I watch him pitch a ball, so gracefully for a boy so young. He’s a natural athlete, like his birth father. I often wonder if Ravi Singh knows that the son he had by Radha lives only a few miles from him. Would he want to know? When his parents learned about Radha’s pregnancy, they hustled Ravi to England and kept him there for the remainder of his schooling. He was only seventeen at the time.
Kanta turns to me now. “I’ve seen him watching.”
“Who?”
“Samir Singh.”
“Samir is watching who?”
“Niki.”
Well, of course, Samir would have occasion to run across Niki. For sangeets at the homes of mutual friends and community festivals—unless Kanta and Manu have deliberately stayed away from such events. Because it would make them so uncomfortable—all the questions they’d have to answer. The silent judgment. All at once, I realize what a burden it is for this family to keep Niki hidden, as it were. Does he realize the measures his parents have taken to keep the gossip-eaters at bay? But what choice do they have? Bastard. Illegitimate. They don’t want his life to be tainted by labels. A wave of sadness passes over me.
Kanta sees the look on my face. “What I mean is—”
Just then, Niki calls to me. “Uncle, look!”
I turn to watch him pitch a perfect burner. Manu strokes his bat and misses.
Kanta claps and Niki raises both arms, declaring victory. He calls to me. “Now you try, Abbas Uncle!”
I look at Kanta. She presses her lips together and nods. “Go on,” she says. “We’ll talk later.”
I head off across the manicured lawn to take the ball from Manu. For the next hour, Niki, Manu and I improvise a makeshift game. Of course, Niki is the winner.
Over dinner, I ask Niki about his school and the classes he’s taking. He says English and history are the classes he likes best, and I fight back a smile. I can imagine a young Radha sitting with us at this table, telling us about her love of Shakespeare and her fascination with the Moghul Empire.
Eventually, our talk turns to the Royal Jewel Cinema project. Manu says, “You know that Maharani Latika is the driving force behind that project?”
I’m holding a piece of chapatti and eggplant subji in my hand. “Yes, I think Samir Uncle told me.”
Manu smiles. “Her Highness took it upon herself to complete the building projects the maharaja had started before he died. We’d just finished His Highness’s hotel remodel and broken ground on the cinema hall when he passed unexpectedly.” Manu sips from his water glass. “So far, things are going smoothly. What did you think of the Royal Jewel Cinema?”
“Brilliant. Really impressive, Uncle.”
Manu looks pleased and helps himself to more subji. “Completed in record time.”
I sip some of Baju’s excellent moong dal. “What’s it like working for her, the maharani?”
“The most beautiful woman in the world.” Niki chuckles. Those words appeared on the most recent cover of Vogue magazine, across a photo of the glamorous Jaipur queen.
Kanta slaps his arm, but she’s grinning.
Manu smiles. “She’s remarkable,” he says. “Quick to catch on, eyes wide-open. Doesn’t miss a thing. And don’t forget she founded the Maharani School for Girls—” He cocks his head. “But of course, you would know all that, Malik. Lakshmi helped Her Highness through that rough period of her life, hahn-nah?”
I nod. That was twelve years ago. Maharani Latika had become despondent after her husband sent their firstborn son—and only child—to boarding school in England at a tender age. All because the maharaja’s astrologer had warned His Highness not to trust his natural heir. So the maharaja adopted a boy from another Rajput family and anointed him crown prince.
I remember how Lakshmi gradually coaxed the young queen out of mourning, using daily applications of henna and the sweets and savories she infused with healing herbs. When, a few months later, Her Highness overcame her depression and resumed her official duties, Maharani Latika was so grateful to Lakshmi that she offered Radha a scholarship at her prestigious school. And Lakshmi’s business started exploding. What a heady time that was! The boom went on and on until the day everything came crashing down.
“Where’s Her Highness’s son now?” I ask.
Manu clears his throat. “He stays away from Jaipur. I imagine it’s hard for him to come face-to-face with his replacement—although the adopted crown prince won’t come of age for another few years.” Manu takes a sip of his buttermilk. “Last I heard, Maharani Latika’s son was living in Paris. At the apartment the dowager maharani keeps there.”
The Dowager Maharani Indira! At eight years old, I was more awed by her talking parakeet than I was by her. At this very moment, Madho Singh is likely grumbling about some grievance or another from his perch in Shimla. Or repeating a proverb Dr. Jay and Auntie-Boss have been tossing around. We are both queens, so who will hang out the laundry?
After dinner, when I say my goodbyes, Kanta takes my arm and walks me to the front gate. “When Niki’s finished with his game, we go to a stall near the cricket field and order chaat.” She lowers her voice and whispers, as if we are conspiring. “Saasuji doesn’t let us give him fried food, so Niki and I cheat when he’s with me.” A mischievous smile plays about her lips. “Sev puri is his favorite. Mine, too.” We laugh.
We’ve reached the end of the long driveway.
Kanta takes a deep breath. “Several times, at Niki’s cricket practice, I’ve seen Samir Singh in a Jeep parked opposite the grounds.”
“You’re sure it’s Samir?”
She makes a face. “Not a hundred percent. The peepal trees on either side of the street shade the cars. And there are always people milling about. Cars going in and out.”
“But if it’s him?”
She lets out a sigh. It’s dusk, and half her face is in shadow. Even so, I see from her expression, and the furrows on her brow, that this is serious. “I’ve never said a word to Manu,” she says, “but I think about it all the time. Sometimes, the strain of keeping Niki separated from...all the vigilance...it’s too much.” Her voice is strained, and if she’s crying, I can’t see her tears because she has turned away from me. “I lie awake at night worrying that Samir will take Nikhil away from us,” she whispers.
An alarm bell goes off in my head. Should I tell Boss about this? If it’s true, Lakshmi would want to know. For now, I have to reassure Kanta. Niki means the world to her and Uncle. After the stillbirth twelve years ago, Kanta can no longer have children.
“Listen to me, Auntie. You and Manu are Niki’s legal, adoptive parents. Samir Sahib can’t touch you.”