Chapter Forty-Eight
KIRAN
When she broke the news to Ma, Ma collapsed in a chair, weeping over her Ganesh statue. Kirti joined in, sinking to the floor near Ma’s feet. Slowly, Ma’s hands found their way to Kirti’s head, stroking her hair as she cried into her lap. While it wasn’t a verbal acknowledgment that the past was in the past, the sight of Ma’s motherly action and Kirti becoming a child again was too much for Kiran to bear. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Let’s go see Baba,” she offered.
Ma went in first, spending ten minutes inside the room alone with Baba before coming out again and signaling for Kiran to take her place.
“He’s groggy,” Ma warned.
Kiran approached the bed tentatively, stepping lightly on her tiptoes so she wouldn’t disturb him and wake him prematurely.
Within a minute or two, Baba’s eyelashes fluttered, and he looked around the room. His pupils focused on Kiran’s face, and his eyebrows lifted as he recognized her for the first time in three days.
“Kiran.”
She had never been so happy to hear her moniker. Taking Baba’s hand, she kissed it gently, repeating his name until he was able to speak.
“Maine tumhari baathon ko sunliya,” Baba croaked out.
Kiran’s heart leapt. I heard you speak. She wanted to ask questions, but Baba’s lips parted, and she silenced herself, willing to stay quiet forever if it meant she got to hear her father speak again.
“I have granddaughters.”
Chills ran up and down Kiran’s arms, as though someone trailed a feather on her skin. She held on to his hands, his clasp a weak but determined one. How had he known?
“You brought Kirti,” he mumbled.
“Yes.” Kiran half laughed, half sobbed. “Kirti is here. Ma is here. We’re all here. We’re so happy you fought through, Baba. I promise you can yell at me all you want, and I’ll hang on every word.” She kissed his hand again.
Baba took his hand and patted Kiran’s head as she rested her own next to his shoulder and cried. He let her weep with relief for a few moments. When he spoke, Kiran was convinced the universe had heard her, listened to her, arranged the world to carry her, and insisted on bringing her family together.
“We had prayed for a boy. I needed someone to run the shop. Your ma and I thought it would bring balance to our family to have a girl and a boy. We performed poojas, and your aunties in Ramnagar were convinced based on where Ma’s belly sat that she would have a strong and healthy male child.”
Kiran drew in a sharp intake of breath. It was as though he knew all that he had missed while he was floating between life and death.
Baba paused for a few moments, breathing in and out steadily.
“But when you were born, I swore you knew we were disappointed and you stayed so calm. You held my fingers so tightly, as if to show me that you too had strength. As I walked the astrologer to the door, he told me you would bring the brilliance of ten sons…that you would see the world and light ours. He gave me a warning that fame was not always positive but that it was God’s plan to turn it into a lesson. And he told me not to fear any obstacles. You would be the one to unite our family. In times of darkness, Kiran, you would be our light. You, beta, are one of two of my greatest joys. And I am sorry that I spoke in anger. I am sorry I did not have faith in you or in your sister.” Baba’s eyes were red.
Kiran shook her head, dismissing his fears. “I didn’t want to make you upset. I shouldn’t have been so careless with my words.”
“Parents are wrong sometimes. You shine your light on our mistakes.” He patted her hand.
“You’re my light too, Baba,” she whispered, and for what felt like the thirtieth time today, she cried tears of joy.