This chapter deals with the ongoing issues surrounding Jalina's reconciliation and eventual acceptance back into her family's bosom. Beverly also manages to sound out Abhay's views about hijras and finally surmounts the problem surrounding Jalina's return to the family.

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The Rescue 10

Characters.

Beverly Taff. Transvestite
James or Jamie Transgendered kid.
Candice Jamie’s Younger Sister.
Sergeant Williams Hate crime police officer
David Evans Knife-boy. (Son of Dewi Evans.)
Margaret Beckinsale. Jamie and Candice’s mum. (AKA Madge.)
Sandie Beverly’s best Transvestite friend.
Elizabeth Todd Beverly’s next door neighbour.
Jennifer Todd Elizabeth Todd’s daughter. A barrister. (QC.) Beverly’s best female friend & ‘girl next door’ through childhood.
Rastus Elizabeth Todd’s cat (Now owned by Beverly.)
Dewi Evans Bent politician and criminal.
Paul. Beverly’s transvestite Boss.
Calista Paul’s Transgendered girlfriend.
Stephanie Jenny and Beverly’s daughter.
Phoebe Paul’s Sister.
Rachel. Jennifer’s new girlfriend. (After Stephanie was born.)
Jalina Sha. Indian Engineering graduate (Now Hijra.)
Pradjit Sha Jalina’s father.
Sanji Sha. Jalina’s younger brother.
Kansha Sha Jalina’s mother
Surala Woman Police Constable. (WPC)
Ganshai Jalina’s remaining hijra friend.
Miati and Geeta. Jalina’s younger sisters.
Abhay Miati’s fiancée

I put my arms around Miati’s slender shoulders and promised to help where I could. Her sobbing gradually subsided and she wiped her eyes as I double checked if she was ready to accept Jalina back into the family home. Pradjit and Kansha had always met Jalina either at our hotel or at the factory. They had never even been to Jalina’s little house. That however, was now up for sale. The memories were just too much for both Jalina and Ganshai.

Miati nodded nervously and after checking with the others I phoned Jalina. Once again I put my phone on voice and Jalina could
see on her little screen that our conversation was audible to her family.

“They’re prepared to meet you here at home Jalina.”

“I’ll be right over. Thanks Beverly. You just don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I do Jalina. If anybody knows, I do.”

“What! Oh, - yes; - of course. Is mummy there?”

“Yes and your sisters — and your dad.”

“What about Nila, Sanji’s wife?”

“I haven’t told her yet Jalina. Small steps girl, small steps.”

“Oh. Yes. Okay Bev. I bow to your longer experience.”

I smiled inwardly. Jalina was laying the groundwork to a step later to come, namely the family learning the real reason I was sympathetic and supportive to Jalina.

“Okay then Jalina, d’you want to speak to your dad? He’s very tired; he’s had a long day what with your sisters learning and everything.

“If he’s tired, I’ll speak to mummy.”

Kansha almost ripped the phone from my hands in her eagerness.

“Jalina. Jalina! Oh my darling. Come quickly, the girls are desperate to meet you, here, - at home.”

I could hear the emotion cracking Jalina’s voice and I glanced at Miati and Geeta. Both had joyful tears. I motioned to Kansha to let the girls speak to Jalina and she reluctantly handed the phone to her daughters. They had not seen their sibling since she had been hounded out of the home. They had seen a picture of her in the newspapers after the kidnap case but had no idea that the victim was their own ex brother, - their own sister.

They squealed with joy as they quickly changed my phone to a video-call and gazed in amazement at the beautiful girl. This was followed by squeals of delight as the girls waved at Jalina and kissed the tiny screen. After some hectic exchanges of undying love they reluctantly handed the phone back to Kansha who frowned as she had to wipe the screen free of lipstick. Pradjit had never approved of the girls wearing makeup but now they were in college and he was frail, the girls had slipped his leash.

Kansha looked at her daughters, frowned then grinned as Jalina spoke again.

“Mummy, can I bring Ganshai?”

Kansha hesitated and glanced at her husband Pradjit who was still nominally the head of the household. He just nodded and sighed. As ill health overtook him and the end of his life approached, Pradjit had mellowed enormously as he began to learn the real priorities. Kansha turned to her daughters.

“Your sister is bringing her partner. Now you must be courteous and kind. Ganshai is also hijra and almost as pretty as your sister but she’s nervous and a bit frightened.”

Miati and Geeta exchanged glances. They had never knowingly met any hijras before and now they had two. One was their sister who was coming to the family home with her partner. Things had moved a quantum leap in one short evening. They made their excuses and dashed upstairs to pretty themselves up. After seeing Jalina on the video link of my phone they were determined not to be out-prettied.

By sunset the girls were waiting expectantly in their drawing room and they tensed excitedly when the bell rang at the garden gate. Kansha was busy with the food so she sent them to answer as the house servant, maid, gardener and carer had been sent home. The family did not want the servants to know just yet or the news would have been all around the neighbourhood

Miati and Geeta had chosen close fitting saris that almost resembled the old fashioned Edwardian ‘hobble skirts’; consequently they minced excitedly down the drive and double checked the occupants of the car before operating the gates at the local control by the gatepost. The remote camera had recently failed and they had not yet got it fixed so they were reluctant to open the gates from the kitchen. They recognised Jalina, squealed with delight, then opened the gates as Jalina swept onto the drive and parked next to her mother’s car. Miati and Geeta teetered towards the car as the driver’s door opened and Jalina stepped out in a very smart, white, linen, two-piece suite with the skirt finishing just above her knee. She wore a soft yellow silk blouse with a ruche front and long floppy collars. In her raven hair she wore a matching yellow scrunchie that tied her long thick tresses in a neat pony-tail high up on her head. This style emphasised her slender jaw and smooth brow that made her face utterly feminine, whilst also completely changing her appearance.

Miati and Geeta stopped in slight shock. They would never have recognised their ex-brother Jitendra. The beauty that stood before them was a stunning ‘western’ woman. The sister’s emotions quickly overcame their reserve and they fell into Jalina’s outstretched arms. There they remained for several minutes while I had to extend the door courtesy to Ganshai who had chosen a beautiful, traditional sari in a matching lemon, white and gold.
Ganshai embraced me and we exchanged familiar kisses for we knew each other well. After finishing our mutual salutations we turned with our arms still around each other’s shoulders, to study Jalina and her younger siblings. Only then did Jalina remember her manners. Her embarrassed gasp broke her embrace with Miati and Geeta.

“Oh! Gosh! Sisters wait a minute.” (Miati and Geeta grinned hugely at the much missed form of address.) “I’m forgetting my manners, this lady is Ganshai; she is my partner and my best friend.”

I released Ganshai from my embrace and she held out her arms to welcome the girls. For one ghastly second I thought the sisters were going to balk at the invitation then they stepped forward somewhat nervously and hesitantly let Ganshai wrap her arms around them. As the girls realised that Ganshai was soft and feminine without the expected manly hardness and musculature, they realised that she was a de-facto girl. Ganshai twisted her head to present her cheek and finally the girls plucked up enough courage to kiss it. The complete lack of any roughness gave them further confidence. Ganshai had been taking hormones and her remaining beard was fairly soft. After a long, slow and very close shave, Ganshai presented as an attractive girl. After the proper courtesies had been extended the five of us entered the house to find Kansha busy with the meal.

“Let me help Mummy,” Jalina offered and the younger sisters stood open-mouthed. They suddenly realised they had another pair of hands to help with the 'women’s work'. To compound their delight, Ganshai also took some dishes into the dining room and returned to help serve out the first course. Kansha sighed with relief, now she could concentrate on the cooking itself while the ‘girls’ set about organising the table. Jalina turned to me and grinned.

“Go and fetch father. Don’t just stand there like some spare piece of furniture.”

I grinned ruefully and did as I was told. Soon I was pushing Pradjit’s wheel-chair into the dining room and then helping him settle into his chair at the head of the table. Kansha took her place at the other end and we five arranged ourselves as it suited us. There was a spare place but that made little difference for it seemed as though Jalina had never been away. Her sisters pumped her and Ganshai with questions and she answered most of them openly whilst Pradjit and Kansha listened with a mixture of pain, or enjoyment depending on the answers Jalina gave. The details of the kidnap horrified the family and I was invited to give my version of the events. All in all it was a very successful evening and it carried on until late into the night. Pradjit fell asleep and had little to do with proceedings after eleven.

While he slept we discussed tactics to discern Abhay’s views on transsexuals.

Finally, at one in the morning, Jalina Ganshai and I took our leave of the family and returned to the hotel. Now that the rest of our friends had returned to Britain, it seemed a bit sombre as we made our way wearily to our rooms; Jalina and Ganshai to their shared bed and me to my lonely one. I was not seriously bothered. I had never had a long-term partner throughout my life. It was only in the last few years that I had begun to find a life that accommodated my transgendered confusion. That night it wouldn’t have mattered if the biggest stars in Hollywood had paraded before me. I was asleep as my head hit the pillow.
I woke to a peculiar tapping on my duvet and I turned over to escape the irritation.

“Are you getting up today?”

For a moment I couldn’t remember where I was and I peeped blearily out from under the duvet. Jalina and Ganshai were standing over me.

“How did you two get in here?” I croaked.

“It is a suite Beverly. The rooms interconnect. Did you check the lock on your side last night?”

“Uuhhm, - nope.” I answered abruptly.

“Obviously. Well it’s time to be up. We’ve got to be at the factory for seven. Come on get up.”

I sat up reluctantly and inadvertently gave both Jalina and Ganshai a perfect view of my breasts. Their eyes widened slightly and Jalina giggled.

“Now I see why you wear a bra. How long have you been growing those?”

I realised what they were ogling and I brought my arms up to cover them like any other woman would. This only caused them to grin wider.

“Oh give it up Bev. D’you think we haven’t seen breasts before?”

Jalina demonstrated by lowering the cup of her nightie to reveal one of her own assets, I could not argue. Their logic was inescapable and I sighed with defeat. I swung my feet out to reveal my painted toenails and frilly pants. They smiled and wondered as Jalina asked.

“Don’t you worry what the maids might think finding frilly panties in your room?”

“Why. They’re my panties.”

“But all the staff in the hotel probably know.”

“Like I care. There’s a couple of pairs of panties and some bras drying in the en-suite right now. Look Jalina, I’m a single person of uncertain sexuality who doesn’t have a long term partner and probably never will have.”

“Are you bisexual?” Ganshai asked.

“Dunno. I doubt it. The only people I’ve ever had sex with have been real girls.”

“My god. You’re one mixed up person aren’t you?”

I shrugged and whipped my panties off to go and shower. There was nothing to hide now. The girls returned to their own bedroom to do likewise and we met again before going down to breakfast. We were on the road by eight heading for the factory. Ganshai started sorting through the mail while Jalina and I went down on the factory floor. One production line had started and the staff were busy serving its demands. I was to supervise the start-up of the second so I changed into my overalls and called the maintenance team together. Jalina was inspecting some equipment that had arrived the previous day when a familiar car turned up in the forecourt it was Kansha with some passengers. Jalina looked up and smiled at her mother and siblings, there was also a tall strikingly handsome man in the car. She signalled to me to come and meet Miati’s fiancée.

Reluctantly I handed the technical drawing to the new superintendant engineer and crossed the floor to meet with the visitors. Abhay immediately latched onto me and seemed to think that I was the manager. I had to enlighten him and his brow furrowed when he realised his mistake. Obviously, neither Kansha nor the girls had enlightened him. I suspected it was a little test set by the girls however he acquitted himself well. He smoothly offered his hand to Jalina and apologised saying he thought the company was a British subsidiary and that it had an English expatriate manager. Having deftly bypassed the faux pas he returned to me.

“So if Jalina is the big boss who might you be?”

“I’m the commissioning engineer. I’m here on secondment until the operation is up and running.”

Having established the ‘pecking order’ he turned again to Jalina and fell to chatting about what the factory was about. As we led him around the factory floor Jalina quickly and deliberately lost him in a welter of ‘techno-speak’ and I watched his eyes start to glaze over. Recognising the signs I tactfully intervened and suggested a pot of tea in the little conference room that also served as my temporary office and a sometimes boardroom. There was a round table that seated about eight and my desk was tucked away in a corner literally buried in drawings and flow charts. We sat around the table and Prati brought us tea before joining us. She had won promotion to personnel manager since Sanji had disqualified himself from the appointment. Abhay quickly realised that the management team was a very friendly and informal group and he was quickly made to feel at ease. After chatting about the forthcoming completion and the subsequent employment opportunities it was decided that I should lead Abhay around the rest of the factory while Jalina got on with some urgent paperwork.

He jumped at this opportunity because his typically eastern nature was not comfortable having stuff, especially technical engineering stuff, explained to him by a very shrewd and forceful woman. After a circuit of the factory we strolled out into the despatch bay where there was nothing being despatched as yet. In the quiet of the truck bay he turned to me and asked.

“I couldn’t help noticing, a lot of those employees were very masculine women.”

I answered as unconcernedly as I thought any liberal minded occidental might.

“Yes; they’re hijra. We find them to be pretty good workers.”

“They’re hijra!” He repeated with bemusement.

I shrugged and frowned deliberately to demonstrate my puzzlement.

“Yes. Is that wrong then?”

I sensed his doubt starting to creep into his demeanour.

“Well, - no; I suppose not but they’re, - they’re usually deemed to be outcasts. Other people normally won’t associate with them.”

I sensed that Abhay was not as anti hijra as the normal run-of-the-mill Indian but it was too soon to declare my hand. I made pretence of being a naive occidental by shrugging again and repeating my puzzled expression.

“Well they seem quite happy to do so here. Mind you I think most of the people so far who’ve got work here are pleased with the conditions. I heard one young person say they’d work with the devil himself. That was at the interview and Prati had to admit to smiling at the remark. It is a nice building.”

“So what are those conditions?” Abhay pressed.

“Well the factory is clean and modern and light and airy. The pay is above average and they have an excellent medical scheme. The personal facilities are good by any standards, showers, lavatories, a proper dining hall and attached to that there’s a large room that doubles as a recreation room or meeting hall. There’s even a crá¨che!”

Abhay’s eyebrows lifted considerably at the mention of a crá¨che.

“A Crá¨che you say.”

I smiled again trying to look apologetic. Abhay wagged his head and explained.

“Indian women usually give up work when they have children and look after the children. The husband brings home the money.”

“What happens if the girl is not married?” I asked.

Abhay expostulated and let out a loud guffaw.

“My God Beverly. If an Indian girl has a child outside wedlock it is a disaster for her. She is pilloried and condemned.”

“And what happens to the child?” I pressed again.

Abhay paused thoughtfully then frowned.

“Well. I’m not sure. It is a bastard and would often end up cast out with the mother.”

“To starve on the streets or end up with the mother in prostitution.”

Abhay fell silent as I pressed my argument.

“And that is India’s biggest shame, the number of desperate beggars on the streets. The girls trying to avoid the prostitution trap.”

He grinned.

“So you are trying to save all the beggars in India.”

“That’s unfair Abhay. I’m not that stupid, you know the numbers, you’ve lived in this city all your life. A million new jobs would hardly dent the surface.”

Abhay smiled and put his arm around my shoulder, (quite a bold move for an Indian man who had only known me for a couple of hours.)

“Well I admire your philanthropy Beverly but your efforts must be likened to dropping a pebble in the sea. It will make waves but so tiny as to have no effect.”

“Yes but one day I might be able to galvanise India to drop a boulder in the pond.”

“Ah, you are a dreamer as well.”

“Well this dream has come true. A factory that produces something everybody wants and helps the poor in passing.”

Abhay paused and stopped at one of the work spaces where a hijra was monitoring the machine and occasionally testing a sample from the production run. This involved plugging the component into a test computer and running a series of small operations. If the results were right the component was sent to the final test bay to be assembled with other tested samplers to ensure the whole unit functioned.

As we watched, the hijra (who resembled a man in a sari,) got up to take the test piece to the main test bay. She fell to chatting and giggling briefly with a real girl then returned to resume her task. When she realised I was watching she hurriedly jammed her safety helmet on and I smiled at the incongruity. I turned to explain to Abhay.

“She should be wearing an overall as well but some safety rules are just plain impractical. Saris are cool and her arms are bare so there are no sleeves to snag the table belt. There’s nothing under the workspace to snag the hem of her sari so she’s allowed to wear it. She’s happy because it allows her to indulge her girlyness without censure or abuse.”

Abhay’s grin widened.

“So the hijra’s are the ones wearing saris and the real girls are wearing those pale yellow overalls.”

“Mostly but it’s the job that dictates the mode of dress. Anybody working in the machine shop or warehouses has to wear overalls. You need both hands and cannot be constantly attending to your dress. The hijras don’t much like the warehouse.”

Abhay chuckled.

“I can imagine. So you keep them happy by giving them girly jobs, light assembly, fiddly and repetitive.”

“It’s their choice. Those are the safety rules and everybody abides. You saw Jalina earlier. She changed from her sari to overalls when she took you on the tour.”

Abhay smiled again.

“Yes, I had to admit, she looked better in her sari. She’s a stunning girl. I’m surprised some man hasn’t snapped her up.”

I pretended to be surprised.

“My God! Don’t you know?”

“Know what?” Wondered Abhay.

“Jalina. She’s not a real girl, she’s a hijra.”

Abhay’s jaw sagged as he stared at me.

“You’re joking!”

“I’m not. She’s had one hell of a life. That girl’s walked the walk, believe me, she could tell you some awful truths about abuse and murder and life in the slums.”

Abhay’s surprise turned to dismay.

“Go on Beverly tell me more.”

I had carefully prepared the story so as not to give away Jalina’s true identity at first. I didn’t pull any punches and I laid it on really thick explaining how we came to discover her and learn of her management skills, her engineering background and how we had found her a delight to work with at distance with her in India and us far away in Britain. I described how transphobic brutes had kidnapped her and tried to sell her into prostitution and Abhay listened with increasing incredulity. Eventually I finished the story by singing Jalina’s praises and describing how our joint venture would never have got off the ground without Jalina’s grit and determination. Everything I had said was true and verifiable. Jalina sat gobsmacked for several moments before asking some pertinent questions.

“So she was an engineering graduate?”

“Yes; and a bloody good one. She’s got a brain like a computer.”

“And then she became a hijra. It’s hard to believe she was a man.”

“She was. Her family cast her out when she came out to them and she was left to starve in the slums. She also lost her job. Go and figure the consequences.”

“Poor bugger, that must have wounded her.”

“Wounded her! It damned near killed her! Good gracious Abhay, did I detect a note of sympathy?”

“Oh please Beverly. Don’t judge me like other Indians. In my social circles if you marry a lower cast it can lead to ostracism. I know that my battle has been nothing remotely as tough as Jalina’s but I’ve had to move some pretty stubborn rocks to get my mother and my aunts to accept Miati.”

“Have they accepted her now?”

“They have to. Otherwise my mother won’t see her grandchildren and I’m the first born.”

“What about your father?”

“Oh he’s always had an eye for a pretty girl. Miati can twist him around her finger. She only has to bat her eyelids and he’s clay.”

“What’s his opinion of your marrying her?”

“Well he secretly admitted to me that he was pleased I had gone outside my cast. He says it’s good to mix the bloods. His grandfather had the same problems a hundred years ago. That’s why my mother is such a snob. Dad is not a full blooded Kshatiyas from way back in the dawn of history. Frankly I think my dad is as sick of the whole caste thing, as am I. We just have to keep the women sweet.”

“The mem-sahibs eh. You sound like some old british colonial.” I grinned recalling the old expressions used by the old British Raj.”

“Oh don’t even go there,” Abhay sighed. “Some of the upper castes have still got a monkey on their backs about the British Raj and how it buggered up Indian society. The truth was that the British let the caste system flourish because it suited them to let Indian society divide itself and thus let itself be defeated. Then they turned the whole thing upside down by employing Shudras and Chandalas in jobs that they created like on the railways and in the post office. Chandala train drivers were earning more than Vaishyas and even Kshatriyas. The high caste Indians didn’t understand what was happening and my great-grandparent’s generation never got over the changes. Consequently they retreated deeper in to their prejudices while India moved towards independence and democracy.

But believe me Beverly, the caste system is still there lurking like a trap for the unwary and it’s the foundation stone of a system of prejudice that still pervades my country.”

“But your generation, surely you’re moving away from that.” I replied as I gently guided Abhay into the issues of the hijras. “Surely you can see that people should get jobs and positions based on merit. That’s what we are doing here at this factory.”

“Oh it often does depend on merit,” Abhay observed, “but caste is still there, lurking in the foetid waters of prejudice and privilege. If a Brahmin class does something unacceptable it’s just ‘tut-tutting’ and muttering but if a Chandala does the same thing then the full weight of censure and law comes down on him.
You won’t believe this, there was a brother-in-law of my maternal great aunt who became a hijra. He was a Brahmin so what happened. He was invited to all sorts of high society functions like weddings and stuff where he was paid handsomely to bring good luck and good fortune. It’s all superstition and stuff but they still do it. Compare that with Jalina’s story.”

“So you feel sorry for hijras.” I added.

Abhay shrugged.

“They deserve to be treated fairly like anybody else.”

“What did you think of that relative you’ve just mentioned?”

“I’m not bothered but my mother and her sisters still won’t talk about it. I only found out by accident at one of my second cousin’s weddings. I was being lined up for some ugly distant relative whom I’d hardly ever met and family connections were being discussed. I refused point blank to be dictated to. Then I met Miati in college. Who could resist a girl like that? She’s my lifeline to finally break with the caste system. My mother and my aunts simply won’t believe that I’m serious about her.

“Are there any other hijras in your family, today that is?”

“Would it matter?” Abhay shrugged. “I think that one is still alive but very old. Would it matter to you or your family if they had a gay or something in the family?”

I smiled and chuckled disarmingly.

“Well; not to me it wouldn’t but then I’m not religious.”

“Well frankly Beverly it’s a relief to hear somebody else say that. What would my future mother-in-law say if she found out about our family’s Brahmin hijra!?”

“I think Kansha would manage it. Have you ever mentioned this to Miati?”

“Hell no! It’s taboo. My mother threatened to renounce me if I ever mentioned it to Miati’s family.”

“What did your father say?”

“He just advised me to not mention it. My wanting to marry Miati was earthquake enough to rock the family’s foundations. Washing dirty linen in public would be the final straw.”

“So does your philosophy work both ways. What if Miati had a secret like that, a murderer in the family or something.”

“Oh I know about her brother trying to have Jalina murdered. It didn’t raise many eyebrows in my family when they read about it in The Kolkata Times. Jalina’s only a hijra, who’d miss a slum-dweller bitch?”

“But surely you don’t think that of Jalina. You’ve met her you’ve drunk tea with her.”

“No! I certainly don’t think that! As I said earlier Bev, don’t judge me by my family. Jalina’s a fabulous person. She’d be an asset to any family. I only wish I had a sister as good as her. My sisters are small minded snobs just like my mother. If it wasn’t for my dad, I think I’d have left my family and emigrated to Britain or America.”

“So you’ve got liberal views on the subject of hijras, just like me in fact.”

Abhay thought for a moment. I had to respect his deliberative mindset then he finally nodded slowly.

“We-eell; I suppose I am really. I often get into arguments with my female siblings and I’m the only boy. I’m going to miss my dad when he goes. I’ll get to be a senior partner in the family law firm, that I can handle. However, I’ll have to be a bloody miracle worker to keep the peace between my mother and my sisters. They are always feuding with their cousins and stuff.”

While I had Abhay in a reflective mood I debated giving him the bombshell.

“Would you consider letting Jalina near your own kids?”

“Why not? She’s a woman; well she looks like one to me. Where is this leading anyway?”

“Well, since Sanji was caught, his wife has moved into Kansha’s household and started work part-time here. It’s clerical work and it helps take her mind off the issues of her husband. It also makes her feel she’s still part of the family, which she is. She often brings her children to the crá¨che and Jalina sometimes goes down to the crá¨che. She loves kids and bitterly regrets not being able to be a mother.”

“So go on; get to the nitty-gritty. Where’s this leading Bev?”

“You’d best prepare yourself for a shock Abhay.”

“Huh. If I’m used to anything it’s shocks. I started enough bloody earthquakes in my own family.”

“Can you keep a secret?” I asked bluntly.

Abhay nodded.

“Yes. There are plenty more skeletons in the family cupboard but I prefer to keep them secret.”

“Good. I’m pleased to hear it. Well here’s another one you’re going to have to add.”

Abhay’s eyes creased with curiosity and he smiled slightly.

“You’ve piqued my curiosity now. Go on.”

“I want your sworn promise that you’ll not reveal it to anybody, - not a soul, - right?”

“You’ve got it. Not a soul.”

“Right. Firstly I was charged with somehow sounding you out and reporting back to the Shas about your views on hijras.”

“Well you know now." Abhay replied, "I feel sorry for them; they should be treated with respect and fairness. Jalina serves to reinforce that view. Though I must confess, she hardly needs my pity.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Go on.” Abhay pressed me.

“Well the truth is, and there’s no way to dance around this, Jalina is related to Miati. Jalina was once Miati’s elder brother.”
Abhay sat silent for a moment before a knowing smile grew slowly into a chuckle then a loud raucous laugh. A sat patiently waiting until he recovered his composure and tears of amusement spilled from his dancing eyes. Finally he spoke.

“Oh this is a peach! So the Shas have skeletons as well. We are no different are we; for all the shit about caste and status, Miati and I have more things in common than things different. Can I tell her I know this now? You asked that I told nobody”

“Husbands and wives should have as few secrets as possible.” I conceded. “They wanted to tell you themselves but Miati was afraid she’d lose you. Somehow, I think this news has made your feelings for her stronger.”

“D’you know Beverly, I think it has. Poor Miati must have been terrified.”

“She still is terrified. I release you from your vow of secrecy, at least that is to members of Sha family. Now I suggest you go up to Jalina’s office and let them all know. Miati and Geeta only found out a few days ago about Jalina. Sanji still doesn’t know and it's best he doesn't find out for a long time.”

"He won't," Abhay explained, "I'm a lawyer as well, the judge will not go easy on a lawyer who steps outsuide the law, especially for conspiring to murder. He'll be going down for a long, long time."

"That's what I hoped." I nodded.

“I note you didn’t mention Kansha. Does she know and if so for how long?”

“She’s known nearly a year now; she’s had hell’s own delight keeping it a secret. Her own first-born son Jitendra was the wonder-
hijra that saved their business. So, now I release you from your vow of secrecy at least as far as the Sha women are concerned.
I think you’d better go up there and give Miati the longest hug of your life. She needs it. She is desperately waiting for me to report back but I sensed if I could save the family the turmoil of breaking the news to you themselves. It’ll be that much easier for Miati. She’s a very frightened girl Abhay, go and do something that will cement her love for you even tighter. Go and be kind to her, go and support her, go and tell her.”

Abhay stood, wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight.

“D’you know Bev; you’ve done me a huge favour. Now I can really demonstrate my love for Miati.”

“Good. That pleases me, now go.”

He released me from his embrace and stepped up the stairs to Jalina’s office. Suddenly I remembered and called to him.

“And don’t forget to reassure Jalina. She’s frightened too.”

“I’ll reassure the whole family!” Abhay called back as he disappeared from my view into Jalina’s office.

“Job done, - I hope.” I told myself.