Page 11 of The Secret Keeper of Jaipur

She leads me into a long corridor. A few steps farther and we’ve come out of the back of the building, where I see a neatly laid-out garden that’s twice as large as the footprint of the clinic. It’s surrounded by a wooden fence. Each row is carefully labeled, I imagine with Lakshmi’s handwriting on a wooden stake. I can see the soil has been turned recently and some rows have been tilled but not yet planted. Off to one side are more mature trees, likenag kesar, whose leaves our tribe always uses to make a poultice for head colds. I spot a spindly tree, struggling to survive.

Mrs. Kumar sees where I’m looking, and laughs. “That’s me being hopeful,” she says. “The powder I make from a sandalwood tree is good for relieving headaches, but I haven’t found the right place for it. I’ll keep trying until I find it.”

Three-foot shrubs are planted next to the trees. I recognize moonseed,brahmiand wild senna.

“I’ve set some rows aside where we can grow the flowers you provide for poultices and treatments.”

Lakshmi talks as if I have already accepted her offer. When I nod, again, I realize I haven’t said a word since I came into the clinic.

“In Jaipur I used herbal remedies made from native plants to heal women’s ailments. I’ve been doing the same in Shimla, using plants that grow only here. Shimla’s climate is so different from Jaipur’s. I had to learn about the native herbs and flowers that grow in this soil, in these foothills.” She pauses, looking at me. Maybe thinking that she’s telling me too much? Or is she waiting for me to respond to what she’s telling me or to ask a question? I’m not sure, so I say nothing. In a moment, she continues.

“There’s so much more to learn. Thatsikdish you made from local fruit for one of our patients? If you can do that, just imagine how much more you can do with medicinal plants that grow in the higher elevations. You could help so many of the people who come to our clinic, Nimmi. Let’s try growing those same plants in the Healing Garden and see what happens!”

Lakshmi’s blue eyes are sparkling with excitement, and she bends down and grabs a handful of soil. “I’ve put different ingredients in the soil, trying to make it as rich as it can be—and also a little less acidic.” She lets the dirt—moist, black, free of twigs, pebbles and leaves—fall through her fingers. “Mostly I’ve been using pulverized limestone—” She stops, turns to me and laughs. “I’m going on and on, aren’t I?”

She rubs her hands together to get rid of the soil. “Shall we get started on the paperwork to see that you get paid on time?”

As always, Lakshmi exudes confidence. I have to wonder if she’s ever failed at anything. If any of her many plans have not worked out. Is she so confident because things always go the way she means them to? Did she always know Malik would agree to go to Jaipur for his apprenticeship? Does she mean to keep him there...forever?

“After we’ve done the paperwork, I’ll introduce you to the staff,” she says, already on her way to the back door of the clinic. “We’ll draw up a list of plants you think we’ll need to fill out our garden. Our tools are in that shed. I use dung for fertilizer—cow or sheep or goat, depending. Bhagwan knows there’s plenty of the stuff to go around, though certain of the staff complain about the odor of the sheep dung!”

The afternoon passes quickly. Given my dress and jewelry, most of the staff I’m introduced to would normally stare at me on the street, but here they’re polite to my face, murmuring welcomes. I can tell by the way they defer to her that they obviously respect Mrs. Kumar. After we wash our hands—with more soap than I’ve ever used in life at one time—she introduces me to her husband. I’ve been curious to meet the man Malik has told me so much about. Dr. Jay, as Malik calls him, is tall, taller than anyone I’ve met. His black-and-white curls are in disarray over his forehead. He has gray eyes, both observant and kind. When he first sees me, his eyes flit to my silver medallion, my skirt, the overhead ceiling fan and his shoes. He’s shy, like my Rekha. His smile reveals two overlapping front teeth. I find myself smiling back at him.

“So this is the mother of the charming Rekha and little Chullu! Pleased to meet you. If Sister out there weren’t watching me, Rekha would be able to charm me out of the whole lot of animal balloons Mrs. Kumar stocks!” The skin around his eyes crinkles into small folds when he smiles.

Mrs. Kumar looks at him fondly. “Arré!The balloon seller has been able to remodel his whole house because of your generosity!”

I see now that my clothes are not right for gardening. The sisters are in white habits. Dr. Jay wears a white coat over his clothes. Mrs. Kumar and the woman at the front desk wear white coats over their saris. Should I ask for a white coat to keep my finest skirts from getting soiled? And what will I do about my jewelry?

As if Lakshmi Kumar has heard me ask the question, she says to the nun behind the front desk, “Sister, would you please give Nimmi-jione of the gardening aprons and a set of gloves? Oh, and also that paperwork I filled out earlier for Nimmi-ji.”

I feel a jolt up my spine. She knows I can’t read Hindi or English. What will the other clinic staff think—the ones who can read and write? Is Lakshmi trying to humiliate me?

The nun hands the paperwork to Mrs. Kumar, who rolls it and puts it in her coat pocket. She glances at me. “Perhaps later this afternoon, you and I can go over it,accha? I must join Dr. Kumar now.” With a reassuring smile at me, she parts the curtain, about to disappear into the area where she and the doctor work with patients. Where Malik must have taken Rekha and Chullu for their ear infections.

“Lakin...”

Mrs. Kumar turns her head around to look at me, inquiringly.

“It’s just... My Chullu. I must feed him.”

She looks down at my blouse, stricken, as if she’s just remembered that I’m still breastfeeding.

“Oh, Nimmi. I’m sorry. Of course! Why not bring Chullu and Rekha to work from now on? Maybe we can get Rekha to help water the plants.” She raises her brows. “But we would have to be careful around the clinic. Most of what the patients come in for isn’t infectious, but we want your children to stay healthy,hahn-nah?”

I return to the clinic in an hour, Chullu on my back and Rekha at my side. At home I changed into a homespun skirt, and a sweater blouse my sister-in-law gave me. I’ve cinched the blouse with the wool belt where I keep my husband’s knife. I’ve covered my head with a patterned shawl that holds my hair back.

Lakshmi comes with us to the garden carrying a clipboard, and we talk about the healing plants we need to sow. She makes notes and says she might forget unless she writes down what she’s thinking. As I watch her write, I think about the vendor who twists balloons into the shape of animals. The letters formed in Hindi are something like that, except, instead of animals, they make swirls and dots, circles and slanted lines. Lakshmi’s writing is even and neat, but what I find more beautiful is how her henna-decorated fingers move in rhythm with her pen. The henna’s cinnamon color is richer today than it was yesterday, and the contrast of cinnamon against the white page is striking.

When she sees me watching her, I look away. From the corner of my eye, I see her tap her lips with her fountain pen.

“Since Rekha will be coming here so often, I’d like to teach her how to read. If that’s all right with you. She’s four now, isn’t she? A perfect time to get her interested. We’ll practice during breaks, and you can sit in if you’d like.”

My daughter is drawing circles with her fingers in the loamy soil. I’m thinking of the possibilities. Might she become apadha-likha, or even adoctrinilike Mrs. Kumar? Imagine! A tribal girl writing on paper, just like Lakshmi!

“Eventually, you’ll need to make lists of plants and supplies. For now, you can draw what the leaves of the plants look like.” With a few quick strokes, she draws a leaf on the edge of her clipboard. “Like this.”

“Moonseed!” I grin.

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