The Henna Artist(93)

Radha lifted the baby on her shoulder, where she had a clean towel at the ready, to burp him. I still marveled at how she knew these things, instinctively, as if she’d raised many babies.

“She didn’t know. Malik and I have big news—”

Kanta rushed into the room. “Puja is over! Okay, let me feed him.”

“He’s almost asleep.” Radha rose from the chair, patting the baby’s back.

Kanta stood uncertainly in the middle of the nursery. “But...it’s been hours since he ate. Do you think he’s all right? He’s not sick, is he?”

Radha tilted her head to one side, as if she were the adult and Kanta a child. “He’s fine, Auntie. You worry too much.”

Kanta’s eyes landed on the burping cloth. “You didn’t just give him a bottle, did you?”

Radha glanced at me before responding. “Only a little. He was fussing.”

Behind Kanta, I frowned. The bottle had been nearly empty when I entered the room. Why had Radha lied?

“But, Radha, if you give him the bottle too often, my milk will dry up.” Kanta smiled weakly at me. “It’s just... I want to keep feeding him until he’s a year old—longer if he wishes.” She looked at Radha. “It makes me feel closer to him. Like I’m his mother.”

It was as if she were apologizing to Radha for wanting to feed the baby.

My sister caught my expression. Her cheeks turned pink and she looked away. She placed Niki awkwardly in the crook of Kanta’s arm. “I need to wash the diapers.” She picked up a basket of soiled nappies and left the room.

Kanta sat in the rocking chair and undid the buttons of her blouse. She pulled out a small breast and pointed it toward the baby’s mouth, but he turned his head away. She tried again and again, but he was not interested, having had his fill of the bottle. Her face fell. She raised the baby to her shoulder and patted his back as tears filled her eyes.

“Kanta, what is it?”

All at once, she looked haggard. “I don’t know how to be a mother. I want to—I really do, but...Radha seems to know so much more. Like how to feed him, when to feed him. When to lay him down for a nap. It’s like she is a better mother because, well, she gave birth to him.”

She tried a laugh, but it came out as a croak. “Listen to me! I’m so lucky to have this lovely baby to look after.” She kissed his plump arm. “I’m just being silly.”

“Do you feel—” I began carefully. “Is Radha’s presence...?”

Kanta shook her head vigorously. “Nahee-nahee. I’m sure it’s—I’m such a goose! I’ve seen it happen to women after motherhood. Emotions running high.”

She got up from the chair and gently laid the baby, now asleep, in his crib. She affected a false brightness as she buttoned her blouse. “Shall we have some tea?”

We eased out of the room.



* * *



Over biscuits and chai, I told Kanta and Manu about Shimla. Kanta clapped her hands. Manu congratulated me. I answered their questions about what I would be doing for Lady Bradley Hospital and Dr. Kumar’s clinic, and they responded with assurances about my future success. If not for Kanta, I told them, I would never have experienced Shimla and fallen in love with its majestic mountain range and its welcoming people.

After an hour, I excused myself to tell Radha the news. I had the feeling she was deliberately avoiding me. I found her in the back courtyard, hanging diapers on the clothesline.

When I told her Malik and I were leaving for Shimla in two weeks and that Parvati Singh had bought the Rajnagar house, she looked stunned. Her arms, which were about to pin a wet diaper on the clothesline, froze in midair.

Her reaction surprised me; I thought she’d be pleased to have me move so far away.

“You know it’s time for me to leave Jaipur,” I said gently. “I can no longer be a henna artist here, and I’m ready to try something different.”

“But...will I ever see you again?”

It occurred to me that after everything that had happened—Pitaji’s drowning, Maa’s death and Ravi’s betrayal—she might be thinking I was abandoning her, too. I squeezed her arm and smiled. “Anytime you want. I’ll send you a ticket. Come as often as you like. Of course, Malik will be busy at school, so you might be a little lonely.”

Radha eyed me warily. “Malik? In school?”

“He’s missed so much of it, but I’m not going to let him get away with it anymore. He’ll go to the Bishop Cotton School for Boys.” I dropped my voice to a mock-whisper. “He’s been practicing wearing shoes.”

I’d thought we would share a laugh, but she was lost in thought. I looked inside the basket of washed diapers and pulled one out. “It must be hard to see Niki every day and know that Kanta wants so much to feel like she’s his mother.”

There was a bag full of wooden clothespins hanging on the line. I pulled out two. “Losing a baby has been so hard for her. She had two miscarriages before this. She seems a lot less sure of herself. Not like the bubbly Kanta she used to be.”

I pinned the diaper to the line. “She probably worries that Niki loves you more. And you’re so good with him, so natural. If you weren’t here—of course, you are here, but if you weren’t—do you think the baby could get used to just being with Kanta?”