Free Where the Secret Lies by Malika Gandhi Page A

a haveli but after much
devastation and pain...
    ‘Anjali
ji...oh!’
    Anjali
wiped her tears. Mohan embraced her and kissed her forehead. She cried into his
shirt feeling foolish. She should not find all this surprising or upsetting.
Nothing could change the past, however horrible.
    ‘I’m sorry,’
Anjali blinked back more tears.
    ‘You
keep saying that, yet you still cry?’ Mohan lifted her chin. ‘I know it is hard
but we have to come to terms with what happened here. Now listen to me, we will
build this haveli together, and it will be home – our home.’
    Anjali
managed a small smile. ‘We need to buy groceries first. What will we eat?’

 
    A loud
clang startled Anjali bringing her back from her reverie. She dismissed the thoughts;
Mohan will tell her about his past in his own time.
    Taking
the cloth, she began to dust the chest of drawers she found hidden in one of
the rooms. A unique piece, she had not seen anything like it. She let
    her fingers slide over the
intricate finish; she fell in love. This would be one of her favourite.

 
    Weeks passed and the haveli began
to resemble a home. The structure still needed a lot of work but inside, Anjali
made it beautiful.
    Rugs
dusted, floors swept, silverware and brassware polished, Anjali made a home.
She planted beautiful flowers in the garden and inside and hung pictures of the
sea and earth on the walls. The busy schedule left hardly any time for rest and
both Mohan and Anjali fell asleep every night, exhausted in their beds.
    Anjali
worked alone in the mornings when Mohan looked for work. She tended to the house
and its needs... sometimes she let her emotions flow free and cried thinking of
her family she had lost.
    Neha was
older by a few years. Her marriage to Sunil was young by a few weeks when their
father passed away leaving her completely alone, but Sunil took her into his
house and home. She gained another family who loved her – Meera, a sister and a
mother. She missed them all terribly. She wanted to write, to let them know she
was safe but something stopped her, was she scared? Perhaps but Anjali did not know
what she was afraid of.

 
    Photographs of a Muslim family
hung on the walls. Anjali hated looking at them – they made her uneasy...as if
they blamed and accused her of taking over their home. Anjali kept her thoughts
secret from Mohan and one day took all the photographs down and stored them in
a box, shutting them away forever. She felt a release and she could begin to breathe.
    Anjali did not realise when her
relationship with Mohan became close. When did she begin to love him? She had
liked him but now it was something more and
    she became conscious that she
would not be able to live without him.
    ‘Anjali
ji!’
    Anjali
looked out from the balcony; Mohan was coming up the road. She rushed
downstairs to help him with the bags.
      ‘Here you are,’ he said, putting the bags on
the kitchen table. ‘All the ripe fruit and vegetables you wanted.’
    ‘Mohan
ji, you didn’t have to buy them all at once,’ said Anjali, looking into the
bags.
    The
aroma of coriander floated towards her.
    ‘What
would you like for dinner tonight?’ she asked.
    ‘Anything
but aubergines.’

 
    The country was just getting back
onto its feet; food and jobs were again available. A few families had moved
into the area; Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims. Acceptance now replaced hatred; all
faiths joined hands and looked forward to a better India.
    Anjali
and Mohan approached the families, offering food and a warm welcome. The wives
and daughters liked Anjali and the men called her Bhabhi-ji, meaning
Sister-in-law. The families did not question their relationship, assuming they
were husband and wife. Anjali and Mohan wanted to believe it but knew it was
wrong, to live together without marriage was a sin, and would not be tolerated
in any faith or community.

 
    Another night arrived. Anjali
picked up her candle and bade Mohan a good night.
    ‘You are