Read The Sari Shop Widow Online

Authors: Shobhan Bantwal

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Widows, #Contemporary Women, #Cultural Heritage, #Businesswomen, #East Indians, #Edison (N.J.: Township), #Edison (N.J. : Township)

The Sari Shop Widow (22 page)

BOOK: The Sari Shop Widow
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Rishi chuckled. “I’m sure he did. That’s probably why it took my father two whole years to work up the nerve to ask my mother to marry him. Besides valuing Jeevan-kaka’s opinion, he was also intimidated by him.”

“So…if they got married forty-three years ago, you were born a year later.”

“Your powers of deduction are amazing.” He gave her a teasing grin.

“Very funny, Einstein. So, were there any more children after you came along?”

“No. Mum tells me she had a couple of miscarriages.” He looked wistful as he stroked the back of Anjali’s hand with his own. “I was raised a Hindu. My mother was old-fashioned that way. Although she was Christian, she firmly believed my father’s faith should be mine.”

“Interesting.”

“Nothing but Indian food was served at home, too. I stayed on the farm the first few years and attended the local Gujarati school while my mother taught me English at home. But then my parents sent me off to a boarding school at the age of nine.”

“That’s so sad—a little nine-year-old boy going so far away from home. I’m assuming there weren’t any good schools in the immediate area?”

“My parents wanted the very best education for me, so they had no choice but to send me away to a residential school.”

“Were you and Jeevan-kaka close even then?”

“Not really. To me he was the rich and powerful boss. I respected him, but I also resented him—mostly his big house in the city, the servants, the cars, and everything else that surrounded a wealthy businessman. We weren’t poor, but we lived in a small house on the farm. We had one woman-servant who took care of me during the day, cleaned, and cooked while my mother worked at the clinic.”

“So money was important to you?”

“Back then it was. But now that I have some money and the things it can buy, it seems like an entirely foolish thing to focus on. There’s so much more to life than money, isn’t there?”

“Easy for you to say,” she scoffed. “You’re not the one whose business is teetering and could ruin you for life.”

“Your business will not be ruined, Anjali. I promise you that. I’ll help you get the store back on its feet. That’s what I do for a living. Teetering businesses are the backbone of my consulting business.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise, then.” She tried to reclaim her hand by tugging on it gently, but he held firm. The warm current of electricity flowing through her pulse and going directly to the rest of her body was messing with her brain. “So then you went away to school,” she prompted.

“I went home during holidays, and as a teenager I helped my father with the bookkeeping and paperwork. I did a lot of farm labor, too. I liked working with the dairy processing machines and driving the milk delivery trucks.”

“Even as a young boy you had a head for business?”

“Remember I told you I discovered at a very early age that I liked it? Whenever Jeevan-kaka came to visit the farm he seemed impressed with my business acumen. He even solicited my opinion on some things. I was flattered that such a rich and powerful businessman thought I had something valuable to contribute.”

Anjali figured that’s probably how the old man and Rishi had struck up a friendship. “Did my uncle offer you a job then?”

Rishi laughed. “No. I still had years of schooling to complete. But I began to like Jeevan-kaka more and more.”

“Did you always call him Jeevan-kaka?”

“Yes. My parents wanted me to call him that and his wife kaki. The families were close.”

Anjali recalled something her uncle had said the other day. “Jeevan-kaka said you saved his life. What’s all that about?”

“It’s a rather long and depressing story, Anju.”

“I’d like to hear it. What exactly did you do to save a man like Jeevan-kaka?”

Rishi inhaled a deep breath as if to fortify himself. “When I was fourteen and home for a brief holiday, Jeevan-kaka came to visit. He stayed with us whenever he came down to check on the farm. We’d been having some trouble at the farm off and on: skirmishes with some of our laborers. My father was forced to dismiss a particularly disruptive and violent worker during the week Jeevan-kaka was visiting.”

Anjali could feel Rishi’s hand tensing up. She had a feeling this wasn’t a pleasant subject for him. Nonetheless she remained silent, hoping he’d continue.

“That night, when we were all asleep, someone started a fire in our house. Most likely it was the man who’d been fired earlier by my father. The man had made some veiled threats. He must have used petrol, because the blaze was incredible and the smell of it was everywhere. The house was surrounded by fire.” Rishi’s breath became a little uneven.

“Arson! Did everyone make it out of the house okay?”

He shook his head. “My room was across from my parents’, so I instinctively rushed into theirs. My mother was a thin woman, so we urged her to jump out of the narrow bedroom window. My father couldn’t, since he was a large man. And I was nearly as big as he. I thought Papa and I would manage to get out of there together somehow, but…”

“You couldn’t?”

“Didn’t. Instead he ordered me to get out immediately and save myself while he would see to Jeevan-kaka. Amidst the chaos, I’d forgotten we had a guest. By then the house was filling up with smoke. As I crept through the passageway I heard Jeevan-kaka coughing, so instead of running to safety like I was supposed to, I rushed to help him myself.”

Anjali noticed his knuckles were white as they held hers in a death grip. “It was a very brave thing for a young boy to do,” she said. Most boys that age would have taken care of themselves first.

With his spare hand Rishi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hardly. I resented Jeevan-kaka’s presence in our home at a time when we couldn’t afford it.”

“And yet you helped him.”

He shrugged. “Despite the smoke I managed to get to the farthest bedroom and to Jeevan-kaka. I found him sitting on the bed, dazed and gasping for breath. I grabbed his hand and led him through the long passageway and to the drawing room. Meanwhile I could hear my father coughing somewhere in the back of the house. I couldn’t assure him that Jeevan-kaka was with me. Opening my mouth meant swallowing smoke, choking on it.”

“Did you know if your father had at least made it out of his bedroom?”

“I couldn’t really tell. It was difficult to think rationally at the time. I believe my father succeeded in making it to Jeevan-kaka’s room after the old man and I had already reached the drawing room. I assumed he’d find Jeevan-kaka missing and conclude that he’d saved himself. By then the flames were everywhere and I wasn’t sure if we were going to get out alive. Jeevan-kaka was wheezing hard and so was I.

“I thought we’d choke to death if not burn. I couldn’t quite see the front door but had to feel my way around the furniture through the blinding smoke. Finally I managed to get the front door open and literally shoved Jeevan-kaka out. I saw him fall on his face and groan in pain. That was all I could remember.”

Anjali could picture the scene in her mind, feel the tension mounting. “What did you do?”

He went silent for a moment. “Opening the door brought in fresh air to fan the flames. The fire got worse. Just as I turned around to go back for my father, a flaming wooden beam came flying from somewhere in the ceiling and slammed into me, throwing me on my back. It pinned my leg to the floor.”

“Oh no!” She winced.

“I don’t remember how I managed to free myself but it must have been pure adrenaline. The pain was excruciating. All I could do was drag myself on one leg and keep dragging till I got away from the inferno.”

“And then you had to watch your home burn down.”

Rishi withdrew his hand, leaned forward, and buried his face in his hands, probably reliving the hell he’d experienced. “I wish that was all my mother and I had to watch. My father…he never made it out of there. With my injury and multiple burns I had no hope of going back inside for him. I was in agony and weeping like a baby. Besides, the house was engulfed by fire. Papa must have choked on the smoke and collapsed in the passageway.”

Anjali’s heart broke over what she was hearing. Rishi was hurting badly and she hurt for him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Rishi.”

He stayed with his face in his hands for a long time. “So am I,” he said, finally raising his head. “They found his charred body right outside Jeevan-kaka’s room. Apparently he’d made his way there to save his boss and friend. Even when he knew he was dying, his first concern was Jeevan-kaka.”

“Your father was obviously a very caring and selfless man.”

Rishi hesitated. “He was no saint, mind you. He had a volatile temper and could be unreasonable at times—a slave driver with the laborers. He was harsh in punishing the errant ones. There were reasons why they resented him.”

“I’m sure Jeevan-kaka appreciated that stony side of his personality.”

“The main reason he’d employed my father in the first place,” said Rishi with a wry smile. “But Papa was always loyal to Jeevan-kaka—loyal to a fault.”

“So were you.”

“No. I hated Jeevan-kaka for years afterward. He was the one who should have died that night, not my father.” He stared at the carpet for a minute. “Took me a long time to forgive the old man.”

Now it was all clear to Anjali. No wonder her uncle was so attached to Rishi. Something else became obvious, too. She turned to him. “Is that why you favor one leg?”

“Favor?” he snapped. “I have a distinct limp, Anju.”

“Not really.”

“I nearly lost the leg, but my mother’s nursing skills kept it in one piece until they could transport me to a hospital. And then the around-the-clock care she gave me for months afterward was nothing short of a miracle.”

“Your poor mother. I can’t imagine the nightmare she must have gone through.”

“Neither can I. To this day I don’t know how she handled the gruesome death of the man she loved, a serious injury to her only child, and the loss of her home—all in a single night. Besides, she had cuts and bruises on various parts of her body to contend with.”

“Remarkable woman,” agreed Anjali.

“And resilient woman. She managed to overcome her grief. She eventually remarried.”

Anjali captured Rishi’s hand once again and held it between hers, more for herself than for him. A man like him would be repulsed by pity, so she wouldn’t give him that. But she could give herself some strength from holding on to him. She was shaken from hearing the story. She’d never heard anything quite so tragic or horrific.

How had Rishi managed to pull himself out of it? How had his heartbroken mother managed to recover? After Vik’s death Anjali had functioned like a zombie for months. To some extent she still was. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel real emotion for any man.

As if in answer to her silent questions, Rishi glanced at her. “Took me months to realize my father was gone. And even longer for my damned leg to heal.”

“Did you need surgery?”

“Several. Afterward, when I still couldn’t walk normally, my mother decided to return to England to find better surgeons for me. Two of my operations were performed in London by orthopedic specialists who were considered experts in the field.”

“Must have been terribly expensive. How’d your mother manage that?”

“Take a guess. You’re a bright woman.”

“Jeevan-kaka?”

“Correct. He had no more than some bruises and minor burns, and a concussion from falling on his head, but his gratitude was endless. Next to my mother and myself, I think Jeevan-kaka grieved the most. He was inconsolable. My father’s family didn’t even come close. My mother had only an elderly father, who couldn’t travel all the way from England to India to comfort her.”

“I can see why Jeevan-kaka is beholden to you for life. He’s alive because of you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, although at the time I believed it myself. He probably would have managed to grope his way out somehow. He’s always believed he would’ve died if I hadn’t dragged him out and that my father would have been alive if he hadn’t gone looking for him. But Jeevan-kaka has heaped me with gratitude, more than I deserve.”

“How?”

“He paid for my exclusive private school in England, sent me to Oxford, and footed all my expenses while I was a student. And when I wanted to start my first store, he literally bought it for me.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. When I offered to pay him back, he refused the money, saying it was only a tiny fraction of what he owed my father and me.”

“For my stingy old uncle to do all that, he had to be stupendously grateful. As far as I know he doesn’t have that kind of generosity in him.”

“But he does, Anju. You don’t know him like I do,” argued Rishi. “He’s extremely generous in his own way. You just have to get to know him better. He’s been a father to me for many years. He’s given me most everything I have today. The gratitude goes both ways.”

“He’s making it up to you, Rishi.” Now that she knew all there was to know, she could clearly see why her uncle and this unfathomable man were so close. They weren’t just friends; they were father and son—a bond that was forged that night, when a young boy had saved a grown man but lost his father at the same time.

Why hadn’t she seen that before? Rishi was the only person who could reason with her uncle. Jeevan-kaka probably loved this man dearly. And Rishi did him proud. Not only was he personable and bright, he was way more successful than any of Jeevan-kaka’s sons. His biological sons diligently took care of the business empire he’d created, but they were neither motivated nor talented enough to take risks and expand it.

Tears burned Anjali’s eyes. She glanced at the scar beneath Rishi’s eyebrow. “Is that from the fire, too?” she rasped.

“That’s from a sports injury.” A surprised look came on his face. “Are you actually crying for me?”

She didn’t answer him but placed a hand on his bad knee, leaving it there till she could swallow the lump in her throat and bring herself to speak. “How bad is your leg now?”

“There’s a metal implant that keeps the knee rotating with remarkable efficiency. I’m every airport security guard’s nightmare.” His smile was wicked. It obviously gave him a great deal of satisfaction to make those security people crazy. “The metal detector drives them mad.” He stretched his leg out in front of him. “See that little protrusion there? That’s the implant.”

BOOK: The Sari Shop Widow
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