Page 84 of The Henna Artist

For the pregnant woman suffering from severe indigestion, I suggested bitter melon cooked in garlic.Neemoil for a grandmother with hands gnarled from arthritis; asafetida—available from any vegetable vendor—mixed in water to calm a colicky baby; turnip greens and strawberries for a sheepherder who preferred my dietary recommendations to having his goiter removed.

The wall clock struck eleven.

Dr. Kumar checked his watch. “Radha must be awake now.”

How quickly the last hour had passed! I had been so occupied with the patients that I hadn’t thought of Radha. Or the baby. Or Kanta. I felt no hunger or thirst.

The doctor chuckled. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you? I was watching. Please say you’ll work with us! Mrs. Agarwal told me the work would come at a good time...” He stopped when he saw the look on my face.

Kanta had been telling him my problems! How I’d lost my business. That I didn’t have twoannasto rub together. Did he pity me? Is that why he’d gone to all this trouble?

I set my jaw. “Doctor, I’m not looking for sympathy.”

“No, I meant—I’m only suggesting... What I’m trying to say is...your knowledge is worth a great deal to us. You see our need. No one else can do this work as well as you. I’ve looked. I need you.” He combed his fingers through his hair. When he let go, the curls fell in all directions, haphazardly.

“But I only know the herbs of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh. I have no knowledge of the plants that grow here—at this altitude and in this cool climate.”

His eyes scanned my face. “I’m bungling it, Mrs. Shastri. Medicine doesn’t pay handsomely but...there will be remuneration. We’re applying for funds. I’m asking you for professional advice. Think of all the people you could help.”

It was true that the patients at the clinic had been relieved to learn they would not have to take foul-smelling medications. The pregnant woman had touched my wrist as a gesture of thanks before leaving. Counting the time with mysaas, I had fifteen years of knowledge about herbs and natural substances that I’d refined and improved upon. It could prove useful to people other than my ladies. (My ladies!As if there were enough of them left.)

Still, I wasn’t ready to make a decision. I needed to consider my options. Money would be coming from the palace after the baby’s birth, which gave me time.

“May I think about it?”

“Only if the answer is yes.” He smiled, the dimple on his chin deepening.

NINETEEN

September 3, 1956

The baby was a day old. Radha had pleaded with me for hours before I agreed to let her see him.

“We must at least cover him in sandalwood paste to guarantee his health, Jiji,” she had argued.

I had said no.

“A new birth calls for a blessing by thepandit. How about an ashtikkaon his forehead?”

I had said no.

Now, Radha sat in her hospital bed holding the baby I had tried desperately to keep her from. We were alone; Manu and Kanta were taking a stroll in the garden.

Radha sniffed the baby’s head, perfumed with Godrej talcum powder. She tapped each of his fingertips. They were the size of peppercorns. His lips were the smooth texture of marigold petals, parting greedily as she slid her finger across them. She kissed his bare soles, tinted a dusky rose, and studied the crisscrosses on them. It was as if he had walked miles to get here.

“Can’t I at least feed him?”

I looked away. I knew her breasts were swollen. If I hadn’t been in the room with her, she would put him to her breast and let him drain her.

“He should get used to the bottle. That’s what his adoptive family will give him,” I replied.

Just then, the baby opened his eyes and tried to keep them open, but they rolled back in their sockets and closed again. Radha looked at me, her watercolor eyes round as marbles.

“Jiji, they’re blue! His eyes are blue! Like yours. Like Maa’s. He hasusin him!”

I turned my head and cleared my throat. “You’re sure about thekajal?”

It was the only concession I had made: we could apply the black eye paste to ward off the evil eye. It was an old superstition, but Radha firmly believed it, and I suppose I had, too, at one time.

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