Oleander Girl by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni Read Free Book Online

Street gallery, the warehouse near Sealdah, the New York operation. Their penthouse occupies the entire top floor of a building bordering Rabindra Sarobar. From her bedroom window, Mrs. Bose can see the lotuses on the morning lake, the long, low boats filled with rowers.
    When Mr. Bose’s father was dying, he sent word. Could he see his son one last time? He didn’t mention his daughter-in-law.
    “I won’t go unless you agree, Joyu,” Mr. Bose said.
    Mrs. Bose, who does not believe in self-deception, knows she has many flaws. She drives a hard bargain. She cares too much for social acclaim. She is quick to take offense though smart enough to hide it. She seldom forgets or forgives and rarely trusts. But on that day, looking at the painful pucker between Mr. Bose’s brows, she was surprised to discover something new about herself: for her family’s happiness, she was willing to sacrifice her pride.
    She had taken him by the hand and led him to the door. “Go, Shanto. I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
    For her family’s happiness. Isn’t that why she has thrown this lavishparty today, in spite of certain recent financial problems, to welcome the girl Rajat has chosen to be his wife?
    Deep down, Mrs. Bose has her reservations about Korobi. Not that she dislikes her—she’s a sweet girl, charmingly unspoiled. But it’s as though she’s been living in a different century. Mrs. Bose will have to invest significant energy in molding her to fit into their milieu. Sonia, now, she thinks with a pang of regret—she was stubborn and spoiled, so that sometimes Mrs. Bose wanted to shake her, but she comported herself perfectly. And she knew everybody worth knowing. In the few months that she had been with Rajat, she had brought several of her parents’ friends over to the gallery, which had led to a number of big sales. Moreover, she had spirit. When she and Rajat quarreled, she held her own. Korobi, Mrs. Bose fears, will crumple like tinfoil.
    But it’s no use moping over what might have been, Mrs. Bose thinks as she continues greeting guests with her best smile. Something had occurred between Sonia and Rajat, something he wouldn’t talk about. It had pushed him into a period of black moods and huge risks that had terrified Mrs. Bose. She’d been at her wit’s end when he met Korobi. What spell did the girl cast on him? Within weeks, he stopped spending his evenings with his drunken, club-going friends. He quit a job that looked fancy but was going nowhere and started working for the family business. Most of all, he was happy again. Just for that, Mrs. Bose is grateful to Korobi.
    The waltz has ended; in a few minutes, the guests will be seated and the toasts will begin. Mr. Ghosh, the hotel manager, is waiting for her at the entrance to the dining hall. Mrs. Bose is distracted by a twinge of disapproval—she has just glimpsed Rajat pulling a laughing Korobi to the dark privacy of the terrace. But she collects herself and compliments Mr. Ghosh on the tables, which are just as she wanted, sophisticated without being showy: rich, white tablecloths, gold-edged plates, white-orchid centerpieces sending a faint sweetness through the room.
    Then she sees Shikha, her personal assistant, hovering behind him, and feels a frisson of worry. Shikha, who has been with her for over a decade, does not hover without cause.
    “Phone call, madam.”
    She takes the cordless hotel phone from Shikha, who is biting her lip. Mrs. Bose wonders if it could be Sonia. She had noticed her earlier this evening in the dance hall—she must have slipped the checkers at the entrance a hefty bribe. Mrs. Bose, angered by the girl’s audacity (but a little impressed, too) had been about to instruct Mr. Ghosh to alert the security guards, but then Sonia had disappeared.
    “Hello? Hello? Calling from Pantheon Hospital. Trying to reach Miss Korobi Roy.”
    The connection is bad. The words rise out of a roar of static and plunge back into it.