Page 15 of Six Days in Bombay

I coughed to let him know I was still there if he needed me. The young doctor—what was he? Just three years older than me?—lifted his head and looked in my direction. For a second, his gray eyes seemed to pierce the gloom of the hallway. He pushed himself off the wall. He took a few steps toward me and opened his mouth, as if there was something he wanted to say. Abruptly, he stopped, his restless eyes scanning ground. Then, without a backward glance, he turned and headed the other way.

If he’d taken one more step, I would have met him halfway. It surprised me, that feeling.

***

I threw the dice and scanned the board. Dr. Stoddard squirmed. “Damned itch. Right where I can’t get to it.” He was irritabletoday. He wouldn’t be discharged for another several days, and he was getting restless. On the other side of the room, Mr. Hassan lay snoring. He’d been given a sleeping draught after his heart attack episode.

I’d made my rounds changing sheets, distributing bedpans, bathing patients, handing out medicine. I had a quarter of an hour before I needed to check on my charges again. So when Dr. Stoddard asked, I agreed to play one round of backgammon with him, keeping an eye peeled for Rebecca.

While he considered his next move, I thought about how to frame my question.

“Doctor, I’m sure you’ve seen your share of injuries.”

“Umm.” He was still preoccupied with the board. Ever since I had shown improvement, he took longer to make his moves.

“Some of those were women I’m sure.”

“Of course.”

“Were there any injuries inflicted by the men in their lives?”

Dr. Stoddard looked up from the board and pushed his black spectacles up over his nose, resting them on his head. “Now why would you ask that?”

I felt like a traitor talking about Indira like this. She had a right to her privacy like anyone else. “I have a friend. She often has bruises. Her husband beats her because he wants a son. So far, she’s only given birth to daughters.”

“But, my dear, that’s beyond her control.”

“Yes, yes. I know that. She knows that. But how can she explain it to her husband so he can understand?”

“Sona!”

I looked at the door. Indira was standing there with an enamel bowl in her hands. Her face was pinched. “How dare you?” She stomped away, as angry as I’d ever seen her.

Dr. Stoddard and I sat for several moments, staring at the doorway, as if she were still standing there.

His tone dry, the doctor said, “I take it that was the battered woman?”

As usual, he was spot on.

***

My heart was heavy when I entered our flat after my shift. My mother had mademalai koftaandmasala bhindialong with chapattis. She told me once that she couldn’t abide English food because it was so bland and colorless. She made no mention of what she served my father when he lived with us. He obviously favored bland and colorless or he wouldn’t have returned to England.

Mum could see that I wasn’t in a mood to talk and she went about quietly fixing me a plate. She’d also madechaach, the buttermilk drink with cumin and salt that I loved. She sat across from me, sewing hooks and eyes on a woman’s blouse while I ate.

I had apologized to Indira several times for confiding in Dr. Stoddard. She’d softened when I explained that I was trying to find a way for her to talk to her husband without inciting his anger. Still, as we left the hospital, Indira asked me not to walk with her to her street, and I assumed she was still upset with me.

“I’m worried for you now, Sona. I think Balbir will be on the lookout for you.” She bit her lip.

I should have been afraid, but I only felt bereft. My only friend at work was rejecting me.

Indira said, “It will be safer for both of us not to be seen together.”

Now, I sat in front of mythalithinking about my conversation with Indira. My mother’skoftawas always delicious, but I was finding it hard to swallow.

My mother bit off the thread as she finished fastening a hook. “Fatima is pregnant.”

My mood lifted. Our neighbor across the way would make a wonderful mother. She was a happy, healthy young woman with an even temper. I don’t think I’d ever heard the couple argue. “How did you find out?”

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