Somehow I managed to wait until Yakub had dropped us home, even though in the car itself I had noted the incredible coincidence of being at Maheshji’s chamber when this message would have appeared on my phone. We hadn’t even spoken to Dada’s guru of malice and harm; I’d deliberately refrained from uttering Mira’s name, albeit for a different reason, and yet look what had been wreaked on me just from being near him.
It was from an unmerited regard for Dada’s dignity that I controlled myself in front of his driver, even though he had noticed my silence and asked what was wrong. Then I decided I had every right to call Lena immediately — in any case, we’d be speaking in English — but she wasn’t answering her phone. I left a message referring to her text but was careful not to give more away. As I read her words over and over, by now entirely ignoring the brother in the front seat who’d turned around and was directly addressing me, even Yakub saw my tears and asked if something bad had happened. I handed Dada my phone.
It’s gone ten and we’ve just left the emergency room. Mira has sprained her right ankle badly which means great swelling but thankfully no visible fracture, although she will need bedrest and splint for several weeks. She JUMPED from THE TOP of the Ben Burn climbing frame, NOT FELL, it was ABSOLUTELY deliberate, TWENTY MINUTES after you announced you were extending your stay.
Do you recognise the daughter who would do that? HAVE A GREAT WEEK!
Yakub, who was told Abhay Bhaiyya’s little daughter had had a fall, headed off to pick up Tulti and Paakhi. Upon coming inside, Dada relayed the news to Moushumi in those same false words.
‘At least tell her the truth. You saw the text. “Not fell” was in capitals.’
I quickly located the message and passed my phone to Moushumi. Protecting Dada’s dignity before his wife was not on my agenda. In fact, I had just twenty-five minutes or so before the girls arrived.
Something I only understood later was that it had been profound relief that had in fact fuelled my rage. Relief that it wasn’t more than a sprain; I’d vented relief — and gratitude — in the form of rage. If Mira had been broken in any lasting way, I would probably have been unable to speak.
But at that moment I saw only Dada.
‘The very girl whose horoscope you predicted with such ecstasy — how could you do this to her?’ But I gave him no chance to answer.
‘Was it Maheshji’s great compassion that made you stop at a sprained ankle? What did you really want to do?
‘For instance, I remember mentioning to you once how cautious I always am about reversing out of parking spots in places with lots of kids, like Mira’s crèche or at Karori Pool. Moushumi, I guess I should be grateful to my brother that he didn’t choose that fear instead.’
‘What are these things you’re saying—’ Dada began.
‘Sit down for a bit—’ Moushumi began.
‘But why her at all, Dada, when you had me here? You estranged me from my family; you had me out of my own home. Then you had me right here. I’m your enemy, right? I’m the one you believe didn’t speak up for you in 1988. And I was here, in Hazaribagh, exactly as your plan had envisioned, totally duped, even willing to trust you to the extent of seeing your tantrik in his house! You could have sliced and diced me any way you liked. Why did you go after her?’
All these statements were made loudly, and cutting off any possible interruptions, but not continuously. I probably wheezed and broke down several times, but was determined not to let him have a word in self-defence.
And yet throughout I was aware of someone within me frantically gulping air, and giving repeated thanks that Mira would fully recover.
Dada stopped trying to speak, instead grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I resisted with what felt like force, but found myself on the floor even though I knew he hadn’t pushed me.
I started to punch the red stone floor. Dada was suddenly beside me and I was in a tight bear hug. I might have smashed his fingers a few times when they came between me and the floor.
I have no idea where Moushumi was, but my brother lay on top of me for minutes. And as I howled and yelped when I saw my little girl’s ankle, when I momentarily imagined her pain and how close those little bones would have come to breaking, when I saw her struggling to breathe while Lena would have been driving to hospital, or to fall asleep just now next to Mummy, I also watched myself leave our house one day and abruptly stop doing crèche pick-ups and afternoons together for an entire month. I watched myself outside Karori library spying on her with her Nana but not greeting them because it would interrupt my day. I saw myself determined to ‘rediscover’ my sister and writing late into the night everything I recalled about her, while Mira’s story-times and bedtimes with me stood indefinitely cancelled. I saw myself just yesterday moved beyond words at the family I had found, resolved to be an incredible uncle to Jhappi and Paakhi, and who might even swoop down like a superhero and bring home their mother one day.
And through all this, I had (rightly) spent hours explaining my choices and imperatives to Lena. Explaining, arguing, demanding my rights. I had a right to reconnect with the rest of my family. It was my duty.
Meanwhile the four-year-old from whom her stay-home dad had spent a total of twelve days apart since she was born would surely understand, right? She didn’t need explanations. What is a couple of months in the life of a secure, well-loved four-year-old? If she just got on with the rest of her unchanged routine, Baba would be back before she even noticed. After all, compared to any other job, hadn’t he put in more than enough hours to be able to demand this time away? Mira was a very harsh employer if she didn’t understand that.