She quickly assures me that Malik, and her family, are fine, which sets my racing heart at ease.
But she’s speaking quickly, and she’s crying. I don’t catch every word and have to ask her to repeat herself. “I’m so glad we didn’t take Nikhil to the cinema tonight,” she says. “He was furious with us because he wanted to be in on the excitement. So many of his classmates were going...” She stops herself, and I can hear her sobs. When she manages to calm herself, she says, “Oh, Lakshmi. It was horrible for everyone. People were hurt. They were crying. The biggest project for the palace so far—the maharani invested all that money to build it! And Manu was in charge of it. He’s beside himself! Says he has no idea how it could have happened.”
“How many were hurt?” My mind is sprinting through the names of everyone I used to know in Jaipur. Hai Ram! Were any of them there? Were they hurt?
“We only know that the actor, Rohit Seth—you must have heard of him—died instantly. He fell to the first floor when his part of the balcony gave way. Many people sitting just below the balcony were injured, too. A child is being treated—we heard his leg was badly crushed. A woman is in critical condition. She may survive, or not. It’s touch and go.” She blows her nose and takes another moment to control herself. I can picture Kanta with her phone, twisting the black plastic coil around her finger, leaning back against the hallway wall. I can see her shake her head, dramatically, and wring the handkerchief she’s soaked with tears.
“They’ll try to blame this all on Manu! He’s convinced of it. But it isn’t Manu’s fault! You know that he’s meticulous about his work! The last to leave the office every day. He checks and double-checks the figures, quantities, the costs of labor and materials. He constantly goes over everything. You should see how carefully he checks our bills at home—I can’t even watch him do it. If he finds an error, or an overcharge, he just assumes I haven’t paid attention. Baap re baap!”
When I had my henna business in Jaipur, Kanta was a client—and among the few who offered me their friendship from the first day we met. She knew I was a fallen Brahmin in the eyes of other matrons because I handled women’s feet when I painted their henna. That task, considered to be unclean, was reserved for lower castes; it wasn’t respectable for Brahmins to do it.
Then when Radha became pregnant with Ravi’s child, Kanta, who was also pregnant at the time, took her to Shimla, where they could have their babies together, far from prying eyes and wagging tongues. Sadly, Kanta lost her baby because of septic shock and almost lost her own life.
But fate, aided by a bit of nudging on my part, led to the adoption of Radha’s son by Kanta and Manu. It was Jay, of course, I had to nudge.
I can hear Kanta wailing at the other end of the phone. I make my voice as creamy as rasmalai. “But Singh-Sharma is responsible for the construction—not Manu. I’m sure there’ll be an inquiry. They’ll find out what caused it, Kanta. Brand-new buildings don’t just fall to pieces every day.” I pause. “In your most recent letter, you said they were hurrying the project to complete it on time. Could somebody have cut corners?”
She makes a small choking sound. “But Manu signed off on everything! His name is everywhere, on all the palace paperwork!” Now she’s worked herself into a frenzy, and that can’t be good for Niki or her saas, both of whom are probably listening.
“Listen to me, Kanta. It will all work out. The maharanis are fair. They’re smart. They won’t accuse Manu. It will be handled.” As I’m saying this, I’m thinking that I need to talk to Malik to get a fuller picture of the cinema’s collapse. I say, “Where is Malik now?”
“At the cinema house with Manu and Samir. They’re helping with the rescue effort. Will be for hours. I wanted to come home, to see that Niki’s safe. He is. Was that bad of me? There were other mothers there whose children had been hurt, and I couldn’t think of anything but Niki. I kept thinking, what if it was my child who was injured?” Now she’s speaking in a whisper. “I’m going to keep Niki home from school for a few days. I don’t know how his classmates will react, or what they’ll say to him. Many of his friends were at the cinema with their parents. If some of them were injured... Oh, Lakshmi! I’m not thinking clearly... I don’t know what I ought to do!”
If Kanta’s right, and the accident isn’t Manu’s fault, everything will, eventually, be okay. But for the moment, fingers will be pointing at him; he will be blamed. If he’s forced to leave his job, it will be difficult for him to get another—anywhere. Palace scandals spread, and quickly, and if the scandal’s big—as this one is—no one can contain it. A scandal in which lives are lost will never be forgotten. Or forgiven.
Kanta is falling apart. My friend needs me the way I needed her all those years ago. I realize I must go to Jaipur; I can catch the first train in the morning. I tell Kanta. Immediately, she begins to calm down. After a few more words of reassurance, I hang up.
I hear Nimmi ask, “What’s happening? Is Malik okay?”
I turn around; she’s standing behind me. While I’ve been on the phone, I realize Moni, our housekeeper, must have left, and Nimmi has come back downstairs after looking in on the children. She must have heard some of my conversation. Her wild-eyed look reminds me of how the sheep greeted us tonight when we came to shear them. She is nervously rubbing her palms along the sides of her skirt.
“He’s fine.” My legs are shaking, and I take a seat on the couch.
Jay comes into the drawing room, bringing Nimmi a glass of scotch, but she doesn’t acknowledge it, or him. He sets it down on the credenza next to her. Next, he hands me my glass. I sip my drink, feeling the golden liquid snake its way to my belly. Jay sits opposite me.
After a breath, I tell them what Kanta told me.
I turn to Jay. “Tomorrow I’ll take the early train to Jaipur. Kanta needs me right now—”
Nimmi steps between us. Her face is a knot of anxiety. “I knew Malik shouldn’t have gone to Jaipur. I knew something awful would happen. Just like with Dev.”
I reach for Nimmi’s arm to calm her. “Malik is not hurt, Nimmi.”
She pulls her arm away. “He didn’t want to go. You know he didn’t want to go! You made him go...you did that. You put him in danger. He wouldn’t have gone if you hadn’t asked him. Don’t you see? He does everything you tell him.”
Nimmi towers above me, gesturing wildly. “I know you want to decide who he should be with, too. And I don’t fit, do I? You want him to be with someone padha-likha. Someone who wears silk saris and speaks angrezi.” Her body is vibrating with energy. “Why is it so important for anyone to read-write when all you need to survive is air and mountains and apples off the trees and pine nuts and the sweet milk of goats? I’ve survived on that all my life!” She throws her arms up in the air. “Malik isn’t even yours, is he? He’s someone else’s child. If you wanted children so badly, why didn’t you have them yourself?”