Custody (31 page)

Raman got the boy’s quilt and pillow and arranged them around him on the sofa, then put most of the lights off. The sounds from the TV filled the room, attracting Arjun’s drowsy, staring eyes. He was going to be disappointed and there was not a thing his father could do.

In the morning he found his son sleeping on the sofa, the remote near his pillow, the TV on, images from New Year festivities still being displayed.

Ishita also spent Millennium Eve in front of the TV with her parents. She was somewhat withdrawn and her mother looked at her worriedly.

It was cold outside, but still the celebratory noises continued relentlessly. The Society had hosted a dinner, and there had been a fire. Many had stood around it, but the Kaushiks could not be seen among the people looking at the flames. Ishita searched, then despised herself for searching. She could see Mrs Hingorani, the fire flickering over the features she loved, but she didn’t want to go and talk to her. At this moment her lonely heart demanded a father and a child and nobody else would do.

Mrs Kaushik had told her mother that in two weeks Arjun would be back in school. Then maybe Raman would come over with Roo, but she was not sure she wanted to see him if she was just a convenient auntie for his daughter, someone who would amuse her while they visited. If that was the case, she must watch herself, she was in danger of growing too fond of essentially borrowed goods.

It was a long and mostly silent trip to Dehradun with Arjun strapped into the front seat, looking out of the window, Raman driving the six hours with the usual heavy heart that accompanied him on this journey.

They stopped at Cheetal for lunch. Arjun banged his legs against the white plastic chair and ordered chicken tikka roll. Raman had the same.

‘You will miss such food,’ he remarked.

‘It’s all right.’

‘I will come and visit you.’

Arjun didn’t say anything and Raman wondered why he felt the need to say ‘I will come and visit you’ quite so often.

‘Did you go out much with Ashok Uncle when you were in New York?’

‘Some. Mostly Mama. Naani was there too.’

Mrs Sabharwal in New York? Why not? – she was Shagun’s mother, it was natural that she should visit her newly married daughter, natural, only natural. He should stop asking Arjun questions. There were some things it was better not to know.

‘We all went to Niagara once,’ continued Arjun, bits of onion falling from his mouth. ‘Roohi was scared.’

‘Poor thing. I imagine the water makes a lot of noise.’

‘Like thunder. You haven’t seen them?’

No, Raman hadn’t. So Arjun must tell him about the falls. Were they as wonderful as people said?

Yes, they were.

‘What else did you do? Lots of things going on in New York?’

‘Yes. We went to a show.’

‘Which one?’

‘The Lion King.’

‘Broadway?’

‘Ya. It’s walking distance from us. It was so cool.’

‘Didn’t Roo get tired?’

‘Roo wasn’t there. She was home with Mama.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes – Mama says she is too young to be taken to such places. She needs her bedtime.’

‘Then who did you go with?’

‘Some people.’ And that was all that Arjun would say.

From this Raman had to gather what he could. Although Arjun was reluctant to share his experiences, he had learned enough to depress him thoroughly.

Mama dearest!

Happy 2000! Did you get my card? And the flowers I sent? Did you eat the Christmas cake? What did you do on New Year’s Eve? Go to bed as usual? Did Ami come over?

Millennium Eve was everything one could possibly possibly wish for. Sometimes I feel so happy Mama, I wonder how I am among the lucky ones. We were in Times Square when this huge glittering ball descended. Everybody was screaming and dancing – Ashok and I danced too, he said he would never have gone to such a tamasha if it hadn’t been for me. His idea of a party is getting together with some colleagues and discussing The Brand! He says I have given him a new lease of life, that now is the time for him to cash in on years of dedication to the company.

We are thinking of renting a little cottage on a lake in New England for a month in the summer when the children come next. You will love it, Mama! There is so much beauty in America.

Ashok says he will go canoeing with Arjun. I will teach Roo how to swim. High time she learned. She tends to be timid but once I introduce her to sports she will improve.

Look at me! It is only January, and I am already talking of the next visit. Ashok is a great believer in planning. Plan A, then Plan B – the back-up plan. Do you know what the back-up plan was if I did not get a divorce? Relocate in India! Imagine – when he has lived most of his life abroad! Do you think I should believe him?

Your loving daughter,

Shagun

XXV

Back from Dehradun, one of the first things Raman did was go over to Swarg Nivas and see Ishita.

‘How are you?’ she started, polite and careful.

Raman could hear the hurt, justified from a certain perspective.

‘I hope your new year went well?’ she went on valiantly in the face of his silence.

Fine, considering the circumstances. A month ago his children had returned from their trip to their mother in America, and from then on they had been difficult to deal with. Roo tended to whine and fuss, Arjun’s behaviour was unpredictable. He could not give them glamour, but he could give them stability and love, and he had spent the past month trying to do just that.

‘I am sorry,’ said Ishita, slightly flummoxed.

‘What for? Nothing in this is your fault.’

‘Yes, but you are such a good man, such a caring father that it is upsetting to see you miserable.’

Raman sighed. Such insights into his character were very welcome. Dropping Arjun to DPA always left him a residue of pain to deal with, he said.

Didn’t he think that was the right place for his son?

‘Oh, it might be for all I know. Ashok got him into this place, and along with other factors, I feel my son growing away from me and I don’t know how to stop it, that’s all.’

A weight lifted from Ishita’s heart. This is what she had hoped for, that there were problems; that Raman wasn’t so happy with his children that their presence obliterated her. More confidently she now said, ‘I was hoping to meet Arjun.’

‘I was also hoping. But things have changed. Now I feel there is a reporter lurking in my son, he sees things through his mother’s eyes. He is too young to be doing this. It makes him judgemental and as a result he can seem older than he is.’

‘It’s hard,’ observed Ishita invitingly.

‘And then it is tricky between him and Roo. He understands more of what is going on, resents our divorce, takes it out on his sister, but she is just a baby.’

‘Indeed, she is.’

‘Yet if I scold him all the time, he will obviously mind.’

‘There is that danger, yes.’

‘When I am alone with him, it’s fine. But when Roo is there, he just lashes out, I don’t know why, though I imagine it has to do with the divorce. I can only trust it won’t cause any lasting damage.’

‘Um.’

‘Sorry to bore you.’

He was not boring her, she was just wondering how to help. Actually, children were enormously resilient. If he could just see her slum kids, abused from morning to night, yet they had this pliancy, this optimism – they were so different from adults – it was working with them that made her want to adopt—

Oh really? She had wanted to adopt?

Yes, but hadn’t done it yet. Her parents had asked her to wait a year, hoping no doubt she would get married. But now that time was almost over. She did want the experience of being a full-time mother. Take Roohi, whenever she went away she felt sad, nobody’s fault of course, but she felt sad nonetheless.

Raman looked thoughtful.

And so the ball rolled between them.

It took a few more months, a few more casual meetings, and many hours of prayer on the part of their mothers, but it became as natural for Raman to meet Ishita once he was in Swarg Nivas as it was for him to meet his parents. He would dial the number of her flat on the intercom the minute he came.

Would she like to come over? He was here with Roohi.

The fact that it was always Roohi was fine with Ishita. Her pleasure in the child’s company was unambiguous, while Roohi herself was forthcoming with the many things she wanted to show Auntie. Her Barbie, her books, her new hair clips, a print of her hands she had made in art class, a clay blob, which she said was a bird.

One evening found Roohi in Ishita’s lap, and such was the child’s insistence that she would not leave Auntie that Raman offered to take Ishita home and give her dinner if such a thing was acceptable.

‘Of course it is acceptable,’ said Mrs Kaushik.

‘I don’t know, Auntie,’ said Ishita, feeling shy. ‘Mummy is waiting for me.’

‘Arre, Uncle will tell your mother, don’t worry, beta.’

Ishita looked at Mr Kaushik, and in that timid, hesitant look the man for the first time forgot the blue-green eyes of his erstwhile daughter-in-law. ‘Yes, yes, beta, I’ll tell them.’

With Roohi cradled in her arms, Ishita sat in the front seat.

‘Is she heavy?’ enquired Raman tenderly.

‘Poor thing, she can never be heavy for me. You know how much I miss her.’

‘She has had so many upheavals in her life.’

‘Well, at least she has learned to cope. Does she talk about her mother a lot?’

‘Not really.’

‘Today she drew a picture of a happy family – mother, father, brother, sister. My heart bled for her.’

‘Yeah. Nice dream. It was mine as well.’

‘Mine too.’

‘I can see you are very fond of children.’

‘Yes.’

‘Your first husband did not want?’

‘He did. That was the whole problem, because I couldn’t have. Some childhood illness I didn’t know about. They accused me of marrying under false pretences. It was horrible.’

‘How long were you married?’

‘Four years and a bit.’

‘That’s nothing.’

‘True.’

‘If you are married for longer, the roots are deeper, there is more violence in plucking them out.’

‘I suppose. Never thought of it that way.’

‘Yes. Well.’

‘Listen, don’t worry about Roo. She is going to be fine.’

‘Nice fate. To live with whatever circumstances adults throw at her.’

‘At least they all love her. That’s one good thing.’

Raman sighed. What was he thinking? wondered Ishita anxiously. Was he remembering another woman who sat next to him in all her exquisiteness?

‘She is very fond of you,’ remarked Raman after a while, thinking he hadn’t given Ishita her due.

‘It’s mutual,’ Ishita said in the long pause that followed. By now they had turned into the side road that led to Mor Vihar. They stopped outside the house and Raman ran around to help Ishita with the still-sleeping child.

‘Thank goodness I fed her, but she was very fussy with her food. I hope she is not falling sick,’ said Ishita as Raman carried his daughter indoors.

‘I hope not. I don’t know what I’ll do then.’

‘Send her to me,’ laughed Ishita.

Why should he be surprised at the happiness he felt at this?

*

Ishita looked around. Instead of the spectacular living arrangements she had imagined, she saw a spacious flat, neat but bland, with ordinary furniture.

Raman noticed her gaze. ‘I am afraid everything is a mess. Ganga and Ganesh tend to get a little lazy when there is no supervision. When I am home I prefer to spend all my time with Roohi rather than worrying about the house.’

‘Not at all. It is very nicely kept.’

‘It’s a company rental, not really my own.’

‘Don’t your parents mind your living so far?’

‘In the early days I used to fall sick from staying in office late and commuting long hours. They were the ones to suggest I stay nearer work. Then after I married, well … it just continued … I don’t know.’

‘Umm.’

‘Would you like a drink?’

‘Love one.’

‘Beer?’

‘Vodka with lemon?’

She sensed his surprise.

‘Mummy and Papa don’t know I drink, they would be horrified. We used to drink sometimes when we went to friends’ houses when the elders were not around.’

He gathered she was talking of her old life. Angrily he thought of that spineless husband, pressurised into divorcing a wife just because she had a womb that didn’t function. He said as much.

She gave a small smile. His was not the common thinking, she assured him. Even she felt they had reason. The family wanted a child, she couldn’t produce one. And they had paid for some expensive fertility treatments.

Raman fell silent. Who was he to hold the torch on someone else’s behalf, when the light in his own home was so feeble?

They sipped their drinks.

‘Should we order a pizza?’ he asked after a while.

‘Doesn’t Ganesh cook for you?’

‘When I tell him to. If you prefer home food, Ganesh can make an omelette. He makes very good omelettes.’

She wondered how often Ganesh’s cooking skills were employed.

‘Anything, I will take anything.’

But it turned out there were no eggs, so pizza was ordered instead.

‘I can’t think how I forgot to order eggs. He is supposed to remind me.’

‘I love pizza too.’

Raman turned to her. She smiled, the ice went tinkle tinkle in her glass, giving her a feeling of daring, enhanced when he switched off the lamp next to the sofa. His arms went around her, hesitantly she opened her mouth to him. Their vodka breaths mixed, he could taste the lemony alcohol on her tongue.

The curtains were not yet drawn, the room was lit by the white neon lights of the street. Gently Raman pushed Ishita down on the sofa. Their bodies were new to each other, and he could sense her hesitation, feel the rigidity of her legs. Tentatively he explored her clothed breasts, kissed her face, whispered her name.

Half an hour later the bell rang. It was the pizza delivery boy.