Happy Birthday!: And Other Stories by Meghna Pant Page A

the seventeen years that she’s lived in the building, Genevive has never used the lift.
    Now Genevive gives a weak smile and says, ‘The baby, she is so heavy that I can’t walk up the stairs any more. I have to take the lift to get here.’ She hugs her elbows as if a tremor has run through her.
    Bhanu almost admires her tenacity.
    â€˜Bhanu, I came here to talk to you about something important,’ Genevive continues. She looks down at the floor purposefully, as if about to do something foolishly heroic, like jump in front of a bus to save a kitten. ‘I don’t know how to start this conversation so I’ll say it right out. Bhanu, I want you to take my baby and raise her as your own.’
    â€˜What?’ Bhanu says. Her heart starts beating so loudly that she wonders if there’s nothing else inside her. ‘ What ?’ she says again at the top of her voice, so she doesn’t have to listen to her heart.
    â€˜Please, let me finish or I’ll lose my nerve. I’ve thought about this a lot. You want a child more than I ever have. You’ll be a better mother than I will. Bhanu, we are dearer to each other than sisters, so I know that you will treat my daughter as your own. All these are good reasons, I think, for you to keep my baby.’
    Bhanu is so angry that she starts laughing.
    â€˜I cannot believe what you’re saying,’ she says, her hands mimicking her feelings in furious gestures. ‘It never fails to amaze me how you take it for granted that I’ll solve all your problems. You get yourself knocked up by god knows who, you decide to keep this child against my advice, and now that you’re scared you come running to me to cover up for your mistakes!’
    On becoming pregnant, Genevive had refused to tell Bhanu who the father was. This hurt Bhanu, who’d never kept anything from Genevive, and the sting of the betrayal grew as the baby did.
    â€˜You’re misunderstanding me.’
    â€˜I am not misunderstanding you. I know you for exactly what you are: irresponsible, selfish and weak.’
    â€˜Bhanu!’
    â€˜Fine, if you want me to raise your child, then at least tell me who the father is? How do I know that it’s not another smuggler? Do you want me to bring bad blood into my family?’
    â€˜I can explain … the doctor—’
    Bhanu notices that Genevive’s round eyes are drooping and she has dark circles the size of horseshoes. Is she not taking care of herself because she is pregnant, like the last time? This infuriates Bhanu further and she interrupts Genevive, ‘I don’t care for your excuses, Genevive. I am not going to look after your unwanted child again.’
    ~
    Genevive was nineteen when her college boyfriend Vikram got her pregnant. She didn’t tell anyone except Bhanu, because she bravely thought that no one would find out; she would have an abortion. But it was a futile proposition, for what could they do? They didn’t know any other pregnant girls, the doctors they knew were acquainted with their families, and it was illegal to walk into a clinic and ask for an abortion. Worse still, neither of them had any money.
    It was Bhanu who came up with an idea; an idea so bold for her that she blushed thinking about it even now. Her brother had written a dissertation on the sex trade for his Sociology major, and Bhanu remembered him saying that the sex workers he encountered had unwanted pregnancies, for which they didn’t have the money to go to a clinic. Surely, Genevive and she could go to Kamathipura, where her brother used to go for his research, and ask one of the sex workers for help.
    A week later—after much deliberation—the two girls, under the pretext of attending a college function, took a bus to Grant Road. Too embarrassed to get off at the actual stop, they walked to Falkland Road. There was still light outside when they reached and no women plied the