Page 84 of The Secret Keeper of Jaipur

“I thought you wanted me to stay and learn with Manu Uncle?”

She laughs and takes my arm, leading me away from the family to the Agarwals’ front veranda. “Malik, why did I want you to come to Jaipur?”

“To learn the building trade.”

She lowers herself on the veranda porch swing and pats the seat next to her. I sit down. “Did you succeed?”

“Yes.”

She nods. “In your time here you learned enough about the business to know when something isn’t right. Why else did I want you to come?”

“To keep me from getting involved with...certain types of people.”

“Did you succeed?”

I narrow my eyes, not sure what she wants me to say. “Well, I know I don’t want to be involved with the likes of Ravi Singh. But I knew that way back when he first got involved with Radha.”

She smiles at me faintly. “So there’s no need for you to be here anymore. I don’t think there ever was. Nimmi asked me to let you go. She said you only do things because you feel an obligation to me.”

I’m about to object, but she places a hand on my arm to stop me. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and she’s right, Malik. You are your own man now. Have been for a long time. I think I overstepped.Maaf kar dijiye?”

“Why do you need to be forgiven, Auntie-Boss? If we hadn’t been here in Jaipur, think what might have happened to Manu. And Niki. I’m glad we came.”

She looks skeptical, as if she doesn’t quite believe me but wants to.

“But it is time to go home. I agree.”

Now her face breaks into a smile.

“Besides,” I say, “I’ve helped Niki become a star cricket player. I’m counting on him to help us make our millions.” We share a laugh.

Birds are twittering in the courtyard of the Agarwals’. In the evening twilight, the headlights of scooters and cars scissor between the spikes of the iron fence beyond. We listen to the honks oftongas, the twinkle of bicycle bells and the shouts of rickshaw drivers looking for passengers.

“Whatwillyou do when we’re back in Shimla, Malik?”

I’ve been giving this some thought. “Something Nimmi and I can do together.” I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, hands clasped. “Boss, I’d like to marry her. She’s exactly who she says she is. She has no pretensions.” Of course, I’m thinking of Sheela when I say this. As tempting as that attraction had been, I knew it wasn’t right for me. It would have made me miserable.

I turn my head sideways to look at my mentor. “I’m a nonpracticing Muslim with no caste status. I have no idea where my mother went after she abandoned me at Omi’s. And I never knew my father. Omi and her children were the closest I had to family, but her husband hasn’t allowed me to see any of them in years.” I look down at my hands. “Nimmi and I are alike. She’s Hindu but also has no caste. She’s no longer with her people, her tribe. The two of us—we understand what it is to be unmoored.”

“Unmoored? But, Malik, you’re a part of our family. Jay and Radha and me. And now Radha’s husband, Pierre, and their daughters—”

I put my hand on hers to calm her. “Nimmi and I don’t belong. Not truly. To one set of beliefs, one set of traditions. But we can create our own traditions. Observe those we like, abandon those we don’t.”

I can see from the tension around her eyes that she’s distressed. She’s still the handsome woman I started following around Jaipur when she was around Nimmi’s age. But now her temples are silver, and she has fine lines around her eyes and mouth.

“I don’t mean that I want to separate from you or Dr. Jay or Radha—not at all! I don’t know what I’d do without you. But I’m ready for my own family now, Auntie-Boss. I’m ready.”

She blinks. Looks out into the deepening night.

“I know you’d rather I married an educated woman. Someone posh. Grand. But that’s not who I am. Nimmi and I—we’re good together. We understand each other. And I love her children. And now that you’ve started her reading and writing in Hindi, who knows how far she can go?”

We sit through the pause, both of us thinking things we’re not saying.

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

It takes her a moment, but she returns my gaze. I turn my body so I’m facing her.

“What if we turned your Healing Garden into a teaching center for other herbalists? What if we created a greenhouse for propagating the plants you’ve already grown and sell them to other herbal practitioners in India? I know something about business and can figure out the rest as I go. And—” I stand and start to pace the veranda. “I’ve learned enough about building to manage the construction of a greenhouse. Radha’s husband could help us design it. The hospital has land that we could build on. Nimmi can continue to help you with the garden and the greenhouse.”

---