The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,125
himself had called the Landbroker, to confirm that he was to proceed with full haste and no impediment. “How did you do it, saar?” The Landbroker’s happiness was contagious; he prowled the office in a bright celebratory pink shirt, glancing at Anand in some wonderment. “I saw that photo, saar. In the paper.”
Anand waved him off. “That was nothing. Now tell me, how quickly can we complete the land registration?”
The Landbroker’s gold-edged sunglasses joyfully caught the fluorescent office light. “Immediately, saar. Immediately.”
*
HE RETURNED HOME EARLY to find his father was waiting for him. Waiting to speak. “My presence here,” his father said, addressing the matter directly, “is making your wife uncomfortable?”
Anand was mortified. “No, Appa, no,” he said. “That was something else. She is happy to have you here.”
“She is not happy,” his father said and moved on to his next concern. “You did not come home one night. You stayed in the factory. Everything is all right, there?”
Anand sighed. “Yes,” he said. “There was some problem. I have sorted it out.”
His father inclined his head. “Good, good.”
He seemed to have more to say: “Anand, I still do not think that you have chosen the right path for yourself. In work and other matters. But perhaps you were destined to select such a path? … If that is the case, then there is nothing I or anyone else could have done to thwart you, is it not? … I see that you work very hard. That is good. After all, if this is your karma, then you have a moral duty to give it your best, to persevere. You are doing that.” The old man nodded. “You are doing that.”
“Why don’t you come see it?” Anand said, surprising himself. “The factory?”
His father responded as though it were the most natural suggestion in the world. “Next week,” he said. “Your mother will be here by then. One of her sisters, your Meena Chikkamma, will come to sit with your grandmother and we will be able to go home. We will both come to see your factory.”
Anand’s initial shock gave way to reluctant laughter, but his father did not seem to notice. He was absorbed, once more, in the day’s paper, his pencil at the ready.
ANAND HAD ONE MORE thing to do that day. Valmika had spent the past two days at a friend’s house on an extended sleepover; Vidya was surprised when he’d volunteered to fetch her. “Are you sure? It’s in Koramangala. That’s an hour’s drive. Why don’t I just send the driver?”
Valmika smiled when she saw Anand in the car. “I didn’t know you were coming to pick me up,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat beside him.
“Had a good time?” he asked. “Had fun?”
“So-so,” said Valmika. “We watched a movie. Mostly, we talked. Painted our nails. Look, Appa!” She waved her fingers in his line of vision; each nail was painted a different color and studded with glitter.
“Very nice,” he said. Despite the gesture, she seemed unusually sober and thoughtful.
Valmika fell silent, then: “Appa. Why are you so angry with Mama?”
“Me? I am not, sweetie. I am not. Why do you say that?”
She didn’t reply. After a silence, she said: “My friend, Anamika? Her parents are divorcing….”
Anand pulled over to the side of the road, switched off the engine, and caught his daughter by her shoulders. “Listen,” he said, “Listen. Mama and I are not going to divorce. Understand? Okay, laddu? This is a promise. Okay?”
“But you’re angry with her, Appa. I can see that.”
“Arrey. Last week when I made you study your physics, you were angry with me, no? It happens. Let it be.”
Valmika relaxed. Sighed. Anand started the car and eased into the traffic. After a while, she said: “They say Anamika’s father has a girlfriend in Brazil.”
“In Brazil? … All the way over there? … Not a very practical fellow, is he?” he said and was gratified to hear his daughter giggle.
EVENTUALLY HIS FRIENDS LEARNED that his political troubles had lifted, but Anand never volunteered to any of them the details of how he had pulled it off—or the fact that, once the registration of the land was complete, he wrote a check to Vijayan’s party, unsolicited, from his personal account, even though it irked him to do so. He wanted to ensure their continuing goodwill.
The elections drew nearer; the headlines had a photograph of Vijayan addressing a public meeting, with the caption: YES WE CAN! VIJAYAN VOWS TO FIGHT CORRUPTION.