The Mother I Never Knew Read online

  ‘Who?’ she asked gently.

  ‘I have to repay a debt, Vasanthi. Sorry, I have to go now. I’ll call you later.’

  Before she could ask any more questions, he said goodbye and hung up.

  As the train started its journey, Mukesh felt like the wobbly bogies himself. The very thought of Nirmala upset him. How could she have been so irresponsible? She had gone back to her life after delivering a baby, and had not cared enough to find out how her son was. He felt cheated.

  As he thought about her more and more, he recollected his television documentary about unwed mothers in India. The programme had been aired on BBC a few years ago. He himself had concluded that lack of sex education and job opportunities, and the strict norms of society made the life of an unwed mother and her child very difficult in India. But he’d never imagined in his wildest dreams that he himself was one of the children born of unwed mothers. Mukesh finally understood Nirmala’s predicament and calmed down somewhat. Still, he was sad. He did not know why he wanted to meet her now but he knew that he had to.

  After reaching Delhi, Mukesh surfed the Internet for information. Within half an hour, he learned that Brij Mohan was the minister for women and child development. He was married to Nirmala Kumari and had two sons, who were both in politics. One of his sons had been caught drinking and driving and the other had been accused of accepting bribes on behalf of his father. Finally, Mukesh found what he was looking for—Brij Mohan’s residence was on Prithviraj Road in south Delhi. Mukesh was easily able to trace his address and office phone numbers online, but knew that he would not be allowed to meet the minister without an appointment. The only way to meet him was through his media credentials. He would have to use his BBC background to gain entry into Brij Mohan’s residence.

  Mukesh dialled Brij Mohan’s secretary’s cell phone number. When the secretary answered, Mukesh introduced himself, ‘Hello, I am Mukesh Rao. May I have a meeting with the minister, please?’

  ‘No, he’s extremely busy,’ the secretary refused his request without a second thought.

  ‘I work for BBC and want to interview the minister’s wife for a TV series.’

  Hastily, the secretary changed his tone, ‘Of course, please come and meet the minister tomorrow at 8 a.m.’

  The next day, Mukesh reached the minister’s sprawling bungalow on time but was asked to wait in the visitor’s lounge, which was already almost full of people. The minister’s family was just waking up. While waiting, Mukesh observed the room he was in. It was disorganized and lavishly decorated with poor taste. There were plastic flowers in multiple vases in the room. A jade Buddha statue that had not been dusted for months stood in a corner and a painting of Lakshmi adorned with old and dry garlands was displayed near it. A dozen servants were moving in and out of the room serving tea, samosas and rasgullas to the visitors.

  After an hour, Brij Mohan came to the visitors’ lounge followed by his entourage who were carrying paan and files in their hands. The man was stout and short and dressed in a safari suit with his stomach bulging out. His eyes were swollen and it looked like he had had a late night. When they saw him, everybody stopped talking and stood up. Without looking left or right, Brij Mohan walked straight into the next room that had been converted to a large-sized office space.

  Mukesh thought, ‘Had Nirmala kept me with her, my fate would have been to become one of his entourage and carry paan and files for him; or if the minister had treated me like his own, I would have become another son getting into trouble with the law.’

  After another hour, he was invited into the office room to meet the minister. When Brij Mohan saw his business card, he remarked, ‘Ah! You’re the London boy who wants to take an interview—not mine, but my wife’s.’

  ‘Sir, this particular piece is about how the wives of famous men spend their time supporting their husbands and their careers.’

  ‘My wife does not speak English very well and she’s very shy too. Why don’t you ask me the questions and I’ll try to answer them on her behalf?’

  Mukesh was apologetic, ‘No, Sir, please forgive me. It is my duty to talk to the women and report the interviews. I’ll be happy to conduct the interview in Hindi.’

  ‘Well, there really isn’t much that she can tell you. My wife is a religious woman and spends most of her time in pujas. At other times, she accompanies me for appropriate events.’

  ‘Then it shouldn’t take much time, Sir. But I must talk to Ma’am.’

  The minister shrugged his shoulders, ‘That’s no problem, but please remember to steer clear of controversial topics. Also, send us your article for approval prior to publishing.’

  ‘Of course, Sir,’ Mukesh nodded.

  Brij Mohan called one of the servants and told him, ‘Bachcha, take him to Bibiji and tell her that I have sent him.’

  Mukesh followed the servant to the main house. He entered a living room that had leather couches, a huge television set and some exotic artefacts. A huge picture of a popular Swamiji adorned one of the walls. From where Mukesh was standing, he could see a beautifully decorated puja room inside. The smell of incense was everywhere. The servant asked him to sit down while he went in search of Madam.

  A minute later, a young boy appeared with tea, samosas and gulab jamuns, but Mukesh refused the food with a wave of his hand. He could not eat anything right now. He was about to meet Nirmala and suddenly felt nervous. A young man around his age came in with a cigarette in his hand and went into another room, without even glancing at him. ‘Maybe he’s one of Nirmala’s sons,’ Mukesh thought.

  After a few minutes, a middle-aged woman dressed in a silk sari with the pallu over her head walked into the room and sat down in front of him. She said in chaste Hindi, ‘Namaste, I am Mrs Nirmala Kumari, Brij Mohan ji’s wife. I don’t usually give interviews, but I’ve come because you insisted.’

  Mukesh simply watched her. She was his mother—a mother who had abandoned him within hours of his birth, a mother who had conceived him without preparing for the consequences, a mother who thought that teenage sex was enjoyable but did not know that it would result in a pregnancy, a mother who was dominated by the men in her life.

  He forgot what he had wanted to ask her.

  Suddenly, there was a lot of noise outside the living room. Brij Mohan was leaving the house. He and his entourage got into six cars and drove away accompanied by an escort. The visitors poured out into the driveway and the lounge became vacant.

  Mukesh heard the sudden roar of motorcycles and cars drifting further away, followed by an eerie quietness. A servant came in and told Nirmala, ‘Bibiji, both the Chhote Sahebs have left with Bade Saheb. They’ll be back at night.’

  ‘Fine, then clear the dining table, please.’

  The servant went away to follow her instructions.

  Mukesh asked her, ‘Ma’am, what are your hobbies?’

  ‘I love reading. It is my childhood passion,’ she answered simply.

  ‘If you don’t mind, may I ask you about your childhood?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Where did you go to school?’

  ‘In my village. But I took private tuitions for my tenth class examinations since there was no high school there. After my wedding, I came to Delhi and completed a correspondence course.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go to college?’

  She sighed, ‘My parents-in-law were old-fashioned and preferred that I didn’t go outside the home to study.’

  Mukesh gathered up his courage and finally asked, ‘Ma’am, do you remember Rupinder?’

  Suddenly, Nirmala’s eyes widened and her face became pale. She went out of the room to check if anybody was listening. Then she came back into the living room and closed the door. ‘Which Rupinder?’ she asked.

  ‘The same woman who had a farm next to a mango grove. She’s the one who gave me this gold chain.�