Custody Read Free Page A

change the fabric?
    Silk would look much better, she replied; these were a polyester mix, that’s why they seemed on the shiny cheap side. There was a shop in Khan Market that sold excellent stuff, expensive but with tailoring thrown in. Who had done his decorating, by the way?
    Obviously someone who didn’t know very much. Now would she like some coffee, he wanted to get to know her, did she think that was permissible?
    A giggle that sounded idiotic even to her ears. Of course it was permissible, she said. He made the coffee himself – there was not a single servant about, which seemed strange to her.
    Not yet used to having them underfoot all the time, he explained. Though he’d grown up in India, he’d lived abroad for the past twenty-five years. But he wanted to hear more about her: what did she do with herself, how did she spend her day?
    She was an ordinary woman, why did he want to know? He asked her to guess and as she blushed self-consciously he proceeded with his own history that had led him to this place, this sofa, talking to her.
    Later she was to discover he had a strong sense of the significance of his own presence. But was it any wonder? Apparently he had been successful since the day he was born. And ever since he had joined The Brand, fresh out of Harvard Business School, the company had responded to his devotion with equal commitment.
    Anecdotally he mentioned his recent trip to Africa. People thought capitalism was heartless, they never considered the great good achieved by multinationals. When the folk he met knew he represented The Brand, they practically fell down and kissed his feet, their community work – such as the fight against AIDS – was so well known. He wanted that impact in India as well.
    III
    Raman and Shagun’s marriage had been arranged along standard lines, she the beauty, he the one with the brilliant prospects.
    Their first child had been born within a year. On learning of his young wife’s pregnancy, Raman had blamed himself. He should have been more careful, he wasn’t sure he was ready to be a father. He made the mistake of divulging his doubts to his mother – he hadn’t been married long enough to be wary of such confidences.
    ‘I really wish this hadn’t happened so soon. We need more time together,’ he started.
    His mother bridled. ‘What will she do when you are in office? It is not as though you can be together night and day, particularly when you are in a travelling job.’

‘She is only twenty-two.’
    ‘It may interest you to know I myself was only nineteen when I had you.’
    ‘There was less awareness then. And if you had me at nineteen, surely that was not good for you, Mummy. You don’t want your daughter-in-law to go through the same thing.’
    ‘Beta, it is good to have children early. By the time they settle down you are still young and free enough to enjoy.’
    What she didn’t mention was that as a grandmother she imagined she would have more of a role in her son’s life. As it was she only saw him on Sundays, which just about broke her heart.
    Shagun herself had no doubts. Everything was a glorious adventure, and being pregnant plunged her into the centre of all attention. She didn’t throw up once, her skin glowed, her hair shone, her husband called her a Madonna, her mother said she was fruitful like the earth, her in-laws looked proud and fed her almonds and ghee whenever they could get near her.
    The birth of a boy added to her glory. She had gotten over the duties of heir-producing smoothly, there would be no need to have another child. Her son had inherited her looks and colour, a further source of gratification.
    To Raman’s amazement her figure resumed its girlish curves, leaving only breasts that were more abundant. She now looked like those ideal women described in the Kama Sutra, their hair like a cloud of bees, their breasts like mountains of honey, their eyes like those of a deer, a waist that could be spanned by his two