Chapter 2Aman the doll-seller slapped his forehead to smudge the lines of fate. He had been having a terrible day and now it had got even worse with this calamity at the station. The gods were clearly intent on punishing him.
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His morning had begun at Dr Chipalkatti’s Free Maternity Clinic on Mall Road; when Dr Chipalkatti brushed against him but didn’t speak on the way out of the delivery room, Aman knew it was a girl. It was the birth of a third daughter.
He had turned 60 two months ago. He finally felt old age press down on his shoulders; a lifetime of his seed, all gone to waste. Every morning, his days started with the unbearable sight of men with sons: other men with strong strapping sons who walked tall; sons who brought fat dowries and fatter grandsons into the house and enrich
