Changing Shades - 16

Chapter 16

But his mother was too grief-stricken to be comforted.

“I didn't do enough enough,” she said, her sorrow, her regret, in her voice, on her face. “I am his mother. I should have known him better. Why? Why didn't I realise what he wanted?! Why didn't I understand how weak he was, how much support he needed? I should have known him better. I knew he was scared of his father, but I took that to be normal ... I thought he would get over it. How far ... how deep the fear was ... I had no idea ... how much he hid from us ... drugs ..."

She tailed off helplessly, her eyes welling up again.

She looked at Khushi, her eyes anguished. "I failed him, Khushi," she whispered wretchedly. "My only son ... I failed him. I didn't even know him ..."

Khushi stood helplessly, not knowing what to say. Arnav came up to Mrs. Dewan, and took her hand gently.

“You couldn't have known,” he said, his eyes clear and direct on the older woman. “He hid it from all of us. Including me ... and I thought I was his best friend. Only when Khushi was with him, living with him all the time, seeing all his moods, could she realise that something was so badly wrong. When people are on drugs, they become very clever at hiding things.”

Mrs. Dewan nodded, but it was evident she still bore the burden. She looked at Khushi suddenly.

“How long have you known? That he was here, I mean? About … Pratibha?” she looked at the younger girl, and her expression was hard to read.

Khushi sat down by the other lady, and took her hand in hers. She swallowed. This was going to be difficult to explain. She spoke slowly, haltingly.

“I've only known since the last two days, Mummy.  Raj Bahadur, Pratibha's brother called me in the office the night before. The poor man had called all the Dewans in the phone book, I think. And I didn't know if I was the right Khushi ... I didn't know if he was the same Manish ... our Manish. I reached here yesterday afternoon. Mummy …”

“You should have told me, Khush,” Manish's mother said, tiredly, using the dimunitive of Khushi's name that she used often as an endearment. Khushi looked at her, guilt-stricken.

“I didn't know what I would find. I wanted to spare you the disappointment if it wasn't ... you would have got your hopes up and ...”

Her mother-in-law nodded. “I know. He told me,” nodding to Arnav. “He said you wanted to spare me. But, Khushi, there is nothing left now. I've seen it all. What can you spare me now, what can you save me from now?”

Her eyes, her voice, were full of grief. She was mourning her son, and her guilt, thought Khushi. It was as though she had been prepared for his going. Or for finding the worst. A thought struck her and she looked at Arnav. He was standing quietly on the side, watching the two grieving women.

“How … Did you ….?” She began again, and he grimaced slightly.

“I got her here, yes. I called them last night after we got back to the hotel. I called Anjali, and after I told her what I'd found here, she gave me their address and number immediately. I spoke to Mrs. Dewan, and made the arrangements to fly her out immediately. I was so afraid she would not be in time. I was at the airport in the morning to pick her up, then I dropped her here, and came to get you.”

So that was why he had looked so haggard and worn out this morning. Handling Manish’s mother, preparing her for the truth of her son’s condition and comforting her in her emotionally distraught state would have drained anyone.

"Did you see Manish ... again?" she asked him, and he shook his head. 

"No," he said briefly, and his eyes held the same grief she was feeling. "I came back to the hotel to pick you up. Pratibha and Raj Bahadur met Mrs. Dewan outside, and they rushed her in, because Manish was lucid ... we wanted her to meet him while he could talk. I was hoping I could bring you here in time to meet him too ... but ... I'm sorry, Khushi. I was too late."

He swallowed again, and Khushi nodded. Her mind still felt too blank to react, and she was grateful for that.

Manish's mother seemed to pull herself together, and looked at Khushi and Arnav.

“He saw me, but he didn't say anything," she said. "Pratibha told me the whole story. About how they met, the baby … everything. Manish didn’t say anything, but I think he was listening. Khushi, I …”

She sat down on the chair heavily, and looked at Khushi. Then she turned to Raj Bahadur.

"Can I have a few minutes alone with my daughter?" she asked quietly, but with great dignity.

Khushi was taken aback. So was Raj Bahadur. He looked helplessly around, and once again it was Arnav who stepped into the breach. He moved away to speak to the nurse, and within a few minutes, Khushi and Mrs. Dewan were sitting in a small room just off the nurses' station. 

Mrs. Dewan took Khushi's hand in hers.

“I saw the way he looked at ... her," she said carefully, nodding towards Pratibha, who was waiting anxiously outside the room with her brother and Arnav. Her eyes were steady, questioning, on Khushi. "Khush, bitiya ..."

"He loved Pratibha, Ma," Khushi interrupted. "He did love her ... and not in the way he loved me. He never really loved me, you know. He just ..."

"And you don't mind that?" interrupted the older woman. Khushi looked back directly at her. 

"I did at first," she said honestly. "But I've known it for so long ... long before Pratibha ever came ito his life. He didn't fall out of love with me to fall in love with Pratibha, Ma. He never loved me ... and nor did I love him. I was fond of him, and he of me. Only we never realised it till too late."

Mentally she prayed that God would forgive her for lying to Manish's mother. How could she tell her that Manish had married her only to satisfy his ego, an ego bloated and distorted by his drug habit? She had forgiven Manish for that long ago, when she realised his drug habit was responsible for his changed behaviour. And if she held any lingering grudge, it had been dispelled by the sight of him last night. Manish had received his dues.

Mrs. Dewan looked guiltily at her. 

"I realised that too," she confessed, and Khushi stared at her in shock. "But like you, too late. And Manish's father was so set on having you as his daughter-in-law. He believed that you could reform Manish, get him on the right path ... he had faith in you ... and I couldn't go against him. Not with his health ..."

It was a plea for forgiveness. Khushi caught her hand.

"I know that, Ma," she said. "I don't blame you. I never did." 

Mrs. Dewan nodded tearfully. "I’m so sorry, my dear,” she said, sorrowfully. “We both love you so much, and yet we wronged you so much. We never thought about what you wanted, whether you and Manish were right for each other or not. If we had, we might have realized that you both were never meant for each other, not as husband and wife. You had grown up together like brother and sister and that is what you should have remained. It was our selfishness that made a good relationship turn so wrong. I wish we had realized that earlier. Manish spoiled his life ... but we ruined yours. Can you forgive me, Khushi?"

Khushi held her hand tighter.

"You gave me a life, Ma," she said softly. "You gave me my life when mamma and papa died. My life is yours. You did what you thought was best for both of us. And I still have you both. You could never ruin my life."

Her voice was choked, she couldn't say any more. She meant every word. It was true. Manish had hurt her, betrayed her ... but his parents had given her everything after she was orphaned ... a home, an education, and most of all, the security of feeling that she belonged. In her college days, she had been too immature to see that, but later, all through the dark days, that feeling of belonging had kept her going, had given her strength. 

For a few moments, the two women sat quietly, united in their grief. Then Mrs. Dewan turned to Khushi. 

"Khushi," she began hesitantly. "I hate to ask this ... but this girl, Pratibha? Do you think he truly loved her? Is the child his?"

Khushi looked at her in surprise.

"Why are you asking this, Ma?"

"Does Pratibha know we have nothing?  Or did she try to contact us for the money Manish told her we had? By claiming the child as his ... I know, Khushi, I'm not being nice ... after she took so much trouble to find us ... but I can't help wondering ..."

"I told her we had nothing," Khushi told Mrs. Dewan. She looked at the other lady directly, her eyes clear.
"I confess ... I did have the same thought. Last night, before I met Manish, Pratibha told me what Manish had told her about us, his complaints that we never sent him money ... and I told her what he had done. What we had done to save him ... to try to save him. Where we were now. That we have nothing, except for my earnings. That everything is gone, the house, the business, everything. She is still here this morning. All she wants is for us to take the baby. She doesn't want anything for herself. She does love him, Ma. I saw it in her eyes. And he loved her. The baby is his, Ma." 

Mrs. Dewan heaved a big sigh. She looked at Khushi again. 

"Then maybe I should talk to her now," she said simply, and Khushi nodded. She knew her mother-in-law, and she knew what she would do. 

Mrs. Dewan looked at Khushi one last time.

"Khushi, bitiya ... will we manage? The burden will be on you again ..."

Khushi nodded again. 

"We will manage, Ma."

Mrs. Dewan reached up to kiss Khushi's cheek.

"I love you, bitiya. Thank you."

Pratibha, Raj Bahadur and a very impatient, anxious Arnav were waiting when the two women emerged from the small room. Arnav came up to Mrs. Dewan quickly.

"I've made arrangements for the cremation," he said gently. "Because of the infection, they have rules. We have to follow them."

Mrs. Dewan nodded tiredly. She held out a hand to Pratibha, and gave her a small smile.

“I owe you my thanks, my child,” she said. “You made his last days happy. Who knows, if he had found you earlier, he might have come back to us. But at least, he was with someone who cared for him at the end. And you took so much trouble to find us …to let us know, let me see him once again…”

She broke off, in tears again.

Then she pulled herself together again. She looked at Khushi, who nodded encouragingly, then back at Pratibha.

“I want you to come back to Bombay with us,” she said, more firmly. “I want you to meet Manish's father. Show him this beautiful gift you've given us.” She looked at the little baby still in her uncle's arms, and gently Raj Bahadur handed over the precious bundle. Mrs. Dewan held the little baby close, as though she was holding her dead son. Then she looked at Pratibha again.

“I can never thank you enough for this, my child. Come back with me to Bombay. Meet Manish's father, show him this little one. I think she will be the means to bring him back to us. And for you, too. Maybe after you meet him, you will forgive both of us. You have a family there now. We are there, and this daughter of mine is there, too, who will take good care of you …”

She looked at Khushi, and there was immense love in her eyes, and pride in her voice.

“This daughter of mine. Khushi bitiya ... we can take Pratibha back with us too, can't we? We will have to find a bigger place ... or maybe ...”

"Leave that to me," Arnav said firmly, and Mrs. Dewan turned to him with gratitude.

“Arnav … I don’t know how to even begin to thank you. Manish’s friend … and you have done so much for me and Khushi. I wish you had come back into our lives earlier, but I can only thank God that you came when you did. Thank you, beta …”

“I didn't do anything,” interrupted Arnav, his face pale. He didn't look at Khushi. “In fact, I will never forgive myself for ... Don't thank me. I don't deserve thanks. I'm only glad I was able to do something, however late.”

Mrs. Dewan shook her head.

“I don’t think so, beta I owe you so much. Because of you, I was able to see my son one last time, to tell him how much I loved him. I will always owe you for that. I don't have anything to give you, to show my gratitude, except my blessings, the blessings of an old and tired woman. God grant you a long and happy life, beta, and may you have all the love and happiness in your life that I wanted for my son,” her voice broke again and she stopped, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.

Khushi held her hand tightly, not daring to look at Arnav and see his reaction to what Mrs. Dewan unknowingly had put into words. Her own eyes were wet. Arnav looked away from them both, swallowing fiercely.