The Unexpected Son (29 page)

“And wasting precious human lives is how one goes about restoring glory?” Her voice quivered with contempt. “There's neither pride nor dignity in needless violence. And I don't particularly care which state Palgaum belongs to, as long as it's peaceful and prosperous. As far as I can see, my small town has turned into a thriving city. Nothing's wrong with it, if you ask me.”

He shook his head sadly. “You are obviously influenced by American ideas.” He said it as if she were suffering from some hopeless disease and deserved to be pitied.

“Nothing wrong with that, either,” she retorted. “It's about time all Palgaumites—Marathi, Kannada, and the rest—stopped fighting like spoiled children and learned to get along.”

“I agree,” said a familiar voice, interrupting them. Meenal Barve stepped into the room, neatly groomed in a white and purple print sari, carrying a large plastic tote bag. Her gaze switched between her husband and Vinita. She greeted Vinita with a slight smile.

Vinita smiled back. “I hope you don't mind that I came to visit Shashi-saheb.”

Meenal shook her head. “I'm just surprised, that is all.”

“I needed to discuss something important with him,” Vinita explained.

“About Rohit?” Meenal set her purse and bag on the floor and sat on the edge of her husband's bed.

“Mostly about Rohit.” Vinita noticed the bleakness in Meenal's expression the instant Rohit's name came up. Now that Vinita had been dismissed as a possible donor, their last hope had been squashed, and Meenal appeared to be the one most affected by the news. “I'm sorry I couldn't help him. I had…we had all hoped…”

“I know. I know,” said Meenal, sounding exhausted. “Are you planning to go back to the States, then?”

“Soon.” Vinita rose from her chair. “I have to check into available flights.” Leaving Rohit behind was going to be hard. The son she'd met only weeks ago had grown on her, become precious. Knowing she'd failed in her attempts to keep him alive was frustrating.

And yet, she
had
to accept it.

“I'd better leave now,” she said. “I'm sure Shashi-saheb is anxious to go home.” She moved toward the door. She turned to Barve. “I hope you recover quickly, sir.” There was so much more she wanted to say to him, make him understand why it was important to stop the rioting and carnage. But she'd have to leave that to his conscience.

He nodded his good-bye.

Meenal stood up and followed her. “I'll walk you to the main door.”

“No need for that…really.” Vinita was out the door. “I know you have to help Shashi-saheb get dressed.”

“There is no rush.” Meenal started walking beside her down the corridor. “I have to talk to you about something,” she whispered.

“I had a feeling you did,” Vinita said. “I'm sorry this happened to Shashi-saheb because of me.”

“It is not your fault.”

“If I hadn't told Rohit about Som Kori, it would never have happened.”

“This sort of thing happens around here frequently, without much reason.” She looked at Vinita. “What exactly did you say to my husband?”

They'd reached the lobby now, but they still spoke in whispers because there were other people in the area. Vinita tossed Meenal a frank look. “I told him to put a stop to the violence. There's been enough bloodshed in this town.”

“Very true.”

“Rohit's life shouldn't be the cause for more heartache.”

“What did my husband say?”

“Not much. He said these things have their own momentum…or something like that. He didn't offer to do anything to stop it.”

“I didn't think he would.” Meenal wrapped her arms around herself and rocked on her heels, like she was cold. The earlier distress was back in her face. “He is
khaddoos,
a stubborn old fool.”

Vinita's jaw fell. Despite her own conclusion that Barve was a stubborn old fool, she'd never thought Meenal Barve was capable of calling her husband that. As far as she could see, Meenal was a
pativrata
—a dedicated wife. “Really?”

“Don't you think I have tried to persuade him to give up his nonsensical politics? Do you know how many attempts have been made on his life? But does he ever learn from them?”

Vinita frowned. “You mean this isn't the first time?”

With a shake of her head, Meenal let her arms fall to her sides in defeat. “At least three other times he has almost been killed. Even Rohit has tried to make him understand that this sentiment called Marathi pride is not worth dying for.”

“Rohit doesn't approve of it, either?”

“Not at all. He dislikes violence. But my husband will not give it up. As long as Som Kori is the head of the Kannada faction, he will continue to fight him.”

“You mean it's a personal thing rather than communal?”

“It is a long story.” Meenal looked around at the folks crowding the waiting room. She inclined her head toward the parking lot. “Let us talk outside.”

“I am not sure I should be telling you this,” Meenal said when they were at a safe distance from prying eyes and ears.

“I understand. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to.”

Staring at the ground, Meenal seemed to deliberate for a moment before making up her mind. “You have to promise not to tell this to anyone.”

“Like I said, you don't have to—”

Meenal held up a hand to stop Vinita. “I think you should know this.”

“Why?”

“Because only
you
will understand it.”

“I will?” Vinita's brow puckered. It all sounded so mysterious.

“My sister-in-law, my husband's older sister, was a young girl in college when she became involved with Kori's uncle. They were classmates.”

Vinita's mouth fell open a second time. “Another case of Marathi girl falls for Kannada boy?” A Kori boy, as coincidence would have it.

It was a day of unpleasant surprises. And the Koris seemed to feature in them. Was there no end to the Kori depravity? Had every man in that family somehow managed to ruin some innocent girl or other? No wonder Meenal thought Vinita would be the one person to understand.

Meenal nodded. “Apparently my father-in-law found out about the affair and demanded that Kori marry his daughter.”

“Your father-in-law must have been a broad-minded man to be willing to accept a Lingayat son-in-law.”

“He had no choice, since the girl's reputation was ruined. Kori refused to marry her, and my father-in-law and he got into a serious fight.”

Vinita wondered if Barve's sister had also become pregnant like herself. But she dare not ask. It was too personal.

“So what happened then?” Vinita asked instead.

“Nothing. My sister-in-law eventually married someone else. She has passed on now, but her life was happy…comfortable. She had children and grandchildren. She died a contented woman.”

“Thank God for that. So she did what I did—got on with her life.” Vinita had plenty to be grateful for. But she could still see the lingering resentment toward Som in her brother's and mother's eyes. She could imagine why Barve hated the Koris with a vengeance. “I can see why the hostility is still there.”

“I do, too, but it frightens me, Vinita,” said Meenal. “Some day they will succeed in killing him.” She drew a long breath. “Or maybe the Marathi Samithi will end up killing Kori.”

“It could go either way.”

“Or, even though neither of them is a violent man, they could both end up dead. And for what? Some silly episode from the past, or an equally insane reason called pride in one's heritage?”

“I wish I had the answer,” replied Vinita. A sense of relief passed through her. It wasn't all her fault that the communal tensions were heating up. It was still her mistake to a great extent, but she needn't take the full blame for it.

She put a hand on the older woman's arm. “Go back inside, Meenal-tayi. You have to take Shashi-saheb home. He needs to rest.”

Meenal squeezed the hand that rested on her arm. “Thank you for coming forward to help Rohit and us. We will never forget your generosity. I'm grateful to my aunt.”

“Your aunt?” Vinita straightened. “You mean Jaya-bai?”

“She is the one who informed you about Rohit.”

Vinita chewed on this new bit of information. “You know this for sure? The letter was anonymous.”

“I questioned my aunt about it. She admitted that she wrote the letter.” A smile crossed Meenal's face. “I think she feels responsible for Rohit and his welfare because she arranged for the adoption. She is very fond of him.”

“Of course,” said Vinita. The aunt's proprietary interest in Rohit made complete sense. At least the mystery was solved, although she'd always suspected it was Jaya-bai. “I wish I could have been a donor.” She thought for a moment. “If you do find a donor, you will inform me, won't you? And the offer to pay for it still stands.”

“But we can't take money from you, especially if you are not the donor. It is too much.”

“Please,” said Vinita, slowly withdrawing her hand. “It's the least I can do.”

“We'll think about it.” Meenal hesitated for a moment, then gave Vinita what amounted to an awkward hug. “Have a safe journey back to America.” Her eyes were glazed with tears.

Vinita held her in a hug for an instant. Sometime during the past few weeks, an invisible bond had formed between the two women, a bond shared by two mothers who had been unexpectedly thrown together. “I'll pray for Rohit,” she said, her voice turning hoarse. “Maybe there is the perfect donor somewhere out there.”

“Maybe there is,” repeated Meenal, obviously trying to muster a smile, but without success. She stood there till Vinita said a reluctant
namaste
and hurried toward the rickshaw stand outside the hospital campus.

As she climbed into a rickshaw, Vinita turned her head to look back. Meenal was standing in the same spot. If fate really decided to be cruel to Meenal, she could end up losing her son and her husband in the near future.

Fate. Vinita was beginning to detest the word.

A
day and a half later, the Kannada man who had tried to kill Shashi Barve was arrested. But the news reports claimed the man refused to divulge who had hired him. Within hours after the arrest, riots broke out in town, leading to so much vandalism and violence that the police had to impose a curfew, shutting down nearly the whole town and allowing only essential services to continue.

Suddenly the town seemed dead, like the movie version of the aftermath of a war or pandemic. She missed the hum of traffic, the voices of street vendors peddling their wares, the children yelling at each other across the street. It was almost like the town was in mourning. She couldn't stand the abnormal quiet.

Besides, her plans to catch a flight to the U.S. had to be postponed.

Four long and frustrating days later, things returned to some degree of normality, but not before there were two deaths, one on either side of the warring groups, and dozens of injured men. Som Kori and Shashi Barve were still alive.

Vinita heaved a sigh of relief when the shops finally started to open for business, and the traffic returned to its noisy, polluting routine. There was comfort in knowing her town was alive, and it would gradually shift into its natural rhythm.

In the midst of it all, Arya called in a panic one night. “Mom, are you okay? We heard on the Indian cable news about the stuff going on in Palgaum.”

“I'm fine, dear,” Vinita said.

“Why didn't you call and tell us?”

“What would be the point? The entire town is affected by the riots. Vishal's office is closed, but he's working like a fiend from home. And we're all doing fine. At least for now.”

“Thank God.” Arya demanded to know exactly what was happening. Vinita gave her a brief account, without divulging that some of it could have been her own fault. She still felt guilty about the part she might have played in all this havoc. Arya didn't need that kind of aggravation on top of what she was already going through.

“So there's water and food at least, right?” asked Arya.

“There's plenty of both,” assured Vinita.

A moment passed before Arya added, “Mom, you'd better get on the first plane available and come home.”

“I'm trying.”

Arya seemed to hesitate for a second. “Dad's worried about you as well.”

“He is?” Vinita was too stunned to say any more.

“Yeah. He was worried when you were sick, too. He asked me if I'd talked to you since we heard about the riots in Palgaum.”

“That's a switch for him. I was under the impression he was maybe…considering divorce.” Vinita gnawed on her lip. She didn't know if Arya's words were significant enough for her to get excited. It could be a temporary thing—a sense of duty and obligation. Once he knew she was all right he'd likely go back to ignoring her.

“Divorce?” Arya went quiet. “Where'd you get that insane idea?” she asked finally.

“The way he's been behaving says a lot, don't you think?”

“No, Mom, he's really concerned,” repeated Arya. “He asked me a couple of times to check on you. I think he's finally coming around.”

“If he's beginning to thaw a little, maybe you should apply some shock treatment and tell him I died of malaria.”

“Mom! It's not funny,” scolded Arya.

“I wasn't trying to be funny. Your dad needs to wake up. He can't keep sulking forever. Things aren't going to change because he can't bear to face reality.”

“I agree, but telling him you died isn't the way to do it.”

They talked for another minute and ended the call. Vinita refused to allow herself to get excited about what Arya had just said. Maybe Girish was a bit troubled, but it didn't mean anything. If he was really worried, he'd have called—at least sent her an e-mail. He hadn't bothered with her even when he knew she was seriously ill.

She'd been desperately checking her e-mails. All she'd been getting was upbeat messages from close friends and colleagues. No, she couldn't let her hopes rise, only to have them crushed later.

Why was a sensible, practical man like Girish behaving this way? He'd been through two personal traumas in his life and he'd come through them with no visible emotional scars. So why had he become so bitter and unforgiving this time around?

She couldn't wait to return to New Jersey. Now that her business here was concluded, despite her complete failure at helping Rohit, she hungered for her home, her job, her friends. It was time for her to pack her bags and return home.

Mainly she missed Arya. And Girish. She longed for him with an intensity that surprised her. She'd always missed him when he was away from home, but this time her emotions were loaded with fear and desperation. She was dying to see him, and yet she dreaded facing him just as much.

Would she be returning home to her husband, or soon-to-be ex-husband?