At least I know what to do with the bedroom. It looks beautiful with dark maroon sheets and maroon pillow cases. I read in a Feng Shui column that maroon is good for passion and I’m hoping it might give me ideas, and courage.

The door bell rings and I wonder who it could be, I’m not expecting anyone.

I open the door and find Mini there—it’s a surprise since Sunday is her day off. She’s wearing one of the old saris I gave her and looks tired and upset.

‘Namaste—sorry didi, I didn’t want to disturb you today. Is—is Mataji at home?’ Mini asks, her eyes constantly flickering towards the inside of the house.

‘No, you know she isn’t home today. Is it something urgent?’ I ask.

I don’t want to sound too dismissive but I don’t have a whole lot of time on my hands either—I think she might be here to borrow money. It’s mid-month and Mini sometimes asks for an advance around now. So far I’ve ‘lent’ her money four times. Though she always returns the money, it’s a habit I don’t want to encourage.

Mini seems to hesitate and I realize she doesn’t want to talk at the doorstep; I open the door wider and ask her inside. I hope this doesn’t take too long—I want to freshen up before Sid comes home.

‘I won’t be long didi,’ Mini says as if reading my mind. ‘I need some money—I will work for free next month—I really need Rs 3500 urgently,’ she says.

I’m a little alarmed since she has never asked for such a large amount before. I wonder if I’ve encouraged her borrowing habit. I also don’t have any ready cash.

‘I need to get an abortion,’ Mini says looking down at her toes.

I am too shocked to speak. Of all the things I expected her to say, abortion was not on the list.

‘Why?’ I ask and realize it’s a stupid question.

Mini shakes her head—she doesn’t look up—and tears roll down her face.

‘I am pregnant—what if it’s another girl? If I give birth to another girl, he will surely leave me,’ Mini says, her voice barely a whisper.

I really have no idea what to tell her. I am not against abortion, sometimes it’s the only option. Given Mini’s economic situation—five mouths to feed, alcoholic husband, one earner—it seems a sensible decision, too. However, her reason for the abortion—it could be a girl—does not sit well with me.

‘But you don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl,’ I say.

I know it’s not what she wants to hear, but I can’t help it—much as I like Mini, I am not going to be complicit in female foeticide.