Page 89 of The Henna Artist

She and Manu had the means, the time and the energy to give the baby a good home.

It was absurd to think such a thing! I had signed a contract.

Unless...

Sweat beaded along my hairline.

“Radha,” I whispered. If I said it, I could never take it back.

I turned to face her.

I told myself that I knew what I was doing. If I went ahead with this and the royal family discovered the truth, I risked a legal breach of contract, hefty fines and even imprisonment.

She must have seen the excitement in my face. “Yes?”

I was giving upthirty thousand rupeesand a secure future for Radha! But the baby would have a far more loving home.

I pointed at the window with my chin. Kanta and Manu had risen from the bench. They were walking to the far side of the hospital, where the nursery was.

“Kanta never got to hold her baby. That’s why she loves going to the nursery to hold yours.”

Radha lifted her eyebrows and looked out the window.

“She sings to him. He seems to like it,” I said.

Radha smiled. “She made up all kinds of silly songs when the babies were in our bellies. Just like Pitaji used to.”

“If Kanta were raising your baby...” I looked at Radha. My heart beat fast in my ribs. “Would she read Shakespeare or theTales of Krishnato him?”

Her eyes flickered.

I took her hands in mine. “Would she feed him sweets or savories?”

Radha’s lips parted. “She loves myladdus.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Would hersaasfeed him rose milk, too?”

Her eyes were full of wonder and hope. “Till he turned pink.”

I smiled and touched my forehead to hers. “Wouldn’t Kanta just love him to pieces?”

Mychoti behennodded slowly. She gripped my hands. “But, Jiji, what about the family who wanted to adopt the baby?”

“Leave that to me.”

Kanta was looking at some point beyond me, as if I’d become transparent. I wondered, for a moment, if she’d heard me. Then she said, “But, Lakshmi, what about the contract with the pala—”

“I’ll handle it.” Radha still didn’t know that the palace was the adoptive party. Now, I would never tell her.

I watched the struggle on Kanta’s face: she wanted it to be true, but should she believe her luck?

Manu, looking dazed, said to Radha, “Are you sure?”

“You’ll treat him as your own.” Radha meant it. Only I noticed how her hands clutched the bedsheets, how white her knuckles were. Until this moment, others had made choices for her; now she had made one of her own, the hardest decision of her young life.

“You were right, Auntie. I can’t take care of him—not in Jaipur, not in Ajar, not in Shimla. But you can, Auntie. You can, Uncle.”

In their excitement, Kanta and Manu couldn’t conceal their joy; they answered at the same time, speaking over one another. I clasped my hands in front of my lips, happy for them.

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