Page 78 of Born in Grief

“Are you worried Varun’s spirt would haunt you?” she’d smiled, unable to tell him she didn’t want to go in alone.

His smile faded as he took in her expression. “I don’t think he’d have the time to do that. He’s too busy haunting you, isn’t he?”

As always, Ishaan’s perceptiveness had taken her by surprise. He spent so much time being abrasive, obnoxious, and the joker of the group, that it was easy to forget that a devastatingly sharp brain lurked under it.

“Madam, what would you like for dinner?”

Dhrithi started out of her thoughts and turned towards the chef hovering near the doorway to the formal living room. Includinghim, Varun had employed seven live in help, their quarters running the length of the rear compound wall. How many days had this man stayed holed up in his kitchen, ignoring her screams and pleas for help? How many times had they shut their doors so they couldn’t see or hear what Varun was doing to her? She continued to watch him and his chef’s hat quivered a little under her steady scrutiny.

She wanted to sack them all. She wouldn’t forget,couldn’tforget, how they’d all looked the other way over the years, enjoying Varun’s extravagant bonuses and ignoring her desperate tears. But when her own family hadn’t stepped in to help her, had instead sacrificed her on the altar of their greedy, money grubbing goals, what could she expect of people who needed the money for their basic survival? Which was the only reason they still had jobs and had been recalled to do them.

“I’m not hungry,” she said evenly, walking away from the room and heading towards the massive, curved staircase that led to the upper floors. She’d just placed her foot on the first step when the doorbell rang.

Another uniformed helper appeared out of seemingly nowhere and went to open the door. Dhrithi moved to stop him but before she could, the door was opened and her family streamed in. All three of them. A genuine smile lit her face as she watched her brother march in behind her parents. But it faded as the import of their presence sank in.

“Didi.” He came over and stood in front of her, his sharp eyes roving over her. “Have you recovered?”

“I have,” she said gently, knowing he was expressing concern without knowing the best way to go about it. Her brother had high functioning autism and his ability to comprehend andconvey emotion while having improved over the years was not quite there.

“Because most people die of post-surgery infection and that can show symptoms days after the surgery.”

“I just had my checkup Dhanush, and I’m fine. No sign of infection at all.” She took his arm and steered him towards the formal living room where the chef still stood. She ignored her parents who decided to shamelessly follow them in anyway.

“Tea for them,” she told the chef briefly and he nodded in assent, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you came to your senses,” her father said, the minute they were seated. “Occupying this property was the best idea you’ve had. If they try to throw you out, we’ll make a big hue and cry over them tossing a poor widow out on the streets.”

“How did you know I was here?” she asked.

Her father rolled his eyes. “I always know where everyone is, even you.”

Was he tracking her? How? Was he the one who’d given Varun’s friends the address of Amay’s flat? So many questions but she knew better than to ask them. Her father wouldn’t deign to answer.

Dhrithi leaned back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and surveyed the people who were supposed to love her more than anyone else in the world. Had they ever loved her? She remembered a fairly normal childhood, not overly into emotion and familial bonds, but there had been no abuse either, nothing starkly dramatic anyway. But even benign neglect was neglect, a fact she’d come to realise later in life.

She remembered crying in her mother’s arms after Varun hit her the first time. Her mother had stroked her hair, brought her tea, and told her the best concealer to use to cover up the bruises. Her father, well the less said about his reaction the better. He’d told her if her marriage wasn’t bringing her happiness to look elsewhere, just to be discreet about it.

“If they don’t give us what we want, we’ll file a case, Dhrithi.”

Her father was still expounding on his five year life plan. Her mother was frowning down at her phone. Dhrithi leaned over to see what her mother was doing and found her playing Candy Crush. Dhrithi’s eyebrows shot up as she saw that her mother was at level 14378. She was pretty proud of her mother for committing to the game with that level of diligence. She hadn’t done it in any other aspect of her life.

“Whatwewant?” Dhanush asked. “Have you asked Didi what she wants?”

“Yeah Dad.” Dhrithi smiled. “Have you?”

Her father shot her an irritated look. “What do you want other than to behave like a spoilt brat?”

A spoilt brat? Dhrithi started to laugh, holding her sides as laughter exploded out of her and tears came to her eyes. Her brother stared at her, clearly wondering if she’d lost her mind.

A helper came in with a tea tray and started serving everyone tea and snacks. The Chef had outdone himself, she noted as she saw the variety of homemade munchies arrayed on the tray. She wondered if he knew how to make corn chips. She made a mental note to ask him to make some before she moved out.

“Dhrithi?” her father prodded, even as he munched on a butter biscuit, crumbs coating his luxuriant moustache.

“You can make whatever noise you want.” Her father beamed appreciatively at that response. Dhrithi leaned forward and took a small Bakharwadi piece for herself. She bit into it, loving the flavours that exploded in her mouth. She swallowed and added, “I won’t be party to any of it.”

Her father’s smile dimmed. She watched his mental gears turn as he considered how to tackle her next. His face took on a benevolent, condescending look as he put his cup of tea down and sat forward.

“Dhrithi beta, your Ma and I are only looking out for your best interests.”

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