Page 63 of The Henna Artist

My sister pleaded. “Make her understand, Auntie. He loves me. He cares for me. He wants this baby as much as I do—”

Hai Ram!Until now, I’d been hoping we could keep the pregnancy a secret if I could just convince her to use my sachets. “He knows about the baby? Already?”

As if she were talking to a child, Radha explained, “He doesn’t know...yet. But when I tell him, he will be so excited. He told me I’m the only girl he’s ever cared for.”

“That’s ridiculous! He’s seventeen! You’re thirteen!” I said.

Radha narrowed her eyes. “You told me that when I started my menses I became a woman.”

“I didn’t mean you werereadyto have children!”

“Girls in our village have children at thirteen. Why can’t I? They have whole families before they’re twenty. I never had a family. Not really. With Maa sad all day. Pitaji drunk. And you—you ran away from Hari and only God knew where you were until I found you!”

At the mention of Hari’s name, I looked helplessly at Kanta. When Kanta came to me this morning, I had told her about my past—Hari, the beatings, all of it. I told her more than I’d ever told anyone in my life. Although it had unsettled her, she had accepted it without judgment.

Radha hiccupped. “Ravi and I will be married as soon as he learns about his child. This ishisbaby!”

“Lakshmi,” Kanta whispered, bringing a hand to her mouth. “What will happen when Parvati finds out?”

It was exactly what I’d been wondering.

Radha looked from me to Kanta. “Why would you be worried about his mother? Ravi is the father. He’s the only one who matters!”

I had not fully grasped how naive Radha was, how much of a secret fantasy life she had. How little I understood her feelings. How little Iwantedto understand them.

I didn’twantto have to talk to her about the things she must have wondered about. Like love. How did you know when you were in love? What did it feel like? What didIknow of love? I’d never experienced it. I hated to admit that I couldn’t have answered her questions. I’d hoped Kanta was doing that.

Carefully, I sat up on the sofa. Pain shot up my temples. “Radha, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have talked to you more... But listen to me now. You cannot marry Ravi Singh.”

“No, no, no. I won’t listen!” She was crying now, her mouth a grimace. “First you tell me I can’t go to the palace. Then you put me in a school where they make fun of my hair, my accent, what I wear. What did I ever do to you? Why doyouget to do everything you want in your life, butIhave to do everything you tell me to?”

I knew she was angry about being kept from the palace, but I thought we’d moved beyond that. She had Bombay-style dresses now. A sleek haircut. She was learning Western dances and how to prepare an English tea party for eight—things I wouldn’t even have known to teach her.

Perhaps it was the bewilderment on my face that made Radha jump out of her armchair and plop down next to me. She grasped my hands. Hers were wet from wiping her tears.

“Jiji, isn’t Ravi everything you want in a husband for me? He’s as handsome as a film star. He’s educated. He’s talented.” It sounded like the list I’d made when I first proposed a girl for Ravi.

Oh, you foolish girl, I wanted to scream. Instead, I kept my voice low. “Radha, Parvati Singh will never let her son marry you. She won’t let him be married at all until he graduates from university.”

She tightened her grip on my hands. “Auntie says love blossoms in the most unexpected places.” She appealed to Kanta. “Didn’t Mr. Rochester love Jane Eyre, Auntie, even though she had no money? And Lady Chatterley! Despite all her wealth, she loved a poor gamesman. And you, Auntie, you married Manu for love, not money. Why is it impossible for you to believe that Ravi and I can make a love match?”

Kanta cringed, closing her eyes.“Hai Ram!”

I sighed. “Because Parvati Singh will not allow a love match.”

Radha flung my hands aside. Her voice bubbled with fury. “You don’t care aboutmyfeelings. Or Ravi’s.”

I’d heard enough. “Kanta, tell her.”

“If I’d known—”

“Tell her!”

Kanta’s mouth twisted with sadness. She looked at Radha.

“Bheti,”she said, “I would do anything to spare you. But when Sheela Sharma turns eighteen, she will be married to Ravi Singh. The Sharmas announced it at a celebration dinner two nights ago.”

My sister looked stunned. She reached behind her, found the armchair and sat down.

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