Page 16 of The Secret Keeper of Jaipur

Kanta Auntie says, “He’s perfect, isn’t he?”

Niki looks over at us to make sure we’re watching him. I wave and smile. I’m among the few who know that when he was a day old, she and Manu secretly adopted him. Even Kanta’ssaasdoesn’t know. She thinks Niki is the son Kanta delivered twelve years ago in Shimla. “Yes,” I say. “He is.”

Kanta lets a moment pass, then says, “Does Radha ever look at the photos of Niki I send to Lakshmi?”

I hesitate. “Auntie-Boss forwards your letters to Radha in France.”

This is true, but Radha has never acknowledged receiving photos of Niki or the letters telling her what the boy is doing, how he’s faring at school or at cricket. Even before she left for France, Radha never looked at Niki’s photos, the ones Lakshmi would leave lying about on the dining room table. Radha told me that her baby ceased to exist the day she decided to leave him in Kanta’s care. It had been so traumatic leaving him like that; she wanted no reminders of that time of her life. I often wonder if marrying Pierre and moving to France was a way of creating even more distance between herself, her son and her former friend Kanta. If so, I understood. Radha was fourteen when she had Niki—an unmarried girl on the cusp of becoming a woman. Parting with her baby was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do in her life. She’d also had to part with Ravi, whom she’d loved but who had hurt her deeply.

Kanta decides not to pursue the matter. “I miss Lakshmi, Malik. I wish she still lived here. I talk to her in my head all the time but, of course, it’s not the same.” She glances at me, her eyes crinkling. “Even if it’s only in my head, I make sure it’s a two-way conversation. She always has the best advice for me!” Kanta laughs.

Lakshmi doesn’t talk about it often, but I know that she misses Kanta, too. They were easy with each other; I haven’t seen Boss be that way with another female friend in Shimla.

We watch Niki wind up the ball and throw it to his father. I think it’s clear to all of us that keeping the Agarwals and Lakshmi apart is best for everyone. Anyone who saw Niki with Lakshmi or Radha would almost certainly suspect Niki and the sisters were related. With his fair skin, and peacock-green eyes, so much like Radha’s, he looks nothing like his adoptive parents.

Luckily, he’s usurped the mannerisms of the mother and father who’ve raised him. He shrugs his shoulders up and down when he laughs, just like Kanta does. When listening intently, he stands with his head tilted to one side, his hands behind his back, a perfect copy of Manu.

I watch him pitch a ball, so gracefully for a boy so young. He’s a natural athlete, like his birth father. I often wonder if Ravi Singh knows that the son he had by Radha lives only a few miles from him. Would he want to know? When his parents learned about Radha’s pregnancy, they hustled Ravi to England and kept him there for the remainder of his schooling. He was only seventeen at the time.

Kanta turns to me now. “I’ve seen him watching.”

“Who?”

“Samir Singh.”

“Samir is watching who?”

“Niki.”

Well, of course, Samir would have occasion to run across Niki. Forsangeetsat the homes of mutual friends and community festivals—unlessKanta and Manu have deliberately stayed away from such events. Because it would make them so uncomfortable—all the questions they’d have to answer. The silent judgment. All at once, I realize what a burden it is for this family to keep Niki hidden, as it were. Does he realize the measures his parents have taken to keep the gossip-eaters at bay? But what choice do they have?Bastard.Illegitimate.They don’t want his life to be tainted by labels. A wave of sadness passes over me.

Kanta sees the look on my face. “What I mean is—”

Just then, Niki calls to me. “Uncle, look!”

I turn to watch him pitch a perfect burner. Manu strokes his bat and misses.

Kanta claps and Niki raises both arms, declaring victory. He calls to me. “Now you try, Abbas Uncle!”

I look at Kanta. She presses her lips together and nods. “Go on,” she says. “We’ll talk later.”

I head off across the manicured lawn to take the ball from Manu. For the next hour, Niki, Manu and I improvise a makeshift game. Of course, Niki is the winner.

Over dinner, I ask Niki about his school and the classes he’s taking. He says English and history are the classes he likes best, and I fight back a smile. I can imagine a young Radha sitting with us at this table, telling us about her love of Shakespeare and her fascination with the Moghul Empire.

Eventually, our talk turns to the Royal Jewel Cinema project. Manu says, “You know that Maharani Latika is the driving force behind that project?”

I’m holding a piece ofchapattiand eggplantsubjiin my hand. “Yes, I think Samir Uncle told me.”

Manu smiles. “Her Highness took it upon herself to complete the building projects the maharaja had started before he died. We’d just finished His Highness’s hotel remodel and broken ground on the cinema hall when he passed unexpectedly.” Manu sips from his water glass. “So far, things are going smoothly. What did you think of the Royal Jewel Cinema?”

“Brilliant. Really impressive, Uncle.”

Manu looks pleased and helps himself to moresubji. “Completed in record time.”

I sip some of Baju’s excellentmoong dal. “What’s it like working for her, the maharani?”

“The most beautiful woman in the world.”Niki chuckles. Those words appeared on the most recent cover ofVoguemagazine, across a photo of the glamorous Jaipur queen.

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