Custody (36 page)

‘You eat, you eat, enough feeding of us all,’ he tells her.

Towards the end, when all is done, she thinks carefully before she says, ‘Beta, I am like Roohi’s mother. I hope to be your mother too, at least your mother in this house.’

‘We can discuss all that later, Ish,’ said Raman.

‘Of course we can. Only I thought best to get things clear in the beginning. After all, Roohi has to live here with us – she shouldn’t feel confused.’

Arjun glared at his sister, who was making potato gravy dots around her plate.

‘Don’t play with your food, beta,’ said Ishita. Roohi paid no attention. Ordinarily Ishita would have let this go, but this moment was not ordinary. Raman was not backing her claims as he should.

‘Beta,’ she repeated, ‘don’t play with your food.’

‘Let her be,’ said Raman.

Ishita rose, gathered the plates that normally the maid gathered, and let her husband know through thin, tightened lips, through unnecessary clattering of spoon on china, that things were going to go badly unless he did something. He got up to follow her.

‘Arjun is just a child. It’s difficult for him too, you have to remember that.’

Yes, he was just a child. And her husband was just his father, unable to see that children too might have scheming minds. Her face grew tight. ‘At least remember how hard I am trying to make this work. And I won’t have him disturbing Roo.’

Raman clicked his tongue in exasperation. ‘Don’t you go behaving irrationally now. I have enough on my hands as it is.’ It was the harshest thing he had ever said to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly.

He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Give it time. Not even one day has passed.’

‘You might have to say something to him … It must be hard on him to see me in his mother’s place, but he has to understand this situation was not of your making. He must see we are together in this.’

‘If necessary, I will. Trust me, can’t you?’

A few days later Raman decided to take Arjun to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. Ishita thought it was a wonderful idea, father and son need to be alone together, she said looking at him lovingly, and he thought what a good girl Ishita was, if anything it was his fault that she was in such an impossible situation.

Raman wanted no harsh note to disturb his interaction with Arjun. He booked a package of two nights, three days in the Maurya Sheraton. He was sure the child stayed in some pretty fancy places with Shagun and Ashok. Well, he could give him fancy as well. He read up the history of Fatehpur Sikri and the Taj to place the monuments they saw in a historical context, to fill in conversational gaps with educational fragments.

For three days father and son bonded, away from the distractions of sister-baiting and relative-hating. Arjun was now more willing to talk about the things he did at Shivalik House, the tricks they played on the teachers, the house matches, the six-or-seven-kilometre trek they had taken over Diwali weekend. Raman was careful not to ask many questions, he found that irritated his son.

Arjun clearly loved being in Agra. ‘Do we have to go home?’ he asked, on the evening of the third day, but yes, they had to go.

‘Your sister will be very disappointed. She has been so looking forward to her elder brother’s visit. When is he coming? When is he coming? A dozen times a day. And Daadi and Daada too. When is he coming? You are only with me for four weeks, after all.’

Arjun had nothing to say to any of this.

The sister and grandparents might have been clamouring for Arjun’s presence, but Raman was saddened that this didn’t really matter to his son. The only person he showed any preference for was himself.

Once home he insisted till Raman’s hand ached that they play
RollerCoaster Tycoon
and
Age of Empires
to the exclusion of all else.

As they stared at the screen Raman used the opportunity to try and establish some mutual understanding.

‘Things have changed at home, beta.’

‘Do you mean your marriage, Papa?’

‘Yes, and that Roohi has found a mother in her. I must ask you to respect that.’

‘Mama is our mother.’

‘But she left and Roo is too young to be without a mother. For better or for worse,’ he went on carefully, ‘she considers Ishita in that role. Ishita too dotes on her. It is best not to upset the apple cart,’ he went on, laughing lightly, ‘you do know what that means, don’t you?’

Arjun shook his head.

‘Let things be the way they are. You don’t really see Roo when you are not here, but after she came from America she was very disturbed. She kept wetting her bed. And she told some strange story about three little piggies and a big bad wolf, a story that was repeated to her on the plane. For some reason this seemed to have frightened her.’

‘What a baby.’

‘I got quite worried. Did something bad happen there – something your mother might not be aware of?’

‘Nothing. We had this game – that we were living in a house like the three little piggies – it was in a cabin by the lake, you know, Papa – anyway, she made it very difficult when Mama told her that the holiday was over. So we told her we had to go because the big bad wolf was coming to blow the place down. And cook us and eat us,’ added Arjun with relish.

‘She is still too young to distinguish reality from fairy tales, beta. After you left for school she really broke down.’

‘It was Mama in America she didn’t want to leave. You should have heard her crying and saying I want to stay, I want to stay. I didn’t tell you – I knew you would be upset.’

‘Beta, it is disturbing for children to be shunted around like this. You are older, you understand, but she doesn’t.’

‘Mama explained and explained. I was there.’

‘Don’t forget how young she is.’

‘What’ll happen to the apple cart the next time we go?’

Raman could not bring himself to answer. There was a willingness to wound in Arjun that was new to Raman. What had happened to his son? He had obviously been primed during his last trip to his mother. He looked at the face, so like Shagun’s, opaque as hers had been towards the end.

For the initial meeting with the grandparents Raman arranged a family lunch at Sagar. In the restaurant there would be so much going on that any tension would be dissipated in the eating and drinking.

When they arrived they found Mr and Mrs Kaushik already waiting for them in the crowded room, seated next to the window on the second floor of this food mansion.

‘Beta!’ they exclaimed. ‘How are you? We have missed you so much, you never wrote to us, hanh? You forgot us, did you?’

For the millionth time in his life Raman wished his parents were not so tactless. Even Ishita flinched.

‘School keeps children very busy,’ she said quickly.

‘So busy that you forget your father, forget everybody?’

The waiter bustled up. They ordered multiple combinations of dosa, idli and vada.

Raman used the time waiting for the food to sink into depression. Gone was the sense of father and son that he had experienced in Agra, lost in transit from the two of them to the six of them.

The grandparents continued to ask Arjun questions which Raman tried to answer so that the boy’s surliness was not noticeable. The food came, distractions occurred, they ate, they drank, they paid, then made their way down, pushing through people charging up the narrow staircase, and finally started on their separate ways home. Mr and Mrs Kaushik found it odd that they were not invited to spend the rest of the day with their son, but things had changed, they told themselves in the car, Raman would call them over when he thought it best. At least they got to see a lot of their granddaughter.

The tension continued during the remainder of Arjun’s visit. Ishita looked as though each second was torture. She wanted Raman to understand her position, and not blame her later for anything. She was trying, if only he knew how hard. Four weeks were not much she realilsed, but Arjun was making trouble between Roohi and herself.

‘You are imagining things.’

‘No, I am not. He just stays in his room the whole time you are away, or he calls Roohi to him and shuts the door. What am I to think? And she only calls me Mama when he is not there.’

He is just a child, thought Raman, but he said nothing, merely continued going out with his son. Those were the best times when they were alone, and he tried to create these situations as much as possible. They saw a film at Priya, ate potato skins and pizza at TGIF, wandered around the shopping complex before returning home. They didn’t talk much. Raman said, ‘I love you, son, you are my own flesh and blood, I want you always to remember that.’ Arjun said ‘I know,’ thus gratifying his father. Raman was not about to spoil any outing with the parental strictures that Ishita so wanted. There is a time and a place for everything.

*

For the first time Ishita began to think it had been a bad idea to give up her job with Jeevan. It meant that in times of stress there was never any relief from the torment. And wasn’t it better to devote oneself to many children than to obsess about one little girl?

Yet it had seemed the obvious course. How could she allow herself to miss precious months of Roo’s rearing, when so much had already gone wrong in the child’s life? In both their lives?

She sighed as she returned to the papers in front of her, pushing other things out of her mind. There was plenty of time to spend on the phone, asking the mothers she knew about school interviews, because Raman was usually with his son. She tried not to look directly at him when he came back to their room, she hated his air of dreamy self-consciousness, almost as though he were in love with the boy.

Be calm, she told herself, think of your husband, think of his health.

She often thought of his health – so much easier when the man was not in front of her.

Raman, seeing her marking school prospectuses, was grateful. She is a good girl, he thought, he didn’t know of anyone else who would be capable of this kind of devotion in these circumstances. She hadn’t even demanded his participation, knowing how preoccupied he was.

He offered some non-Arjun thoughts. ‘I keep telling you she has a very good chance in VV, my old school, you know.’

‘I know. But I found out that children of alumni do not get any extra weightage. They said if they started doing that, they would never have room for anybody else.’

‘We didn’t have a problem with Arjun.’

‘Things are tougher now.’

‘When are the interviews?’

‘Gandhi Smriti and Kriloskar this month, Modern and VV in early January, after that Springdales, Our Saviour Convent—’

‘I don’t want a convent,’ said Raman.

‘We may have no choice. It’s the school I went to, that might increase her chances, so I thought it better to fill in the forms.’

‘Are you saying no school will take her?’

‘I am saying we cannot be sure of anything.’ She did not look up as she said this. On her lap was a manila folder, scattered around were passport-size pictures of Roohi – he didn’t even know when she had got them taken. In these few months she had already become indispensable. Because of her Roohi was happy and being looked after as children should be looked after. If there was a little trouble now, it would blow over.

‘Do you need help in filling out the forms?’

‘Most of it is already done. But if I do, I will ask you.’

There was a slight distance in her voice.

‘But do you have all her injection records and everything?’

‘I got them from the paediatrician.’

‘And her blood type?’

‘That too.’

‘Her likes and dislikes? Those too?’

She smiled. ‘Those too.’

‘The child couldn’t be in better hands.’

‘Let’s hope the teachers who interview us think so too.’

He was glad it was admission time. That was enough to keep any concerned mother occupied for months. He edged closer and put his hand under her hair. He loved her neck, it reminded him of a little girl’s.

She pretended not to notice.

He slid her dupatta off her shoulders and threw it on the bed. ‘So stupid, hiding your breasts from your husband,’ he said as his hand wandered.

‘You are not the only man in the world, you know.’

‘But I am the only man in this room.’

She giggled. ‘So you want me to do a striptease for you?’

‘Why not? It would be nice.’

‘Well, I am not going to.’ She pulled her dupatta towards her.

Again he tugged it away. ‘Don’t do a striptease, but there is no need to wear this ridiculous garment. It hardly ever does what it is supposed to do.’

He threw the dupatta across one shoulder, and mimicked a mincing girl. ‘See, this is how fashionable people wear their dupattas – or like this’ – wrapping it around his neck – ‘or like this’ – some more neck-twisting.

Ishita was now openly laughing. Encouraged, Raman went on, ‘And madam, if you won’t do a striptease for me, I will do one for you.’

Off came the shirt, down came the trousers, and now there was just the underwear and his dick peeping through the opening. Ta-da, crooned Raman, suggestively jerking his hips in Ishita’s direction.

She looked wildly at the door – it was unlocked, the overhead lights brightly lit the room. Locks in place, folder pushed hurriedly into a drawer, only the night light on, Raman slid down his underwear to display a large erection. Until she took her own clothes off, this organ was going to remain exposed.

You take them off then, she said, her face glowing, laughing at the erection that was now visible under the thin flapping material of the dupatta, tiny sequins flashing coyly as they caught the sparse reflection of the embedded light next to the bathroom door.

And there she was naked at his feet, drawing him into her mouth, caressing his thighs with her fingers, gripping him more ferociously as her excitement grew. He dragged her to the bed, where they continued indulging themselves.

In the morning Raman thought he had been unduly pessimistic. Things would work out. He had said this to himself before, but now the conviction was greater.

Ishita thought to herself, he is just a child, if he is loyal to his mother, that is quite natural. It is stupid of me to mind, I have Roohi, I should be content with that.