, she had grown used to calling him by his name.

“Yes. I will tell her just how accident-prone her mother was,” he joked, fearing that she was on the verge of tears.

“Shut up. I am not accident-prone,” she said pouting, and smiling at the same time. His plan worked.

Geeta watched them from the kitchen door and smiled. After her initial reservations at the situation had been overcome, she had given into Siddhartha’s charm. She often found herself wondering how different he was from the men she had encountered in the Jain household and how much better off Karishma would have been with someone like him. Last night he had stuffed the fridge with all flavors of ice-creams.  He had also brought ready-made gol-gappe and pani-puri masala. When Geeta had asked him what he was doing, he had responded so adorably. “She keeps having these cravings. It will be helpful at night. You can mix the masala with just cold water for pani-puri. Will you also keep some boiled potatoes in the fridge, please?”

“Chachi. Another Parantha, please,” Karishma calling out to her brought her out of her reverie and she went back to the kitchen.

The only time Siddhartha spent at his home these days was at night. He turned up at her house early in the morning to take her on a morning walk. Then they had breakfast. After college he was back again. They talked, read, went out, took a walk and he left only after dinner. He had also taken up all the hospital and pregnancy related expenses on himself. “If you want me to be a parent to her, you have to let me take responsibility,” he had told her.

“Ouch!” Karishma cried suddenly as they walked down a narrow, tree-lined mountain road.

“What happened?” Siddhartha was alarmed.

But she smiled. “The baby kicked. Ouch again. See, can you feel it?” He put his hand on her stomach and he felt it. His eyes grew moist. Then he could not control himself. He kissed her on forehead. “Thank you,” he said. She was going to make him a father!

“Thank you,” she replied emphatically, held his hands and they continued walking in silence, but smiling with contentment.

Initially he had tried convincing Karishma that she should do something and bring up her daughter herself.

“I am no more a fighter, Siddhartha, than Anna was a feminist. If you weren’t there, if I wasn’t sure that you would happily take her responsibility and give her all the love she deserves, then I would have fought. I would have had no other option. But right now… I am decided on it. I owed it to my father to help him fulfill his old promise. She owes no one anything. She doesn’t owe even me a justice. She deserves an uncomplicated life and unconditional love. That’s what I am trying to give her.”

“Karishma. There would be more children in future..”

“There won’t be. I will get an operation done…”

“But…”

“I don’t want to bring up a child in that family. Even if it is a boy, what values will he grow up with?”

Then he had given up. For his part, he was extremely happy at the prospect of being a father. He had started arranging his life around it. From relooking at his finances and savings and taking care of his own health to stopping visits to red-light districts! His life was not going to be devoted to her daughter. His daughter!

—

“Come here, my child. I made a mistake. Left you in a bad world…” Karishma saw her father calling her.

“But Papa. My daughter needs me. How can I leave her behind…”

“She is in safe hands, Karishma. Come with me… It’s so much better here…”

Karishma woke up with a start. What kind of a dream was it?

And it recurred. Almost every night with some variation. Sometimes she saw her father in it, sometimes her dead grandfather or grandmother. All her dead relatives seem to be calling her.

She finally told Siddhartha one day.

“I am going to die, Siddhartha. But I must deliver the baby safely before that.”

“Nonsense. You are fit and healthy. Doctor has said that there are no complications. Don’t be superstitious.”

“There is superstition and there is that premonition deep inside you. It’s different.”

“Stop thinking about it.”

But he had himself become worried. He asked the doctor to do all kinds of checkups and took her through even all the optional tests that the doctor saw no reason to conduct. Everything was normal.

Seeing him worry so much, she tried to undo the damage. “I haven’t had that dream in a while now, Siddhartha,” she said, lying. She had seen it that night too. “So, don’t worry about me.”

“Of course,” he replied trying to hide his embarrassment, “I wasn’t worried about some stupid dream, I already told you. I was just being careful. We must be.”

“Right. Of course,” she smiled indulgently, “And even Anna didn’t die in childbirth.” Why did the thought of Anna never leave her?

Siddhartha retorted this time. “You are, anyway, no Anna, Karishma. You are more of a Devaki, who sacrificed and suffered the separation from her baby for its safety.”

“Forget Anna. What will you name your daughter?”

“You are asking me to name her?” he asked, surprised, but not failing to notice her use of ‘your daughter’ and feeling elated at that.

“Who else will do that?”

“Then I will name her Smriti. She will embody your memories for me.”

—

To be continued

“I will be at the temple, Chachi. Don’t cook lunch for me,” Karishma told Geeta when she stepped out of the house. And she hadn’t lied. She did indeed spend the time until afternoon in the temple, while Siddhartha was at the university. After that she went to his home.

“I wanted to ask you something, Prof. Sen…”

“Karishma. You are no longer my student. Can’t we drop this ‘Sir’ and ‘Prof. Sen’? Just call me Siddhartha.”

She smiled nervously, “One doesn’t stop being a student.”

“Fine. One can start being friends? Or… just acknowledge the friendship that I believe already exists.”

Karishma felt happy and sad at the same time. “I’ll try. But it is also a matter of habit. So…”

“Try.”

“Okay.”

“You were asking something.”

“Yeah… That… I was wondering… Did you ever consider adopting?”

Siddhartha let out a sigh and spoke after a pause. “I did. I researched and came pretty close to… But then it didn’t feel right. A child should have a home and should be loved for its own sake. It didn’t feel right that I should bring one only to relieve me of my loneliness.”

“Will you… adopt my daughter?”

“Excuse me?”

“I sympathize more with Anna today, Prof. Sen. Sometimes circumstances push you to the edge… And I’m going crazy in my desperation to save my child.”

“What are you talking about Karishma?”

She told him about her predicament.

He was aghast as expected. “This is bizarre, Karishma. Don’t you… Wouldn’t you like to bring up your daughter on your own? Get out of there.”

“I have considered everything. I would have fought an ideological battle, if I were fighting for someone else’s child. My sister-in-law’s, for example. But when I think of this little creature, not even born yet, I don’t want her to fight for justifying her existence. I want to welcome her to the world like every child deserves and give her a loving home. If my family got involved, that will never happen.”

“Karishma. Don’t take it as my unwillingness, when I am trying to get you to explore all options. I just want to make sure…”

“That I don’t take a decision with which I have to stick all my life without really knowing what it entails. I understand you, Prof. Sen… Siddhartha. But I have made up my mind.”

He thought for a while; then said, “In that case, Karishma, let’s discuss some technicalities.”

Siddhartha had done his research on adoption earlier. And there were hurdles. She couldn’t give her daughter for adoption without his husband’s consent. Both parents required to make a decision. The workaround for that was to possibly leave the baby in an orphanage anonymously, from where Siddhartha could adopt her. But the adoption rules prevented a single man from adopting a girl child.

Karishma looked hopeless. She hadn’t thought of the technicalities at all. Siddhartha paced in the room, while she sat slumped on a chair. Suddenly he stopped and asked, “Have you already been to a hospital here?”

“No.”

“Then I have a plan. It might be as bizarre as the situation, but…”

“Anything for my daughter, Prof. Sen.”

—

“I don’t understand. What exactly have you come here for?” Geeta could not ignore Siddhartha dropping her home a second time.

“Sit down, Chachi, and listen to me. I have come here neither to do any penance, nor to find a lover. I have come here to save my daughter and I will do it.”

“What are you talking about? What daughter?”

“Don’t be alarmed. Again, it is not from a lover, but from my dear husband himself. Unfortunately he would do nothing to save her.”

“You are pregnant, already?”

“Yes. And with a girl child.”

“You had planned all this?”

“Yes.”

“Lord help me. What are you getting into? And what are you dragging me into? I could never have thought you are capable of so much deceit…”

“And I had never thought that you were capable of killing babies before they were even born. My in-laws never go there themselves, do they, Geeta Chachi? They always send you with the hapless mother to get it done in some shady clinic. Do you think God is not keeping a tally for you? Now is the time to do your penance. Help me save this girl and God might forgive you.”

But Geeta was worried for herself. “What am I to do… What will they do to me…”

“Geeta Chachi. Help me; go with my plan; and nobody needs to know anything. We will go back at the end of one year as planned.”

“How on earth in that possible? How can people not know such a thing?”

“I will tell you how…”

Geeta was still unsure after hearing the plan. “It’s just too much… too much…”

“Geeta Chachi. I am hoping that you have some kindness in your heart. And you will help me out of that kindness. But remember this, I am determined about it. If anyone questions my daughter’s right to live, I will question the entire world’s right to live. I will kill people if I have to. At the very least I will call police and hand you over to them. But don’t get me wrong Geeta Chachi. I am not wicked. I am just a desperate mother.”

Her determined monologue did mellow down Geeta slightly. “You have done a brave thing, my child. But I don’t know… If someone should come to know…”

“Then I will disappear with my child and you can tell them that I have run away with a lover. You don’t need to own anything.”

Karishma was prepared for that eventuality too. She had brought all her jewelry with her. That was her last resort to get money needed to bring the child in the world and to sustain herself for a while.

Now that she had enlisted Geeta’s help, even if with reservations, she was relieved. She called Mou and updated her.

—

To be continued