Kamal held the bottle to Asha’s lips but she pushed angrily against it with her little clenched fist. She kicked and wriggled, and twisted around so that her head was bent almost backwards. Kamal tried to put his arms around her, hold her in the crook of his arm to try again with the bottle, but she lashed it away again and frowned, squawking in fury. She twisted around again; she had heard sounds in the kitchen and she knew who was making them. Kamal gave up and put her on the floor. Immediately Asha was running at full speed towards the source of the sound. She disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later Sundari appeared from there, Asha in her arms.
‘She ran away again,’ she said smilingly, and held the child out to her father. Kamal reached for her but Asha kicked his hands away, squirming and struggling, refusing to be handed over.
Sundari smiled. ‘The Terrible Twos, they call it in America. Caroline told me. Besides, she just doesn’t know you well enough. It will come.’
‘And her mom’s gone,’ Kamal reminded her.
‘Yes, that is true. But to tell you the truth, I don’t know if she even noticed that. Caroline has always had problems bonding with her, and it hasn’t changed. Asha thinks I am her mother, and Janiki is a close second.’
‘I noticed that,’ said Kamal.
‘Well, what was I to do? Whenever the child cried Caroline panicked. She gave her to me and Asha was quiet. Should I have refused to take her? And then Janiki took over after Ramesh was born. And now it’s the same thing. She doesn’t know you’re her father. She won’t even let you feed her.’
Sundari bent over and picked up the bottle that was lying on the ground, wiped the teat with a corner of her sari and handed the bottle to Asha, who was already reaching for it, gurgling with anticipation.
‘The thing is,’ Kamal said slowly, ‘I don’t know how long Caroline will be gone. You don’t mind carrying on as before?’
‘Of course not. Nothing will change.’ Sundari changed Asha from one arm to the other, away from Kamal. Asha lay luxuriantly in the curve of her arm, sucking at her bottle with eyes half-closed in bliss. She looked as if she belonged there, would always belong there.
‘I’ll keep on paying you, of course, even though Caroline isn’t with you. I’ll keep paying as if nothing has changed. Room and board, till she comes back.’
‘If she comes back.’
‘What do you mean, if? Of course she’ll come back!’
‘Well, the way she was carrying on, I actually doubt that. Your wife hates India, Kamal, hadn’t you noticed? Well, I had, even if she tried to hide it. She hates India and she won’t be back. Trust me.’
‘Well, we planned on moving to America later this year anyway.’
‘Not with Asha, I assume? You will leave Asha with me.’
‘No! The plan is for all three of us to move to America as soon as my contract expires. We told you this, Sundari! Of course we’ll take Asha! We want to be a proper family at last.’
Sundari turned her back.
‘Well, good luck with that. Of course you have every right to take Asha. But you understand you will be tearing her life apart? She does not know you at all and she has a very poor relationship with her mother. I don’t know how you can even consider taking her out of the family she knows and loves. In my eyes that is child abuse.’
‘Sundari, don’t exaggerate! She will get used to us and to life in America. She’s so small! Children adapt very quickly and easily.’
‘And what do you know about children? Just because you’re a big-shot foreign-educated engineer doesn’t mean you know everything, you know. You should listen to me – I’m a mother. Her mother, she thinks. I know this child, and I know you cannot tear her from the family she knows and loves without doing her terrible damage. If you want to take that responsibility, then go ahead. But don’t blame me when the damage is done. It’s your child.’
Kamal turned and walked away. He had to think. Sundari, of course, was basically right – it was just the way she said it that bothered him. So bossy! It was true what they said, that women might have a socially inferior position in Indian society, but in the home they were the undisputed head of everything, and men the inferior. He’d known it from his own upbringing, of course –Daadi was the boss. And he saw it here, with Sundari. Sundari’s husband submitted to her without a murmur, and now she expected such submission from him, too, regarding his own child.
He wanted to protest, to argue, to shout, even, and yet he couldn’t, because at the heart of it she was right. It’s not biology that makes a parent, but love, bonding, care. And Asha loved Sundari more than she loved her biological parents; Sundari had cared for her more than her parents; and the bond between the Iyengars and Asha was deep and lasting, whereas the bond between Asha and her parents was loose and weak and one-sided and complicated. Yes, she was loved with a passion by both parents – but that love had never found expression in everyday life. The last thing he wanted was to cause Asha damage – would he, by taking her away, to America, in a few months’ time? But how could he – they – leave her here? Would Caroline return, once she had recovered, to help him fight for Asha, to make a renewed effort to win her affection? Somehow, he doubted it.
In the end he returned to the north. Sundari had won. Of course Asha’s needs must come first. He couldn’t tear her out of her familiar surroundings, her home, away from her amma and chinna-amma.
He wrote to Caroline, who agreed that he had done the right thing and wrote back:
‘We must do what’s right for her. I mean, yes, I do feel guilt about not being a good mother and leaving her behind. But, Kamal, I was truly desperate! The botulism was simply the last straw – I had to come home. It was the right thing to do, and I could only do it with the knowledge that Asha is truly happy and well cared for. She couldn’t have a better mother than Sundari, and I say that as her real mother. One day, hopefully soon, we will all be together. Until then, I am trying to put my life together here in Cambridge, get back on my feet, build a foundation for us all.
What I really need to do, Kamal, is think about my own future, my own career. I’ve been able to finish my thesis but it was a bit of a rushed job – the fire had gone out of me and I was unable to reignite it. I need to do something else, something more relevant. I want to go back to college, get a more practical degree. I’m torn in two directions. Law, which would be the sensible thing. My parents are urging me in that direction. But I’m tired of being sensible. I want to do something I truly love, and I’m really pulled towards the Creative Arts Therapy course at Lesley College in Cambridge. That’s something I’d love to do, and the good thing is, I can live with my parents. So that’s the direction I’m going in. I probably will choose what I love.
I’ve reconciled completely with Mom and Dad. They are happy to have me stay with them, and even if I don’t study law, they’ll be happy just to have me here. I don’t think they’re yet accepting of you, my darling, but we can live with that, can’t we? You won’t have to see them. They’ll adore Asha, and maybe in time they will learn to reconcile with you as her father. I’ll do my best to bring that about. I love all of you and I want us to be one big happy family. I’m sure it will happen eventually.’
Reconciled to Caroline’s decision – which he agreed with, in principle, though it would mean a delay in the grand plan for them all to come together in America – Kamal returned with renewed vigour to his job in North India. It was for the family, for the future. For the time being, he was glad that Caroline was happy.
But in the end she became too happy. Their phone calls – always difficult because of the time difference – grew more and more rare. And at the end of the year Kamal received a Dear John letter.
Dear Kamal.
This is the hardest letter I’ve ever written in my life, and believe me, the pain of writing it is equal to the pain I know it will cause you. I do apologise for taking so long to reply to your last letters. That I haven’t called you in months. The truth is, I didn’t know what to say; I had no words. How could I put into a letter all the changes I have been going through in the last six months? It was just too much, and I chose to keep silent until the turbulence calmed down and I could arrive at some sort of a resolution, some sort of a conclusion, some sort of a confirmation that I have made the right decision.
Kamal, it truly breaks my heart to tell you this but I have met someone else, someone with whom I am completely comfortable, in all areas of life. His name is Wayne Richmond. It is as if all the loose ends of my life are tied up with Wayne. He is an up-and-coming attorney at Dad’s firm and – well, we just clicked. These things happen – the chemistry was there from the beginning and I did try hard to fight it off; I did, Kamal! I do take my marriage vows seriously but you have to admit that the hurdles for the two of us have simply been too high to overcome. The physical separation, the cultural differences, the geographical problems: all of these have contributed to the distance that has grown between us.
The physical separation is just a metaphor for the spiritual distance, Kamal. I need a husband who is at my side, and apart from the honeymoon phase of our marriage this has just not been the case. It’s just not working, Kamal. I’m sure you must have felt it too? I’m sure you must have, but your loyalty and sense of duty – those very Indian qualities that I admire so much – have kept you bound to me. I think we should both be free, Kamal. Free to explore our lives and to find other, better alternatives for our paths forward. I know you will be hurt by this letter but one day you will see it as a blessing: I am setting you free! Free to find the right path for you. I am sure there is a beautiful Indian woman out there, near your workplace, someone who is just perfect for you.
It’s not that I don’t love you – I do, but in a very quiet, passionless way. It’s not enough, Kamal. It’s not what I imagine I should feel for my husband. I don’t feel the butterflies! It’s not good enough for you. You will surely find someone who loves you as much as you deserve. You are such a good man; you are wasted on me. And we will always be bound together because we have Asha.
Asha! My darling Asha. My one consolation is that she is in the best hands possible, in a family that loves her. A child needs a stable family, with both parents; brothers and sisters, a stable home, a nest where she can grow and thrive. We have never offered her that. The Iyengars have. Sundari writes often and sends photographs and I am confident enough to say that I think we have made the best choice, the unselfish choice: we have chosen what is best for her, and not what we want. I often felt guilty about not being a good mother but Sundari is just that. Mothers have such a high status in India – they are next to God, and I could never live up to that. I no longer feel that guilt. Just knowing she is in good hands is enough for me, and that makes me a good mother, comfortable with my decision. There are many ways to be a good mother.
I will always write her letters, send her photos, so she will always know she has a second mother – a third mother, because isn’t Janiki her little mother too, her chinna-amma! And I will visit her as soon as I can. But I cannot tear her away from her home, from the people she regards as her parents, from her family, from her culture. She would not feel at home in America, as was our original plan. Yes, it does break my heart a little not to see her growing up, but so be it. It’s for her sake. When she is grown up she will understand.
I’m hoping that you feel the same way, Kamal. That when you find the right woman for you – and you will! – you will resist the urge to tear her away from the family she regards as her own. You will have other children, as will I, and you will always be her father, but I hope that as a father you will always choose what is best for her and however much you want her, I am hoping you will do the right thing.
I’m not asking for a divorce as yet. I have three more years of study and we’re not planning to marry before I graduate. We’re doing this the proper, traditional way! I guess I was always a daddy’s girl at heart and it’s good to be back in the heart of my family. I hope you, too will find peace, and soon.
On that note, Kamal, I embrace you as a sister, not as a wife, and hope you read these words in the right spirit and know that my decision is the right one – for both of us. I know you will be hurt at first but trust me, in time you will know that it is best, for all of us.
All my love, Caroline.
Kamal was devastated. He had not been expecting this, not at all. For him, fidelity and trust were at the heart of a marriage, and he had not at all, as Caroline hinted, felt that it wasn’t working. The difficulties they faced – well, they were challenges to what was basically a strong marriage, he’d thought, and would make that marriage stronger yet. Challenges, after all, were at the heart of strength; anything that was too easy just wasn’t worth having. Challenges gave muscle to a relationship, because you had to work all the harder to keep it alive. A relationship was like a muscle, and needed to be worked in order to be strong, for otherwise it would grow slack and useless. Kamal had worked his own muscle; Caroline, it seemed, hadn’t. For how else could she do this thing?
As for Caroline’s suggestion, that he find another woman, another wife – it floored him. Did she think a wife was like a shirt that you just changed when you felt the old one didn’t suit you any more? Was this really the woman he had married? Was her outlook so very shallow? Or was this just the American way? Perhaps he really was too Indian for her. That must be it. It was the only explanation he could think of. And now he had no choice in the matter, but must live with Caroline’s choice. In his heart he would always be married to her. But one thing was certain: Asha’s well-being must come first. And in this one thing Caroline was right: thank goodness for the Iyengars.
But what about him? What about the turmoil, the sense of abandonment, the disappointment, the pain, of his loss? He had built his life on the hope of a new beginning with Caroline and Asha, in America. What now? His job seemed futile; and unlike Caroline, he had no one in the world except Asha.