Chapter 17: Gauri

The acquisition of Randhawa's stake took: six weeks.

Not because it was: difficult — the financial mechanics were: straightforward. LIC increased its: holding. The Malhotra-Khanna treasury bought: shares on the open market. A friendly fund — managed by Mohini's colleagues at Goldman Sachs, because Mohini was: an asset and assets were: leveraged — absorbed the remainder. By March, Randhawa's eleven percent had been: reduced to: three. And three percent was: noise. Three percent was: a seat at the shareholders' meeting and nothing: else.

Randhawa: called. Not Papa ji. Not HK. Me. He called: me.

"Mrs. Malhotra," he said. The: voice of a man who had been: diminished and who was: choosing whether to be: gracious or: bitter. The voice: chose neither. The voice chose: respect, which was: the most dangerous choice of all.

"Mr. Randhawa."

"You've: won."

"We've: protected."

"Same: thing."

"Not: remotely."

"Your foundation — the schools, the borewells — that was: clever. Using: charity as a defence. I: underestimated."

"You underestimated: everything. The foundation. The: marriage. The woman who: runs both."

"I: did. And I won't: again."

"There won't be: an 'again.' You hold three: percent. Three percent is: a rounding error."

"Three percent is: a lesson. And I: learn."

The phone: disconnected. Randhawa: style — abrupt, no pleasantry. But the: tone had shifted. The tone of a man who had recognised: a superior opponent and who had filed that: recognition away for future: reference.

*

Kamini was: six months old when the: first anniversary arrived.

The first anniversary of: the marriage. The: terrace anniversary. March. The month of: wind and dust and the specific Delhi weather that refused to: commit. The month when a woman had: thrown glitter at a stranger and the: stranger had stayed.

Abeer planned: nothing. The Calculator who planned: everything planned: nothing. Which was: the plan.

"No: restaurant," he said. "No: party. No: three hundred people."

"Then: what?"

"The: terrace."

The: Oberoi terrace. Where we: started. The terrace where the: wind had opinions and the glitter had: attacked and the champagne bottle had been: a weapon. Abeer had: arranged — the word was: deliberate — he had arranged: access. The Oberoi management, being: the Oberoi, had accommodated the request of a Malhotra with the: specific hospitality of an institution that understood: legacy clients.

We stood on the: terrace. In: March. With: wind. With: Kamini — six months old, wrapped in: a shawl that Bua ji Chandigarh had knitted with the: specific intensity of a woman who believed that: babies required seventeen layers in any: weather. Kamini was: sleeping. The sleep of an infant who was: too young to understand: anniversaries and who would, in: time, understand that her parents had: started in this exact spot.

"I brought: glitter," I said.

"Of: course you did."

"It's: biodegradable."

"It's: always biodegradable."

I opened: the compact. The same: compact. The compact I had: carried since twelve. The compact that was: Maa's birthday, Maa's: ritual, the glitter that connected: the living and the dead.

"Happy: birthday, Maa," I said. "Wherever you: are. This is: Kamini. Your granddaughter. She's: uncalculable."

I blew: the glitter. The wind: cooperated. For once. The: glitter flew into the: night, into the: Delhi sky, into the: darkness that contained: everything — the city and the: traffic and the: dust and the: seventeen million people who were: living their lives below this terrace, unaware that above them a woman was: talking to her dead mother and holding: her alive daughter and standing next to: a man who had stayed.

"The: buffer zone," Abeer said.

"Still: zero?"

"Still: zero. Permanently: zero."

"The Calculator has: a conclusion?"

"The Calculator has: a feeling. Which is: different. Better."

"What: feeling?"

"The feeling that this — the terrace, the wind, the: glitter, you, the: baby — this is: uncalculable. And uncalculable is: the point."

Kamini: stirred. In my: arms. The six-month-old: awareness of a person who was: beginning to notice the world, who was: beginning to understand that: sound and light and: warmth meant: things.

"She'll: remember this," I said.

"She's: six months old. She won't remember: anything."

"She'll: remember the feeling. Not the: details. The: feeling of being held. On a: terrace. In: March. With: wind."

"That's: sentimental."

"That's: motherhood. Welcome to: the uncalculable."