A House for Happy Mothers: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

for her. Could she have said no? Could she have been selfish and said, “No, this is my body, I decide”?
    And now? Now it was too late. The seed had taken hold, and she could feel her body already nourishing this child that was not hers.

    Asha’s mother-in-law, Puttamma, who now lived with Kaveri and Raman (they had a brick flat with an indoor bathroom), had also thought it was a great idea.
    But to give birth to someone else’s baby—a stranger’s baby—how would that make her feel? Would this be an act of perversion, because it was perverse to deny nature her right to make someone barren and give that person a child anyway? Would this make Asha less of a mother to her own children? Could it somehow corrupt her motherhood, taint her soul?
    “Where are you going?” the woman sitting next to Asha on the bus asked. She was a fat woman who took up a lot of space. The seat was designed for three people, but with this woman’s size, Asha was all but sitting on Pratap’s lap. It didn’t help that Pratap was a big man as well.
    “Srirampuram,” Asha said, looking at Pratap’s hands, the nails always smeared on the edges with remnants of paint, this time white. “Our relatives are there. We’re visiting.” She felt compelled to embellish.
    Their relatives did live there—Kaveri and Raman had bought their big flat in Srirampuram with their baby money. In any case, she couldn’t tell anyone the truth. Society had its rules, and even though many women were now stealthily carrying other people’s children in their wombs, it was all hush-hush, hidden, a dirty secret. The story they’d tell was that Asha became pregnant and then lost the baby. No one in her village would ever approve of this. Decent women didn’t use their bodies to make money. Their family name would be ruined if anyone found out. Asha couldn’t help but wonder what else would be ruined. Her heart, her mind, her body? What if this baby destroyed her womb? What if God struck her down for going against his wishes, giving birth to a child he didn’t wish to see born?
    “I’m going to Hyderabad,” the woman said. “My daughter is about to deliver—any day now. I will be a grandmother for the first time. Do you have children?”
    “Two,” Asha said, and felt a pang. What would she say after this baby growing inside her came out? Would she still say two children, even though she had carried a third and given birth a third time?
    Pratap changed sides to rest his head on Asha’s shoulder, snoring softly. He was fast asleep, she marveled—fast asleep with the noise of the bus, the heat, the smell of sweat, let alone the life inside her womb.
    The noise of the bus engine competed with that of chickens stuffed into baskets in the rear seats. People were talking, a radio was playing Telugu songs, there was the rustle of newspapers being opened, and babies were crying, making the crowded bus feel even more stifling. A woman sitting across from Asha had a basket of vegetables on her lap—tomatoes, coriander, cucumber, and bitter gourd. People were taking their wares to the bazaar in Srirampuram. Someone somewhere on the bus was eating mirchi bajjis , and Asha could smell the chili and the oil they were fried in. Pregnancy was already sharpening her sense of smell. They could do all the tests they wanted, Asha thought; she already knew she was pregnant.
    “We have a boy and a girl,” Asha said proudly. One of each, she liked to say—an accomplishment.
    “We wanted to know if the baby was a boy or a girl, but they wouldn’t tell us; you know how it is these days,” the woman said. “A shame that people kill their baby in the belly because it’s a girl.”
    “Yes,” Asha said, and shifted to be comfortable in spite of Pratap’s weight on her shoulder.
    “That’s your husband? What does he do?” the woman asked.
    Asha told her and the woman smiled. “Handsome boy.”
    Asha smiled back and then looked fondly at Pratap. He was