Free The Forbidden Daughter by Shobhan Bantwal

PM.
    Other than the high-pitched wail typical of a newborn upon its arrival, she seemed rather quiet. She was thin. Since there was THE
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    no scale to tell Isha how much the infant weighed, she could only guess. Three kilos or so, perhaps? About six and a half pounds. But then Isha was a petite woman, and since Priya had been a small baby, she had expected this one would be, too.
    Nonetheless, the little one was perfect and Mother Dora had pronounced her healthy. All her fingers and toes were well formed and she had soft brown hair with lighter streaks, just like Priya’s had looked at birth.
    Isha gazed on the wrinkled pink bundle wrapped in a once-white sheet lying beside her, and breathed in her scent, the distinctive smell of a newborn. No matter how many times a mother did this, it still felt like a miracle each time, she thought, wiping away the tears. The tears just wouldn’t stop flowing for some reason.
    She knew all about postpartum depression. She’d been through it after Priya’s birth. But this time the melancholy was of a different sort. She longed to have Nikhil beside her. Of course, if he were alive, she would have been giving birth in a comfortable private hospital with her doctor and nurses attending on her.
    Nevertheless, in spite of the limited resources, Mother Dora had successfully brought her baby into the world, and Isha was very grateful.
    The baby’s name, Diya, meant “light.” Maybe it was sheer coincidence, but once again the sadhu ’s words came back to Isha. Diya probably was a child born to bring light into her life.
    The past few months had been discolored by the grim shades of death and destruction and loss of home. But now, in looking at the sleeping infant, it was like discovering the first green shoot poking its head out of the ground after a long, hard winter, heralding the promise of spring—a reaffirmation of life.
    Nikhil was no longer there to share in the joy of Diya’s birth, but the child was still a product of their love. In all the darkness surrounding her, Isha was determined to introduce some bright-ness. Diya and Priya would hopefully bring that.
    The new baby looked so much like Nikhil, it was heartrend-ing. She had his hazel eyes, just like her big sister. Light-colored 54 Shobhan Bantwal
    eyes like gray, hazel, light brown and even blue, combined with fair skin tones, were typical characteristics of the caste Isha and Nikhil belonged to—the Koknastha Brahmin community. They were a legacy of the early European settlers, whose blood had mixed with that of the local Indians centuries ago.
    It was now past eleven o’clock. Mother Dora was long gone.
    Priya, after she’d had a chance to make sure her mummy was okay, had kissed the baby’s cheek, looking thrilled about being the big sister. Now Priya was fast asleep on her bedroll on the floor, enjoying the kind of blissful sleep only children can lose themselves in. Forgotten were the earlier tears and Mother Regina’s reprimand. The arrival of a new baby and hence a new doll to play with had meant putting aside everything else for one night.
    The birth of a healthy child should have been a joyous occasion. Instead, Isha was here, in a gloomy convent—a cold building with ten-foot-high stone walls surrounding the compound, and with no more than a midwife to help her in delivering the baby. But as a young, nearly penniless widow and mother of two small children, who had nowhere else to go, this was better than being out on the streets.
    At least here she had a place to sleep, eat, and keep her girls safe and dry. For now this was home.

    Chapter 6
    Harish Salvi plopped into his office chair. This was his much-needed five-minute afternoon break, when Rama, his Man Friday, made him a cup of tea. Harish took a sip of the now-tepid brew. Peeling off his glasses, he closed his tired eyes for a blessed moment. Phew, what a day!
    The latest strain of the flu virus had turned out to be more invasive