The Forbidden Daughter

By Shobhan Bantwal

A goddess in the temple. A burden in the family. Children are a gift of God, they say. But do they really believe? Isha and Nikhil Tilak are expecting their second child. Hardwired to favor a grandson, Nikhil' s egotistical parents have resented and coldly rejected their first granddaughter. So ever since the day Isha discovered that she' s expecting, this question has obsessed her: Is it a boy? Or . . . God forbid . . . a girl?' And finally the answer is there on the gynecologist's screen— it' s a girl! What will Nikhil and Isha do now? As their decisions add to their nightmare, Nikhil is found murdered in cold blood. And their innocent unborn daughter is blamed for it. With her five-year-old at her heels, grief-stricken and relentlessly oppressed by her in-laws, who believe the baby to be a bad omen, Isha sets out on her own to build her life around her forbidden daughters. Will she be able to protect them from the grave dangers that lie ahead? A thrilling, captivating, and thought-provoking portrayal of the dark secrets hidden in the Indian culture, this novel is bound to stir your conscience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fingerprint Publishing
• Release date: Aug 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9788175993518

Book preview

Oh, Lord, I beg of you.

I fall at your feet time and again.

In my next incarnation don’t give me a daughter;

Give me hell instead . . .

– Folk Song from Uttar Pradesh

(unknown author)

Your child will come at the harvest full moon, the old man pronounced.

Jolted out of her dark, melancholic thoughts, Isha Tilak looked up and stared in astonishment at the man. His startling words were obviously meant for her since there was no one else in the immediate vicinity.

His remark instantly captured her attention, thrusting aside her private musings.

"Kojagari Purnima is the night when Goddess Lakshmi descends from her heavenly abode to bless her true devotees," he added, stroking his luxuriant salt-and-pepper beard that more than compensated for the total absence of hair on his misshapen head.

He was supposedly a sadhu. A holy man. He was certainly dressed for the part in his faded saffron robe, darned in various places. His teeth had the yellow-brown hue that indicated they hadn’t encountered a toothbrush in years. Perhaps never. His oral hygiene probably didn’t extend beyond the chewing of a neem stick.

His wide lips looked dry and chapped, like a sun-baked desert. Then she noticed his deep-set eyes. They had an intriguing quality, a mystical luminescence that compelled a person to meet them and hold their gaze.

He had never uttered a word to her before, never acknowledged her presence. She came to this Ganesh temple often, a popular shrine in this town because of the countless stories of miraculous recoveries and reversals of hardship attributed to the highly revered deity. This particular Ganesh was considered the ultimate remover of obstacles.

And Isha had serious obstacles. More than she could count on her slender fingers.

No one seemed to know anything about the sadhu. He was an enigma. All he did was to sit on a threadbare blanket under the ancient mango tree that produced no fruit. His eyes were usually shut in silent meditation. Or perhaps he dozed from sheer boredom. His dented brass bowl contained a handful of donated coins and some fruit, clearly his sole source of income and food.

He had been sitting in the same spot for years—beside the walled temple compound. On rainy days, like today, he used an oversized umbrella, mounted on a pole, to protect him. Isha couldn’t even remember when he had appeared on the scene. It seemed like he had been there forever.

This was Palgaum, a small rural town in south-western India, where sadhus were respected, and nobody questioned their presence, especially in the environs of a house of worship. And even the most impoverished worshippers thought nothing of giving alms to a saintly man.

Perhaps because she continued to wear a baffled look, the sadhu smiled. The simple motion transformed and softened his austere face, creating deeper furrows in his gaunt cheeks. Yours will be a female child, a gift from Lakshmi.

It took her a moment to comprehend his words. Then natural curiosity took over, prompting her to goad him. Test him. How do you know my child will be a girl?

He ignored her query. Instead he said, Your daughter will bring prosperity, light, and abundance to you and to everyone around her. Her good luck will change your life.

But my in-laws think she’s a curse, Isha informed him, the bitterness in her voice hard to conceal and her tear-swollen eyes a testimony to her despair. In fact, they have forbidden me to have this child.

I know, he said with a thoughtful nod. "I also know there is something which some evil doctors use to get rid of female children before they are born. It is one of the many scourges of this kalyug."

She was stunned at what this man knew, how much he knew. Did he read about such topics? Or was it intuitive knowledge? They call it selective abortion, she prompted. That’s the medical procedure my in-laws wanted me to have.

The man barked out a laugh—a harsh, braying sound. Isha wondered if he could be a lunatic, and whether it was safe for her to be conversing with him.

"What do they know? he snapped. They are ignorant people, consumed by greed and worldly desires."

Perplexed even further, she frowned at him. You know my in-laws?

He shook his head. I can see them in my mind . . . and also your dead husband.

Isha let out a shocked gasp. How did he know so much about her? Was he really a sadhu or a spy of some kind? But why would he spy on her—a nobody, a recent widow with her life in shambles? Who was this peculiar man? And why was he talking to her all of a sudden when he had never spoken to her before?

He was beginning to make her uneasy. She threw a fleeting glance around to make sure there were other people nearby, and sighed with relief when she noticed several men and women inside the temple, within hearing distance.

Perhaps reading her mind, he smiled again. I do not mean harm. I am merely a prophet. He pointed a bony finger at her. I have watched you for a long time. You are a woman overcome by grief, and you come here to seek solace for yourself, your daughter, and your unborn child, no?

Isha’s distended belly told its own tale. She always sat in a sheltered but remote area of the courtyard, shedding silent tears. So he must have observed her. No surprise there. But the rest of what he was saying was astounding. He even knew she had another daughter. These personal details only very few people knew.

How do you know all this? she demanded.

Again he ignored her question. Both your children have your ancestors’ blessings.

Blessings! She dried her moist eyes with a handkerchief and suppressed the wry laughter rising in her throat. "Losing a husband at my age and having to raise a five-year-old with another one on its way, whom nobody wants, are blessings?"

He raised his gnarled hands in a dismissive gesture. Life itself is a blessing. Your mother, father, and husband were your past blessings; your forbidden daughters are blessings for your future.

Then why am I suffering so much now?

Everything in life has to be earned, you see. That takes time and patience. In time your children will bring you the comfort and peace you pray for.

"But they’re small, helpless children. What can they do?"

He pointed to the imposing stone idol of Lord Ganesh, sitting high on his throne within the inner sanctum of the temple. He works in mysterious ways. Have faith in Him. What He bids no mortal can forbid. He chortled, sounding thoroughly amused. "Not even your in-laws."

If you know so much, then tell me more about my daughters’ futures. Will they have happy lives? she asked, now entirely mesmerized by the odd man. In spite of her misgivings, she was drawn to his words.

There were so many things she needed to ask him. Why had her beloved husband been intentionally killed in cold blood? By whom? Would it be wise for her to take her destiny in her own hands, take Priya and walk away from her in-laws?

The thought of leaving home had crossed her mind a few times in recent days. Every day with her in-laws was more stifling than the previous one. But could she afford to leave? Would she be hurting her precious daughter by resorting to such rash measures and depriving her and the new baby of their rightful legacy?

Isha desperately wanted some answers. But instead of responding to her enquiries the old man slipped back into his meditation mode, cutting her off as abruptly as he had engaged her in conversation. It was as if she had imagined the whole dialogue with him.

When she respectfully pleaded, Swamiji . . . please . . . please tell me more, there was no indication that he had even heard her. He was back in his own silent world.

She struggled to her feet, joined her hands in one last genuflection to Ganesh, and put on her chappals. It was just beginning to get dark outside, and large flocks of birds were returning to their sodden homes nestled in the trees.

The first of Palgaum’s notorious mosquitoes were buzzing around her, reminding her it was time to leave. There was a noticeable chill in the air, too. She wrapped her pallu around her shoulders and unfurled her umbrella.

Before long, the thick, grey fog that swept in from the river each night would begin winding its way to join the rain, making it hard to see beyond two metres. In her condition she couldn’t afford to get lost in that damp cloud of nothingness.

Getting back on the road, she began the long walk home—a place she had come to detest. It didn’t feel like home anymore—not since her husband’s death. It was a huge house with an equally large and boastful garden, and an impressive retinue of servants—a showcase to suit her in-laws’ inflated egos.

It was an ostentatious shell without a soul.

All the way there she mulled over the sadhu’s words. He couldn’t be serious now, could he? All that wild talk didn’t make any sense. And yet, on some level, it did.

Oh, well, the monsoon season was in its concluding phase and Kojagari Purnima was just a few weeks away. She had to know then if there was any truth to the man’s bizarre predictions. Like he had said, Lord Ganesh worked in mysterious ways. He certainly took His own time about it too, not to mention the fact that He had an odd sense of humour.

She had come to recognize that fact the hard way.

April 2012

Today was the day! Today Isha would most likely have an answer to that single question she had been obsessing about for weeks—ever since she had realized she was pregnant: Was it a boy? Or . . . God forbid . . . a girl?

Nonetheless she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Even if she did, would her doctor be willing to reveal the fact? It was indeed illegal to discuss the sex of an unborn child.

For Isha it was a case of mixed emotions and desires. That popular adage, damned if you do and damned if you don’t, described her dilemma to a large degree.

Nervous anticipation made her stumble a little as she stepped out of the car to walk towards her obstetrician’s well-appointed medical office.

Nikhil, her husband, quickly grabbed her arm to steady her. You all right, Ish? he asked with a slight frown. He was the only person in the world who called her Ish.

She nodded. Just a bit tense, that’s all, she replied, climbing the two concrete steps leading up to the entrance door.

You’re not dizzy or anything? Nikhil’s deepening frown and gently solicitous voice told her he was worried. More so than usual.

I’m feeling fine, really, she assured him. No point in scaring him by saying she had huge butterflies, the size of bats, flitting around in her tummy. She was jittery enough for both of them.

She stole a sidelong glance at Nikhil. Dressed in elegant grey pants and a crisp blue shirt, he was the picture of polished good looks combined with complacent affluence. But he wasn’t his usual confident self today. He seemed edgy.

He kept a protective hand curled around her arm. Good. Let’s keep it that way.

The black and white sign outside the single-storey brick building was both prominent and impressive. Karnik Maternity Clinic. Dr. V. V. Karnik—Obstetrics & Gynaecology Specialist. A proud testimonial to the doctor’s distinguished career and professional success.

Isha was at the clinic to undergo an ultrasound test, where one could actually see the foetus as a three-dimensional image on a computer screen. How exciting was that!

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the sex of her unborn child, but she still couldn’t wait to see the tiny creature growing inside her.

Nervous? asked Nikhil, after they’d announced themselves to the receptionist and settled down on the comfortable sofa in the waiting room.

Very. She searched his face. You?

He smiled at her, his hazel eyes warming. A little.

"A little? she asked with a teasing chuckle. She knew her husband well. He often covered up his negative feelings with that sunny smile. He rarely fooled her, though. And he hadn’t slept well the previous night. I think you are more anxious than I am."

He took her hand and squeezed it, the laughter fading from his eyes. Everything’s going to be okay.

She knew he was trying to reassure himself while doing the same for her. They were both pulsing with tension. There was a lot at stake here.

Twenty minutes later, it bubbled up like a fountain, warm and effervescent—the emotion that only a mother-to-be could experience. With damp palms and a racing heart Isha observed the fuzzy movements on the monitor. The word amazing hardly described it.

That funny little glob was her baby! But even at this early stage the little arms and legs were identifiable. With its oversized head and a protruding forehead it resembled some alien creature in a sci-fi movie.

Nonetheless the elation quickly dampened when other thoughts began to crowd her brain. What if . . .? She said a silent prayer: God, please let it be a boy. If I don’t have a son this time, I’m finished.

Her in-laws had made such a ruckus about her giving birth to a girl the first time. Her mother-in-law, supposedly an enlightened woman with a college degree and an interest in arts and literature, had wrinkled her brow when she had first learned Isha had given birth to a girl. "Arre bapre. . . a girl!"

Dr. Karnik allowed both Nikhil and Isha to gaze at the image on the screen for several more seconds. Isha looked for the small but significant part of the baby’s anatomy that would establish its gender. So far there was no indication of it on the screen. She studied the image more closely. What she desperately hoped to see wasn’t there.

The doctor looked at her and Nikhil by turns. So . . . do you want to know the child’s sex?

Isha closed her eyes for an instant. Did she really want to know?

But then she heard Nikhil clear his throat and say, Um . . . yes.

Are you sure? The doctor gave him a pointed look.

Nikhil glanced at Isha, and she nodded, albeit reluctantly. Was the doctor serious, or was this his idea of injecting a little levity into a sombre situation? But he wasn’t smiling. And it was common knowledge that some doctors did manage to reveal the sex of the foetus discreetly, despite what the laws dictated, perhaps to accommodate the parents’ natural curiosity.

They exchanged brief glances—an unspoken agreement that the three of them would keep this strictly confidential.

Deep down, she already knew the answer. The tiny image on the screen was plain enough.

It’s a girl.

Silence fell over the examination room as Isha and Nikhil tried to digest the doctor’s casual announcement. Nikhil stood motionless, his gaze fixed on some unknown spot on the wall.

Assuming their silence indicated disappointment, Dr. Karnik said, It’s . . . well . . . not the end of the world, you know.

Isha rolled her eyes. Maybe not to you, doctor. My in-laws will be devastated.

Dr. Karnik shrugged. So . . . we can . . . fix that.

Pardon me? Isha stared at the doctor. What was he implying? She looked at her husband, wondering how he interpreted the words. All she saw was puzzlement on Nikhil’s face.

"What does fix mean, doctor?" asked Nikhil.

We can easily perform a clinical abortion, the doctor replied. You’re only in the beginning of your second trimester. It’s a fairly simple procedure.

Simple! Isha felt like she had been punched in the stomach.

Simple, safe . . . and fast, with today’s techniques, assured the doctor.

No! Glancing at the screen again, she saw the baby move. That’s not an option.

Dr. Karnik eyed her calmly. It’s up to you, of course. He had thinning grey hair and steel-rimmed glasses. His moustache was all grey. His shoulders were beginning to droop slightly. Dressed in mousy brown pants and a long white lab coat, he looked like a harmless old grandfather. Isha wondered how such a gentleman could utter such awful things with such nonchalance.

Nikhil spoke for the first time, his voice sounding uncharacteristically raspy. She’s right, doctor. As long as the child is healthy, we won’t discuss anything like . . . like abortion. Even the word seemed to be stuck in his throat. In fact, there was that familiar spark of anger in his eyes. He was clearly upset by the doctor’s outrageous suggestion.

Isha sent her husband a grateful look. Thank goodness he agreed with her. But along with the annoyance she could also see the disappointment on his face. He was the Tilaks’ only son, and his parents were looking forward to two or more grandsons to carry on their name and inherit the prosperous family business of selling tyres for cars, trucks, scooters, and all other modern means of transportation.

However, Nikhil and Isha already had one daughter, and now they were going to have another. In its own way it was a nightmare.

***

Later, as they left the doctor’s office and settled into the car, Nikhil turned to her. That idiot has some nerve . . . suggesting abortion! His eyes continued to simmer with suppressed anger.

Isha’s sense of shock was still lingering, too. We hear about these things in the news . . . but—

No! That’s not for us, retorted Nikhil.

Exactly. I never thought our own Dr. Karnik . . . She shook her head. I can’t believe how coolly he said it.

Someone ought to report that man to the authorities, said Nikhil through clenched teeth. Doesn’t that old fool know there’s a law against selective abortion? That he could even end up in prison?

I’m sure he’s well aware of the law . . . but then . . . how many people really follow the law? Practically everyone we know does something illegal.

Nonsense, Nikhil snorted.

"Oh, really? Don’t you offer bribes to acquire your import permits and licenses? She narrowed her eyes on him when he shook his head. And what about your income tax?"

A guilty flush suffused Nikhil’s face. Killing an unborn baby is not the same as . . . black marketing or bribing a government officer. This is . . . murder!

Isha knew it was best not to feed Nikhil’s sense of outrage, so she said nothing. He had a short fuse and a very righteous attitude about certain things.

After that outburst they drove home mostly in silence. Isha stared out the window, wondering how they’d break the news to her in-laws—Srikant and Vidula Tilak.

As it were, their daughter, five-year-old Priya, got second-class treatment compared to Isha’s sister-in-law Sheila Sathe’s sons. Sheila was beautiful and married to a wealthy man. The proverbial icing on Sheila’s cake: she had produced two beautiful boys.

And in the Tilaks’ eyes, the boys could do no wrong. They received loads of attention while Priya got none. Ayee and Baba, as the children addressed her in-laws, although not overtly abusive to Priya, never showed her any affection. She was kept at a distance and subjected to stern discipline.

Priya was now old enough to notice her grandparents’ discriminatory behaviour, and had started to complain about it.

Isha and Nikhil tried to make it up to their little girl as much as they could, but since they lived in the same house as the elder Tilaks, and Priya saw her grandparents every day, it was hard to explain to a child that her gender had everything to do with the way they treated her.

To offset the neglect, Isha often found herself spoiling her child. And that led to a lot of friction with her in-laws. They thought she bought Priya too many toys and clothes, and that she never corrected Priya’s actions whenever she misbehaved. Occasionally Isha would try to explain to them that Priya acted up only when she noticed Sheila’s boys receiving extra attention.

Ayee and Baba always brushed it off as Isha’s misguided perception.

Nikhil took his hand off the steering wheel for an instant to take Isha’s hand. Don’t make yourself sick now, okay. It’s not a big deal. It seemed like his rage had diminished.

Tears pooled in her eyes. It will be a big deal when Ayee and Baba find out.

We’ll explain to them calmly. They’re not unreasonable. Maybe we’ll . . . try for a boy next time.

There won’t be a next time. It wasn’t practical to have more than two children anyway.

Honestly, what difference does it make whether it’s a boy or a girl? said Nikhil, obviously trying to rationalize a difficult situation.

"I’m not the one who needs convincing, Nikhil. She tossed him a look of mild disdain. Go explain that to your parents. Haven’t you noticed how they treat Sheila’s kids versus Priya? They even forgot Priya’s birthday last week. You and I had to go out and buy a cake and presents and lie to her that some of them were from Ayee and Baba."

Nikhil took a long, tired breath. He had no response to his wife’s remarks. Isha knew he was fully cognizant of his parents’ petty biases. But he was a devoted son, who’d never acknowledge his parents’ shortcomings.

Besides, Nikhil and she had no choice but to live with his folks. As their only son and daughter-in-law, they were expected to live with the parents, obey them, humour them, tolerate their foibles, and care for them.

Isha dried her tears, then leaned back and closed her eyes. She needed to prepare herself before informing her in-laws about the baby. God, they were sure to have a fit. Maybe they’d even toss Isha and Priya out and find another wife for their precious son. Isha wouldn’t be surprised if that insidious thought crossed their minds every now and then.

Well, thank goodness, at least Nikhil’s sister was a good woman. Sheila treated Isha with respect and affection. Isha couldn’t have asked for a more affable sister-in-law. In fact, Sheila often pointed out to her parents that they should treat Priya the same way they treated her sons. But her advice didn’t make an iota of difference to the old folks’ way of thinking or their actions.

Isha opened her eyes when the car slowed down and made the sharp turn into their driveway. Nikhil brought the car to a stop under the portico and turned to her. Feel better now?

She shook her head. Worse. We have to go in and tell them.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, his expression tender. I’ll do the telling, Ish. You just sit down and relax, okay.

She tried to summon a smile but didn’t quite succeed. He could be so kind sometimes, and he was so handsome that he still made her heart skip a beat.

She had been instantly attracted to him the day her parents had arranged for her to meet him. One look at those sparkling grey-green eyes, the strong jaw and nose, the tall, proud carriage, and Isha had made up her mind that this was the man she wanted to marry. Fortunately he had felt the same way about her.

She had fallen in love the first day and fallen deeper over the years as she had come to recognize Nikhil’s many sterling qualities: loyalty, sense of humour, capacity for hard work, and mostly, his love and devotion to her and Priya. And now his total commitment to their unborn child.

She loved him more than anyone else in the world. But even that wasn’t going to be enough to provide a buffer between his parents and her.

Opening the car door, she stepped out. All right, then. You tell them and I’ll sit there like the good little wife.

Despite her biting sarcasm, Nikhil smiled. Good decision.

July 2012

Isha listened to the relentless rain pounding the roof as she coaxed Priya to finish her dinner. The monsoons were in full swing. Late evenings seemed drearier than the rest of the day for some reason, perhaps because it rained even harder, or because she dreaded dinner time. It almost always followed the same pattern: the meal started with stilted conversation, then deteriorated into emotional arguments, and finally sank into sullen silence.

It was three months since Nikhil and she had informed Ayee and Baba about the baby’s gender. As expected, their reaction had been shocked silence followed by dramatic sighs.

Then one evening, Ayee and Baba had introduced the dreadful subject of abortion.

From that point on, it had become almost the sole topic of discussion, and the single bone of contention. The relationship between the younger and elder Tilaks had begun to rupture immediately. With each passing day it had become more strained, more resentful, even turbulent at times.

The bitterness and animosity seemed to aggravate at about the same rate the baby grew in her womb and kicked with more intensity.

I wonder why Nikhil is not home yet, said Isha’s mother-in-law, interrupting Isha’s gloomy thoughts. Ayee had made the remark for the second time in ten minutes, frowning at the wall clock.

Baba was in the drawing room, watching television. They were all waiting for Nikhil to return home from work.

He’s probably taking care of a last-minute customer, Isha explained to ease Ayee’s obvious agitation—although she had been wondering about the same thing herself. Nikhil knew his parents’ tendency to worry excessively about him, so he indulged them by keeping them informed of his whereabouts as much as he could.

So where was he? Why hadn’t he phoned?

Priya, it’s getting late. Isha threw her daughter a no-more-arguments frown. Now finish what’s on your plate. A fussy eater, Priya usually toyed with her food and wasted a lot of what was served, so she needed to be prodded into eating.

Priya shook her head, making her pigtails bounce. I’m not hungry. Her large hazel eyes had that familiar stubbornness about them.

That particular expression was so much like Nikhil’s when he got mulish about something that it made Isha smile inwardly. But they were such beautiful, expressive eyes. She was glad her child had inherited them from her father, because her own brown ones weren’t all that remarkable.

If you don’t eat, no bedtime story, Isha warned her. The enticement of a bedtime story was rather trite, but it almost always worked with Priya.

The little girl reluctantly shovelled the last spoonful of rice and

Reviews for The Forbidden Daughter

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Forbidden Daughter by Shobhan Bantwal revolves around the issue of gender selective abortions. This is a practise that, although illegal, is not uncommon in India, where tradition and culture favors the birth of a male heir. In this story, pregnant with their second girl child, Nikhil and Isha are offered an abortion. They are incensed that the doctor, and Nikhil’s parents think this is an acceptable choice yet while Isha simply changes doctors, her husband gathers evidence against the abortionist but before he can go to the police he is murdered. We then follow Isha as she leaves her in-laws home and tries to make a life for herself and her children. This is an excellent story that draws the reader into the life of this young mother as she tries to build a new life for herself and her daughters. She is helped along the way by a caring sister-in-law who goes against her parents wishes to help her and by a young doctor who becomes involved with the small family and grows to love them.Set in contemporary India, the book becomes equal parts of a family drama and a murder mystery. With it’s poignant story line, well developed characters and intriguing setting, Forbidden Daughter is well worth a read.

[eesti23 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The book started out a little slow, but then picked up enough to make me keep reading a chapter here and there throughout the day. The relationship between Isha and the doctor, as well as Isha's relationship with her sister-in-law was nice. Maybe one further chapter - x years in the future - would have been nice to round off the story.

[njmom3 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This book was not what I expected at all. It was basically a romance. Not bad if that's what you are looking for.

[sunflower6_cris · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I know that India had gender issues in the past but I didn't realize that they still exist in today's modern society. The main character Isha shows an amazing ability to defy the old world traditions and selective abortion. The love line twisted in the story with Harish is also touchy and romantic.

[skrishna_663463 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Isha Tilak is distraught. Her beloved husband, Nikhil, has been murdered under suspicious circumstances, and she is heavily pregnant with their second child. To make matters even worse, Nikhil’s parents are pressuring her to abort her unborn baby - not because the child would be a burden, but because it is a girl. Isha has witnessed their mistreatment of her older daughter, Priya, and refuses to subject her second child to that harshness simply on the basis of her sex. When her in-laws’ request for an abortion becomes a demand, Isha leaves their home and sets out on her own, not knowing where she can go or who she can turn to. All she knows is that she must protect her children, her beautiful daughters.Shobhan Bantwal has a history of writing about controversial Indian subjects. Her first book, The Dowry Bride, was about bride-burnings in India; specifically, it was the story of a woman who wasn’t producing children in a marriage and uncovered a plot by her mother-in-law to kill her so she wouldn’t have to return the dowry (which she would have to do if there were a divorce). This second book is about female abortions and infanticide. These topics, while uncomfortable, do take place in India (female abortion much more so than bride burnings, if I am not mistaken), and it is important that people become aware of them. Bantwal writes her novels in a manner that is easy to digest and, while shocking, brings important issues to light. Her resolve to educate others is admirable.The story of the novel, while a bit stilted in places, is sweet. We follow Isha’s story and watch her develop from a pampered girl into a strong, independent woman. She is very human - guarded and careful, not quick to forgive others. Sometimes in stories of adversity, the protagonist is written as a superhuman, someone better than the rest of us. Isha isn’t like that; she is very real and only does what she must do to protect herself and her children. The end of the story is a little crazy and unbelievable; one of the characters remarks that he feels like he is in a Bollywood movie. However, it is still an extremely worthwhile and enjoyable book.Though the controversial subject of female infanticide doesn’t receive much publicity in the United States, it is a real problem in India. It is now illegal in India for a doctor to discuss the sex of a child with its parents before birth, though as we see in The Forbidden Daughter, that doesn’t prevent many doctors from doing it anyway. It is important to note that this isn’t a general mindset – my parents, who are Indian, have two daughters and have always been more than thrilled to have us. While a reader shouldn’t make the mistake of thinking that this is the mindset of all Indians, it is a serious and very heartbreaking problem.The Forbidden Daughter is a wonderful story that defies genres. It is a daring book, bringing to light a problem that has been hidden just beneath the surface in India for quite some time. I highly recommend it to anyone who is interested in controversial issues, or anyone simply looking for an engaging story.Originally posted at Curled Up With a Good Book

[thetometraveller · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Isha Tilak is happily married with a small daughter and pregnant with her second child. She lives with her husband, Nikhil, and his parents in Palgaum, a small town in southwestern India. Her life begins to change, though she doesn't know it, with a visit to her doctor for an ultrasound. As she and her husband watch the test, the doctor tells them that the baby Isha is carrying is a girl. Then he says "We can fix that."Isha and Nikhil are stunned. The doctor is suggesting terminating the pregnancy because the child is not a boy! They are both aware that in the past boys had been much preferred to girls in Indian culture but are shocked that a modern doctor would be so nonchalantly suggesting an abortion on the basis of the baby's sex, which is against the law in modern India. They refuse, of course, but are deeply disturbed.A short time later, tragedy strikes the Tilak family. Nikhil is found dead at the family business. It looks as if he was robbed and stabbed while he was in the process of closing for the evening. He was the only son in his family and his parents' grief is overwhelming. They start to take their anger out on Isha and her small daughter. They say the baby girl she is carrying is a curse on the family and was the cause of her father's death. They make it obvious that they think she should have had the abortion. Isha finds that she cannot continue to live with them and subject her child to their animosity. Despite the fact that she has nowhere to go, no status as a widow and no way to earn any money, she takes her daughter and leaves.Thus begins Isha's journey to finding herself, finding out what really happened to her husband, and creating a future for herself and her two beautiful daughters. She surprises herself with her own strength and ability to adapt and grow despite the challenges that she encounters.I really liked this book. The characters felt real, were interesting and well written and the story was engaging. Though the idea of using abortion as a means of sex selection is disturbing, I think the author right to bring it to light in this way. I look forward to reading future books by Shobhan Bantwal.

[zibilee_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When Isha Tilak discovers that she is carrying a girl child in her womb, she fears the repercussions from her in-laws. Traditionally in India, the eldest male child and his family live with his parents, and must adhere to their rules and demands. Though her husband Nikhil is supportive about the pregnancy, he also knows that his parents will not bear this discovery gracefully. The couple, who already have one daughter, soon begin to feel the pressure as Nikhil's parents want them to abort the fetus. Isha is aware of the practice of selective abortion, yet never believes it will touch her life. The practice, clothed in secrecy, is suggested to the them by the older couple, who believe that only male children will continue the family legacy and carry the family name into the next generation. Like many Indians, they look on female babies as bad luck and useless mouths to feed. When the family's doctor asks Isha and Nikhil if they wish to abort the child, they vehemently refuse. Then Nikhil is killed under strange circumstances, leaving Isha to fight alone against her family's demands. With the pressure of the forced abortion mounting daily, Isha must find a way to give birth to the daughter that Nikhil will never see. Into this mix comes an unexpected stranger who can not only save Isha, but also help her get to the root of her husband's death, and might even give her a new start at life. Along the way, Isha discovers a shocking secret that will put those who she cares about in serious danger, and she must fight for the courage to expose a ruthless duo of men trying to protect their clandestine activities.Until reading this book, I had no idea of the magnitude of selective abortion in India. The author does a wonderful job of relating this problem in her story, while still being able to create a rich tale that encompasses duty, forgiveness and love. Though the characters in this story are somewhat modern Indians, they still harbor the more traditional Indian ideals, using the advanced technology such as ultrasound to further their gender goals. I found the entire process of gender specific abortion hard to swallow, and cheered Isha on in her attempts to make her family understand the societal implications as well as the moral significance of their actions. I admired Isha's character as a strong and intelligent woman who never yields to the outside pressure of her family. Her struggle for independence after Nikhil's death takes her character through a series of complex and difficult emotions. The love she has for her children is the unyielding root of this story, and many times she made some very hard choices in order to keep them safe and secure. This story had the additional component of a love story that was unexpected and welcome. While Isha struggled to remain faithful to her husband's memory, she could not ignore the romantic feelings that were brewing inside of her, and continued to act admirably. Although I liked the character of Isha, I found her in-laws to be despicable. They were controlling and domineering and made life for Isha and the children extremely difficult. They both were very negative people who seemed to only care for their narrow-minded beliefs, and went to absurd lengths to attain their goals. It was eye-opening to discover that some women in India have to live in such rigid and oppressive home situations.This was a book that was hard to pin down to any specific genre. It was by turns a drama, a love story, and, atypically a thriller. I found the various styles in the book moved very fluidly and the story seemed well rounded. It was an interesting view into the social climate of today's India, and the societal pressure that many women are faced with to produce male offspring. In a note appending the book, the author goes into detail regarding the staggering number of selective abortions performed in the past two decades. This book, in addition to being a well developed story, was also a way for the author to make a social statement about this illegal and immoral practice. I believe she achieved both beautifully.