“The picture of her in the paper . . .”
“Yes. She’s still pretty disfigured.”
“And nothing more can be done? To help?”
“To make her look more presentable, you mean? What for?” There was no mistaking the bitterness in Anjali’s voice. “You think anyone else is going to marry this poor woman? You think her neighbors will ever speak to her again? You think she will ever be anything more than what she is—a social pariah?”
“Well, then why put her through the trauma of a lawsuit?”
There was a strained silence. When Anjali finally spoke, she enunciated each word slowly and deliberately: “To set a precedent. To issue a warning to the next bastard thinking of burning alive a woman. And hopefully, to lock these monsters up forever. That’s all. Not to improve Meena’s life. She knew this when she agreed. And that is why she’s the bravest woman I know. You understand?”
“I do,” Smita said.
After they hung up, Smita closed her eyes, processing everything Anjali had told her. When she looked up, she saw Mohan standing in front of her, frowning as he peered into her face. “Hi,” he said quietly.
Fear made her lean forward in her chair. “What’s wrong?” she whispered. “Shannon . . . ?”
“。 . . is out of surgery,” he said. “She’s in the recovery room. The surgery took less time than they’d thought. It went really well.”
“Thank God.”
Mohan gave a slight nod. “Well, I just wanted to give you the news,” he said. “Carry on with your work. I’ll see you later.” He turned to leave but stopped, his attention snagged by the picture of Meena on Smita’s open laptop. “Is that her? Meena?”
Smita nodded.
He emitted a low whistle. “This poor woman,” he said. “Her . . . those scars. Her face looks like a map or something.”
That’s it exactly, Smita thought. Meena’s face was a map created by a brutal, misogynistic cartographer.
Mohan sat down across from her. “Do you ever get used to seeing such misery? I mean, in your line of work you must see this kind of thing often, no?”
She shook her head, unable to answer. Everywhere she went, it seemed, it was open season on women. Rape, female genital mutilation, bride burnings, domestic abuse—everywhere, in every country, women were abused, isolated, silenced, imprisoned, controlled, punished, and killed. Sometimes, it seemed to Smita that the history of the world was written in female blood. And of course, to go into the far-flung parts of the world to tell these stories required a certain amount of dispassion. But getting used to it? That was another thing altogether. No, she wouldn’t be worth her salt as a reporter if she ever got used to the injustice inflicted on women like Meena.
“I . . . I don’t think so,” she said. “But, I’m never in a place long enough to get really involved, you know?”
He frowned. “That’s good?”
“It’s not a matter of good or bad. It’s just the nature of the beast.”
“I see.” He nodded. “Okay, I should let you work. See you later.”
Smita watched as Mohan walked away, took in the loping walk, noticed how he strode with his palms facing backward. She turned back to her laptop and began to read about Meena’s sad, ruined life.
Chapter Eight
Three hotel employees had already approached Smita as she stood in the lobby of the Taj with her suitcase, asking if she needed assistance. She reached for her phone to call Nandini.
“Hey.” The male voice came from behind her, making Smita jump. She turned around so fast that Mohan took a hasty step backward, raising his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle.”
“What are you doing here?” Smita looked around the Taj’s lobby. “Where’s Nandini? Is Shannon—”
“Shannon’s fine,” Mohan said hastily. “She has a slight fever, but the doctor said it’s not unusual.” He hesitated, looking at Smita closely. “But Nandini. Well. She had a meltdown at the hospital this morning. She called me on my mobile, crying. She’s refusing to leave Shannon’s side.”
“What is she, in love with Shannon or something?” The words were out of Smita’s mouth before she could take them back.
Mohan looked at her, one eyebrow crooked. “No,” he said. “She just . . . cares about Shannon, that’s all.”