Читать книгу The Forbidden Daughter - Shobhan Bantwal - Страница 12

The early morning gloom was so thick Isha could almost feel it around her shoulders, like a mantle, too heavy to be removed and tossed aside. The Tilak household was still in deep mourning. It was five weeks since Nikhil’s death. And yet it felt like it had happened yesterday.

To add to her anguish, the more she analyzed Nikhil’s bizarre death, the more she was convinced he had been murdered for a reason. She didn’t know for sure what it was or who was behind it. However, after some speculation, she had drawn a few conclusions. Nothing concrete, though—just some theories based on a gut feeling.

Nikhil had been a friendly individual, well liked and respected by most…unless, one of his employees had a grudge against him? Or it could be a competitor. But if that were the case, Nikhil would have mentioned something to her. Every night, as they lay in bed together, they used to share the day’s experiences with each other. He used to talk to her about the business, tell her details of his day at work.

Shaking off the grim thoughts temporarily, Isha tried to focus on what she was doing: urging Priya to eat her breakfast. Nikhil used to apply some fatherly discipline to make sure the finicky Priya ate.

Ayee emerged from the devghar—altar room—after finishing her pooja. Her elaborate worship. The night she’d received the shattering news about Nikhil, she’d promptly fainted. The doctor had been summoned and she’d recovered from the fainting spell, but afterward she was never the same. She’d suffered an emotional breakdown and taken to her bed for more than three weeks. She had lost some weight from the trauma, too. And what little humor she had possessed before the episode was gone.

Now, although she was gradually beginning to ease back into her social pattern and dress elegantly like she used to, she walked around in a surly mood, with a perpetual line between her eyebrows.

Ayee wore a turquoise print cotton sari this morning. Her hair was neatly coiled into her usual bun. There was plenty of gray in her hair, much more than most women her age. But she covered it with hair color. With the sudden weight loss, her face looked drawn, her blouse hung loose in the sleeves and waistline, and the excess skin jiggled around her upper arms whenever she moved them.

As Ayee entered the dining room, Isha could smell the lavender-scented talcum powder the older woman liked to wear.

Seeing Priya in Isha’s lap, sniffling, with her face buried in her mother’s shoulder, Ayee frowned. “Why is she crying again?”

“The usual morning blues,” replied Isha, hoping Priya would cease the fussing and get on with her breakfast. Ayee seemed particularly cantankerous this morning. It didn’t bode well.

“Such a crybaby.” Ayee shook her head. “Every morning and night it is the same story. She does nothing but cry.”

“She’s crying for Nikhil, Ayee. She misses him.” He was the one who dropped her off at school before he went to work. Poor Priya couldn’t understand why her father wasn’t around anymore. The palpable misery around her didn’t help matters, either.

“She’s not the only one. We all miss him,” Ayee said, her lower lip trembling, the tears already glistening in her eyes.

Isha nodded, keeping her own emotions tightly reined in. If she broke down, Priya’s sniveling would only get worse. Nikhil’s presence was still very much there. Everywhere. It would always remain with them.

Ayee blinked and looked at the wall clock. “Priya has to go to school soon, no? Why is she wasting time?”

“I’m trying to get her to eat her breakfast so I can get her ready for school,” Isha assured her mother-in-law. Couldn’t the woman see that Priya was only five years old and needed a little extra comforting at the moment? Had she forgotten that the child was usually very sunny by nature? Labeling her a crybaby was so unfair!

“What she needs is strictness, not more coddling.” Ayee threw an exasperated look at Priya’s pajama-clad back.

With a resigned sigh Isha said, “Time to finish your breakfast, sweetie. I bet all your friends are dressed and ready for school. You don’t want to be late, do you?”

A sob erupted from Priya. “I don’t…want…to go…to school.” She refused to remove her face from Isha’s shoulder. “I want Papa.”

Stifling her own desire to burst into tears, Isha patted Priya’s head. “I told you Papa is in heaven. Dev-bappa needs him more than we do,” she whispered in her ear, using the child’s term for God, or Holy Father. “But I’ll take you to school. Maybe we can go for ice cream after school.”

Instead of making things better, Isha realized she’d made them worse. Priya threw a full-blown tantrum, her ears turning red. “I don’t want ice cream! I want my Papa!”

Ayee accepted the cup of tea poured for her by one of the servants and let out a long-suffering sigh. After taking a sip she gazed out the window at the interminable rain, making her aggravation very clear to Isha. Her mother-in-law had her own passive-aggressive ways of making her feelings known.

Realizing that sternness was the only way to deal with the child, Isha held her by the shoulders and forced her to make eye contact. “Priya, I told you Papa can’t be here. I want you to finish your egg and toast and then change into your uniform. I want this crying to stop! Now!”

Priya’s full mouth started to quiver and large tear drops started to tumble down her cheeks once again, breaking Isha’s heart. “I don’t…want…breakfast.”

Tears gathered in Isha’s eyes, too, which she hastily dabbed with a handkerchief. Was this bone-deep grief ever going to go away? She wanted to gather her little girl close to her heart and cry with her. Maybe they could help wash away each other’s misery. But there were practical matters to consider, for example, her father-in-law.

As if on cue, his heavy footsteps sounded nearby. From the corner of her eye she saw him stride in, dressed in charcoal pants and a tan shirt. His thick silver hair, slick with hair dressing, was combed back from his wide forehead.

He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and accepted the steaming cup of tea one of the servants brought to him. He liked it superhot and sweetened with precisely one teaspoon of sugar. Then he reached for the customary newspaper Ayee left for him in the exact same spot each morning—at his right elbow.

When he heard Priya’s sobs, he adjusted his glasses and glared at her over the rim. “Why are you crying, Priya?”

The little girl continued to sniffle and ignored her grandfather.

“I asked you why you are crying.” His voice rose a bit, planting the first germ of fear in Isha’s mind. Baba’s temper was quick to flare, and it was notorious. Since Nikhil’s death, Baba had been forced to come out of semiretirement and take over the running of the business. Between the loss of his only son and the responsibility of the store, Baba’s temper fits had escalated in frequency and intensity.

When Priya continued to ignore him, his gaze settled on Isha. “What is her problem? Should she not be ready for school by now?”

Before Isha could answer him, Ayee chimed in. “Every day it is the same thing. Priya does nothing but cry. You don’t see Milind and Arvind crying like that. Girls are always fusspots. Soon there will be another girl to add to our headaches.”

“Priya’s only a child, Ayee,” argued Isha. “And she misses her Papa.” But she knew her attempts at defending Priya were weak at best.

Ayee rolled her beautiful eyes and gave another dramatic sigh. “If you had not insisted on ignoring our request to have an abortion, Nikhil would still be here. I was telling you for weeks that the unborn child is showing all the signs of bad luck.”

Her own temper stirring, Isha looked up at her mother-in-law. “Nikhil and I never thought of our child and your grandchild as a bad omen. A child is a blessing, Ayee, never a curse.”

Ayee put down her cup with a flourish. “The astrologer warned me that the child was conceived on a bad day. But who is going to listen to me in this house? The baby is not even here yet, and already she has caused such tragedy for us. What will she do after she is born?”

“Ayee, please…Let’s not blame an unborn child for what fate decreed. Nikhil would be very upset if he could hear that.” Isha cast an uneasy glance at Baba. He was reading the news headlines and nibbling on his buttered toast. “As you know, Nikhil was against abortion. In fact, he was very upset when he found out that Dr. Karnik performs gender-based abortions in the first place.”

Baba slapped his newspaper on the table. The teacups on the table rattled. “Dr. Karnik is a good man and a good doctor! He only does what is right for certain people.”

As rebellion began to stir in her gut, Isha couldn’t help retorting, “But deliberately aborting fetuses just because they’re female is wrong. Morally and legally wrong!”

Baba’s imperious eyebrows shot up. “What is wrong in letting people decide if they want a girl or boy, huh?”

“What’s next? Genetically engineered, identical, perfect little boys populating the entire world?” she rejoined, her voice dripping with bitter cynicism. “Where are they going to find perfect little girls to keep them happy?”

Baba ignored her caustic comment. “Has China not made it possible for people to have only one child, and if they want a boy, they can have a boy?”

“And look what’s happened in China, Baba. They have such a shortage of girls that men are forced to marry their cousins. Many of their men are either doomed to remain single or resort to some dreadful measures to acquire a wife.”

“India has not come to that point, and never will,” said Ayee, joining in the argument. “We have more girls than we know what to do with. Look at our own family—already one girl and another on the way. What sins did we commit in our previous lives that we are punished with girls?”

“Girls these days achieve just as much as boys, if not more,” argued Isha. “They’re assets, not burdens.” She was sorely tempted to say something like, Ayee, what are you if not a female? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? And didn’t you give birth to a girl many years ago? I suppose that makes you worthless, too, just like me?

But she curbed her tongue, because talking back to one’s in-laws was certainly not allowed in her family. Also, realizing that Priya had stopped fussing and was curiously observing the adults arguing, Isha took the opportunity to push the toast in front of her. “Eat.” Besides, she didn’t want an impressionable five-year-old to be exposed to her in-laws’ contemptuous and outdated views about girls.

“Just because they get educated and hold jobs doesn’t mean they are not a burden to their families,” growled Baba, clearly in a fighting mood and itching to prolong the dispute. “In the end, after all that money parents spend on girls, they have to get married, and then their earnings go towards the husband and his family.”

Isha didn’t want to continue the pointless debate. She had things to do, like getting her child to school. “I don’t agree with that philosophy, Baba. You and Ayee can believe what you want.”

“What!” Baba rose from his chair, the veins in his neck visibly bulging, the color rising in his face. “How dare you talk to me like that! Just because your husband is no longer here, you think you can say whatever your long tongue wants to say?”

Regretting her outburst, Isha swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Baba. It must be the strain of the last few weeks.” Perhaps sensing her mother’s fear, Priya burst into noisy tears once again.

Isha realized that with her desire to argue she had inadvertently made a bad situation worse. Why hadn’t she just shut up and let the old folks hang on to their arcane beliefs? “Priya, if you don’t want to eat, fine. Let’s go upstairs and get dressed.” She put Priya on her feet and rose from her chair.

“I don’t want to go to school.” Priya rubbed her swollen eyes with her knuckles.

“You will go to school!” growled Baba.

“I won’t!” Priya retorted. Unfortunately she’d picked the worst day to be bratty.

“I will not tolerate disobedience and disrespect to elders in my house.” Already incensed with Isha, Baba pushed his chair back with a screech and came around the table toward them. Before Isha could do or say anything, he grabbed Priya by the arm and whacked her bottom.

Shocked by the unexpected assault, the child let out a high-pitched scream. And for that she got whacked a couple more times, and harder, too.

Isha stared in disbelief. Priya had been reprimanded, punished in other ways, and yelled at, but never dealt with physically. A moment later, regaining her equilibrium, Isha stepped forward, her breath coming out in gasps. “Baba, stop it! Please!”

When he stopped and let go of Priya, the child ran into her arms, the sobbing now literally choking the breath out of her. Her skin felt hot to the touch and looked red. And Priya’s tiny buttocks were probably even redder from the thorough beating they’d taken through the thin fabric of her pajamas.

Rage began to fire up inside her. How dare he! How dare the old man strike a helpless child!

The cook and her helper had both come out of the kitchen, their eyes wide with curiosity and fear. Sundari, Priya’s elderly nursemaid, stood in a corner, looking petrified.

All Isha could do was hold Priya close and soothe her for a minute, all the while trying to keep her own mounting wrath in check. “Shh, baby…shh.” Then she turned to her father-in-law, who still looked livid. “I can’t believe you struck a child for something as minor as refusing to go to school.”

“Missing school is not a minor matter!”

“Is this the way you dealt with Nikhil and Sheila if they did the same thing in their childhood?” Shaking with fury, Isha turned her gaze on her mother-in-law, who seemed to be taking it all in as if she were watching a scene in a movie. “How can you sit there and let Baba beat up your granddaughter? This is your son’s child, can’t you see?”

“She seems to need more discipline than any other child I know,” said Ayee, looking nonchalant as she chewed on the last of her breakfast. “God knows you and Nikhil never tried to teach her to be a good girl. Someone has to.”

The bitter truth struck Isha in that instant. These people despised her and her child. Now that Nikhil was gone, they resented them even more, especially because in their warped minds they were convinced that Isha’s unborn daughter was responsible for Nikhil’s death. They were hurting from losing their beloved son and needed someone to blame for their pain. Isha and the innocent babe in her womb were convenient scapegoats and therefore by association Priya was also to blame.

Why hadn’t Isha seen that earlier? Maybe losing Nikhil had made her deaf and blind to everything else around her.

But now her eyes were wide open to the truth.

The elder Tilaks were misguided individuals and she and Priya had no place in their home. Things were never going to get better for them, either. Matter of fact, they were only going to get worse. How long was she going to sit around and watch her daughter getting abused?

If Priya was subjected to this, how much was the new baby going to suffer, the one they’d labeled a bad omen and a curse? They probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill her in their smug, self-righteous way and justify it in some fashion.

No wonder they condoned Karnik’s decadent practices.

The urgent and potent need she felt to get out of that house didn’t really surprise Isha. It had been building up gradually over a period of several weeks.

Right after being told about the results of the sonogram, Ayee had started sharing little tidbits of gossip. “Did you know Mrs. Datar’s daughter had an abortion? Good thing, too, since it would have been a third girl.”

When Nikhil and Isha had reacted with outrage, Baba had merely added his chauvinistic opinion. “When modern technology has made it possible to pick and choose the sex of one’s progeny, is it not stupidity to ignore it?”

“It is stupidity to interfere with nature, Baba,” Nikhil had countered. “You and Ayee are religious, God-fearing Brahmins. How can you even think such things when you have a fancy pooja room and you pray twice a day and celebrate all the religious festivals with such devotion? In fact, I’m tempted to report that idiot Dr. Karnik to the police.”

His father had sternly warned Nikhil against any such action. “Don’t get involved in Dr. Karnik’s affairs. He is a good person and a loyal customer, and he is only doing what his patients ask him to do.”

“Even if it is highly illegal?” Nikhil had looked at his father in total disbelief. “Baba, do you know there is a law against even revealing the sex of an unborn child? Do you have any idea how many female children in this country are cruelly destroyed either as fetuses or newborns?”

“Bogus statistics cooked up by feminist groups!” was Baba’s disdainful response. “What Karnik does with his medical practice is none of our business. You stay out of it, you hear?” It was a clear warning.

Nikhil had never again mentioned reporting against Karnik, and of course Isha had immediately switched doctors after that disturbing ultrasound appointment. But every day after that point the debate over abortion had insinuated itself into the conversation in the Tilak home, until it had come to a head when Ayee and Baba had come right out and ordered Nikhil and Isha to schedule an abortion.

“We forbid you to have the child,” Baba had said to them. “What is the point in having another girl? We need a boy to carry on the family tradition.”

For once Nikhil had put on his most intimidating expression and stared his father down, making Isha’s heart swell with pride. “You have no right to forbid a child from coming into this world,” he’d countered. “Neither you nor Dr. Karnik can play God. So I would appreciate your not bringing up this topic again. From now on, the word abortion is not to be mentioned in my presence or Isha’s, or Priya’s, for that matter.”

He had thrown his mother a blistering glance, silently warning her to keep her mouth shut, too.

Amazingly the “A” word had never been brought up again, at least while Nikhil was alive.

So now, as Isha’s heart was breaking over how her father-in-law had punished her grieving child, she knew the time had come to go off on her own. God alone knew where she would go or how she’d survive. She had no real skills, no more than a bachelor’s degree, and one and a half children to protect, but she couldn’t live in this sorry excuse for a home a minute longer.

She waited till Priya’s sobbing subsided, then turned to her in-laws. “I think you’re clearly trying to tell me to get out and take my child with me, aren’t you?”

Ayee remained silent and pretended to look out the window. The servants had retreated from the room but stood just inside the kitchen door, riveted by the unfolding drama. They were probably making plans on how best to spread the juicy gossip. They lived for such moments.

Baba took a sharp breath, his color still high. “With Nikhil gone, I personally don’t care what you and your daughter do.”

“Is this how much you care for your son’s memory and his child—your granddaughter, your flesh and blood?” Isha shot back bitterly. “According to you, she and the unborn child have no right to exist. Well, let me tell you this much: you can sleep in peace tonight because I’m taking Priya and leaving you right now.”

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Baba snorted and went back to his chair. “You have no family; you have nothing.”

“I’ll go to my cousin’s home in Mumbai if necessary. Anywhere is better than being here, where girls are considered no more than insects to be exterminated.” She grabbed Priya’s hand and dragged her upstairs. Sundari followed them, wiping away the tears that rolled down her wizened cheeks. She was a sweet and dedicated woman who was much more than a servant.

Within a short time, Isha managed to pack three large suitcases with Sundari’s help, all the while aware of Priya staring in grim silence. The child was clearly traumatized and confused by everything that was happening.

But what could Isha say to her daughter? Priya was too young to understand what was going on around her, so Isha let her sit on the bed, clutching her favorite doll close to her chest. Her tear-swollen eyes looked at Isha as if she wanted to ask a hundred questions but didn’t quite know how.

“Isha-bayi, please don’t leave,” pleaded Sundari for the umpteenth time. “Where you will go with Priya-baby and your belly filled with one more?”

“I can’t stay here any longer, Sundari. Didn’t you see how Baba beat up Priya? Do you think he’ll spare my other child if she cries? Every time they cry, they will remind Baba and Ayee of their dead son.”

“Why not go to Sheila-bayi’s house, then? It will be a good home for Priya-baby, no? I will come with you,” said Sundari, a simple woman who probably couldn’t comprehend Isha’s logic.

Isha patted Sundari’s brown, work-worn hand. “It’s kind of you to offer, but your place is here. You have worked for Ayee and Baba almost all your life. I’m the outsider and I need to go.”

“But where will you stay, and what will you eat? What will Priya-baby eat?”

Isha sighed with regret at seeing the old woman looking so brokenhearted. She was so caring, so kind. “Please, Sundari, try to understand. I’m not going to harm Priya. I’ll make sure she has enough to eat.”

As Isha went about packing things, taking only a few essentials for herself, including some pictures of Nikhil, but plenty of Priya’s belongings, she tried to beat her brain to think of where she could go. She had no family, as Baba had gleefully reminded her. All her close friends were couples that belonged to the elite Palgaum crowd and they were friendly with the elder Tilaks, as well.

Sheila was sympathetic and affectionate, but she was still a Tilak, and Isha would never put Sheila in the position of being forced to choose between her parents and her sister-in-law and niece. That would be grossly unfair.

In the end, the convent came to mind as a possible safe haven, at least as a provisional shelter until she handed the insurance claim to their agent. She hadn’t submitted it yet because she hadn’t seen the need for money. Now she had no choice but to cash in the policy.

She had heard somewhere that the nuns who ran the parochial school that she’d attended in her childhood occasionally gave shelter to needy women on a temporary basis. Besides, how long could the insurance settlement take—four weeks, maybe six? She would use the money to buy a place of her own and then see if she could find herself a job.

In fact, quite recently Nikhil had talked about investing in some real estate, perhaps buying one or two flats in that shiny new high-rise building that was in their neighborhood. She could follow up on that idea and buy two flats, since the insurance money would likely be enough to buy two. Living in one and renting the other as a source of income sounded like a viable idea.

She convinced herself she could do it. She didn’t need the Tilaks and their jaundiced philosophy. She could make it on her own. And she would.

There were two thousand rupees and change—something Nikhil and she kept in their room at all times for small, unexpected expenses—in her almirah, or armoire. She shoved the money into her handbag. There was plenty more cash in Baba’s safe, several hundred thousand rupees that were earmarked for emergencies, but she wasn’t going to beg for that. Baba wouldn’t have given her a paisa of it anyway.

Picking up the phone, Isha called for a taxi. A few minutes later Sundari and she dragged the suitcases out the bedroom door and onto the landing. Still sniffling, Priya reluctantly put on her uniform, a blue pinafore and white blouse, then slipped into her red raincoat. “Why did you put my things in a suitcase?” she finally asked.

“Because we’re going away,” Isha replied.

“Why?”

“We can’t stay here anymore. We’re not welcome here.”

Priya seemed to give it some thought. “Are Papa and Sundari going with us?”

With a tired sigh Isha tried her best to explain once again that Papa was never going with them anywhere. Ever. Sundari couldn’t go with them for other reasons.

“Where are we going?” Priya asked, hugging her doll closer.

“At the moment, I don’t know. Maybe to the convent.”

“I don’t like the convent.” Priya’s mouth settled into a thin, stubborn line.

Isha sat next to Priya on the bed and gently cupped the small face in both her hands. It broke her heart to tear her child away from the only home she’d known. “I’m sorry, pumpkin. It’s not my favorite place, either. But we may have to stay there for a few days. Just trust me, okay?” She placed a soft kiss on the flushed forehead. “Everything will be okay soon, I promise.”

There was no response from Priya, but her silence was enough acquiescence.

When Sundari and Isha hauled the suitcases downstairs, they found that Baba had already left for work. Ayee was reading the paper. Isha stood before her. “Looks like you got your wish, Ayee. Someday, I hope you’ll realize that with Priya and your other grandchild gone, you will have lost all links to your only son. For Nikhil’s sake I hope you don’t suffer too much grief when that happens.”

“I have already suffered more than my share of grief. There is no more left.” Ayee gave Isha and Priya a disinterested look and went back to her newspaper. She clearly didn’t believe a word Isha had said. Priya and Isha could have been leaving on a shopping spree for all the interest Ayee showed in their departure.

Sundari put her palms together before Ayee in a desperate plea. “Ayee-saheb, please stop them from going—at least for the sake of peace for Nikhil-saheb’s soul.”

“Where can they go?” asked Ayee. “By this evening they will be back.”

Perhaps realizing finally that she wasn’t going to get any help from her employer, Sundari stood by the door, the anguish on her face squeezing at Isha’s heart. In her faded cotton sari and her gray hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, she was the very image of a doting grandmother. If only Isha had a definite place to go to, she’d have taken Sundari with her.

And she wished she could take her own car, too. The temptation to climb into the driver’s seat of the silver Maruti Esteem Nikhil had bought for her recently tugged at her, but she suppressed it. She didn’t want anything of value from the Tilaks. Besides, how was she going to afford the petrol and the car’s upkeep?

By the time the taxi arrived, Priya was more or less back to normal. Sundari offered both of them hugs and tearful words of advice to Priya. “Be a good girl and eat the food on your plate, baby. Don’t give Mummy any trouble. And say your prayers every night.”

Priya readily got into the seat next to Isha. She probably still harbored the hope that the two of them were going on a trip somewhere, and that Papa was magically going to appear.

Their first stop was the bank, where Isha went to the safety deposit box and retrieved the insurance policy that Nikhil had secreted away so his parents wouldn’t find out about it. They’d never have understood the need for a man taking out a policy and naming his young wife as the sole beneficiary.

And now Nikhil’s forethought had come in handy. Did he have a premonition that his end was near? Was that why he’d taken out such a large policy, and so recently? Something must have compelled him to do it. More and more she was convinced of that, considering how he’d made haste to contact the agent secretly and put the plan in motion.

He’d told only Isha about the policy, warning her never to mention it to his parents. When asked about the need for such secrecy, he’d simply said, “It’s for you and the children. What if something happens to me?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she’d chided him, trying to suppress the chill creeping up her spine. Such macabre thinking was simply tempting fate.

“Life is unpredictable, Isha,” he’d said on a quiet note.

At the time it had sounded like a strange conversation, but now it didn’t seem that weird.

Besides the policy, there was another large envelope crammed with papers in the safe deposit box, mainly their passports, marriage certificate, Priya’s birth certificate, and other things that she had no time to inspect. She also emptied out all the extra jewelry she’d stored there. It was substantial, thank goodness. Her parents had given her a lot of gold and diamonds over the years.

The conventional rationale behind giving a daughter jewels was this very scenario: if something happened to her husband and she needed instant cash, they would come in handy. Wasn’t it ironic that that piece of ancient wisdom had come into play for her?

She’d always thought of it as some antiquated custom that was too obsolete for these modern times. But then again, she’d never pictured herself a widow at such a young age, either.

She informed the bank’s manager that she had no more need for the safe deposit box, and that he could cancel the account. After signing the necessary forms, Isha asked the taxi driver to take her to Anvekar Jewelers in the heart of town.

At the jewelers’, she took out three elaborate sets of gemstone jewelry, expensive but with the least sentimental value attached, and asked old Mr. Anvekar to give her a fair price for them. The old man was someone she and her mother had dealt with for many years. He gave her a puzzled look before bringing out his scale and jewelers loupe to examine the pieces.

“Are you sure you want to sell these sets, Isha? They are top quality and will be good for your daughter when she grows up,” he said, casting a glance at Priya.

Isha took a deep, regretful breath and nodded. “I’m sure.”

When he handed her the cash, the old man looked sympathetic, perhaps recognizing her desperate need.

Isha put the wad of cash in her handbag and walked out with Priya. She knew Mr. Anvekar’s speculative eyes followed her all the way to the taxi. That was another thing that would seem strange to him: a wealthy woman like her traveling in a dusty taxi when her family owned multiple cars and had a chauffeur.

The old jeweler would be sure to call his wife right away and share his news. Soon half the town would know Isha had sold some of her choice jewelry. And they would draw their own conclusions.

She ordered the taxi driver to take them to St. Mary’s Convent and pulled Priya close.

A new chapter in both Priya’s life and hers was about to begin.