The Promise (18 page)

'Tell me about it?' he whispered.

'Promise you won't be mad?'

'What did you do, Shambhavi?'

'Promise you won't be mad?' she repeated.

'I can never be mad at you. You are the perfect daughter and the sweetest girl. You can never do anything wrong.'

'But I did. I know you will be mad at me. Hell, even I am mad at me.'

'Enough with the suspense. Out with it,' Mr Sen prodded. He was clearly getting anxious.

'Dad ... I'm pregnant,' Shambhavi whispered and closed her eyes. She was telling her father that his unmarried daughter was carrying a baby. She did not want to think about what kind of thoughts it must have triggered in her father's head. He would see her in a different light. She wanted to tell him that she was not that type of a girl, that she had been with a man just once, and that she truly loved him, but she was too ashamed to mention even that.

'Okay ...her father said slowly.

'There's more. The father of the baby is no longer in my life. He left me when he got to know. I'm ... I'm alone in this,' she broke down once again.

There was a long pause, in which she thought about everything that had gone wrong in her life in the previous year, ever since she had found out about her dad's sickness. She expected her father to be mad at her; any father would be, and rightly so. But anger was one expression missing on Mr Sen's face. Instead, he smiled warmly at her and said, 'No, you're not. I do not know how much longer I have to live, but one thing I do know is that as long as I'm here, you'll never be alone in anything.'

'But Dad ...? You are not angry?'

'No, I'm not. I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation behind how it happened.'

'There is not. I was just so stupidly in love,' Shambhavi replied, feeling frustrated.

'Ah. There it is. Love. That is reason enough for every evil,' he father smiled.

'But Dad, how come you are not angry with me? I am unmarried and pregnant. You are my father. Aren't you worried about what people will say? This just does not make any sense.'

'What people will say has ceased to matter to me. You probably do not want to hear this, but I have seen death from too close, too many times. When something like that happens, a person tends to see things the way he should have, all his life. What society thinks or says doesn't matter, Shambhavi. Not one bit.'

It seemed like her father had grown philosophical due to the sickness. Maybe that was what he did, lying on the bed all day. Maybe he should write a self-help book, she mused.

'But it does to me. Can you even imagine what my friends are going to say? They will laugh at me. I'm going to have a baby. First, I am way too young for that. And second, I do not have a husband, not even a boyfriend. I'll be the mother of a child whose father no one will have any idea about,' Shambhavi panicked.

'Listen to me, kiddo. If they laugh at you when you're going through this, they are not your friends. And frankly, they should not matter to you at all.'

Shambhavi nodded in understanding. She knew Mili and Tutul wouldn't laugh. That was enough for her.

'And another thing-you said you are going to have the baby?'

'Isn't that obvious? A woman gets pregnant-she gives birth to a baby'

'Not necessarily. There are other ... options too,' Mr Sen said.

'You mean, like ... an abortion?' Shambhavi asked slowly.

'Yes.'

'Do you ... want me to?'

Her father sighed. 'It depends on you, doesn't it? It is your baby, after all. You are the one who should have the right to decide.'

'That's a different thing. Answer my question. Do you want me to get an abortion?'

'I would suggest so, yes. My life might end any day. No one knows how much time I have left to live. But you have your whole life in front of you. I would like you to find a man, make a home and live happily.'

'But, Dad, it's not like I have an option. The baby is already there-in me. It's a life. I cannot kill it. It is my child, my blood, your blood. How can you even think of ...? You want to murder your own grandchild even before it is born? How can you even think like that?' Shambhavi cried. She was upset, confused, shattered. It showed.

'I just want you to have a good life,' Mr Sen said.

'I will have a good life. I have you. I have my baby. What else do I need?' she said and cradled her belly protectively, reflexively.

'I will die any day. And a child is a lot more than just cuteness and soft skin. It's a lot of responsibility. I have seen you kill yourself working hard to keep me alive. I cannot consciously ask you to take up the responsibility of another life too.'

'I don't know, neither do I care to know, about any of that. I'm just ... not killing my baby.'

There was silence. She hoped her father would never say anything about killing her child again. She was not going to do it. She could not. She studied his weary, sick face. He looked exhausted; almost as if he had had enough of waking moments. He looked like he wanted to go to sleep. That scared her. One would think that after a year of getting to know about his brain tumour, Shambhavi would be prepared for his life to end any moment. But she was not. Nowhere even close.

Surprisingly, Mr Sen did not ask her to get rid of the child again. Instead, he smiled. And said, 'I'm proud of you.' The expression on his face reflected his words. She could not help but smile.

For the next few days, she ran around the city, made calls all over the place and pulled every string to find work. Being a freelancer had its own disadvantages. Left up to her, she would have picked painting as a career, but since interior designing was more lucrative and she was in desperate need of income, she did not have a choice.

She was successful in avoiding the topic of Arjun Datta from coming up in the exchange with her father. She knew he was curious to know about the man his daughter had fallen in love with, who had broken her heart and left her with a baby to take care of. But he did not ask. Maybe he figured that she was too sore to talk about him just yet. Maybe he realized she was trying to forget all about him.

Truth was-he was all she thought about every second. She was hoping he would get back to his senses and would come back to her. She was mad at him, yes. Furious. But contrary to what people thought of her, she was not as shallow as she came across. She was angry with him, but she knew he must have had a good reason for his actions. Nothing he could tell her, no reason would be enough to justify his behaviour, but she still could not help but wish that he would at least try.

Little by little, she lost all hope. He was not coming back. If he had to, he would have, a long time ago. Five days also means one hundred and twenty hours. It might not be a very long time, but it was time enough for a man to realize his mistake and that he could not live without his girl. It was a lot of time to miss a person. When you truly miss someone, a few minutes seem like an eternity. The desperation to meet, to talk...anything is too much to handle. It is sheer torture. If he had not realized it till then, there was almost no chance he would realize this ever.

That night, defeated, she went to Mili's place to dissolve into tears and tell her all about her problems. They were getting too much for her to handle alone. Even if Mili could not help in any other way than just listening, she would take that. She needed her best friend.

She had not told Mili about her father's sickness before because Mili tended to worry too much anyway, she had not wanted to load her with even more things to worry about. When she did tell her about it, and everything else that had happened, Mili cried with her. That was her way of lending support.

'Why did you not tell me before? All this time...? I was right here, and you hid something of this magnitude from me?' Mili cried.

'You could not have done anything about it, Mili. The best doctors are working on it, and even they cannot help his case ...' Shambhavi sobbed.

'But I would have been there with you. That is what friends are for. To support each other, to help.'

'But you were there with me, always. You were my sunshine. I did not want to sadden you with my problems. And with you not knowing, I could pretend that everything was normal. It was a welcome change.'

'But, Shambhavi ... I can't believe you had to go through all of this alone. Well, at least you told me now ... I know I should be stronger than this, I know I should be telling you that it will all be okay, but ... how? What are we going to do now?' Mili's tears were flowing continuously.

'I don't know, Mili. If only I had enough savings to sail me through this ... I have an assignment to work on this week. But it doesn't pay much. It will cover Dad's hospital expenses for just about a week, at best ...'

'After that ...?'

Shambhavi shrugged her shoulders.

'I'll give you whatever I have in my account. It is not much, but it will help you for a little while, at least,' Mili said.

'Not just yet. I will come to you if I feel the need. For now, at this moment, we are covered.'

'Come on. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask. You know I am just happy to help.'

'I do. I'll keep that in mind.'

'All right, whenever you need anything, I'm here, okay? Oh God. Why did you not tell me before? What about the ... child?'

'What about it?' Shambhavi asked, suddenly on the defensive.

'You are going to have it, right?'

'Of course I would. Why would you even think otherwise?'

'Relax, Shambhavi. I was just asking,' Mili said. 'So, how far is it along? I mean, when is the expected delivery date?'

'I haven't been to the doctor yet. But I guess somewhere around the 5th of October ... We had been ... together on the 5th of January, so I did my Math.'

'Wow. So you are nine weeks along? That's ... kind of exciting, you know? I mean, I know you are unmarried and pregnant, and your father is sick and your boyfriend just went away, and you do not have any means of taking care of your father and your baby ... I know all of that, but still ... a baby ... the thought is sort of exciting, isn't it?'

'I do not know about that. I am thinking of the way you put my life in a nutshell. It sounded really sad -sadder than I had thought it was-like a typical Indian television series. Sick dad, dumped, pregnant and no money-' Shambhavi said, before Mili cut her off.

'Oh, I did not mean it that way, Shambhavi. I'm so sorry. I did not realize it ... it just came out all wrong.' Mili rushed to apologize. Shambhavi shrugged her apology away.

'It's all right, Mili. You did not mean it, but you did not say anything wrong either. Now relax. It will all be okay.'

'It will?'

'Yes,' Shambhavi consoled her friend, who was still very much drowning herself in tears.

'I should be the one comforting you. But even now, when you are the one in problems, you are the one taking care of me. Tell me-what happened?

'Nothing happened. It was just meant to be like this. You were supposed to cry about anything and everything and I was supposed to ask you to relax and chill. God's plans.'

They hugged each other for a while, lost in their respective thoughts. Shambhavi felt relieved, having told Mili about everything. It felt a lot easier, once she realized she had people who cared about her, with her, to help her through the bad times. She was also glad that she would have someone to talk to about her dad's sickness and her constantly empty wallet; it had been killing her, handling it all alone for a year. The excuses of being busy with work and passing off her visits to the hospital as routine check-ups for her father were getting old. She did not need to lie to her best friend about anything anymore.