Free Married Woman by Manju Kapur Page A

not necessary to have sex with that thing on, is it? What’ll happen to Anu’s subconscious? She might grow up with a problem.’
    ‘Look at her. She’s totally unconscious. How do you think half the country fucks? You think they have separate rooms?’
    Astha knew they didn’t. She didn’t like the leer on Hemant’s face, but she could think of no more reasons for objecting. What could she say? That she was too old? She was twenty-five. That the early days of their marriage were over? They had been married three years. That Hemant should want her without her prancing around in a tight black cut-away garment? But she had worn it before, she had been turned on herself, wasn’t she being rather prudish now? She threw a glance at the baby, maybe she was waking? But no, Anuradha slept peacefully, while her mother made her way slowly to the drawer where the teddy was hidden en route to the bathroom.
    She pulled it on. Her breasts spilled over the top, and looked more voluptuous than they were. That was all very well, thought Astha, but the sight of her stomach bulging through the shiny stretchy lace see-through stuff, that sight was not pretty. Also she hadn’t been so regular about her waxing, there was hair growing all over her limbs.
    This’ll put him off teddies for ever, thought Astha, surveying herself in the mirror, a little regretful that her body should have this deterrent effect. Finally she wrapped his dressing gown around her waist and emerged complaining, it’s so tight, look darling it doesn’t fit, I’ll never be my old self again.
    Hemant saw her point. The teddy was put away and never mentioned again.

    ‘Once we build our new house, we can start planning for our next child.’
    ‘Um‚’ said Astha absently, handing her husband the baby oil. Hemant poured a little into his palm and began carefully rubbing it on his daughter, her bath part of his Sunday morning ritual. He insisted on doing this, ideas about fatherhood are so antiquated in India.
    ‘I want to have my son soon‚’ declared Hemant, looking emotional and manly at the same time. ‘I want to be as much a part of his life as Papaji is of mine.’
    ‘How do you know we will have a son?’ asked Astha, feeling a little scared.
    ‘Of course we will have a son, and if we don’t we needn’t stop at two.’
    Astha silently took the oil bottle from him and closed it.
    ‘Is the water ready?’
    His wife hastily tested the water in the bath-set crammed into a corner of the bedroom. ‘Yes‚’ she said.
    The father gently lowered his daughter into the water, while the mother stood ready with the shampoo, rubber toy, and soft towel.
    After the bath Astha called the servant to mop the floor and throw out the water while she hung the towel, disposed of the oil, comb, powder, toy, dirty diaper and night clothes. She then settled down to nurse the baby while Hemant went on discussing their house and their future.
    ‘Hemant?’ said Astha after a while.
    ‘Yes?’ replied Hemant engrossed in the soft feet and tiny legs of his child.
    ‘I thought these things didn’t matter to you. What if we don’t have a boy?’
    ‘Of course they don’t matter to me. I was so pleased Anu was a girl. But that doesn’t mean we should not try for a boy. I am the only son.’
    ‘It is not in our hands, at least not in mine. It is the man’s chromosome that decides the sex, and with two sisters in your family, it may be a girl. I have read about these things.’
    ‘You are always reading‚’ said Hemant coldly.
    ‘I am sorry. Does it bother you?’
    ‘It fills your head with unnecessary ideas. Let us first not have a son and then we will see. Keep it simple. All right?’
    Astha looked dissatisfied but could think of nothing to say.

    In the family she had married into Astha had ample opportunity to witness how the business of building a house and planning for retirement should be gone about. Papaji’s ministry’s housing society, Papaji’s rank,