Three Bargains: A Novel (24 page)

“I’m very sorry.” Dr. Kidwai glanced from one family to the other. “Trilok-bhai, maybe we can talk—”

“Speak,” said Trilok-bhai, firm and impatient.

“It’s a delicate matter,” said Dr. Kidwai, “and I have to do a blood test to be sure . . .” He stopped, as if not sure if he should go on.

“What?” said Rohan. “Speak,” he said, imitating his father.

“Well,” said Dr. Kidwai, clearing his throat. “It seems that Neha is expecting . . . with child,” he clarified, his gaze tentatively sweeping the room.

Trilok-bhai’s roar overpowered his wife’s strangled cry. “What are you talking about, Doctor?”

“Like I said,” Dr. Kidwai wiped his brow. “It seems she’s about halfway along, but I can only be sure after I do my . . . tests.” His all-knowing doctor’s voice wavered.

Madan heard Jaggu breathing behind him, and Trilok-bhai’s roar of disbelief. He heard the doctor’s words but his ears seemed packed with sawdust. He shook his head to clear them. Music floated in from somewhere, and from the kitchen came the sound of dishes being washed.

Trilok-bhai barged into the bedroom, dragging Neha out by her arm. She tried to stand as her father hauled her into the drawing room. She stumbled, tripping on the long skirt of her lehenga. Trilok-bhai pulled her into the drawing room on her knees.

“What is this?” he demanded. “Is it true?”

“Please, Papa,” she said. Her eyes were red and swollen.

Madan made a move toward her, but Jaggu’s hand shot out, stopping him. “You’ll make it worse,” he whispered.

Trilok-bhai was shaking her now. “Is this true?” he demanded again. He turned around. “How could we not know?”

“In these cases, when girls are so thin, first-time pregnancy can be hard to tell,” Dr. Kidwai offered.

“Trilok-bhai,” Avtaar Singh said, composed as always, assessing, planning. He went to Neha, picking her up and seating her on the sofa. “Let’s think about this calmly, let’s talk to Neha and find out—”

“Calm? Calm? You want me to be calm, Avtaar Singh? You wouldn’t say this if it was one of your girls. My reputation, the name of my family, will be dragged through the mud. How will we ever show our faces in Gorapur again? This girl has ruined us, ruined us.”

“Now, now,” said Avtaar Singh, “we are friends here. No one has to know. Let’s look at this calmly,” he tried once more, but Trilok-bhai was shaking Neha again.

“Who did this?” he said. “Who did this?”

Neha hid her face in her hands, moaning and curling into herself, away from everyone’s questioning eyes.

“It’s Madan.” Rimpy’s voice rang out. From far away, Madan thought he heard angels scream as they fell into the fires of hell.

“Madan?” said Trilok-bhai. “Who is Madan?”

“Him,” said Rimpy, pointing to the doorway. “There’s been something going on. Now it makes sense . . . it’s him. I know it.” She turned to Avtaar Singh. “It’s him, Papa, it’s him!”

Dimpy said, “No, Rimpy,” but it was so soft they barely heard her.

Neha gave a choked cry and ran back toward the bedroom. Trilok-bhai caught her by her hair and pulled. She collapsed on the brightly patterned carpet, her sobs revealing the truth to everyone. In the corner chair, Pandit Bansi Lal perked up, his beady eyes surveying the room.

Madan looked down at this feet; he could not feel them. When he looked up, Avtaar Singh’s gaze was on him.

“Is this true?” Avtaar Singh asked.

Before Madan could answer, Mohan punched him, and he reeled back as his mouth filled with blood. It took two more punches before Jaggu managed to get Mohan off.

“Stop,” said Avtaar Singh, before the other brothers made a move.

“A fucking servant. The bastard, I’m going to kill him,” said Rohan.

“Stop,” said Avtaar Singh. Even now he had the power to make people listen. “Take him back to the quarters,” he ordered Jaggu.

“Saab,” Madan said. “You are my father. I would do anything for you. Please, whatever you do, don’t turn away from me.”

Avtaar Singh watched, silent and unmoving, as a patch of red soaked the front of Madan’s shirt. Madan struggled as Jaggu dragged him away. And Avtaar Singh turned his back, shutting the door.

When Swati saw Madan and Jaggu entering the room, she dropped her sewing needle and rushed up to them.

“Wet some towels, we need to clean him up,” said Jaggu. She ran out to the water pump.

“This face is not going to look as handsome tomorrow,” said Jaggu, after he and Swati mopped up most of the blood and applied iodine to Madan’s split lip and the gash on his head.

The door swung open, banging against the wall.

“What have you done? What have you done?” His mother fell on him, shaking his shoulders and screeching like someone had twisted a knife in her stomach.

Jaggu pulled her away. “It’s not all his fault, Mata-ji. It’s not just him.”

She turned on Jaggu. “It’s always the man,” she spat out. “Does he even think of his mother? His . . . his . . .”—she reached out, pulling a crying Swati to her—“his sister? He has ruined everything. What are we going to do now? All my hard work—”

She collapsed on the floor, holding her head, stuffing the end of her sari into her mouth to stop from screaming.

“What happened at the house?” Jaggu asked

“Memsaab came to the kitchen and spoke to me,” she cried, tears running down to her neck. “I knew this day would come.” She shrieked, throwing her hands in the air.

Through his partial vision, Madan watched his mother cry and pound the floor. A bone-deep disgust and rage overtook him. He thought of Neha crumpled on the floor, and Avtaar Singh, and now his mother.

“Shut up,” he said to his mother. “Shut up with your crying.”

“You’ve left me with nothing but tears,” she screamed.

Outside his grandfather asked, “What’s going on? Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

Except for Swati and his grandfather, no one slept that night. In the early hours, Jaggu went to get some tea and said he would find out what was going on. “It’s too quiet.”

Madan barely heard him. He was trying to work out a way to see Neha. If he could see her, if they could talk, he could tell her he was not going to give her up; together they could make everyone see sense.

The vegetable seller’s cart trundled outside and the world stirred. Soon Bahadur came around. “Memsaab wants to see you, Durga,” he said. She left, without looking at Madan.

Jaggu came running in right after. “You’ve got to get out,” he said.

“What?” said Madan.

“You’ve got to get out, they’re coming for you.”

“Who?”

“Feroze, Gopal, all of them. They’re headed here.”

“It can’t be,” said Madan. Had not promises been made? “I have to go to him.”

“It’s too late. I know it’s too much for you to believe now,” said Jaggu. “But he’s washed his hands of you. He can’t overlook this; he can’t let you go without suffering any consequences. There’s nothing you can say to him.”

Madan wasn’t listening. “If the men are on their way here, then no one is there,” he said.

He ran out, Jaggu following him, arriving at the factory as the morning’s work began. Startled workers looked up as they ran past, into Avtaar Singh’s office.

“Saab,” Madan said. The door shut behind them. Avtaar Singh didn’t look perturbed. His foamy tea rippled in the tall tumbler in front of him. The incense under the photo of his father perfumed the room.

“Did you know about this?” Avtaar Singh spoke directly to Jaggu.

“He knew nothing,” said Madan, “no one knew anything, not my family, no one. Please, saab, listen to me—”

Avtaar Singh held up his hand. “You know I don’t like to be obliged to anyone. You’ve put me in an extremely awkward position with Trilok-bhai—this is what he wants and I’ve agreed, besides which . . .” Avtaar Singh hesitated. He took a sip of tea and swallowed hard, grimacing as if it burned his throat. He struggled to speak. He looked down at his papers. “There are some rivers you do not cross. It’s better you go, quietly, without any fuss,” he said.

“Saab—”

Avtaar Singh stood up suddenly, the papers on his desk flying. “Don’t speak to me! I trusted you like a son. With my family, with my business, with everything . . . with more than everything. You were a pitiful, sniveling shit of a boy who would’ve ended up as dirt under someone’s shoe if it wasn’t for me. It could’ve had been anyone. This boy . . .” He jabbed his finger in Jaggu’s direction. “Or any other wretch out there. But I chose you. You. And this is what I get? You were worthless when I first met you, and despite all my efforts, you are worthless to me now.”

He caught himself, and as suddenly as he had erupted, he calmed down and took his seat again. “This is the end, it’s time you go.”

Behind them, the door opened and Feroze, Gopal and Harish entered.

“Madan, come, now, let’s go without any trouble,” said Feroze.

Jaggu threw himself at Avtaar Singh’s feet. “Saab, please, saab, he’s made a mistake, a foolish mistake . . . such a big punishment for this? You know him better than anyone. Forgive this one mistake, saab. I beg you, we’ll do anything. Madan, come, ask for saab’s forgiveness . . .”

Madan couldn’t move. He watched Avtaar Singh extract his foot from Jaggu’s grasp, ignoring his entreaties, keeping his head bent over his papers, continuing with his work as though alone in the room. Feroze and Harish pulled Madan out of the office, while Gopal held on to a struggling Jaggu. Madan heard Jaggu screaming for them to let him go, not to hurt him.

Soon Jaggu’s shouts faded, and Madan was rolling in dust. “Thought he was too smart,” Feroze said, kicking Madan in the ribs. “Like his father, he’s no more than a hair on my ass. What a fucking dog.”

Madan heard the lapping of water against a wall. From his side, from his head, from his stomach, the pain was relentless. He tried to roll himself into a ball to fend off the unflagging assault but he couldn’t tell if his body was responding to him or not.

A final strike blotted out all sound and sight.

Madan heard the insistent honking like a rocket shooting through his head. He opened his eyes. Slowly he focused and Jaggu came into view.

“We’re at the bus station,” said Jaggu. Madan sat up groggily. Pools of light illuminated the green and yellow buses lined in a row, and all around people got on or disembarked. Travelers scrambled to retrieve their luggage thrown down from the tops of the buses.

Madan felt numb, like he was drunk. His clothes clung to him, steamy and damp. They gave off a muddy, fishy odor. He reached up to his face but Jaggu said, “Don’t. It’s better you don’t know right now.”

Madan looked at him questioningly. “They took you to the back area of the canal’s reservoir,” Jaggu said. “I followed them.”

Jaggu had made it to the canal as they rolled Madan into the water. “After I dragged you to the bank, I couldn’t believe you were breathing, but I didn’t know how to move you.” Jaggu had seen an unsteady beam of light heading toward the canal and thought the men were back, but a car came careening through the trees. “It was
1984
. That crippled fucker. He’d broken into someone’s car. He won’t tell me how he knew, but we managed to bring you here.”

Jaggu pointed to the food stalls by the parking lot not too far away. Through his swollen eyes, Madan made out
1984
chewing on a bread pakora, grinning back at them.

“Why are we here?” Madan asked, the words coming out in a painful, raspy burst.

“I’ve a cousin in Panipat. I’ve called him and he said he will take you in. I haven’t told him much, but this is all I could think of right now.”

Panipat? Madan’s mind was still in the drawing room with Neha sobbing on the floor. “I have to see her.”

“Do you understand you just got the gift of your life?” Jaggu was impatient. “What about your family? Think about them.”

But Madan looked stubbornly in the distance. Jaggu said, “Look, go to Panipat now. It’s only a few hours away. Whatever I find out, I’ll let you know. But for now, it’s better . . . you know . . . it’s better you leave town.”

“What about my mother?”

“It seems Minnu memsaab said that your mother, Swati and dada-ji could stay. A good servant is hard to find.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I think memsaab can’t imagine life without your mother. When I went to collect some of your clothes, I told your mother you’re with me.” He pointed to the duffel bag on the ground beside him. “Madan, she’s upset, but you can’t come around to the house. Everyone else thinks that you’re . . . you know . . .” He drew his finger across his throat.

Madan nodded. He couldn’t think about that right now. “And your cousin?” he asked.

“He has a carpet business. He’s actually a second cousin on my mother’s side. He will give you a room.”

Jaggu had thought of everything.

“And what about you?”

“I’m safe for now, and so is my mother. He believed you when you said I didn’t know anything, but I don’t think I can go back to the factory. He’ll have a hard enough time adjusting to seeing your mother at his house every day.”

Madan watched buses pull in and out. “You can come with me,” he said.

Jaggu shook his head. “If I disappear with you, then I’m guilty. My mother is here.”