Chapters (53)
- Cover
- Title page
- Prologue
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Part Two
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Part Three
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Author’s Note and Acknowledgements
‘Many have gone to Hong Kong this way. This is the business of some people in Hong Kong. Getting married and taking people there. There are middlemen for this kind of work. I have met them. The marriage will take place here, according to the law. You will have to do only one thing – when you start working after reaching Hong Kong, you will have to pay whoever you marry. You don’t have to stay as a couple. In a few months, you can divorce him. Think about it, Mei Lin.
*
A plate fell on the floor and broke into pieces. Someone was shouting and abusing somebody.
The harsh sound of the abuse jolted Lailin back. Raising her head from Arunabh’s book, she looked around.
Tears brimmed in her eyes. Her heart had grown tumultous with innumerable emotions.
Was this the way her mother had brought her to Hong Kong? Did she pay the person she called her father by washing dishes in the restaurants? Was that how she had educated her? Did she open the door to light for her in this way?
Her mother had never spoken of all this to her. She had remained silent against all her criticisms. She had been paying for Lailin’s freedom, for her sunny life, for her success, for her happiness.
Her mother had sacrificed her hopes and dreams of reuniting with her husband. She had only one photograph, of their marriage, along with a leather bag, one letter, and three novels, each autographed by her father. She had never expressed her will to meet Lailin’s father even once.
Would Lailin get angry at her mother ever again for her love of India, after understanding how deeply she was in love with her father? Was Lailin so heartless? Didn’t she understand that at the source of all her hatred for India was a deep wound that had been inflicted by a cruel country and an uncaring father?
The sound of abuse was coming from the hall. Wiping her tears and putting down the book, Lailin went to the room. Her mother was trying to pacify and make her virtual father sit.
‘Don’t be angry, Wong. Please sit. I will tell you something today. Sit.’
The man sat down and said angrily, ‘Say whatever you have to quickly. I have to go to the hospital.’