Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Krishna and I decided, Dādā, that you and Pallavi Dī are going on a date for lunch today," Nikhil announced with a big grin as the work day began at the saree shop.

Mandar returned his little brother's grin, although he could see that Pallavi was troubled and she would have more worries after he spoke to her alone. It was time to tell Pallavi that Sulochana Kākū had taken him away after his accident, that she had deliberately made Pallavi a widow when she wasn't one. It should have been Mandar and Pallavi united, not Pallavi alone, worrying about the shop's losses and Bābā's health. Pallavi had the right to decide what to do about Kākū, and yet Mandar did not want to burden her with a choice between justice and family, between apprehension of what Kākū might do next and sympathy for Manasi and Amruta and Milind Kākā.

"We were very busy yesterday, after the news reports, and we can expect more customers today," Pallavi objected. "All of us should have lunch here together, so that the two of you don't have to handle the crowd by yourselves."

"Sorry, Dīdī, we already made your reservation at the Aqua Legacy restaurant," Krishna replied. "Since Manasi is having lunch with friends, Nikhil told Sharada Aunty to bring lunch for us and herself only. Aunty knows how to help us with customers. Don't worry."

"Pallavi, I have something to show you," Mandar said. Pallavi came to him, and Mandar took from his pocket a keychain with the letter R. "This morning, I opened the vanity table drawer in our room, and I found this. It was in a blank envelope with the same RR logo that's on Raghav's car, and with a note signed 'R' - 'Thank you so much for your kindness. Āpake liye choṭāsā gift.' I thought, maybe you got this keychain for Raghav."

Pallavi remembered the keychain as soon as she saw it. Mr. Ramaswami - Raghav - had given it to her as thanks for catering the dinner at Pooswami Old Age Home on a few hours' notice. Obviously, he hadn't planned the gift. Mr. Ramaswami must have had these keychains made for his employees. Pallavi had noticed that Savitri jī had one too, when she visited Deshmukh Saree Emporium a few weeks after the dinner. By then, Raghav's hasty choice of envelope had already revealed to Pallavi that the Old Age Home's principal donor was the same man who had abducted her from her home at night to tie her in front of a truck. Holding the keychain had reminded Pallavi that there was some good in Raghav, and someday he would get tired of harassing her, but she had kept the keychain hidden. She couldn't have used it, or Sulochana Kākū would have noticed and told everyone that Raghav had marked Pallavi as his own.

"No, Mandar, I didn't get it for Raghav." Pallavi didn't want to tell Mandar about Mr. Ramaswami, she didn't want to give credit to Raghav when she could be convicted of a crime for what he had done to her, and she certainly didn't want to give this keychain back to Raghav, reminding him that he had unjustly accused her of drugging Mr. Ramaswami's dinner, and hear his apology for ever thinking that she had helped Anjali to violate him! Raghav had lost Amma because he had traded sex for money to start his business; he had accused Pallavi of the same immorality to turn Bābā against her; and now he loved her. How could she ever again look at Raghav, let alone hear him say he was sorry, without bursting into tears for what she didn't even want from him?

"It was meant for someone else," Pallavi managed to say. That wasn't exactly a lie; the keychain was meant for her by Raghav.

"For Rahul rāva, right?" Mandar guessed. "You don't have to avoid the subject with me. Manasi told me about him last night. Yesterday's news reports had one good outcome: Rahul heard them and reached out to Manasi. Manasi is meeting Rahul and his wife Saroja today."

"Really, Mandar Dādā?" Krishna exclaimed. "That is so brave of Manasi."

"Please, Mandar, just put the keychain back where you found it," Pallavi said. It was best if Mandar thought that Manasi's ruined wedding was her reason for hiding the keychain.

"All right," Mandar agreed. "Pallavi, that wasn't all that I found in that vanity table drawer. There's a Rs. 100 note in an envelope marked 'Bābāñcyā dukānātalyā pahilyā vikrīsāṭhī tyāñcyā Bābāṃnī tyāṃnā dilele bakṣīsa.' For Bābā's shop's first sale, his Bābā gave him this gift. When did Bābā give you my Āzobā's blessing, Pallavi?"

Pallavi could not hold back her tears now. She missed the old days when Bābā had been proud of her. The shop had been losing money, and Jagadish Anna had been grumbling about unpaid rent, but Bābā hadn't known. He had trusted Pallavi. Raghav had begun to sabotage Pallavi's work and smear the shop's reputation by the time Bābā had given her the Rs. 100 note and told her its story. Emboldened by Bābā's faith in her ability and the thought of Mandar's grandfather in heaven watching over her, Pallavi had challenged Raghav to take back his complaint to the weavers' association and give her thirty days to bring the shop into profit. And then Bābā had become aware that Pallavi kept matters to herself, when Raghav had intruded on Manasi's maṅganī to announce that he was the shop's new landlord. Day by day, Raghav's shamelessness had strained Bābā's faith in Pallavi. On the day that Raghav had exposed Pallavi's fake accounts and Bābā had thrown her out, the family had just moved into Janakamma's house, and so that Rs. 100 note had remained in Pallavi's room at home. Now, three long months later, Bābā had forgiven Pallavi, and she had regained her right to Mandar and his bedroom where Āzobā's blessing was waiting for her. The shop was doing well; she could work side-by-side with Mandar and truly make Bābā proud. Pallavi smiled at Mandar as the warm tears flowed down her cheeks.

Mandar knew what was expected of him. He held out his arms and gathered Pallavi into a hug. Nikhil and Krishna smiled and exchanged thumbs-up.

"Dādā, do you remember Āzobā?" Nikhil asked when Pallavi pulled away from Mandar and dried her tears.

"I have so many memories of him!" Mandar answered. "Kākā used to take me by train to visit Ājī-Āzobā in Kolhapur on long weekends, sometimes with Āī-Bābā and sometimes just the two of us. After Kākā married Kākū, she would come with us and Kākā-Kākū would stay with her family, leaving me alone with Ājī-Āzobā. Ājī-Āzobā then weren't older than Āī-Bābā are now, and they used to take me to parks and museums, concerts and plays. Āzobā loved exercise and the outdoors. He would let me swim for hours, until I was too sleepy to finish eating dinner, and Ājī would scold him. I learned to do sūrya-namaskāra from Āzobā. He encouraged me to draw whatever I pointed out to him at museums. He appreciated classical music and nāṭya-saṃgīta and he taught me to recognize the Rāga of each of his favourite songs."

Listening to Mandar's memories and studying his excited face, Pallavi thought she could see the child that had grown into this sturdy man who had just offered her the comfort of his embrace. In a few years, she imagined, they would have a child of their own. How would it feel to watch a little Mandar full of energy, running and swimming and giggling, with wonder-filled eyes drinking in the endless world? She imagined watching Mandar playing with a child that was hers and his. Pallavi suddenly felt impatient to get her marriage to Raghav annulled, and Mandar's death certificate expunged. Enough waiting, the time to live her life was right now!

"You really are back, Dādā!" Nikhil said, hugging Mandar. "I learned sūrya-namaskāra from Āzobā too. Do you remember?"

"Yes, Nikhil. Āzobā would be proud to see that you still do yoga every morning."

"Mandar Dādā, you remember everything without even trying!" Krishna marvelled.

"Not quite," Mandar admitted. "Yesterday, I tried to remember the name of Jagadish Anna's son when I recognized him, but it escaped me. This morning, I remembered. It's Jagadekavir."

"Dādā, you know, 'Jagadekavir' sounds like the name of an antiviral drug. 'Don't let HIV turn you into a statue! Take Jagadekavir and head back to heaven!' You know?" Nikhil chuckled and raised his hand for a high-five, but he didn't get one.

"Enough, Nikhil! Mind your language in front of ladies." Mandar didn't feel like laughing at the name "world's only hero" that occurred in the titles of Telugu movies. In one classic fantasy (Jagadekavīruni Kathā, 1961), the hero pursued four heroines and got them all. As a boy, Mandar hadn't understood why girls were prizes for boys to score. Now, hearing Nikhil's joke, the thought occurred to Mandar, was it this sort of fantasy-based lifestyle that had left Raghav with HIV? Raghav had been Ved Pillai's business partner, and the way Ved used to talk about girls ... Never mind the past, what was Ved doing now? If Ved tries to blackmail me again, Mandar thought, Bāppā, I'll call his bluff and come out as gay myself if I have to. Just don't let Ved kill Pallavi, Bāppā. Or even Raghav.

Pallavi's voice interrupted Mandar's thoughts. "Mandar, Bābā's plan was to give you Āzobā's blessing when you achieved something big. When he thought his chance to do that was gone, he gave the Rs. 100 note to me after we were interviewed by Hyderabad Daily News for their Hyderabad kī jāna segment."

Mandar felt a pang of jealousy. Would he have achieved anything if he had gone on working at the shop while Pallavi continued her studies, as he had encouraged her to do after marriage? Bābā had rejected Mandar's ideas for new saree designs, and every one of Mandar's pleas to improve their business: online ordering was unreliable, Bābā said; a ShakalGranth page or even a printed catalog had been ridiculed as a children's picture-book! Customers have to touch and feel the saree, Bābā used to say, because every saree is an expression of its wearer's identity. Bābā had listened to Pallavi because he trusted her judgement more than his son's. Maybe, Mandar thought, my designs really aren't appealing. If Pallavi had thought they were any good, she would have produced them, not left this sketchbook in the vanity table drawer.

"It was amazing luck that Hyderabad Daily News noticed Pallavi Dī," Nikhil was saying. "Dī went to the hospital for a cut on her forehead, and the news crew just happened to be there. I guess they were following Raghav and caught him assaulting a doctor, because that was in the news the same day."

"It wasn't luck, it was good karma," Krishna argued. "The news crew talked to Dīdī because they saw her donating blood -" Krishna caught Pallavi looking at her to keep quiet about Jaya Aunty, and changed what she was going to say. "To someone with a rare blood type who needed an operation."

Pallavi had never wanted Kirti to feel indebted to her for what any decent person would have done, even for a stranger. And right now, she didn't want to explain to Mandar why she still hadn't spoken of the blood donation to Raghav or to Kirti. I didn't want to humiliate myself, Pallavi thought. If Raghav's moral conscience had neither compassion for Amruta nor contrition for Manasi, nor compunction while lying about my character, nor responsibility for Nikhil, nor shame when he forced me to marry him, would he have felt remorse if he had known? Would Kirti admit in court that she left Mandar to die, if she knew? If I had pleaded with them to spare my family because I saved theirs, making it a trade would have been mercenary of me. It was only yesterday that I found out that Raghav wanted to look after the blood donor; he is looking after Damayanti to prove that he hasn't forgotten his promise. If I tell him now that I was the blood donor, he will feel entitled to interfere in the rest of my life. It's better that he gives that attention to Damayanti.

"Farhad!" Mandar's voice caused Pallavi to look up and notice their visitor. "You look so serious; what happened?"

"Mandar, Pallavi jī, Nikhil, Krishna, the police have the results of the DNA test," Farhad began, his eyes resting on each of their faces in turn. "The bloodstains on the hit-and-run car aren't Mandar's; they belong to someone else."

Mandar could think of nothing to say. He hadn't seen the car; he didn't remember being hit; he believed whatever Pallavi and Farhad had gathered about that night. Sunny Ahuja had driven away; Kirti and Raghav, Ved and Vipul Kadam, Sulochana Kākū and Dr. Janaki had all kept quiet; Raghav had concealed evidence and made a false confession. Was Raghav capable of fabricating a DNA test result too?

Mandar's sketchbook had fallen from his hands. Without a word, Farhad picked it up off the floor and laid it on the table, still open to a page with a design of a pair of bullocks drawing a cart along a winding road.

Pallavi was the first to recover from the shock. "How is that possible, Farhad?"

"The car must have hit someone else too," Farhad reasoned. "Mandar's injuries weren't life-threatening, so he may have left not much blood on the car."

"Someone else, really?" Nikhil demanded. "There was another accident, worse than the one that put Dādā in the hospital with memory loss, and we don't even know what happened to the victim?"

"You're right, Nikhil," Farhad admitted, "I was thinking about that the whole time since I got the report. There was someone who died in a car accident at the time - the dead body that was identified as Mandar. Right, Pallavi jī?"

"That's convenient!" Mandar spoke up, remembering Manasi's warning to stay alert with Raghav and Farhad. "Now that I'm available for a DNA test, immediately the evidence against Raghav's sister's friend shifts from me to an unidentified victim! And Raghav just happens to have influence with the police!"

Farhad felt hurt by Mandar's accusation. "The police did ask Anna what to do, Mandar, and he told them to do their work honestly. Kirti said the same thing. And I too want justice for you, Mandar. When Raghav Anna was taking the blame to protect Kirti, I went against him and tricked Kirti into confessing. Isn't that true, Pallavi jī?"

"Yes, it's true," Pallavi confirmed. "Mandar, if Farhad says that the bloodstains aren't yours, then that's the truth."

Mandar wanted to believe in Farhad, but he still felt frustrated. "I remember how many cuts and scrapes I had from that accident! My blood is probably on that car too, and forensics would have recovered my DNA from it, if Raghav had turned in the car right away. I don't know if the other person's accident happened much later, or left more blood to begin with, so that they recovered the other person's DNA, but not mine. I lost two-and-a-half years of my life, and now it's too late to prove that the accident even happened to me!"

Farhad put his hand on Mandar's shoulder and looked earnestly into his eyes. "These DNA test results surprised Raghav Anna too. He didn't tamper with them. And I'm sure that he didn't run over anyone with that car after hiding it in the shed. I promise, if it's possible to prove it to you, I will."

Farhad took out his phone, called Inspector Swami, and asked him whether a DNA sample had been taken from the body that had been identified as Mandar Deshmukh. "Very good. I want it tested against the DNA that you recovered from the hit-and-run car. Also, send me the file with every detail of how that body was discovered."

"Farhad, I visited the police countless times, urging them to investigate Mandar's accident," Pallavi said. "They never told me that they had collected DNA from that body."

"I am sorry that they gave you trouble, Pallavi jī. Inspector Swami likes to close cases quickly, and he won't reopen one without an incentive." Farhad caught Mandar's troubled gaze, and lowered his eyes.

"When the body was found, Siddhesh Dādā asked for a DNA test," Pallavi remembered. "However, the body was cremated right away, and then the police said that a DNA test was no longer possible. They didn't bother to confirm who the dead man was, or even admit to us that they could still find out. They just wanted us to give up looking for Mandar."

"Dī, you remember how distraught Āī-Bābā were by the time the body was found," Nikhil said. "We had been searching for ten days. We couldn't let them see its condition, so Kākā allowed the cremation to go ahead."

"Yes, it was a difficult situation," Pallavi admitted. "Kākā was asked to identify the body, but he was crying so much that Kākū decided to go in alone. She came out and said that the face is gone; it's impossible to recognize Mandar, but the height and build are correct. Then Kākā managed to take a look, and I went with him. Kākā said the same as Kākū, and I had hardly spent any time with Mandar, so what could I say? Who knows who the poor man was that we cremated in a hurry? His family may still be looking for him."

"Pallavi jī, you might have the answer to that already. You know who disappeared at about the same time as Mandar." Farhad explained his idea to Pallavi, and she made a phone call right away.

Mandar was listening. The thought of Sulochana Kākū, well aware that he was alive, pretending that a dead body was his and convincing Milind Kākā to look at it made his stomach churn. He looked down and began to flip through the pages of his sketchbook, trying to escape into the pictures. Farhad came and stood beside him, and put his hand on the page so that Mandar couldn't turn it.

"That's breathtaking," Farhad commented, pointing at the design of two eagles playing together, flying in a circle. "Is it your design?"

Mandar nodded.

"I've never seen anything like it on a saree. May I look at your sketches?"

Mandar allowed Farhad to look at the sketchbook, page by page. Soldiers with wide headgear on horseback with shields on their backs and swords held upright in front as they charged ... two women sitting on opposite sides of a quern, both holding onto the pole and singing as they ground grain into flour ... exuberant bhāṅgaḍā dancers lined up with both arms and one knee raised ... women in knee-length skirts and deep-cut blouses, wrapped in fluttering full-body veils and walking among sand dunes ... men competing at flying kites ... every one of Mandar's designs was captivating!

"Mandar, you have to produce these designs!" Farhad exclaimed. "Looking at them, I just want to keep looking, and if I could touch the fabric, I would run my fingers over it."

"Thanks for saying that, but I don't think I can produce them, Farhad. Deshmukh Saree Emporium specializes in traditional designs, and these aren't a good fit with our customers' tastes."

"Don't say that! These are the kind of designs that will bring you new customers!" Farhad felt indignant; who had told Mandar to doubt what he could achieve? "If you don't believe me, show them to Raghav Anna. His instinct is never wrong. If he says that a design will be a hit, we produce it and the sales roll in."

Mandar's mood lightened; he couldn't help chuckling. "Your business is jewelry. What does Raghav know about sarees?"

Farhad gave Mandar a bright smile. "Anna learns quickly. I know what else our distributors at Jayati Jewels are exporting, and trust me, these are designs that would make foreign residents proud of their Indian heritage."

Mandar thought that Farhad sounded sincere, but he remembered Manasi's warning. Farhad had taken part in Raghav's schemes to humiliate Amruta and Pallavi. He wouldn't trick me, would he?

"I thought what I said would cheer you up, Mandar. What are you thinking?"

"My Bābā tried to cheer me up once. I was ten years old, I had entered a drawing competition at school, and I didn't win. I cried. So Bābā got me a trophy and told me that my drawing was really good; I deserved to win."

"He was right."

"You're saying that without even seeing the drawing, Farhad!"

"I don't need to see one more drawing, but all right, tell me what you had drawn."

"Two men walking side-by-side, each holding a child on his shoulders."