After eating his fill of the vegetarian thali and finishing his second cup of strong chai, Anil began to wind his way back to the Emergency Department. He took the long way, strolling up and down corridors, passing through wards, nodding to the nurses in their starched white uniforms. When he returned to the room, Ritu and Dev were awake, watching Kiran enact a puppet show with bandages wrapped around his fingertips. Ritu paused her giggling when she saw Anil. “Where’s Leena didi?”
“I will bring her back with me,” Anil promised. “As soon as I can.”
THE CAR was waiting in front of the hospital when Anil came out. Anil almost didn’t recognize Chandu when he stepped out of the sedan, dressed as he was in a crisp suit. His younger brother pulled another suit on a hanger from the backseat of the car and held it out to Anil. “Get dressed,” he said. “We have an appointment.”
Twenty minutes later, they were parked outside the Central Ahmadabad Police Station. “You think this will work?” Anil asked. “They already tried going to the police in Dharmala. They wouldn’t do anything about it.”
Chandu shook his head. “These big-city cops are different. They love to have a reason to lord their power over those small-village policemen. You just have to know how to talk to them.” He nodded toward a bag sitting on the floor by Anil’s feet. Anil reached down and unzipped the bag, and saw bundles of rupees. He looked up at his brother with an unspoken question.
“Where it came from, nothing good,” Chandu said. “Where it goes now, different story.”
BY THE time Anil and Chandu arrived back in Panchanagar, dusk was beginning to settle. Anil had been gone for over twenty-four hours and hadn’t slept, bathed, or shaved in that time. He’d phoned Piya from the hospital to tell her he’d found Ritu, but he knew his mother would still be frantic with worry.
He rubbed at the stubble on his chin as the car pulled up to Leena’s house. She was sitting on the terrace at the pottery wheel; when she saw the car, she gathered her sari and stood up. As Anil drew closer, he noticed the deep crease in her forehead.
“Ritu’s at the hospital in Ahmadabad. She has some injuries, but she’s going to be fine. Dev too.”
Leena’s shoulders rose and fell in disproportion to her small frame—once, twice—and Anil realized she was beginning to cry. He moved closer but stopped short of putting his arms around her. The front door opened and Nirmala appeared in the doorway. She took in Anil’s disheveled appearance, Leena’s tear-stained face.
“Piya told me you’d gone there,” Leena said. “I was so worried about all of you.”
“They won’t bother you again,” Anil said. “She’s safe now. You all are.”
Leena nodded, her eyes holding on to his. “Can I go see her?”
“Yes, but there’s someplace I’d like to take you and your mother first.” He nodded toward Nirmala Auntie, who, he was surprised, bowed her head slightly in return.
THEY LEFT early the next morning. When Anil pulled up to the large dilapidated house in Dharmala, Leena’s body tensed beside him. From the backseat, Nirmala leaned forward. Anil cut the engine. “It’s okay. They’re not here.” Leena’s knuckles were colorless, gripping the seat at her side. “The police came and took all of them yesterday. The men have been arrested on multiple charges and will be in jail for months until the trial. Rekha was taken to a family shelter. She’s making no claims to the children, so they can be released into your custody, since you are the only other living family member. The old woman, your . . . mother-in-law—as Ritu said, she died several weeks ago. The police speculated that may be why Ritu decided to run away. No one left to look out for her.”
Leena exhaled slowly. She unlatched the car door and stepped out. Anil opened the door for Nirmala Auntie, who took his arm for support as she climbed out. He was surprised Leena did not hesitate as she climbed the steps, avoiding the rotted ones without even having to glance down. It made him uncomfortable to think of her familiarity with this house, and of everything that had gone on here. He considered waiting outside rather than having to see the room and the bed she’d shared with her husband. But Nirmala Auntie was still holding on to his arm, so they entered the house together.
LEENA WENT first to the kitchen, then outside the back door to the well. She stood there for some time, daring herself to summon the memory. Closing her eyes, she conjured the odor of kerosene, the sound of angry words, the welts and bruises on her arms, the tears dripping from her face into the food she had prepared to nourish the family into which she had married. The family she had left. The family that had abandoned her.
She returned to the kitchen, where dirty dishes sat on the counter and a pot of cold tea was on the stovetop. Leena went into the small cellar and ran her hands over the sacks of lentils and rice. On the top shelf, she found the box of chocolate biscuits Dev liked to steal, reached inside, and took one out. It smelled sweet and vaguely like coffee or tobacco. She bit into it and felt the crisp wafers break between her teeth, the soft chocolate cream on her tongue. She tucked the box underneath her arm and continued walking through the house.
In Rekha’s room, inside the metal cupboard, Leena found three of her good saris, which she took out and placed on the bed. On another shelf, next to Rekha’s hairbrush and coconut oil, sat the white metal canister of rose talcum powder. Leena removed the lid and leaned forward to inhale the sweet fragrance. She held the can in her hand—feeling the smooth metal under her fingertips, tracing its raised edge, brushing away the soft powder—for several more moments before she returned it to the cupboard and closed the door.
Leena found her mother with Anil in the living room, sitting in the chair where Girish used to play his card games and tell rude jokes. On her lap was a bundle wrapped in white cloth and tied with a string. Her mother looked up at her, her eyes glistening. “I found this in your mother-in-law’s cupboard.” She pulled at the string and the white cotton sheath fell away to reveal a sari the brilliant burnt orange of sunset. Leena’s mother stroked the silk with her palm, back and forth, then lifted it to reveal the next sari, in bright peacock blue. There were a dozen more saris, made from silks and chiffons, each one a different hue and design. The last sari was the most ornate, red and white, embroidered with tiny mirrors and gold thread. Tears welled in Leena’s eyes as her mother leaned down and buried her nose in the traditional garment she’d worn for her wedding ceremony.
Anil reached forward, holding out three small red boxes. Leena’s mother looked up at him. “The police didn’t let them take anything,” he said. Leena went over and sat next to her mother. One by one, her mother opened the boxes and lifted out each piece of jewelry: she delicately fingered the ruby and pearl waterfall earrings, and slipped all four of the gold bangles easily over her wrist. She shook her head. “I never thought I would see this again,” she said as she held her gold wedding band between her fingertips.
Leena put one of her hands over her mother’s and clasped it tightly. Her mother, to Leena’s surprise, reached out her other hand to grasp Anil’s. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Anil nodded. “We should get to the hospital.”
“I’ll collect some of the children’s things,” Leena said, blinking away tears as she stood.
AT THE hospital in Ahmadabad, Anil led Leena and her mother through the now-familiar maze of corridors to Ritu’s room. Inside, Kiran sat next to her bed, trying to convince her to eat some of the meal on her tray. Ritu was shaking her head when she glanced up and saw them.
“Didi!” Ritu’s face exploded into a smile and she knocked over the tray as she sat up. The contrast from her sullen expression a moment earlier was startling. Ritu wrapped her arms around Leena’s waist and buried her face in Leena’s sari. “Oh didi, I’m so sorry if I caused more trouble. I was so scared—”
“Shh,” Leena whispered, stroking Ritu’s hair until she settled down. “It’s fine now. I’m here. No one will hurt you again.”
The door creaked open, a nurse entered, and Dev darted out from b
ehind her. He ran toward Leena, who lifted him up and held him on her hip. “What is this?” Leena ruffled Dev’s shaggy hair. “Who’s been cutting your hair? Such a mess. I will have to fix it, no?”
Dev grinned and nodded with slow, exaggerated movements, his chin pointing up in the air, then down to his neck. “Can we come live with you, Leena didi?”
“Of course you can!” Leena pinched his nose. “Who else will get my chocolate biscuits for me?”
“Do you still get sad, didi?” Dev asked.
Leena tilted her head and smiled at him, a slight and melancholy smile. “Not as much anymore,” she said, her voice hoarse. Anil watched her reach for Dev’s hand, covered with a large pigmented birthmark, kiss it, and hold it to her cheek. “But I have missed you, little monkey.” Dev threw his arms around Leena’s neck.
Anil swallowed hard. He could see them already as a family, with their own roles and their unique dynamic: Dev the mischievous clown, Ritu the moody adolescent, Nirmala the benign disciplinarian, and Leena the nucleus who pulled them all together. Was there any place for him?
Anil drove back to Panchanagar while Kiran slept in the passenger seat next to him, and Ritu and Dev curled up in the back between Leena and her mother. At one point, when Anil glanced in the rearview mirror and saw everyone asleep, he tried to imagine himself among them, this unlikely and automatic family—not the kind he’d expected to have, yet one he found himself drawn to.
Kiran stirred as they turned down the bumpy lane to Leena’s house and the others followed, all awakening except for Dev, who remained dead asleep with his head in Ritu’s lap. Kiran carried him into the house, trailing the others; after he came back out, Anil handed him the car keys and told him he would see him later at the Big House.
Anil sat down on the top step of the terrace and looked out over the fields as he waited. The sky had darkened to gray. After the few small noises emanating from the house faded, Leena came outside closing the door behind her. She gathered the folds of her sari in her lap and sat down next to him. Leena held out a closed fist and slowly unfurled her fingers. In her palm lay a king chess piece made of sandalwood.
Anil’s mind could not process what he was seeing, the impossibility of it. He looked at her, then took it from her hand and turned it around between his fingers. It was a near-perfect match to the one he’d lost from his father’s set. He looked up at Leena again. Her smile began small, then grew wider, unguarded—illuminating her eyes and bringing a lump to his throat.
“I know a woodsmith at the market,” she explained. “I drew a picture for him and he carved it by hand.”
Anil nodded, staring at the delicate crosshatch pattern on the crown of the piece. The thickening of his throat threatened to tear him open.
It was a few moments before Leena spoke again. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” Anil said.
Leena nodded but didn’t say anything, and Anil allowed a long silence to stretch out. “You know, when it’s all done,” he said at last, speaking carefully, “once the adoption has been finalized, I can come back for you. You can all come to Dallas—your mother, Ritu, Dev. I’ll find a house, I can apply for visas. I’ll be earning enough to support all of us.” He glanced at Leena. “There are good schools. We can be a family.” His eyes burned, tears accumulating at the edges. “I love you, Leena. I always have. I’ll fix things with my mother, and even if I can’t, it doesn’t matter. We’ll have our own family.” He gestured toward the darkened house behind them. “We’ll have everything we need. The rest won’t matter.”
Leena reached over and grabbed his hand with surprising strength. She continued to grip it tightly as she spoke, as if wanting to distract him from the pain her words would cause. “I do love you, Anil. But that is not the life I want. This is.” She let her eyes travel across the fields surrounding them. “If you’d asked me a few months ago, I might have said yes. I wasn’t sure I could make a life for myself here. But then Ritu came, and I knew what I wanted. I can live on this land I’ve loved my whole life, in this house. I can make a living with my pottery. I want to be with my mother, I want to raise these children, to give them the love they deserve. And now I know, after everything that’s happened, I can do this. I choose this life.” She loosened her grip on his hand and Anil felt the loss immediately. “Just as strongly as you know you don’t belong here anymore, I know I do.” Her voice was a whisper.
“It won’t be easy for you, to stay here,” Anil said.
Leena thrust out her chin, the determined gesture Anil recognized from their childhood when she’d stood up to the landowner who raped the servant in the fields. “People may never respect me. I don’t expect it. I’ve survived this long. Damaged, not broken.” She turned her head toward the house behind them. “They are the only ones who matter to me now.”
Anil tightened his hand around hers once more. Then he let go. He did not try to speak. His throat was tight and there was nothing left to say. Leena’s past was an indelible part of her, like the scars burned into her skin he could not simply graft away with surgery. After having so many choices made for her, she deserved to make this one for herself.
MA WAS sitting on the front porch, a teacup in her hands and another on the table beside her. “Sit.” She nodded at the chair next to her. “You’ve missed your tea today,” she said, as if that were the most notable thing to have happened.
Anil sat down, feeling relief from the deep ache in his knees, and reached for the teacup.
“Your brothers told me what happened in Dharmala. The house, those . . . men.” She paused, then added in a whisper, “The girl.” Ma closed her eyes and shook her head once. “Your father . . . we . . . would never have encouraged the marriage had we known.”
Anil nodded. “I know, Ma.” Do no harm. It was not, as he’d learned, an easy principle.
“How is she?”
“They released her from the hospital. She should recover in a few weeks.”
“And . . . Leena?” Ma did not look at him as she asked. “Are you . . . Is she . . . ?”
Anil slid his hand into his pocket and tightened his fingers around the king piece.
“Son, I really think you should let this go—”
“And if I do . . .” Anil turned to her, setting down his cup. “If I do agree to let this go, let her go, then you have to do something for me. You will make sure Leena can hold her head up in the village, that she can sell her goods at the market. You make sure she and Nirmala Auntie are treated like anyone else in the community, with respect.”
“Son, how can I do all that?” Ma chuckled. “I’m only one person. I can’t control how people think, what they say. What nonsense.” She shook her head.
“Well, I’ve been giving that some thought,” Anil said. “I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’ll probably be gone for a few more years. Maybe . . . longer.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I can’t be the family arbiter, Ma. Not anymore.”
His mother held up an open palm to him, eyes closed, as if she couldn’t bear to hear any more. Anil took a deep breath and continued. “In the hospital, we have a team of people who work together across specialties and seniority levels. When something goes wrong—when a patient dies unexpectedly, for example—this team holds an open forum to look at the case, to discuss what happened, so everyone can learn from it.” He took another deep breath. “I think we should have a council of arbiters, not just one. You, Kiran, and Chandu.” He waited for her reaction, for her questions, but she only turned to him with that concerned look she used to get when he stuttered as a child.
“You hold more respect in this community than anyone else since Papa died,” Anil continued. “You know the families, the culture, and you’ve seen Papa broker a lot of disputes. You’ve seen the successes and the mistakes. And Kiran . . .” Anil smiled, remembering Ritu and her Limca. “Ma, Kiran has a special way with people. They trust him, they’ll talk to him. He knows how to make others feel safe.” His mother no
dded, acknowledging this. “And Chandu, I know he can be trouble, but he’s so sharp. Papa always used to say that about him and I didn’t believe it, but Chandu knows how things really work in the world, how to get things done. He understands people in a different way than the rest of us.” Anil leaned back against his chair. “Nikhil will continue to run the farm operations, that’s his domain. Piya has her own interests to pursue.”
His mother’s eyes darted back and forth as she considered Anil’s proposal. “You’ve thought it all through.”
“It’s the best way, Ma,” Anil said. “Old and young. Man and woman. The wisdom will multiply.” He placed Papa’s account journal on the table between them, along with the envelope containing fifty thousand rupees. “Your first order of business is to return this money to Nirmala Auntie. We can never restore what she’s lost, but perhaps they can start again.” He watched his mother as she stared, expressionless, out over the fields. “It has to come from you, Ma.”
His mother nodded slightly, and without another word, collected the journal and cash, stood up, and went into the house.
Anil rested the back of his head on his chair and allowed his eyes to close. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days, and the emotional turmoil of the past week had left him drained. He felt himself drifting away and let himself go.
He awakened with a start to the sound of his sister’s voice. “Where’s she going?” Piya stood in the doorway of the Big House. The sun was low on the horizon, its last arc visible just before slipping away. The coolness of dusk settled onto Anil’s skin and brought him a shiver.
“I guess I’ll tell the cook to hold dinner,” Piya said, nodding toward a figure on the path: their mother, holding a silver thali with coconut, bananas, and fresh blossoms, walking through the fields toward the gully and the house just on the other side.
BEFORE LEAVING Panchanagar, Anil spoke to each of his siblings to explain his decision. Nikhil was pleased to accept full control of the farm operations. Piya hugged her big brother and praised him for the resolution he’d found. Finally, Anil sat with Kiran and Chandu, reiterating what he had discussed with Ma before handing over Papa’s letter. “This is for you, both of you.”