Page 135 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“No,” he whispered back. “I said it was for a friend’s mother.”

Aai handpicked a few and then passed them to us. “Which one will look good on her?”

By the time I finished describing Sharda Tai to Aai, she and Mihir pointed to the same saree, a deep purple with delicate gold zari on a magenta border.

“This is it.” I smiled at Mihir.

That evening, Mihir and I went to meet Sharda Tai with chicken biryani from my favorite street-side stall. This meeting was less tense than their first one. The mother and son both talked and laughed more, which made my heart soar.

“Thank you for the saree. It’s really nice,” she said.

“He picked it out himself. He has really good taste,” I offered when Mihir said nothing.

“Aai, if you ever need anything, you will let me know?”

She gave a wide smile. “By the grace of god, I have everything I need right now. I know this flat is small and the building looks derelict, but this is where I need to be. My work is here. My people are here. This is my community.”

“But you will let me know if you need anything? I am a wealthy man.”

She put a hand on his arm. “I have no right to your wealth, my son.”

“But I’m still your son, yes?”

She nodded as a single tear rolled down her cheek, and Mihir put his hand on hers. “Yes, you’re my son, but I’m not your mother, beta. The doctor’s wife is your mother.”

“She’s my mother, but I’m your son. You can rely on me,” Mihir said softly.

“I’m glad to know that.” She pulled herself upright.

“And the next time we meet, I want to know more about your life, if you don’t mind sharing.”

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind at all. I’m very proud of my life. You know, after I had you, I realized I didn’t want to get pregnant again, so I did underground activism for contraceptives. Then we were hit by AIDS, and the use of condoms became even more important. There was a lot of resistance and backlash from clients and brothel keepers, but we convinced the clients it was for their safety. For their families. It didn’t come easily, of course, but I kept myself updated, talking to doctors and Kamte bhau. He was like an elder brother, a guiding light in my life. ‘I see the leader in you,’ he used to say. ‘These people cannot break your spirit.’ I was lucky in many regards, and I’ll be happy to tell you about it.”

She kept weaving in and out of Marathi and Hindi, waiting patiently with a gentle, happy smile on her face while I translated it to Mihir.

“I’m very proud of you, Aai,” Mihir said with a warm smile.

“That’s something I never thought I’d get to hear, my child saying he’s proud of me.” She paused. “I thought of you often during the early years, you know. But I couldn’t expose how I had given you away. Kamte bhau would bring me your news. He would secretly show me your pictures, but I asked him to stop. It caused me a lot of pain, and there was already enough pain to consume me at work and in life. I knew you were happy and thriving. I never feared that.”

We left with happy smiles and the promise of another meeting.

“Are you alright?” I asked at Mihir’s brooding. “Do you want to come home?”

“No. Tomorrow is a crucial day. I want to talk to my parents. They are excited. They’ve been waiting for me to think about marriage for almost a decade now,” he said with a gentle laugh.

My stomach turned at the sight of his happy face. He was putting way too much hope in the meeting, but maybe he knew something I didn’t. Maybe he’d already decided he could do much better than me.

SONA

Iwoke up the next morning with a rumbling feeling in my stomach.

Or was it my heart?

The household bustled with activity. Lata was busy roasting masalas of some kind while Aai scurried around the kitchen, prepping vegetables and chicken.

Not wanting to sound ungracious, I asked, “Will they have lunch with us?”

Aai turned around and smiled. “Yes.”

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