The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,89

“And that’s the other thing. Because of you, his reputation will get affected. He said that Sankleshwar actually accused him of double dealing—my father!—but thankfully, he put him right…. Otherwise, Daddy’s good name would be in tatters! Even so, he says, because of you, his own real estate development scheme could get messed up…. Anand, how could you!”

“What? What the fuck did he tell Sankleshwar?”

“Don’t use that language with me now!” said Vidya. “He told Sankleshwar the truth: that you were the one who did the double-deal, agreeing to Sankleshwar and agreeing to someone else at the same time…. Anand, don’t look like that! Daddy’s reputation is important to him.”

“And mine isn’t?” Anand asked, so furious he could barely speak. “Vidya, listen. I didn’t do a ‘double deal.’ I only agreed to work with that other Landbroker person. Your father had no right agreeing to anything with Sankleshwar. What he did was wrong! Are you listening to me?”

“He risked his entire reputation for you. He’s bending over backwards and you bloody go and do something that he says no self-respecting businessman would do.”

“Vidya, are you even listening? He had no business agreeing to anything. He had no right.”

“Yes, only you can do whatever you want. No one else has any right! That is just how you want your world, isn’t it? No need to show respect to anybody else. He put his integrity on the line for you. He’s a man of his word—and you are not. You are not! That is the person you’ve become.”

“Well, you and your father are the only two people who think so.”

“And, of course, we are the only two people,” said Vidya, “whose opinion doesn’t matter to you…. I can’t believe you would treat my father so badly, while expecting me to cater to every whim and fancy of yours. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Fine,” he said. “Don’t do it. I’ll take care of my father—and you please take care of yours.”

“He’ll never forgive you, Anand,” she said, bursting into tears. “And neither will I.”

Great, he said. Don’t.

Later he heard her on the phone. “Kavika,” she said.

Fuck, he thought. Not that.

twenty

THE COURTYARD WAS QUIET these days, for more than half the rooms that surrounded it lay empty. The landlord had sent tenants on their way as their leases had come to an end, without renewing them or replacing the tenants with fresh ones. But early this morning, the silence was rent by noise that showed no signs of diminishing.

Kamala opened her door and quickly shut it again in shock, before sitting inside the darkness of her room, listening hard. Narayan sat cross-legged next to her, barely discernible in the dark, offering the mute comfort of his hands, which Kamala clasped tight, as much to soothe as to be soothed.

Loud wails, shouts of anger, the drag and thump of heavy household objects.

“But where are we to go? Mother, please!” The young bride wailing. “Brothers. Please. You are like family to us. We have no one else.”

If you throw us out like this, where do we go?

If we have nowhere to live, how can he find employment?

Please give us another month. We will find the rent. Mother, please. Brothers!

But the landlord’s two oldest sons, normally so polite, would not relent. They dragged the belongings of the reluctant young couple out onto the street, under the unyielding supervision of their grandmother. The landlord himself was nowhere to be seen. It was well known that he could not bear to witness scenes of sorrow among his tenants.

At some point, Kamala and Narayan crept out of their room and, unnoticed, past the shouting figures outside the courtyard, he to school, she to her work. Today, Kamala was sure, the landlord’s mother would ask for increased rent. And how was she to handle that? She recalculated, again and again, the figures in her mind. Would Vidya-ma agree to a small raise in her salary? Would Anand-saar? Who else could she turn to for a little extra money?

The landlord’s mother was indeed waiting for her that evening. But she did not ask for increased rent. Dumbly, Kamala listened—and finally much of what she had seen over the past few months became clear to her. Things she had stupidly ignored, small, telltale signs, were suddenly connected to one another in a hateful pattern. The reason the courtyard lay silent and empty. The reason the bride and her husband had been so rudely evicted. The growing sorrow of the landlord’s face, where unhappiness multiplied