Smita felt Mohan tense and spoke before he could. “What about you, Arvind?” she said quickly. “Do you feel the same way?”
Arvind looked from her to his brother and then back at her. “Whatever my older brother thinks is best,” he said.
“But I thought you were close to Meena,” Smita said, although in that moment she couldn’t recall how she knew this, whether Meena had mentioned the detail to her or she’d read it in one of Shannon’s stories.
For a split second Arvind’s face softened, but then he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. This my brother’s house. He is my elder.”
“And yet, this entire house was built from your sisters’ earnings, wasn’t it?” Mohan said. As the affront registered on Govind’s face, Smita wanted to smack Mohan.
“Arre, wah, seth,” Govind said, his eyes glimmering with malice. “You are a guest in my home, but you are so free with your insults. Yes, you are correct. Our sisters paid for this house out of their ill-gotten wealth.”
He turned to Smita, as if he expected a more sympathetic ear. “I had a bride picked out for Arvind. She came from a good family from a nearby village, and they were willing to pay a big dowry. But after word got around about my sisters working at that factory, they called off the wedding.”
Arvind was staring straight ahead, his face expressionless.
“Were you upset about this?” Smita asked him.
Arvind laughed dismissively. “They dug their own grave,” he said. “From the dowry my bride would’ve brought, we would have paid Meena and Radha’s dowries. That’s why only Govind bhai was so anxious to get me married off first. Then, he could get rid of our sisters. Two less mouths for us to feed once they became their husband’s responsibility. But as it turned out, we didn’t have to pay any dowry to that old cripple who married Radha.”
Smita had thought that Arvind was the gentler of the two brothers. But she found herself disliking him as much as she did the older one. It was as if Meena’s transgressions had destroyed all familial feeling.
“So, tell me something,” Mohan said. “Who put up the bail money to get you out of the lockup? Did you have to borrow from the money lender?”
“No, seth,” Govind said. “We used our own money.”
“Your sisters’ money? Their savings?”
Govind scowled. “No female has any right to her savings. All their money belonged to me as the head of the household. This is our custom.”
“I see.” Mohan smiled pleasantly. “Is it also your custom to try and murder your sister because you are angry that she ran away to another man and that her salary had stopped coming to you? Because that’s what your neighbors are saying.”
“Mohan!” Smita said, knowing he’d gone too far.
But she was too late. Govind was already on his feet, his big, peasant hands clenched in fists. “Please, both of you, leave my house right now. Before something untoward happens.”
Mohan rose to his feet, too, and stepped in front of Smita. “You keep your threats for poor women like your sister,” he said evenly. “If you so much as look in the direction of my . . . my wife . . . I’ll have you hung upside-down and beaten at the police station. You hear me?”
Govind’s eyes went flat, opaque. “Yes, sahib,” he said dully. “We know the power that you people possess. You can crush ordinary men like me under the soles of your shoes. We know your kind.”
“That’s right.”
“Mohan, stop,” Smita said. “This is getting out of hand.” She turned toward Govind. “Listen, I’m sorry . . .”
“Don’t you apologize,” Mohan said. “Don’t you dare say ‘I’m sorry’ to this, this bastard.”
“Arre, bas!” A shout rang out and they all jumped. It was Arvind, his eyes teary, his chest heaving. “Everybody, stop. And you people . . . Go. Just go.”
Smita and Mohan were in the car and pulling away when Govind strode toward them. “Even if they give me the death penalty, it will be worth it.” He grinned humorlessly, showing tobacco-stained teeth. “Just to have watched that fucker dance as he burned.”
“Are you saying you murdered him?” Smita said.
He spat on the ground. “I am confessing to nothing. Every witness in Birwad has changed their story. Nobody is believing what that whore has to say.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Smita said. “I can’t hear another word of this.”