The writer detailed the life of Geeta, an au pair for the Bakers who were British expatriates in Bangalore, India. Geeta met Srikanth at the Bakers' house party. She ran into him one day, and continued to see him over the next few months, and they were soon married. Geeta was twenty-nine, and a devout Catholic. Srikanth was fifty-three, a Brahmin and was willing to convert to Christianity, but the story suggested that he never did.
He spoke English, Tamil, and atrocious Hindi. She spoke Hindi, Odia, and passable English. So they made English their language, though she learned a few Tamil words, flattening her tongue in her mouth to speak them. Veetu, house. Mazhai, rain. Ponnu, girl. When she told the Bakers that she was leaving to get married, they did not try to dissuade her.
Geeta couldn't conceive. The maidservant at the Bakers suggested that she adopt a child from Jharkhand, where administrative regulations weren't as strict as in Bangalore. And she did — an eight-year old girl named Rani. Geeta thought her life would be complete, and this girl would do her bidding. Well, her whole life fell apart. Rani, wasn't an innocent child. The little girl didn't like Geeta at all, didn't want to forget her past to embrace her new 'parents'. The girl wanted Geeta's jewelry and Srikanth's wealth to help her biological mother, and her father who was to be released from jail. Srikanth, would have nothing to do with the child and expected Geeta to sort it out.
“I go to work every day,” he said. “I sit in an office and earn money for you. Now the girl is my responsibility also? I’ve already finished raising my daughter, my little au pair.” His voice sounded far off. “You’ll have to find your way with this one.”
Finally one day, Rani stabbed Geeta, out of jealousy. She saw the pendant the maidservant wore. The title of the story came from the little fake-silver pendant that Geeta bought for the maidservant a long time ago. The pendant was engraved with the words 'You Are My Dear Friend'. Rani also attacked Geeta another day when she didn't allow the girl to go out with a young man. Finally Geeta listened to Srikanth's advice to let Rani go. That all happened in the six months that Rani came into their home.
“She’s too much for you,” he said. His breath smelled of onions and filter coffee. “Admit it,” he pressed her. “You can’t do this. You are not capable. Look at you. Your hair is a mess. You don’t take care of the house anymore. You hardly look at me. You only think of her.”
A month ago, she might have protested, but it no longer mattered what was and wasn’t true. The threats had become too many, too nebulous. Later, she would think of this as her final failure. The first and the last, the only two clear in her mind.
“You may have been an au pair,” he said, drawing himself up, “but I am the one who has actually raised a child.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Talk to her.”
In an interview, author Madhuri Vijay suggested that "Geeta finds it easy to envision herself as a mother, but what she doesn’t realize, of course, is that there is a vast difference between caring for a well-adjusted child and caring for Rani, whose life has consisted of one harrowing event after another." I simply shuddered violently at the end of it. I didn't need to think about it or wonder about its cultural significance and social disconnect and whatever themes the story included. This is what I call a decent (urban) horror story. Eeeps. It gave me goosebumps.
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