The Lost Daughter of India Read online

  ‘Do you think… I mean, it might sound rude after what I just said to her but I desperately need to check my email. Do you have…?’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes of course. I will take you to the office – come with me.’

  Chapter 24

  Janiki

  ‘You must excuse my mistress,’ Lakshmi said as they reached the end of the Corridor of Mirrors. She led the way into a large hall, and up a staircase at the back of that hall. ‘Her bark is worse than her bite. At least, now it is. She doesn’t mean to be rude. She can’t help it. She has lost so much… so much.’

  ‘Is she really royalty? I mean, there’s no such thing in India any more, is there?’

  ‘Well, we humour her. But she is related to royalty, or ex-royalty. You may have heard of Gayatri Devi, the Jaipur Princess? My mistress is second cousin thrice removed to her. She attended her wedding to Maharaja Jai – as a little girl of course, but if you ask her she can remember everything: Prince Jai raising her up, Princess Gayatri feeding her with gulab jamun. It was the best day in her life! And she grew up in such pomp. She remembers those days with great nostalgia. And so do I.’

  ‘What was it like, back then?’

  ‘What it was like? Oh, it was magnificent! Nobody alive today can imagine the glory of those days! I was just a young girl then, but I remember so well standing exactly here and looking down when Maharaj Sanjay came to visit! Sitting there on his royal cushions. We could see him so well from here! We couldn’t hear a thing, of course, but why should we? We were only women; for us it was the excitement of seeing, of watching from our lofty hideaway while the men conducted their business. My mistress was not much older than me, she was a young bride, just married and so full of hope for the future. Who would ever imagine that her husband would die so young, leaving her a pregnant widow! And after that we did not realise – nobody ever told us – we could not guess—’ She stopped suddenly, as if reluctant to leave that magic world and talk of things that should never have happened.

  ‘What happened?’ Janiki whispered, so as not to break the spell.

  ‘Betrayal,’ said Lakshmi, her voice raised and trembling with emotion. ‘Betrayed by the British Raj, those statesmen we had always been loyal to. Sold out! We had no choice! All the royals had to merge; we were given no alternative! We had to destroy ourselves in order to survive – but how? All titles taken; no more land, no more subjects. What could the Regent Maharani do? She was only a woman, and when all over Royal India even the most powerful of kings, even the most ancient of royal families were destroying themselves and merging, what could she do? Nothing. It is all destiny. It is God’s will and we have to accept it.’

  ‘And what happened when—’ Janiki began, then stopped, for a deafening peal had rung out like the phantom voice of a wrathful electronic god. Lakshmi placed a stalling hand on Janiki’s arm.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘She is summoning me.’

  She raised a whistle, hanging on a gold chain around her neck, to her lips, and blew a shrill blast. Almost immediately, a young girl in a blue chiffon sari appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘Sita, would you please take this young lady to the office and switch on the computer and connect it. She wants to use Internet.’

  ‘Very well, madam.’ Sita gestured to Janiki. ‘Come with me, ma’am.’

  Chapter 25

  Caroline. Madras, 2000

  The taxi slid up to the entrance to the Connemara Hotel. A porter opened the door and Caroline stepped out from the air-conditioned back seat. The mid-morning heat wrapped itself in a tight cloak around her; stifling, suffocating heat. She could hardly breathe. This, she thought, is why I dislike India so much. This, and the crowds and the noise and the stench. Why I had to leave.

  But here there were no crowds and no noise and no stench, and once she had entered the lobby, no heat either; only cool luxury.

  ‘Just one night, so you can settle down,’ said Kamal at her side. ‘Tomorrow we leave early in the morning for Gingee. Do you think you can make it for 5 a.m.?’

  ‘Of course!’ said Caroline, affronted. ‘I know how urgent it is! I could make it right away! I don’t have to settle down!’

  But she knew it was a lie. Already her mind was buzzing as if a thousand bees had been let loose within it – not only the lack of sleep and the disruption of her inner clock from the flight to the other side of the world, stopping here and there with never a proper rest. It was now almost midnight in Boston; she had lost not only a whole day, but her whole life. Back in India. Back in the chaos. The monster she had fled. But that was the price she had to pay. Greater than all the monsters in the world was her love for Asha, and that was what drove her, fired her, gave her strength.

  They arrived at the reception desk.

  ‘Mrs Caroline Richmond,’ said Kamal to the receptionist. ‘There’s a room booked.’

  The receptionist smiled and handed him a key card, which he passed to Caroline. ‘Room 212,’ he said. ‘A porter will bring up your luggage. I imagine you need a long rest.’

  Caroline took the key and smiled at him. ‘Yeah, I could do with a long, long nap. But we could meet up later – which is your room? When shall we meet?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not staying in this hotel,’ said Kamal. ‘I’m in midtown. But if you like I’ll come around this evening and we can talk strategy. So, here’s your porter with your luggage. I’ll be off.’

  ‘Oh, but – we could have a drink first? Relax a bit before I go for my nap? There’s so much to catch up on!’

  ‘No – no. I think I’ll let you rest, Caroline. See you later. I’ll drop in at supper-time.’

  And he was gone. Caroline stared after him, disappointed and, yes, hurt. Kamal had been nothing but polite and friendly, the perfect hospitable Indian host, picking her up at the airport and escorting her to this wonderful hotel, an icon of Madras, full of history and tradition, reeking of Empire and the Raj. Enquiring into her well-being, solicitous; gallant, even. There was nothing at all she could fault him on. Except for the distance of his demeanour. Coldness, even.

  To dispel her nervousness, and her anxiety, she had chattered away in the taxi during the long drive to the hotel. Talking helped to release that pent-up emotion. Just talking, about anything, anything at all, looking at him as she talked. But apart from a few glances her way, and a nodding of his head as if he were listening, Caroline felt isolated. She remembered that Kamal had never engaged in small talk – was she being pesky with her chatter? Or was he being rude? Or perhaps he felt it was inappropriate to talk about aeroplane meals and delays in Frankfurt and screaming babies on the plane when such a huge problem lay in both their hearts. But there was time enough to discuss Asha in the coming days. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t, plunge into the heartache right now. So what were they supposed to talk about? Or should they just sit in silence on the back seat? He hadn’t even asked her how was her trip – Caroline had just told him, without invitation.

  It seemed as if the cultural divide had opened so wide in the intervening years that there was nothing left between them, nothing at all. How could that be? How could two people who had once loved each other, who had shared all their thoughts and all their feelings, who had laughed and cried together and become parents together and fallen in love with a baby together, become strangers, just because – well, Caroline conceded, it was true that she had hurt Kamal deeply. Probably more than she could even guess – he had never really told her just how much the break-up had affected him. He had retreated into himself, and though they had corresponded – she had insisted that they remain friends, not only because of Asha – he had never again spoken of his feelings. Caroline had thought that it was because he didn’t like writing; she had believed that seeing her again would bring back the old funny, relaxed, warm, caring Kamal she had once known. That they would fall into each other’s arms and be the close friends they were meant to be. Instead she had this: a stranger.

  Could it be that to this
day he had not forgiven her for leaving him? Not even after so much time? But he had to see how incompatible they were. And surely it wasn’t her fault that he had not moved on, found a new life, a new wife, founded a new family. It wasn’t her fault at all.

  There was so much she wanted to tell him. She had thought they were now friends: close friends even; or could be. That was the impression he had given her in his last email. Sure, it had been short, but she had yet divined a warmth beyond the words. She had so looked forward to meeting him again in person and establishing a new relationship, one that centred on Asha and their love and concern for her. All that chatter in the taxi – it was supposed to break the ice. But maybe he had found it boring? Found her shallow? Now, finally alone in her room, she blushed. She felt a fool. Something was wrong between her and Kamal, and she hadn’t noticed it. Kamal had changed.

  Well, she reasoned, of course he’s changed! For a start, he’s no longer my husband. And for another start, I haven’t seen him for over ten years. We’ve both changed in that time. I’ve become more American – or, I’ve become American again after trying, and failing, to be Indian. And he is back to being the Indian he always was, without having to make concessions to me, an American wife. Maybe we were never well matched. Maybe mixed marriages – at least, marriages of such extremes – just don’t work.

  But we have Asha. We have a quest to find out what’s going on and secure her well-being. Christ, I hope she’s all right. I hope there’s a plausible explanation for Sundari’s silence – that maybe she’s sick or something and can’t write, or maybe they moved house. But then, surely she would have, should have, informed her and Kamal? The nagging worry that something really serious was wrong clawed at her, again. That lurking beast she could not shake off. Something bad, really bad. But she couldn’t give in to negative thoughts. She was a therapist herself, for Christ’s sake. She took several deep breaths to calm her mind, and closed her eyes. She would NOT give in to those lurking fears!

  She took off all her clothes, had a quick shower and threw herself into the luxury of a soft sweet-scented bed. She slept for six hours straight.

  * * *

  As promised, Kamal returned at 6 p.m. They had supper by the poolside; curried fish for Caroline, and an omelette for Kamal. This time, Caroline decided, she’d be cautious with her speech; she would not chatter away but let him lead. And this time he did, at first. But again, he spoke of nothing personal. He seemed uninterested in her life, and her feelings; he spoke only of Asha, and their movements the next day.

  ‘I want to leave early, by five,’ he said, ‘and I’ve ordered a taxi; I’ll pick you up outside at five thirty. We should arrive at Gingee before Mr Iyengar and the kids go off to college and school; the more of the family we can meet, the better.’

  ‘I just don’t understand it,’ said Caroline for the hundredth time. ‘Sundari has always been so reliable.’

  ‘I also tried writing to Janiki – nothing.’

  ‘Well, Janiki is in America right now. Sundari sent me her address last year but I didn’t make a note of it – I knew I wouldn’t be visiting her in California and who writes letters these days? If she’d sent her email address it’d have been a different story – I’d have fired off a quick greeting and welcome note. Sundari seemed to think we’d be living around the corner from each other. How I wish now I’d kept that letter.’

  ‘No phone number?’

  ‘Well – she did send the number but you know, Janiki and I were never that close. She was just a kid! A mature kid, it’s true, the way she looked after Asha, but really, it never occurred to me to call her. What would we talk about? All we ever spoke of was Asha. I suppose though I should have called to welcome her to America, asked about her work, maybe even invited her to visit me in Cambridge. Maybe she expected that? Oh Lord, Kamal, I feel like such an idiot now. Yes, I guess it was rude of me to ignore Janiki when she came but you know how it is – one is so wrapped up in the daily grind, my work, my clients, my career, that all those little niceties tend to be neglected. It’s all my fault I didn’t keep in touch.’

  ‘But surely Janiki would have also had your address and number and would have contacted you if something was wrong?’

  ‘Yes, Janiki would know and get in touch with us if there was a problem. So I’m hoping no news is good news. The only explanation I can think of is that they moved house and our letters and telegrams never arrived. But that doesn’t explain why Sundari hasn’t sent the birthday photo.’

  ‘Perhaps they were moving just around that time and she forgot, or couldn’t find the time.’

  ‘Well, we’ll find out tomorrow. No point in speculating.’

  Talking about tomorrow’s plans helped to relax Caroline and she couldn’t help it – she could not maintain her reserved stance. Talking was the only thing that calmed her, that distracted her from the frantic beast worrying away inside her. Talking about anything. So Caroline told him all about her career as a creative arts therapist; what she did and how many clients she had, and how she particularly enjoyed working with children and hoped to perhaps work only with children in future. That led to even more personal admissions.

  Perhaps it was insensitive to speak of such matters to your ex-husband, to the ex-husband you had dumped – to put it coarsely – but after all these years, Caroline thought, why shouldn’t she speak to him as she would to a girlfriend?

  ‘I’d have loved more children,’ she said, ‘and of course, so would Wayne. He does have a son from a previous relationship, but we wanted children together. But in our first years I was far too busy getting my degree and then building my career and then, well, it didn’t happen as soon as we thought it would. We are still hoping, but at my age – well, the clock is ticking. I’m trying to stay relaxed about it. Using my own relaxation techniques. That’s one good thing about being a therapist – I can try and heal myself. Try. It doesn’t always work.’

  She chuckled, a nervous chuckle because she still couldn’t help feeling that something wasn’t right between her and Kamal. That he wasn’t responding the way a good conversationalist should. The way an American would, a girlfriend. At such intimate revelations – well, there was surely a right way to respond and Kamal wasn’t doing it. Not that he was rude – looking bored, for instance. No, not at all. He listened attentively, smiled and nodded at all the right places. She couldn’t fault him in any way. And yet…

  It was as if an aura surrounded him. Yes, that was it. Something impenetrable, something she didn’t understand. His quietness, for instance. Caroline was OK with being quiet; quiet was good. But Kamal’s quietness was – weird was the word that came to mind. Not weird in a bad way, no, not that. Weird in an uncanny way. It was as if her words bounced off him, echoed off him, and created more words, and the more words she spoke the emptier they felt, and the more a sense of frustration grew within her. This wasn’t the Kamal she knew.

  She needed to know him better, so changed tack, using her own methods. Asked him questions about himself, to get him talking, to draw him out. She asked about his job, what it was like in Dubai, what he did in his free time, his friends and so on. (She did steer clear of asking him about girlfriends. That, she knew, was taboo.) And indeed, she did manage to get him talking in more than monosyllables. She nodded enthusiastically as he spoke of his life in Dubai.

  And yet. When he left her for home (‘home’ being a less luxurious hotel in the heart of the city, she found) she was no nearer to knowing him than she’d been at the start. She shrugged and went to bed, and the worry about Asha, lacking further distraction, snatched her back into its claws. But jet-lag was stronger, and she fell asleep again the moment her head touched the pillow.

  * * *

  She was ready and waiting when the taxi arrived; though it was so early, her inner clock was still in turmoil and she’d been awake even before the alarm went off – worrying, of course, about Asha. She slid into the back seat. Kamal sat in front, in the passenger seat,
and swivelled around to greet her. He hasn’t aged at all, Caroline thought. He’s almost as young and handsome as when we first met! It’s not fair!

  A thought had occurred to her in the shower this morning. What if he’s still in love with me? What if he never got over me, can’t get over me, and that’s why I can’t seem to connect with him? What if he’s wearing armour around his heart, so as not to feel pain?

  An interesting thought, one she would have loved to pursue had it not been for the situation with Asha. But hopefully they’d solve that today. As usual, she pushed away all her worry, all her dread, with positive thoughts. Asha is fine. Everything is fine. Everything is going to be OK. There’s an explanation; I just don’t know it yet. Today I’m going to see my darling daughter. Hold her, kiss her, tell her how much I love her.

  Once they’d found Asha she’d tackle the Kamal problem. Find out if she was right. If Kamal’s weirdness was simply due to him not being able to get over her, get over losing her. If that was the case, well, she’d get to the bottom of it. That was her job, after all; her profession as a therapist. Maybe the three of them, she, Kamal and Asha, could go off somewhere for a vacation. No, the four of them. Wayne would come too. Wayne was such a workaholic – it would do him good to take time off. Relax him. She would insist that he take a vacation, join them in some beautiful part of the world where Asha could get to know them all. She wondered about Asha’s school vacations – when were they? Could she simply take time off to go off with her biological parents?

  They should have done this long ago. She should have done this, with or without Kamal. Made more time for Asha, come to India more often. But yes, a vacation was necessary.

  They arrived at Gingee. The taxi made its slow, horn-blaring way through the crowded streets: bicycles, two-wheelers, lorries, cars, pedestrians, cows, dogs, bullock carts all contributed to the congestion, all moving haphazardly in this direction or that so that it was a wonder that the taxi made any kind of progress at all.