‘Oh, Meenakshi, you’re only saying that because he flirts with his patients shamelessly,’ interrupted Kakoli. ‘He pats them on their bottoms.’
‘Well, he certainly cheers them up,’ said Meenakshi. ‘That’s part of his bedside manner.’
Kakoli giggled. Mrs Rupa Mehra looked at Mr Mahesh Kapoor, who seemed to be going through a paroxysm of self-control.
‘Of course he’s terribly terribly expensive – his fee for Aparna was 750 rupees. But even Ma, who’s so penny-pinching, agrees he was worth every paisa. Don’t you, Ma?’
Mrs Rupa Mehra did not agree, but did not say so. When Dr Evans had heard that Meenakshi was in labour, he had merely said, as if sighting the Armada: ‘Tell her to hold on. I’m finishing my game of golf.’
Meenakshi was continuing. ‘The Irwin Nursing Home is spotless. And there’s a nursery too. The mother isn’t exhausted by having the baby with her all the time in a cot, yelling and needing its nappy changed. It’s just brought to her at feeding times. And they’re strict about the number of visitors there.’ Meenakshi looked rather pointedly at the riffraff from Rudhia.
Mrs Rupa Mehra was too embarrassed by Meenakshi’s behaviour to say anything.
Mr Mahesh Kapoor said: ‘Mrs Mehra, this is very fascinating, but –’
‘Do you think so?’ said Meenakshi. ‘I do think childbirth is so – so ennobling.’
‘Ennobling?’ said Kuku, astonished.
Savita was beginning to look pale.
‘Well, don’t you think one shouldn’t miss out on the whole thing?’ Meenakshi hadn’t thought so when she had actually been pregnant.
‘I don’t know,’ said Kakoli. ‘I’m not pregnant – yet.’
Maan laughed, and Mr Mahesh Kapoor almost choked.
‘Kakoli!’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra in a warning voice.
‘But not everyone knows when they’re pregnant,’ continued Kakoli. ‘Remember Brigadier Guha’s wife in Kashmir? She didn’t go through the ennobling experience.’
Meenakshi laughed at the memory.
‘What about her?’ said Maan.
‘Well –’ began Meenakshi.
‘She was –’ began Kakoli simultaneously.
‘You tell it,’ said Meenakshi.
‘No, you tell it,’ said Kakoli.
‘All right,’ said Meenakshi. ‘She was playing hockey in Kashmir, where she’d gone for a holiday to celebrate her fortieth birthday. She fell down, and got hurt, and had to return to Calcutta. When she got back, she began to feel shooting pains every few minutes. They called the doctor –’
‘Dr Evans,’ added Kakoli.
‘No, Kuku, Dr Evans came later, this was another one. So she said, “Doctor, what is this?” And he said, “You’re going to have a baby. We’ve got to get you to the nursing home at once.” ’
‘It really caused shock-waves in Calcutta society,’ said Kakoli to the assembled company. ‘When they told her husband he said: “What baby? Bloody nonsense!” He was fifty-five years old.’
‘You see,’ continued Meenakshi, ‘when she stopped having periods, she thought it was her menopause. She couldn’t imagine she was going to have a baby.’
Maan, noticing his father’s frozen face, began to laugh uncontrollably, and even Meenakshi graced him with a smile. The baby too appeared to be smiling, but it was probably just wind.
13.18
THE BABY and mother got along very well over the next couple of days. What was most surprising to Savita about the baby was her softness. She was almost unbearably soft, especially the soles of her feet, the inside of her elbows, the back of her neck – here she was even more amazingly, heartbreakingly tender! Sometimes she laid the baby beside her on the bed and looked at her admiringly. The baby appeared satisfied with life; she was quite a hungry baby, but not a noisy one. When she had had her fill, she would look at her mother with half-opened eyes: a snug, smug expression. Savita found that, being right-handed, it was easier to feed her from the left breast. This fact had never struck her before.
She had even begun to consider herself a mother now.
Cushioned by her mother, daughter, and sister in a feminine and loving world, Savita felt the days pass placidly and happily. But from time to time a wave of deep depression swept over her. Once this happened when it was raining outside and a couple of pigeons were cooing on the window ledge. Sometimes she would think of the student who had died in this very hospital a few days ago, and wonder about the world into which she had brought her daughter. Once, when she heard how Maan had dispatched the crazed monkey, she burst into tears. The depth of her sudden sadnesses was unaccountable.