Buku might have been scared to tell his mother but what about the girl? Didn’t she have any
brains in that head of hers? She could have asked Buku, “Let’s go to your mother together and ask for
her blessings!”
Anyway, girls of these days very seldom cared about blessings from elders. She felt oddly
betrayed. She had given her all to raise Buku but now she felt as if there was something terribly lacking
in her style of upbringing. Otherwise why would he be so afraid to share his innermost thoughts with
her? She was somehow coming to terms with his passing away but the news of his marriage shattered
her. She went to pieces emotionally and decided to return to India forever. If nothing else there would
be the moral support from her family for her there.
Then one day out of the blue Mugisha’s mother came to visit her. At that moment Shobhana
was busy preparing a list of things she would have to sell before she left the country for good. She
looked through the magic eye and on seeing the short statured elderly Afro American lady guessed her
identity right away. The lady politely introduced herself as Mugisha’s mother when she opened the
door. She came inside, sat on the sofa, and panted, “I have not been keeping that well. This rheumatoid
arthritis is killing me!”
Shobhana noticed in a detached, disinterested way that the woman’s fingers were indeed
gnarled and twisted from the disease but she did not say a word.
After a while Mugisha’s mother looked around with curiosity and said, “You did not know
about Mugisha, did you? I knew Arijit quite well though. He was a good boy. How could fate be so
cruel to them? They were so happy together!”
“Why are you here? To gloat over how happy their marriage was? Well, let me tell you I am not
interested. I am going back to my country for good.”
“Arijit always said that you had to go through numerous hardships to bring him up. He tried his
best not to hurt you in anyway. I came from Uganda myself so I can fathom the depth of some of your
struggles. However, I have two children other than Mugisha so I guess things are a little more bearable
for me.”
The lady’s monologue was becoming increasingly intolerable for Shobhana to bear so she
snapped rud ely, “Now that you have said your piece will you please leave? I have work to do.”
Mugisha’s mother gave her a sad little smile, “If I leave you will never get a chance to meet
Bree.”
“Bree? Who is Bree?’
“Bree is your granddaughter. Arijit and Mugisha’s little girl.”
Shobhona was absolutely speechless! Arijit’s daughter? Her Buku’s little girl? Buku had hidden
the fact that he had a daughter from her as well! Was she then a total failure as a mother? She began
gasping for air like a fish out of water.
“Drink this, you will feel better.”
Unnoticed by her Mugisha’s mother had gone to the kitchen and brought a glass of water for
her. Shobhona gulped the water down in one go.
Mugisha’s mother took out a piece of paper from her purse and held it before her face. It was a
birth certificate.
“I knew you would want to disbelieve me, that’s why I came prepared!”
Shobhana looked with her eyes blurred with tears at Brishti’s birth certificate.
At the time when Anita’s granddaughter was born they were frantically searching for names for
girls. Shobhana was the one who had come up with the name ‘Brishti’, meaning rain. She really loved
that name but Lena and her husband had settled for Grace.
Shobhana had said to Buku then, “If you ever have a daughter you must name her Brishti for me! I just
love that name!”
“I call her Bree because her full name is too difficult for me to pronounce,” Mugisha’s mother’s
words broke her reverie.