Free Inheritance by Indira Ganesan Page B

Richard.
    Richard spoke a great deal about the I Ching , a yellow-bound book about great knowledge achieved through change. It was printed in the Bollingen series byPrinceton University Press, One of my aunts had a copy; sometimes we kids used it as a fortune-telling game, opening the book randomly after posing a question, I knew that “Pi” for instance in the I Ching meant “grace.”
    “A period of grace in one’s life,” explained Richard. “That’s why this island is special.”
    I agreed, although my mind was still on Hinduism and Catholicism. We approached Maria with the argument; being Buddhist, perhaps she could be detached and neutral.
    “Religion takes different forms, and all gods are the same God,” she said, bringing us more to eat.
    “What about your daughter, what religion is she?” I asked.
    “She is not Buddhist. I don’t think she subscribes to any particular religion. She’s dating a Jewish boy, and I think they attend services together.”
    “Where would she stand on this issue?” I asked, not wanting to let it go.
    “Well, the Western notion is to choose your own religion, make up your own mind. So perhaps she would say Jani has the right to choose Catholicism. Whether she’s right or wrong to step away from Hinduism, it is her own choice,” said Maria.
    “Hinduism accepts all religions,” I repeated, wanting very much to defend my religion.
    “But it refuses to accept converts,” said Richard. “You have to be born a Hindu.”
    “At least it doesn’t have rice missionaries, bribing the poor with food for conversion.”
    “And what about the corrupt priests?”
    I don’t think we came to any big conclusion, just that we spoke of it, something that perhaps my aunts would frown on. Religion and politics are best kept to one’s own self, they felt, even though our family had taken part in the Freedom Movement in India and was vocal about its choices then. But that was a special occasion, they’d say; the matter is closed. Yet another door shut.
    I thought about fate, how it cast us into different religions, mostly inherited.
    “Of course, if one didn’t believe in fate, one could say we choose our own boxes of religion,” said Richard.
    “As a people, we stand in our boxes and shout at one another. Until one box breaks, one rule gets broken, one religion pursues another,” said Maria.
    My mother broke the rules twice at least, once to couple with a North Indian to produce Savitri, and once to couple with an American—an American something —to produce me. Such transgressions lead to bad consequences, my neighbors would say, if not in this life, then the next. I wondered if I would be held accountable for her actions. Where had I heard that daughters were born to punish mothers for past sins? Already, I was a bit of a pariah at school for being illegitimate, and I knew that when the time came for me to marry, my mother’s reputation would be an obstacle for the boy’s family. Hinduismhad strict codes of conduct. Yet my mother didn’t seem to feel guilt. She just didn’t care.
    “Sonil.”
    With a start I realized I had drifted away from the conversation, and smiling, ate a sweet.

Ten

    Thoughts of Richard often occupied me the entire day if I did not see him. I didn’t understand this at first, and wondered why it was so. I tried to think about other things, but my mind was disobedient. I had grown used to his slow smile, his slouch as he sat, his American jeans. I felt embarrassed, as if everyone around me could guess at my thoughts. My grandmother didn’t notice my distracted air, so distressed was she at Jani’s departure. She began to devote herself to the garden and mutter under her breath. My mother of course ignored me, and in any case, she was not often at home, having found someplace else to fritter away her afternoons.
    When Richard first invited me over to his flat, I didn’t want to go. I was comfortable with the cafes, the visits toMaria. To see him