The Forbidden Daughter. Shobhan Bantwal
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