“But why didn’t Anjali anticipate this? Why didn’t she—？”
“Don’t blame her. She probably juggles fifty cases at a time. Once in a while, she wins. Most of the time, she loses. It’s like gambling. The house always wins.”
But that was exactly it. The judicial system wasn’t supposed to be rigged like a casino, with the decks stacked against the plaintiffs.
Smita caught herself. What’s the matter with you? she lashed out at herself. You act as if you have never covered a wrong verdict before. Hell, how many times have the cops gotten off after shooting an unarmed black man in America?
“I’ve been thinking,” Mohan said. “Maybe I can ask my father to employ Meena. Allow her to do a few odd jobs and in exchange, give her a roof above her head. We would send Abru to school.”
“Do you think he’ll agree?” Smita said hopefully.
“They already have a full-time cook who lives with them. And Ramdas does the cleaning. It will be a little awkward. The cook is very territorial. But something can be worked out.”
“Oh, Mohan. That would be ideal.”
“It won’t be that easy,” he said. “All this is assuming Meena will agree to move.”
“What do you mean? Why shouldn’t she? You’ve seen for yourself how isolated she is.”
“Ammi. You forget about Ammi. Do you think Meena will abandon her so easily?”
“Abandon her? Mohan, Ammi hates her. You know she blames her for what happened.”
“Exactly. And Meena blames herself. In fact, she agrees with Ammi that she’s the reason why Abdul is dead. So she may feel obliged to stay. And in any case, my parents are not going to be back for a few months.”
The hope that had flared, died out. It would have been so wonderful to have carried this lifeline to Meena this evening. Smita knew that Mohan’s parents would have treated Meena well. But she had the sinking feeling that Mohan’s assessment of Meena’s character, of her fealty to the mother-in-law, was accurate.
Smita remembered how furious Mummy had been when she’d learned that Asif had bribed Sushil to help sell their apartment. Zenobia had accused him of collaborating with their persecutor, the man who had terrorized their children. “Where is your izzat, Asif? Or should I say, Rakesh?” she had taunted her husband. “First, you sold out your religion. Now, even your honor?”
Smita and Rohit had sided with their mother at the time. But after all these years, Smita felt a profound sense of gratitude. Papa had done whatever he needed to do to pull his family to safety. In the depths of his despair, he had refused to play dead. And the rewards for that one compromise had been plentiful: The university had created a tenure-track position for him at the end of his visiting professorship. Mummy eventually began to volunteer at the local library and built a new life; Rohit was happy in his marriage and business. Smita felt a sudden urge to call Papa and thank him for what he’d sacrificed. In fact, she’d do it in person when she visited him, take him to his favorite diner in Columbus and tell him the story of her unexpected visit to India. Papa would forgive her for lying to him, his love for her unwavering, unconditional.
“I’ll talk to her,” Smita said.
“Talk to who?” Mohan replied.
“To Meena. Tonight. I’ll . . . share some of my story with her. If need be. I’ll try and stress the importance of getting away from that wretched place. If not for her sake, for the sake of her child.”
Mohan was silent.
“What?” she said. “You don’t think I should?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure.” He paused. “I . . . I just think that enough damage has been done to this young girl by us. By people like us. I mean, Anjali helped save her life when she was in the hospital. That’s good. Very creditable. But then, she decided to use her for her cause. To fight a battle that she knew Meena couldn’t win.”
“I know. But what I’m . . .”
“How do you know?” Mohan demanded. “How do you know that asking her to leave Birwad is the right thing to do?”
“How can you ask that?” Smita didn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. “I mean, after everything I shared with you about my own family’s experience?”
“How do you know there will be the same happy ending for her?” Mohan said. “And even in your case, Smita, how do you know that you wouldn’t have been happy here? Eventually? Listen. I’m not trying to insult you or your family. I’m just saying, I’ve seen the expression on your face when you look around the countryside when I’m driving.”