A Scandalous Secret

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Sinking onto the chair, Neha tried to contain her runaway thoughts. The baby … the baby she had given away had not even had a name.

‘It’s best you don’t go choosing a name, my dear. Because, you see, harsh as it sounds, it’s crucial you don’t bond with the child. Now that the decision’s been made to give her up, you see. Naming her will only create a bond. So will breast-feeding. I’ll fetch you a pump and you can expel your milk into that. We’ll give it to her in a bottle. Your decision has been made; it’s best to let her go …’ The room had swum around, causing the hospital counsellor’s face to disappear for a few seconds into the grey murk …

Was that why Neha had never been able to see her baby as having any human potential at all? She had followed all those instructions to the tee, refusing to bond with the child who would never be hers. And, later, she had quite deliberately never thought of its welfare, or kept track of its age and possible circumstances. That was the only way to survive the experience. Only she knew the reasons for which she had taken that decision. It was not one she would make today but, at that tender age, she had been a different person. Except, who would believe her if she said that now? Certainly not the child she had given away …

Another burst of laughter made Neha sit up straight and square her shoulders. She needed to get back to her guests before her absence was noticed. If someone came in search of her, what would they think to see her sitting by herself on the veranda while her party was in full swing? She needed to ensure everyone had eaten, that the dessert tables were elegantly laid out. Rose petals! Had they remembered the rose petals? Neha had this afternoon asked her chef to ensure that pink rose petals were scattered over the pile of kesar kulfi that should by now be melting to a delicious creaminess. The timing had to be just right, the kulfis removed from their metal moulds exactly fifteen minutes before they were served in order to maximize their texture and flavour. But, suddenly, it all seemed so inconsequential, this ridiculous bid for perfection. What had been the point of all this? These famed parties, this stunning mansion, the dream life that she and Sharat seemingly had … perhaps she had been trying to make things look so perfect because she knew that they were not perfect at all …

Neha looked around herself in a panic, feeling a terrible surging in her stomach, recalling old terrors she had thought were over. For so many years the fear that she would get found out had followed Neha around, infecting everything she had done. It had even caused her to do deliberately badly in the Foreign Service entrance exams, despite her father’s continuing ambitions on her behalf. She had never been able to tell him, but the truth was that she was terrified of finding herself in the kind of job that would have propelled her into the public eye, thus exposing her to someone who may know her secret. All she had wanted then was to to burrow herself into a hole and disappear from public view. What if she was recognized? What if everyone found out what she had done? It was too horrible to even contemplate. But, slowly, as the years had moved on and those events had receded into the distant past, Neha had almost begun to feel as though that life had belonged to a different girl. After all, she had never put a foot wrong subsequently. And then she had met Sharat and, in his shining goodness, Neha had finally found a kind of forgetfulness.

‘You and I are of the same type, Neha darling. Thank God we both enjoy people and have the same genuine urge to help humanity … together we should make a beautiful home where our friends and family and, in fact, all kinds of needy people will always find an open door … I feel so grateful that you have agreed to marry me. Not only do I love you but you are my perfect life companion …’

Neha now closed her eyes as Sharat’s voice chose that moment to float into the veranda. From inside the room, she heard him say something indistinct and she savoured his loud familiar belly laugh as someone responded with a joke.

Neha got up resolutely and made for the French windows. She would return to her party; pretend that all was well. And all was well for now. She ought to hang on to that, cherish every moment of what she might soon lose. It was strange to be so out of control but, in all the planning and secrecy, the one thing Neha had never considered was that the baby she had given up would grow up and become an independent young woman in her own right. One who would have a mind of her own. And, regardless of all the careful control exerted by Neha, all the covering up of her tracks, one who would set out one day in search of her.