36. Sona
SONA
I felt on top of the world as Sanjay drove me back home that afternoon. I stopped at my favorite bakery to pick up a chocolate cake.
My first instinct was to call the organization and ask to meet with Sharda Tai, but if anything, last night’s research held important warning signs. I couldn’t approach a birth mother so callously. She might not be ready. She might refuse to meet, which was her right. I couldn’t violate her confidentiality by producing Mihir before her. I needed her permission to do any of it. She had to be willing to meet Mihir. The best course of action would be to call her and gauge her comfort in meeting the child she had given up more than thirty years ago.
I felt good about the day, about the progress I had made. Through the immense generosity of the universe, I had found Malati, who was just as kind as her father.
Appa answered the door with playing cards in his hands, and I found Mihir, Aai, Lata, and Aaji around the dining table, playing rummy.
“What’s all this?” I said in Hindi, balancing the exquisite cake in my hand. “And what are you doing here?” I frowned at Mihir.
Aai gave me a reprimanding look, while Mihir replied, “I needed a secure internet connection for some financial transactions, so I came over.”
“And we taught him how to play rummy,” Aai said in Hindi.
Appa beamed. “And he’s going to teach us poker.”
“Why are you home in the middle of the day, Appa?”
“I came back early to spend time with you, but I ended up having an even better time with this young man,” he teased in his usual mild manner.
“Did I just enter an alternate universe?” I said, retracing my steps back to the front door. Everyone laughed while I stepped into the kitchen and deposited the cake on the counter. “Who wants chocolate cake?” I called out as I washed my hands at the sink.
“What are we celebrating?” Mihir asked.
“Happiness,” I said. “We don’t need a reason. Chocolate cake itself is a reason to celebrate.” I cut the cake into slices and put them on individual plates.
“Yes, I know…” he began but checked himself and deftly changed the subject. “So, Lata, you are a sneaky little player, aren’t you?” he said to her in Hindi. “Look how much you’ve won already!” He pointed to her pile of coins. “You’ll do excellently at poker.”
Lata giggled with joy.
“You’re playing for real money? Tsk, tsk, gamblers,” I teased as I brought the plates out.
“Just some pocket change,” Appa said, pulling a plate toward him.
I settled down in the only empty chair, which placed me next to Mihir.
“Umm, this is very good,” Mihir said. “Lata, Aaji, what do you think?” he asked in Hindi.
They both showered praises, on him or the cake, I failed to guess. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes right into my head.
“How was your meeting?” Mihir asked me.
The fork stopped abruptly on its way to my mouth. “What meeting?”
“Your mom said you were meeting a friend for coffee?”
“Oh, that! Yes, it was alright.” I worked on my cake while the rest of them continued the game.
“Want to play?” Mihir asked, shuffling the cards like a pro.
I shook my head. “I’m enjoying my cake.”
“Yes, you and your chocolate cake,” he blurted.
“Oh, so you are familiar with her vice.” Appa played the innocent, na?ve parent to perfection.
“Yes, Tara always teases her,” Mihir covered efficiently with a cool, suave smile while my mother’s eyes danced between the two confident rogues.
“We are going to that pizza place tonight, don’t forget,” I tried to redirect the conversation. “Lata, you don’t have to cook tonight.”
“Oh, then I can go to that movie I’ve been wanting to see!” she squealed with enthusiasm.
“Mihir, join us if you have no plans for the evening,” Aai said to him.
Oh, that was a bad idea! Getting the four of us alone in a casual setting was a sure-fire way to blow our cover.
“Sure,” he said, dealing the cards on the table. “Where are we going?”
“There’s a new pizza place that opened last year, and Sona wants to try it.”
“It has rave reviews and impossible to get into on the weekend. Two weekends ago, we went there unplanned, and the wait was two hours,” I said with deep scorn.
“What’s so special about it?” Mihir asked as he dealt the thirteenth card and flipped the upcard from the stack.
“It has these amazing Indian-fusion pizzas. I mean, a lot of places make paneer tikka and chicken tikka pizza, but this place goes beyond. It experiments with the base sauces. It’s been described as a slice of Indian heaven on a plate.”
“Hmmm,” he said as the game continued. “That’s a tall claim. I hope they don’t disappoint.”
Three rounds of rummy later, Lata made the afternoon tea before scampering off to the movies. Aaji also took her leave to catch a late nap and rest her back. While Appa and Aai got busy with their evening prayers and chores, Mihir and I settled in the anterior family room with coffee.
“Do you think it was wise to agree to join us?” I said calmly.
He frowned. “Why?” When realization dawned on him, his frown ironed out.
“That’s right. Aai will smoke us out in three minutes.”
“Well, I can’t back out now. Plus, what if I wanted us smoked out?” he asked impishly.
“Did you forget the speech I gave yesterday?”
“The one you ended with my love ?” he replied with every bit of sincerity.
“No, the one where I said I’m here as your friend. The other error was on account of muscle memory, an unbroken habit.”
“Or, as they say in Hindi, what’s in your heart surfaced to your lips. Dil ki baat, zubaan par aa gayi,” he said in his light accent.
“Hey Majnu, just because you’re in India, it doesn’t make you an expert in Indian sayings,” I said with reproach.
“Umm, who’s Majnu?”
I laughed loudly. “He’s our Romeo, you Romeo.” I shook my head and got up to put away our cups.
At dinner that evening, I watched my love life get autopsied at the hands of my mother.
I had expected Aai to uncloak the latent desire running beneath the surface like hot lava, but she went on a completely different tangent.
Over the true-as-advertised heavenly pie, Aai casually asked, “So Mihir, are you married?”
I almost coughed out my pizza. When I stole a quick look at Appa, he shook his head to signal he had nothing to do with whatever was happening.
“No, not yet,” Mihir replied graciously.
“Oh!” Aai said, projecting surprise. “Are you looking?”
Mihir kept his eyes off me as he answered her. “I was in a serious relationship, but it ended.”
“That’s too bad, but you can’t dwell on it. You have to move on, right? I know a very nice girl. She’s an engineer and a very eligible young woman.”
I dropped my slice to the plate. “Aai, what are you doing? Let’s not put him on the spot.”
“I’m not putting him on the spot, dear, but if he’s looking, he can’t find a better match than Rajvi.”
“Who’s Rajvi?” I spewed, my insides burning hot.
“She’s the daughter of Thomas’ colleague. You don’t know her,” she said to me, then turned to him with enthusiasm. “She’s tall, much taller than Sona. She’s smart and very attractive. She looks like a model and cooks like a chef. Our Sona can hardly cook.”
I felt the anger in my face. “He says he’s not looking. And why do you keep comparing her to me?” I frowned at my mother.
Mom maintained her cool demeanor against my fiery outburst. “I’m not comparing, my dear. I’m saying because he knows you well, he can get an idea about how good Rajvi is, you know?” Aai looked at him expectantly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Thomas, but I’m not looking, not yet.”
But Aai was unrelenting. “Now, that’s unreasonable for a good-looking, well-settled boy like you.”
Unwittingly, I made a sulking face, which seemed to spark something in Mihir. He turned to me. “What do you think, Sona? You do know me well. Do you think this Rajvi would be a good match for me?”
Not to be outdone, I whipped out an exuberant fake smile. “Oh, absolutely. She’s gorgeous, right, Aai? And an engineer! Oh, and a very good cook. She’ll keep you very happy.”
“That sounds fun!” Mihir said. “Do you think I can meet her, Mrs. Thomas, or would it be inappropriate?”
“Oh, not at all! I’ll arrange it. This is so exciting! If it works out, Rajvi can settle into a new life in the U.S. knowing Sona is right next door. Dallas and Houston are close, aren’t they, Sona?”
“They aren’t that close.” I pouted.
The pizza placed was decidedly overrated. I hated every piece after the first few bites.
As I lay in bed that night, perusing books I had downloaded on my tablet, my phone buzzed with a text message. Even before I glanced at the screen, I knew it was from Mihir.
Thank you for the pizza tonight. You were right, every flavor was spot on.
I ignored him and went back to my reading.
I had a terrific evening. Hope you did too , he texted again.
I dropped the phone on the bed and returned to the tablet in my hand, but it buzzed in the silent night. Despite my attempts to ignore it, I caught a glimpse of the message on the banner.
Are you up?
Then another text. I know you’re up thinking about my life with Rajvi, aren’t you?
Aargh, he was so annoying! I grabbed the phone and keyed in angrily, In your dreams .
Ah ha, I knew you were up and reading my texts.
I sent back an angry emoji.
His reply came quickly. To set the record straight, only you can keep me happy. For starters, no one can fuck me like you do.
For heaven’s sake, YOU brOKE UP WITH ME. And my parents have access to this phone. It’s their phone I’m borrowing.
Alright, goodnight. I’ll be dreaming of my new life with Rajvi.
I’ll be dreaming of ways to kill you and not get caught , I texted and deleted the messages from the phone before going back to my reading.
Around four in the morning, when my tired eyes would no longer stay open, I sent a text to Mihir. You don’t get to dump me and have my mother find you a wife. Go ask someone else.
I woke up around 9 a.m., extremely nervous. I saw a text from Mihir, but deflecting his shenanigans wasn’t the most pressing thing on my mind that morning.
After a quick shower and an equally quick breakfast, I returned to my room, composed my thoughts, and called the organization’s office.
“Sharda Tai is not here yet,” a woman speaking Marathi-accented Hindi informed me. “Who’s calling?”
“I’m a friend of a friend. I need her help,” I said in Marathi. “Can you ask her to call me back?”
“Yes,” she said and asked for my number, but I wasn’t holding out hope for a callback. I decided to wait an hour, then call again.
About twenty minutes later, as I sat nursing a coffee, I got a call from an unfamiliar number. “Hello?”
“This is Sharda,” a commanding voice said in Hindi. “You called for me?”
I stilled momentarily, but quickly slipped into Appa’s study. “Yes, my name is Sona Thomas. I teach at a university in the U.S. I wondered if I could have a word with you.”
“Is this about research? If you have the proper paperwork from your university authenticating your research, our organization will be happy to help.”
“No. It’s…personal,” I said.
“Personal?” The change in her voice gave me the impression that she just sat up straighter in her chair. “Is someone you know in trouble? We deal with a lot of trafficked women and girls.”
“No, oh, I’m sorry. It’s not related to the organization. It’s personal as in you. I wanted to ask if you knew a Dr. Arvind Seth about thirty-five years ago.”
There was a long beat of silence. “How do you know him?” she asked without a change in her authoritative tone.
“I’m a friend of his son, Mihir.”
“Mihir…” It sounded like the whisper from a breeze. “What do you want?”
“Mihir just learned the truth and has come to India looking for you.”
Another long pause. “What did you say your name was?”
“Sona. Sona Thomas.”
“Sona, is he with you now?”
“No, he doesn’t know I found you.”
More silence, then, “Can you meet me? I’ll text you the address on this number. Is that alright?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She hung up, and a minute later, I got an address for a coffee shop in Dadar.
“Aai, I need to go somewhere. It’s a work thing,” I yelled on the way to my room.
In under ten minutes, I was out the door. In another half hour, I would be at the coffee shop. Darn, how would I recognize her? Was it too weird to text I’m wearing a green top ?
But I didn’t need to. When I entered the café, I recognized her immediately. Maybe because she was the only one sitting alone, or maybe because her eyes were so familiar—dark onyx with distinctive warmth and power.
She stood as I approached her. “Sona?”
I nodded. “Thank you so much for meeting me.”
“I’m sorry you had to come all this way, but I don’t have a lot of time. It’ll be a quick meeting.” She returned to her chair.
“Yes, of course.” I slipped into the seat across her. On my way here, I’d rehearsed it all in my head. “Mihir just found the letter you wrote him, and he’s here looking for you. We went to Mr. Kamte’s home for information.”
“Kamte bhau passed away.”
I nodded. “Yes, his daughter told us, but she remembered he worked with you. It was a long shot, but…”
“You’re his friend?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here instead of him?”
That was a very good question. I had rehearsed the answer to that too. “For two reasons. One, I didn’t want his heart broken if it turned out you weren’t his mother. And two, I didn’t want to force you into a meeting.”
She smiled and nodded. “You are kind. In my profession, consent was mostly tenuous. I am glad you gave consideration to my marzi.”
It was a gesture in stark contrast to her self-assured poise, but she extended an open palm. I readily placed it in her outstretched one, and she patted it.
“You are a sweet girl, but it has been a long time, Sona. I’m a different woman now. A different person.”
“I understand.”
She sat upright again. “What does he want? Tell me about him.” Maybe I padded his resume a bit, because she frowned. “When you say you’re his friend, do you mean girlfriend? Lover?”
My eyes lowered on instinct. This was, after all, Mihir’s mother. In another life and under a different set of circumstances, she could’ve been my mother-in-law. “I was. We were together, but we aren’t anymore.”
She nodded and smiled. “I suspected as much. That was a glowing description.”
“None of it is untrue, though. He is smart, successful, and caring. He’s only looking for a part of himself that he’s just found missing. He needs validation and some love, I think.”
She nodded again. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course.”
When she left, sans fanfare or elaborate parting words, I got a coffee and a brownie and sat pondering over my next move.