No more speculation about it. She was going to have a baby. And with it came the worst kind of fear she’d ever experienced.
She studied her reflection in the mirror. What she saw was a tired face, weighed down by stress and worry. Did the fact that she was carrying a child show in her expression? Could people look in someone’s eyes and tell? She’d heard her grandmother say it was easy to spot a pregnant woman from the distinctive glow on her face. Apparently something changed in a woman’s appearance to give away the secret. Only in Vinita’s case, it wasn’t a happy secret; it was a dirty little fact that she wished she could hide forever.
For the last several weeks she’d been going through this routine: she woke up queasy in the mornings; she hated the idea of breakfast but choked a bit of it down somehow and vomited within minutes; then she waited for the second round of nausea to hit her later in the morning. It was mid-afternoon by the time her turbulent tummy righted itself.
How had she reduced herself to this? She was the brightest girl in her class. She used to be, anyway. She was supposed to concentrate on her studies and move on to a successful career. She was also expected to save herself for a good boy, her ideal man, the one who would respect her for who she was, love her, cherish her.
She’d firmly subscribed to that viewpoint, until she’d bumped into Som Kori—literally. At the time, she’d been swept off her feet by his brand of charm, and considered their chance encounter a matter of fortuity, and that their paths were fated to intersect.
Now, as she recalled that night, she realized it was a curse. She had run into the devil himself that evening, and her simple, orderly life had started to rip apart and scatter. Even her grades were suffering. She wasn’t at the top of her class anymore. Her rank had slipped to number five, much to her father’s disappointment.
And things were going to get worse. Significantly worse.
At first, shocked and dismayed by the changes in her body, she’d tried to convince herself it was a mistake. It had to be! She hadn’t even considered the possibility of pregnancy. She was only nineteen. She was nowhere ready to be married, let alone become a mother.
Once reality had begun to sink in, she’d prayed for her period to show up, but that had proved entirely fruitless. Whoever tried to sell the idea of the power of prayer had to be more naïve than she. Praying brought nothing.
After all the tears and prayers had dried up, she had begun to consider other alternatives. She had increased her weekly dance routine, rehearsing at home after her evening lessons were over, hoping the heavy exercise would make her womb rid itself of its contents. Then there was an old wives’ tale that eating papaya caused a miscarriage. Since they conveniently had two papaya trees in their garden, she’d secretly managed to sneak some. That, too, had proved useless.
By now she’d missed two monthly cycles. She was positive she was pregnant. Night after night she lay awake. Sometimes she stepped away from her bed and paced the length of her room till she couldn’t walk anymore. Sheer exhaustion and sore ankles would put her to sleep. But the next morning she would wake up tired and grumpy.
She couldn’t tell Prema about her problem. It was too scandalous a secret to share with a conservative girl like Prema. Besides, she’d be sure to say I told you so.
Confiding in her mother was out of the question. Yet the thought of going through this nightmare alone was terrifying.
Her mother had complained that Vinita wasn’t eating lately. “Is this some kind of silly diet, Vini?” she’d asked a few times. “Teenagers should not be neglecting nutrition, you know.”
“I’m not on a diet,” Vinita assured her.
“You have also been dancing more. Too much exercise and very little food will make you weak and sick,” her mother had scolded.
“Stop worrying, Mummy. I’m okay,” she’d retorted, all the while wondering how her mother would react if she discovered the real reason for her daughter’s aversion to food. She would likely have an emotional breakdown. She was a very sensitive woman. Would she completely sever her ties with Vinita? Being disowned by her prudish mother was a distinct possibility.
Where her father was concerned, Vinita could more or less predict the reaction. There would be a major temper tantrum at first. Then the guilt-inducing reprimands would start. After that thorough lambasting, she’d be dragged out of town to some remote location to have an abortion. Then she’d be kept locked up in her room for a long time, away from curious eyes and wagging tongues, until the scandal faded and disappeared.
Eventually Papa would probably find some low-paid or deformed man to marry her off to, anyone who’d be desperate enough to take on a fallen woman, that is. If no man wanted her, she’d be kept hidden in the shadows forever—a foul reminder of the sins of his and Mummy’s past lives coming to demand their due. Her parents would reluctantly accept it as their rotten karma.
She was even more afraid of her brother. Vishal had their grandfather Shelke’s sense of haughty righteousness. It bordered on obsessive at times. Their grandfather used to be a dogmatic old man, a freedom fighter who’d fought alongside Mahatma Gandhi. Pride in family and country and loyalty to their strict Marathi traditions often went beyond common sense. Unfortunately Vishal had inherited that bombastic attitude.
Vinita had been going over her options dozens of times daily. Thoughts of swallowing some easy-to-acquire poison and ending the nightmare had crossed her mind a few times, but she was too much of a coward to follow through. And in all honesty, how could she kill the small, innocent being that was growing inside her, especially when she was so in love with its father?
That was a mystery, too. Despite knowing what kind of man Som Kori was, she’d fallen under his spell. Maybe it was the adored athlete she had discovered, and not the real man. Or perhaps it was the lure of the forbidden, the wicked thrill of going behind everyone’s back, the idea of carrying around a delicious secret.
The greater excitement seemed to come from the fact that she could be naughty and get away with it. She was finally doing the things some of the more popular girls in college did.
But her stupidity lay in the fact that she’d actually believed him when he’d told her she was pretty. When she’d laughed wryly at the remark, he’d said, “But you are pretty. And so different from all the other girls I’ve known. You’re refreshingly unique.”
“Is that why you followed me home and asked me to have coffee with you the first time?” she’d asked, naïvely hoping for a positive answer.
His goldstone eyes had shown a brief flash of humor. “You were a delightful challenge.”
“Challenge? Me?”
“Sure. You’re so focused and studious. Always getting top marks. You don’t allow any boys to come within ten feet of you.” He’d almost smiled. “That’s why your nickname is IQ.”
“As in intelligence quotient?”
His smile had turned into a soft chuckle—a sound she’d heard no more than perhaps a dozen times. “That, too, but mostly it stands for…ice queen.”
“But that’s so untrue!” she’d said in indignant protest. “I’m not that cold.”
“Hell, you don’t even know boys exist in this world.”
“Oh, I do notice them…at least certain boys,” she’d allowed, gazing into his eyes.
Of course he hadn’t pretended modesty or coyness. “I’m flattered.” He’d reached out to tap the blunt tip of her nose. “And you—you’re one of a kind.”
She’d mistaken the term one of a kind to mean attractively unique. Like a damn fool, she’d also assumed she could change his ways.