The Unexpected Son by Shobhan Bantwal

Author:Shobhan Bantwal
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: East Indian Americans, Mothers and sons, Contemporary Women, East Indians, New Jersey, India, Asia, Fiction, India & South Asia, General, Illegitimate children, History
ISBN: 9780758232038
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2010-07-27T08:00:01+00:00

Chapter 20

Vinita cast a glimpse outside her bedroom window as she got dressed. It was very early in the morning. The first sounds of traffic were building up. The sun was not quite visible yet. But it was there, in the eastern sky. Soon it would burn through the early-morning fog, warming the air, brightening the landscape.

Going down the stairs a little later, she sniffed the pungent air, infused with the aroma of onions, chilies, and curry leaves sizzling in oil. She heard the kitchen radio delivering the news. Sayee was obviously up earlier than anyone else and already busy in the kitchen. But she had help. Anu, the girl who helped her, apparently came in at dawn, too. Breakfast was likely to be elaborate and delicious.

Seeking out her mother, Vinita headed past the kitchen toward the dév ghar, the altar room. Sure enough, she found her mother sitting on a chatayee, a straw mat, rolling the cotton wicks she burned each day in the oil lamps on the altar.

Mummy’s hair had grayed a lot more since Vinita’s last visit, but it was plentiful. Her mother still had good posture, upright and proud. She was every bit the Maratha woman, steeped in her warrior roots. Her skin, despite the expected wrinkles, showed no age spots.

“Vini!” Her mother looked startled at seeing her standing on the threshold. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” The greeting was cordial enough, but there was no smile to accompany it.

“Am I disturbing you?” Vini hesitated to step into her mother’s sacred prayer chamber, although she’d spent many hours in this very room while growing up.

“Not at all. Come, sit down,” Sarla invited her, patting the place next to her on the mat. “I’m only making some wicks.”

“Let me help.” Vini came to sit beside her.

Sarla studied Vinita closely as she settled on the mat. “I don’t need help, you know. We can just talk.”

Despite her mother’s words, Vinita broke off a small wad of cotton from the fluffy white ball and started rolling it between her palms.

An awkward silence stretched between them as they both steadily worked the wicks. It was not easy to guess what was going on in Mummy’s mind, but her tight expression signified disapproval.

Sarla was the first one to speak. “Tell me, how is little Arya? We didn’t talk much about her.”

“She’s doing well.” Vinita smiled. “She’s not so little anymore. Wants to go for a master’s soon.”

“Getting another degree is a way of postponing marriage, I suppose.” Sarla chuckled. The amused snicker was unexpected and rare. “So, how is Girish?”

There was a slight pause. Vinita’s smile vanished. “He’s fine.”

Her mother threw her a sharp look. “Girish is angry, isn’t he,” she said, not so much a question as a statement.

Vinita went still. “A little,” she admitted.

“Why, Vini?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you not leave the matter alone? Girish and you were happy. You have a nice life, a comfortable house—and Arya.”

Vinita’s lip quivered. “I also have a son. The son you and Papa and Vishal kept from me.

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