The Forbidden Daughter. Shobhan Bantwal
shuffled his large feet. He was a tall, stiff man with a somber face, and a heavy mustache that was just turning gray. Maybe it was his profession that made him so glum.
The moment Isha opened the door to him, her heart sank. Instinctively she knew he was the bearer of bad news. Why else would he come all the way out here in person? She had no idea what the details were, but somewhere in her gut she knew something horrible had happened to Nikhil. The negative vibes she’d been feeling since the clock had struck nine had been rising with every passing minute.
And now, looking at Mr. Patil’s face, she knew her instincts had been right. Nonetheless she joined her trembling palms in the expected greeting. “Namaste, Patil-saheb. Please come in.”
He stepped inside with some hesitation and discarded his wet chappals and umbrella near the door. “Namaste, Mrs. Tilak.” He greeted the elder Tilaks in the same manner.
Both Ayee and Baba immediately bombarded him with questions. “Did you find out anything? Was there an accident? Is there any news of our son?”
Patil remained silent. Baba shot him a blistering look. “Have your men been sent to check on Nikhil or not?”
Patil chewed on his lower lip for an instant. “Yes, sir.”
Isha looked up at Patil, the tightening in her chest reaching the point of strangulation. “And?”
He stroked his luxuriant mustache and blinked a couple of times. It took a moment for him to look her in the eye. “The news is bad.”
Baba’s face contorted into a ferocious scowl. “What kind of news?”
“I’m coming to that, Tilak-saheb,” said Patil, patting the air with both hands. “My constables went to your shop. The lights were off. They assumed the store was closed. But when they tried the door, it opened, so they went in and turned on the lights. It looked like—”
“Like what?” interrupted Baba.
“—there might have been a robbery.”
Feeling weak and nauseated from not having eaten for several hours, Isha moved to the nearest chair and sank into it. “Robbery?” It’s not serious…calm down. She took a deep, calming breath. A few stolen tires…can’t be the end of the world.
Patil gestured to her in-laws to sit down on the sofa. “When they rang me, I went out there to look for myself. It looked like all the staff had left and Nikhil was closing up the shop and someone came inside and tried to rob the store. He must have tried to fight them off.”
“What about Nikhil?” Isha demanded. All she wanted to know was how her husband was.
“They…they stabbed him.”
The breath left Isha’s lungs in that instant. “Is he badly hurt?” she managed to whisper.
“He was stabbed to death.” Patil shut his eyes tight for a moment, the anguish clear on his face. “There are multiple wounds…a lot of blood.” He fell silent before adding, “He probably tried to wrestle with them and things became violent.”
“But Nikhil’s a strong man…and very capable. He won’t lose a fight.” She quashed the tide of ice-cold panic flooding her. She couldn’t lose hope. “He can’t.” He used to be an athlete.
“But, madam, this is…” Patil made a helpless gesture with his hands.
“Did you check thoroughly to see if it was Nikhil or someone else? It could be one of the men who work for Nikhil.”
Patil shook his head. “It was Nikhil. I am one hundred percent sure. I know…knew Nikhil quite well.”
“But did anyone check his pulse?” Baba demanded.
“Yes, sir,” replied Patil, his voice brimming with regret.
“How can you be so sure?” Ayee demanded.
Patil took a deep, audible breath. “I’m sorry, Tilak-bayi. I wish I could say I wasn’t sure, but I cannot.”
The small bubble of hope Isha had been desperately clutching at popped.
All at once her mind went blank. The red upholstery on the furniture, the reds in the hand-woven area rug and in the curtains seemed to turn gray. Everything around her changed to the same shade of ash.
The tightness in her chest started right in the center and then radiated outward, slowly exerting a choke hold on her lungs, but the expected sobs and drenching tears never came. She could only stare dry-eyed at the grave man sitting across the room from her.
He was the one who had told her she was now a widow. The dreaded W word.
All she could remember later was the silence that descended over the room that night. She had no idea what her in-laws were doing at the time, but she had remained motionless and speechless. Even if she had tried to say or do something, there probably wouldn’t have been a sound emerging from her throat or a muscle that would have cooperated.
All her systems had shut down, as if they were operated by a single kill switch.
Chapter 3
July 2006
Dr. Vivek Karnik wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief and stood by the window of his study, watching the man drive away. He hoped he’d never have to see that man again. He was loathsome and yet Karnik had to put up with the bastard and with his cool arrogance.
He saw the vehicle’s taillights disappear around the corner and wished for the hundredth time that he had never become embroiled in this complicated web of lies, deceit, and illegal activities.
What in heaven’s name had possessed him to start doing something unlawful in the first place? Why had he even needed to do it? A bright, educated man nearing retirement, and with enough savings to do it in comfort, had no business ruining his life’s work—and his reputation.
But greed was an integral part of human nature and he had succumbed to it.
He turned away from the window, sat in his desk chair with a weary sigh, and stared at the computer. The weariness went bone-deep. It had been a long day at work. He had delivered two babies, one of them by Caesarean, performed one hysterectomy, two tubal ligations, and seen several pregnant and menopausal women. He’d done all those things routinely before, practically every day of his professional life, but he’d never disliked his work.
He had made a substantial income by performing abortions. The ultrasound was a modern-day miracle for a lot of young couples on the way to becoming parents. But like many other technological marvels, it had its dark side. It wasn’t really his fault, though. He hadn’t deliberately set out to do something that went against his conscience. The idea had been planted in his head by someone else, and the seed had slowly sprouted and grown over a period of time.
A few years ago, one of his patients had casually mentioned that many Indian doctors had been using the machine to detect female fetuses, and if a patient wanted their fetus aborted, the doctors did it—for a fee, of course. Apparently abortions were a very lucrative side business for any ob-gyn in a society obsessed with male children.
That simple remark had started Karnik thinking, but not seriously. A few months later, the husband of one of his patients had asked him in confidence if he would be willing to perform an abortion because he and his wife were tired of producing girls. They already had three, and they were desperate for a boy.
Karnik had shaken his head at the man. “It’s illegal in this country, you know.”
The young man had laughed. “So is bribery, dowry, tax evasion, and black marketeering, Doctor-saheb. Does that stop anyone?” He’d given Karnik a meaningful look. “My wife and I are thinking about maybe going to…um…a Mumbai doctor and getting it done. If you can do it here…then we’ll pay you the same amount we’d pay the other doctor.”
“Mumbai, huh?”
“We