Inheritance

by Balli Kaur

  ‘’Kay,’ Rani said.

  Banu turned back to Gurdev. ‘So? Earrings or no earrings?’

  ‘They look fine,’ he said. ‘They match your sari.’

  Banu held the earrings up and turned her head at an angle. She slipped them on and then turned again. She frowned. ‘It’s okay for me to be wearing a sari, right?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘I don’t know, I overheard some temple ladies, the younger set, saying they might wear evening gowns.’

  ‘Evening gowns?’ Gurdev repeated.

  ‘It is a hotel function, not a temple thing,’ Banu said nervously. ‘But it’s a Sikh Association dinner. Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I won’t be the only one in traditional dress.’ She went to the doorway and called out for the girls to finish getting ready. Gurdev held out his wrists in a silent request for Banu to fasten his cufflinks.

  ‘He’ll be there,’ she said quietly to Gurdev. ‘Your favourite brother.’

  ‘Cousin,’ Gurdev corrected. ‘I’m not afraid of him. We saw him last year at Surtaj Singh’s son’s wedding. He was fine. He’s over it.’

  Banu shook her head. ‘Gurdev, where money is concerned, things don’t just become water under the bridge. I’ve been telling you for years now, call him, have a talk and sort this out. Explain why we did it.’

  ‘He would have brought it up by now,’ Gurdev said. ‘I don’t know why he hasn’t. Maybe he realised he was being greedy. Maybe he knows it’s going to a worthy cause. Look at what our girls have achieved. A Sikh Association Award recognising them for the highest primary school exam results in the community. Karam and Sona don’t even have kids.’

  Banu stared at him and pulled away. ‘I certainly hope you don’t bring that up!’ she exclaimed. According to temple gossip, Karam and Sona had tried unsuccessfully for the past few years. Sona wanted to adopt but Karam didn’t and the resulting rift explained why they were rarely seen together. Rumour had it they were separated.

  After a bit more primping, Gurdev and his family left for the Hilton. Orchard Road glittered with Christmas lights and displays. The girls stared out of the taxi windows in awe of the looming buildings. Gurdev recalled none of this spectacle when he was growing up. ‘There was only one department store: CK Tang,’ he told the girls. It was still there but the original building, an Imperial Palace replica, had been demolished two years ago to make way for a new, sleek Tang complex.

  As they set foot in the cavernous hotel ballroom, Gurdev felt his pride swell. All of these tables, all of these members of the community, would see his daughters honoured for their academic achievements. He searched the room for Karam but did not see him. Even better, he thought.

  An usher showed them to their table and pulled out the chairs for Banu and the girls. Kiran and Simran chatted excitedly, ignoring their younger sister. ‘How’s my Rani-Pani?’ Gurdev asked.

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ Rani said, with a grin.

  A woman passed their table. Banu and Gurdev both turned to watch her. Dressed in a deep green evening gown with a bare back, she sauntered to a table where another woman sat in a similar outfit. Gurdev shared a look with Banu. She looked down at her sari and smoothed out the pleats. ‘Shameless,’ she whispered to him. There were other women wearing saris and salwar kameezes as well, but they were clearly in the minority. Gurdev was reminded of the wedding he had attended a year ago when he saw the twin boys of Vickram Singh, an old classmate of his, with their hair completely shorn off. It certainly seemed more common these days but it did not make it right. He glanced over at Kiran and Simran and noticed – though it might have been a trick of the dimmed lights – that their cardigan buttons had come undone. Simran turned to catch his eye and quickly whispered something to Kiran. They hastily buttoned up their cardigans.

  Banu found a friend and began chatting with her. Rani looked bored. Gurdev picked up a program from the table and showed it to her. ‘Read the header for me, Rani,’ he said. Rani frowned and looked away. ‘Come on,’ he coaxed. ‘Just show Daddy you’re a smarty-pants like your sisters.’ Rani had taken longer to learn to read than any of the other children in her class. Gurdev and Banu practised with her at home each night, but she struggled to form the words.

  ‘Welcome to,’ he began, ‘the…’

  ‘An… annu…’ Rani read.

  ‘Annual,’ Gurdev completed. Rani looked away.

  The lights dimmed further and the celebrations began. Tablas thumped loudly as a bhangra group danced. Three course meals were served. The Minister for Education gave a speech. Gurdev had highlighted this feature of the evening’s program to Father when he tried to convince him to come along. Father did not leave the flat often these days and only went to the temple on weekday mornings, when fewer people were likely to see him.

  An usher came to tell the girls to sit up at the front. ‘Go on,’ Banu said, waving at Kiran and Simran. They smiled shyly and followed the usher, walking close together. Once they were seated, Kiran turned back to look at Gurdev and whispered something to Simran. Casually, they both slipped out of their cardigans and left them hanging on their chairs.

  Staring at the girls in the hope of getting their attention, Gurdev vaguely noticed somebody pulling up a chair next to him, as the president of the Sikh Association was called to the stage to give his remarks. When the applause died down, a familiar voice asked, ‘How are things going, brother?’

  Gurdev turned to face Karam. ‘Hey,’ he said with a quick cough to hide his surprise. ‘I didn’t think you were here.’

  ‘I arrived a bit late. That Christmas traffic is madness,’ Karam said. He nodded at the president. ‘I’m on the Board.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘I knew you’d be here tonight.’ As Karam spoke, Gurdev caught a whiff of whiskey. He searched the room quickly for Sona, but she wasn’t there. ‘You must be very proud of your girls,’ Karam said. There wasn’t a trace of pleasantness in his voice.

  Banu returned to the table. She and Karam greeted each other. Rani tugged at her sari. ‘I need to take Rani to the rest room. I’ll be right back,’ she said, shooting another look at Gurdev.

  ‘How is work?’ Gurdev asked.

  ‘Good,’ Karam said. ‘Great, actually. I got a grant to spend my sabbatical year in Malaysia doing some research there.’

  ‘That’s nice. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Karam took a sip from his glass. ‘How’s the family? How’s your father?’

  ‘He’s all right.’

  ‘I haven’t seen him lately.’

  ‘He doesn’t go out much,’ Gurdev shrugged.

  ‘And Narain?’ Karam asked.

  ‘He’s all right,’ Gurdev said. ‘I haven’t seen a lot of him recently but he’s still living with Father.’

  ‘No plans to marry?’ Karam asked.

  Gurdev felt his face flush. ‘Karam, why do you do this?’ he asked.

  Karam held up his hands as if to surrender. ‘I’m just asking,’ he said.

  ‘Let him be,’ Gurdev said. ‘He’s never done anything to harm you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Karam replied. ‘I’ve seen him around the university lately, causing trouble.’

  ‘Narain causing trouble? You’ve got the wrong person.’

  ‘It’s definitely Narain. Your little brother. Handing out leaflets and talking about staging a demonstration. He mixes with a certain crowd – postgraduate sociology and political science students. They get so caught up in all their questioning and case studies that they forget where they are.’

  ‘You must have mistaken another man for Narain. With that short hair–’

  ‘Oh, I know his face very well. I’ll have no problem describing it to the authorities,’ Karam said calmly, turning towards the stage. ‘Your girls are about to receive their awards,’ he told Gurdev. An announcer was on the stage, reading out the list of accomplishments. Kiran and Simran sat up, their shoulders taut.

  ‘
Don’t you dare, Karam,’ Gurdev said. ‘Narain could be locked away.’ This was all he knew of what happened to dissidents nowadays. Detained in a dark cell, somewhere in a corner of the island. The newspapers didn’t mention it; nor did they mention the agencies that kept track of citizens’ movements, placing them on blacklists for disrespecting the government. Everybody just knew they existed.

  ‘You know what I can’t stand about people like Narain?’ Karam continued. ‘The lack of gratitude. Look at how far the country has come. He goes out and complains because he doesn’t want to work to fit in with the rest of us. He just wants to carry on with his bapok ways.’

  The word, implying that Narain was a transvestite, gave Gurdev a chill. ‘You don’t know anything,’ he told Karam. ‘This is none of your business.’

  Karam turned to face him. ‘It’s every bit my business. I’m a citizen. I have the privilege of knowing that my country won’t be wrecked by the instabilities that have brought down so many other nations. If I need to report your brother, I will. I would think you’d be on my side on this. It’s bad enough that people are always talking about Amrit. What has she done with herself? Never married, never even able to get engaged again after that last time. Living in bars and wasting her life away. You know her latest, don’t you? Cleaning toilets at Singapore General Hospital. I’ll be surprised if she holds down that job.’

  Gurdev clenched his fists into tight balls. Over the announcer’s voice, he could hear his own quick breathing, like steam escaping from a pressure cooker. Karam seemed unaffected by his anger. The announcer called out, ‘Kiran Kaur Sandhu.’ Kiran walked across the stage, smiling radiantly.

  Gurdev’s heart began to pound as Karam leaned towards him. ‘Don’t,’ he began to say. It came out like a plea. Don’t ruin this moment for me.

  ‘Simran Kaur Sandhu,’ the announcer called. Simran stepped out onto the stage, her smile less confident, her eyes squeezed against the brightness of the lights.

  ‘Amrit was good at her schoolwork as well,’ Karam said. ‘What is she doing with all her big talents now?’

  Gurdev saw nothing but darkness. He grabbed Karam by the collar with one arm and swung back the other. When a woman across the room gasped, Gurdev realised that his fist had connected with Karam’s jaw, the first in a succession of punches. Expletives flew from his lips.

  Two firm arms clamped tightly around his chest, pulling him up and away. The house lights were turned on and the evening suddenly washed in brightness, stripping away its glamour. There were several people talking to him at once, and a firm voice telling him to sit.

  In the morning, he woke to find himself alone in bed. Weak threads of sunlight streamed through the windows, giving the faintest glow to the cupboards and the bathroom door. He turned to his side, then turned back again. It was time to face Banu.

  She was sitting on the living room couch with a cup of tea. When she shifted to place the tea on the table, the rattan creaked to protest her movements. Gurdev knew from the way she stiffened that she was aware of his presence. The flat was entirely silent. He strained his ears to hear the girls’ voices.

  ‘They’re not here,’ Banu said. She had a way of anticipating his questions. ‘I sent them out to the shops to buy a few things.’ As she spoke, Gurdev saw faint lines spreading on her face. She had not taken off her make-up. The glittering earrings from the night before had been tossed onto the coffee table. In all of their years of marriage, they had always slept in the same bed. ‘Banu,’ he started, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

  ‘You can’t say anything to justify it,’ she said. ‘He angered you, I’m sure. I don’t want to know who said what or who threw the first punch.’ She turned to Gurdev. ‘You fought, Gurdev. A grown man getting into a brawl with his cousin in front of all those people.’

  ‘He was telling lies about Amrit,’ said Gurdev. He ignored the hand that Banu held up to silence him. ‘He was saying that our daughters would be just like her, that she works as a cleaner.’

  ‘He wasn’t lying,’ Banu said. ‘I heard about it last night, too. Now they’ll go around saying you’re a violent drunkard as well.’

  ‘How can Amrit be cleaning toilets?’

  ‘Go over to your father’s flat today,’ Banu said. ‘Bring Amrit back here.’

  ‘For what?’ Gurdev asked.

  ‘She’ll stay here. I will have her help me around the house. Cooking, cleaning, laundry.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ Gurdev said. ‘She’ll be fine for a few days and then she’ll just take advantage of the situation. That’s what she does, Banu. Worse yet, our girls will be exposed to all of it.’

  ‘She won’t have a chance to misbehave,’ Banu said. ‘All she needs is discipline. What do you expect from a girl who was only brought up by men? She’s been rebelling like a teenager for years now, going wild because nobody ever taught her about moderation.’

  Gurdev folded his hands over his chest. ‘This is ridiculous. You’re just inviting trouble. Do you know what type of company she keeps? You want those men to come knocking around here?’

  ‘They won’t,’ Banu replied. ‘Amrit won’t be given a house key and we’ll tell her that if we get so much as a phone call from any man–’

  ‘What makes you think she will agree to it? She’s not a child.’

  ‘You let me handle that,’ Banu said. ‘I will talk to her very frankly about where her life is going to go if she continues like this. Over here, she has three meals a day, a clean room and a job. I will pay her. She is already doing such work. She might as well do it in the privacy of our home rather than in public. No telephone, no going out at night. If she wants to be entertained, we are here. If she makes one wrong move, if she tries to sneak out, if she uses the phone to call any of her friends, she’s out and she won’t have a second chance.’

  Gurdev opened his mouth to say more but he was met with Banu’s steely stare. ‘You keep protesting and you can be the one who sleeps on the couch from now on. What you did yesterday, Gurdev – I don’t know if our daughters will ever forget that humiliation. It will take a long time for things to get back to normal in this home.’

  Gurdev took in a sharp breath and looked away from Banu. He could hear his heartbeat; it felt as if it had not stopped this rapid, insistent beating since his fight with Karam the night before. ‘I’ll call Karam to apologise,’ he offered weakly.

  ‘Oh, yes, you’ll do that too,’ Banu said with false cheer. ‘Don’t think I’ve left that out. You will tell him that you were wrong, cowardly and plain stupid. You will also have that conversation that you’ve been avoiding for years about the damn inheritance money.’ She looked around and sighed. ‘If I had known, Gurdev, that it would cause so much trouble for us–’

  ‘You would have pressured me to take it anyway,’ Gurdev cut in. ‘Let’s not pretend that our daughters’ education was not worth that. If anything, I did my father a favour taking that money from Karam. Karam was always after the money.’

  ‘He was always after winning,’ Banu said. ‘Yesterday, you allowed it to happen.’ With that, she picked herself up off the couch and left Gurdev in the living room, his heart pounding to the sound of this fresh truth.

  When Narain opened the door, Gurdev was greeted with a familiar odour. The flat was musty, the living room carpets faded, the coffee table surface stripped of its sheen. ‘Is Amrit here?’ Gurdev asked. He wished Banu were here to see the state of this place. And you expect her to clean our house, he would retort.

  ‘No,’ said Narain. He nodded towards the master bedroom door. ‘Father’s inside but I think he’s taking a shower.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Gurdev said. ‘I can wait.’ He stood awkwardly towards the hallway. ‘Where do you think Amrit might be?’

  ‘The usual,’ Narain said. Gurdev took a careful look at Narain and noticed the tension with which he carried himself. His arms didn’t just fall at his sides; they were rigid like rifles.

 
; ‘How are you these days? How’s work?’ Gurdev asked.

  Narain shrugged and muttered that he was doing fine.

  To fill the silence, Gurdev launched into an update about the girls. Their antics never failed to bring a smile to Narain’s face. He told Narain about how Rani had thought that the bus interchange was where money came from. ‘Those change machines. She saw all of those coins and thought that dollar notes were some sort of coupon that you exchange for real money. You should have seen her face – so confused when Kiran and Simran explained that coins were worth less than dollars. She said, “but coins are heavier.” If you think about it, children have the right logic.’

  It worked somewhat, although Narain’s smile was distant. He made a vague motion at Father’s door. ‘He should be out in a bit.’ He wandered into his room and looked surprised when Gurdev followed him in.

  ‘What do you want, Gurdev?’ Narain asked sharply.

  ‘I just want to check up on you,’ Gurdev said.

  ‘Why?’ Narain squinted, as if searching out Gurdev’s intentions.

  ‘We haven’t spoken in a while,’ Gurdev said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m just fine, Gurdev. When I’m not at work, I’m busy making sure Amrit stays out of trouble. I only catch a break when she’s gone or when nobody is at home. When I’m not doing either of those duties, I have to keep Father company because he’s at home all the time now. I run his errands for him, and when Amrit isn’t around I cook and clean. I attend all the weddings and prayer sessions that he is too embarrassed to go to, like I’m some kind of representative of his. I try to leave quickly, yet somehow people manage to stop me to ask about our family. They ask about you and Banu and the girls, and I always tell them that you’re all doing very well, even though you hardly ever drop by.’

  Gurdev flinched at the accusation and wanted to say something in his defence but Narain was intent on continuing.