She left the restaurant and walked back toward her hotel, the frenzied cries of the vendors reminding her of the squawking of birds at sundown. Sarongs and kurtas. Leather handbags and perfume. They wanted her to buy it all. She ignored their pleas, careful not to make eye contact with any of them.
It was dark by the time she reached the Taj. Despite her fatigue, she briefly considered crossing the street and walking under the arch of the Gateway to the sea at Apollo Bunder, the sea that had been the backdrop to her childhood. Instead, she passed through the metal detectors of the hotel—a legacy of the 2008 attacks, the apologetic young woman receptionist had informed her when she’d checked in—and then took the elevator to her room.
Chapter Seven
In the morning, Smita got to the hospital with moments to spare. The nurse and ward boy were in Shannon’s room, about to transfer her to a gurney to wheel her to surgery. Mohan and Nandini, both of them grim faced, barely glanced at her when she entered the room.
“Smits,” Shannon said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
The words were a broom, sweeping away the last of her resentment at being summoned to Mumbai. “Me too,” she said. “And here’s the good news—there won’t be a verdict today. So I’ll be able to stay with you all day.”
She was dimly aware of the fact that Nandini had spun around to stare at her. But the next second the woman continued arguing with the nurse in Marathi, and Smita could only make out a word or two. She heard the words for bed and transfer, and then heard the nurse say, “Accha, fine. We can take her from here only. Okay?”
“Good,” Nandini said, with a satisfied smile. She turned to Shannon. “They will transport you to the operation theater on this bed, Shannon. They will not put you on the gurney.”
Shannon threw Smita a wry look. Can you believe this shit? she appeared to signal.
“Where do we wait? Can we go with her?” Smita asked Mohan.
“What?” He looked at her absently, as if he’d forgotten who she was. “Yes, of course.” He turned to the nurse. “Chalo, let’s go.”
Shannon extended her hand to Mohan as the male transporter unlocked the bed. “Thanks a million, love,” she said. “I don’t know what I would’ve—”
“No thanks necessary,” Mohan said, shaking his head vigorously. “We’ll see you soon.”
“Inshallah,” Shannon replied, and Smita smiled at her effortless use of the word.
Nandini walked beside the bed as they wheeled Shannon to the operating room, Smita and Mohan following. At the large metal door their little caravan came to a halt. “Only patients past this point,” the nurse said, looking directly at Nandini, as if bracing herself for an argument. But Nandini nodded wordlessly before taking Shannon’s hand in hers. “Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks, Nan. Make sure you take an early start tomorrow, okay? You should pick Smita up and—”
“Shannon,” Mohan and Nandini said in unison, and Shannon smiled.
“See you all later,” she said. “Go get a bite to eat, all of you.”
They wandered back to Shannon’s room to wait, making desultory conversation along the way. Nandini went immediately to the window and stood there, her back turned to Smita and Mohan. Smita shot him an inquiring glance, but he seemed oblivious to her. The conversation sagged and after ten minutes or so, Mohan leapt to his feet. “I need to go outside for a while, yaar,” he announced. “Just to get away from this atmosphere.”
Smita’s stomach sank at the thought of being left alone with Nandini, without Mohan’s buffering presence. The young woman turned around, and Smita saw that her eyes were red and puffy. She caught her breath. “Nandini,” she said. “Shannon is going to be fine.”
“She needs me here,” Nandini said fiercely. “Doctor said it will be a long recovery. Shannon said you were born and bred in India. Why you cannot go to Birwad by yourself?”
Even though she understood the reason for Nandini’s disdain, Smita was taken aback by her hostility. “I . . . I haven’t lived in India in twenty years,” she said. “I was a teenager when I left, you see. So I’m not sure if my Hindi is up to the task. And I’ve never driven in this country.”
“Smita,” Mohan said, “Nandini doesn’t really mean what she said. This is just her worry for her friend speaking. Hai na, Nandini bhen? You wouldn’t really wish for Smita to travel alone, correct?”
The moments ticked by. Finally, Nandini nodded.
“Right,” Mohan said briskly, as if he were unaware of the reluctance with which Nandini had answered. “Shannon always tells me what a professional you are. This was just a moment’s weakness.” He rubbed his hands together. “Chalo, good that we have all this cleared up. Now, I can go for a quick walk. Maybe get you something to eat.” He looked at Smita. “How about you? Shall I pick up some breakfast for you?”
Smita got to her feet. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get out for a few minutes, also. Get some fresh air.”
Mohan glanced at Nandini. “Theek hai?” he asked quietly. “You can always phone us if you need anything.”
But Nandini seemed as eager to get rid of Smita as the latter was to go. “Yes, yes, very good,” she said, nodding vigorously. “If there is any news, I will call.”
“Arre, yaar, they haven’t even given Shannon anesthesia yet. We will be here for several more hours.”
The salty sea air hit them as soon as they exited the hospital, and Smita inhaled deeply. “It’s such a beautiful location for a hospital,” she said.
Mohan looked at her curiously. After a moment he said, “Would you like to go look at the water for a few minutes?”
“Can we? That would be lovely. Tomorrow I have to leave town to go cover this story.” She heard the whininess in her voice and bit the inside of her cheek in embarrassment.
“Sure,” he said, “Follow me.”
Mohan took the outer edge of the sidewalk, closer to the traffic, and the absentminded gracefulness of the gesture made Smita smile. Papa used to do this when they lived in Mumbai.
“So, for whatever reason, I take it you don’t wish to go to Birwad?” Mohan asked as they walked. His tone was pleasant, conversational.
She hesitated. “Well, I’m not looking forward to spending all this time in a car with Nandini,” she said at last. “The woman seems to have taken an intense dislike to me.”
“Rubbish,” Mohan said promptly. “It’s not that at all. You misunderstand. She is just reluctant to leave Shannon, that’s all. You see, she obviously doesn’t think I’m capable of taking care of her.” He smiled. “But may I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you . . . It’s just that, you seemed upset when Shannon asked you to cover the story for her. Why did you agree to come if you don’t wish to do so?”
Smita sighed. “I thought she wanted me to come help take care of her in the hospital. If I’d known that she was okay, that is, that she had you and Nandini, then I . . .”
“Then what?” Mohan said. “You wouldn’t have come?”
Ruminating over Mohan’s question, she swerved to avoid the outstretched arm of the fruit vendor who was holding out a slice of orange for her to sample. “No, I guess I would’ve come anyway if there was no one else to take over,” she finally said. “But I wouldn’t have been caught unawares.”
He nodded. “You should’ve seen your expression when Shannon asked you, yaar.” He made such a grotesque face that Smita laughed.
“Did I really look that shocked?”
“Worse.” And again, he pulled a long, doleful face.
“Hey,” Smita said, “changing the subject, I need to buy a few outfits for tomorrow. Are there any stores around here where I can buy a few pairs of shalwar kameez or something?”
“My friend, you are in Breach Candy. You can buy a new set of grandparents here if you wish.” As he spoke, he gestured with his hand to turn right into a park.
Smita’s breath caught at the sight of the dark pink bougainvillea bushes. And beyond that, the thin gray lip of the Arabian Sea. Tall coconut trees lined the wide walkway that led toward the stone benches facing the water. “Oh wow,” she breathed. “This is stunning.”