Aarack returns two days later, and before the end of the month my greatest shame births new hope. We decide to name her Rashmi. In the following months I do plenty of sweeping, drink plenty of barley water, eat plenty of ghee, and never travel during the even months. By Aippasi masas the fruit of my guilt and labor is almost ripe.
“Mam, When will Rashmi be here?”
“Soon, very soon Shashin. Why do you ask?”
“Baneet said that… that um, during bhai dooj later this week he and Vivaan get a ton of gifts from Shonali and Bhavika like uhhhm… jelaba andddd toys and lots of stuff!!!!”
“Ah, I see, and you’re wondering when you and Rashmi can exchange gifts like that?” I chuckle, as I finish massaging the jasmine oil into his skin.
“Yeah! Do you think if she comes before shukrvar she might give me some gifts too?"
"Oh, mera bacce my child. I doubt Rashmi will be able to do much of anything that soon, but maybe I can bake you some sweets like I did last year." I say, stirring the ubtan, and sesame oil into the water. "Do you remember that?"
"Mmmm… nope!"
"You never remember anything huh?" I tease, tussling his hair.
There is a strong smell of chandan camphor rose and citrus in the room, as I set the concrete bowl back down.
"Mam did you stop bathing in Narmada because you don't like Vivaan and Baneet's daddy?"
"What? Where'd you hear that?"
"Sonali told me. Is it true?"
"Don't worry about that. It's grown up stuff okay? Now hold still for a bit.”
"Okay…"
“Ashwatthama balirvyaso Hanumancha vibheeshanah krupah Parashurashcha sapthaithe Chiranjeevinah.” I chant, while applying the paste to Shashin, and then myself.
I heat more river water in my daryai over the diya, as we sunbathe in the light filtering through the wood woven windows near the bathroom roof.
“Close your eyes Shashin.” I say, after we each have a moment of meditation, and I’ve refilled the bowl with warm water.
I carefully pour the water over Shashin, scrubbing the paste off with a rag. I grab the handful from the bag of unbroken grains and sprinkle rice over Shashin as I chant.
“Bhramayeth snanamadhyethu narakasya kshayayahi
Sheetaloshta samayuktha sakantaka dalanvitha
Hara papa mapaamaarga Bhramyamaanah punah punah.”
“Thank you mam.” Shashin says, after all is said and done.
“Of course, now go dry off with a towel while I rinse myself.”
By the time he returns with his gamcha, and dries himself off, I finish rinsing off the paste. Shashin tries to help me off the ground, and I play along, but not without struggle. Being 9 months pregnant certainly complicates some things. I struggle to place the karit fruit on the floor and explain to Shashin how to go about crushing it. I have to ask him to hand me it to smear the seeds on his forehead. We walk out of the bathroom to find Aarack, his own gamcha draped over his shoulder wearing nothing but his brand new dhoti. In his hand is a small bundle of clothes. He shows Shashin the new dhoti we had together ordered from Baaya. He’s such a raw bundle of joy and excitement.
“Go try it on bud.” Aarack says.
Shashin runs off to his room, and Aarack turns to me.
“And this, mera pyar, is for you.” He says, holding up a beautiful new red saree, with golden detailing.
“I know you ordered something already from Baaya, but I wanted to request something special.”
“Oh, honey, you shouldn’t have!” I exclaim.
“What kind of a husband would I be if I didn’t try to treat my gorgeous pregnant wife.”
I feel his genuine show of affection like a knife twist in my gut. I didn’t have much say in the matter but I betrayed his trust by having Nishith’s baby. This amazing man whose only crime was an inability to bear me my own child. It was going to be worth it though, I was going to have a child of my own. As much as I love Shashin, as much as he loves me. I will always know he belongs to another. Rashmi, however, is proof of me and Aaracks union. If the day ever comes that Aarack learns of my child’s lineage I only hope he is as accepting of raising a child not his own as I am. The absolute last thing I would ever want is for my ambitions to be the end of our glorious marriage. I’m uncertain I could live with myself if he and Shashin left my life. Perhaps Aarack would even return to his former life. Shashin could see his grandparents, Aarack can have the peaceful life he always pretends he doesn’t desire. Perhaps Rashmi and I are just a burden to this magnificent, kind, loyal man.
“Is everything alright, Reya dear? You’re crying,” He says, cupping my cheek, and wiping a tear from my face with his thumb.
“I-it’s nothing dear, I’m just touched.” I give him a quick peck and head towards the kitchen.
“Oh, no you don’t.” He says, grabbing me by the wrist.
Instinctively, I shudder, and pull my hand from his grasp remembering that very night of the purnima.
“Woah, hey! Pyar, no need to fright? I just don’t think you should be cooking right now given the state you’re in.” He says, a look of genuine concern at my reaction.
My gaze softens. “Well someone has to. Besides, Rashmi hasn’t been pretty active since my water broke this morning. I still have time. Who knows maybe she’s waiting until after the festival?”
“I’ll do the cooking Reya, don’t you fret. It’s bad for the baby.” He guides me to some of the pillows on the floor, and starts cooking up some food.
Finding myself light headed, and a bit drowsy the day passes pretty fast. I adorn myself with a kasumala, handed down from my mother, bangles and my studs, and clip in the mookuthi. After we feast with the village, we light the diyas around our property, and prepare the altar. Whether it’s my own guilt or the slowing of the day, I cannot be certain, but the day slowly gains an impending sense of foreboding. The day grows colder and I find it harder to breathe, but before long I find myself saying the aarti of Lakshmi with Aarack in the privacy of our own home.
“Shubhgun Mandir Sundar, Sheerodadhi Jata,
Ratan Chaturdhsh Tum Bin, Koi Nahi Pata.
Om Jai Lakshmi Mata
Mahalakshmi Ji Ki Aarti, Jo Koi Nar Gata-” I continue, When all of a sudden another dull ache in my spine spreads to my pelvic floor.
I try to ignore the pain and the cramps, In an attempt to simply wait until the aarti is complete.
“Urr Anand Samata, Pap Utar JatAAaaaa!” I scream, as the pain intensifies.
Aarack is stirred from his chanting as I start panting.
“Is it starting? Should we see the vaidya?”
“Mam what’s wrong?”
“Om Jai Lakshmi-” I try, growing ever afraid that if I don’t finish the prayer I may face death.
My attempt, cut short again by another moan. Before I know it Aarack is outside calling for help, Shashin in toe. I try to stand to chase after them, but my legs give out. Following Aarack is the very last person I ever hoped to see again. Nishith and Aarack grab me by either end, placing me on Shashin’s charpoy. His is much smaller than me and Aaracks, a good size for transporting me to the vaidya’s on short notice. Nishith grabs the charpoy by the end closest to my feet, and Aarack the side closest to my head. I’m carried through the town moaning, and writhing as the contractions get closer together. The vaidy’s door is swung open, as the two men describe my condition. Within moments I’m placed on a soft mat. The vaidya gauges how far along I am, and tries to soothe me. My heart beats like an insatiable drum filling my ears, and my panting grows labored. More than labored, even it catches and hitches, and I feel terribly aware of how cold the room is. My head feels incredibly distant and detached from my body as the vaidya Aarack and Nishith seem to be discussing something with worried looks on their faces. My vision focuses, however, on just one man. Nishith the man who put me here. My vision gets cloudy, but I can swear he wears a malicious smile. My body tenses and the muscles contract in a wild frenzy. I feel locked inside myself as my limbs are filled with pins and my eyelids flutter.
Everything goes black, and when I come to my eyes feel heavy. They refuse to open, and yet I feel I can see the vaidya’s home all around me. I spot Aarack and the vaidya with their backs away from me. They are so low to the floor I worry for them, and try to reach out for them. They all three seem very preoccupied looking at someone or something else in the room. The vaidya turns, with a rigid blue body in his hands. Aarack throws himself back from the sight a bit, tears flooding his eyes. Nishith kneels in front of the room's new centerpiece, frozen solid. That’s when I get my first clear picture of what the three men are huddled around. Beneath me is my own body, and in the vaidya’s hands lies Rashmi, just as cold and still as I am.
