“Yes, the last time was when he found out about the financial problems Raj caused us,” said Raj’s father.
“The last time? You mean Ajay tried to poison Raj more than once?” Dax asked. Marlee was glad to see he was as dumbfounded as she was. She was beginning to wonder if this was the norm for extended families in India.
“Ajay was consuming alcohol, of which we do not approve. He became intoxicated and put poison in Raj’s chai. Raj could taste something strange in his tea and refused to drink the rest of it at breakfast. We later discovered Ajay had placed poison in the tea carafe Raj always used. He did it the night before and was very apologetic the next morning when Raj accused him,” Mommy-ji reported.
“How many other times did Ajay try to poison Raj?” Marlee asked, dismayed at how normally they were all discussing one brother attempting to poison another.
“Only once,” reported Raj’s father. “It was at least four years ago when Ajay first placed poison in the carafe Raj exclusively uses for his chai. We never found out why he did it, but he apologized and promised it would never happen again. Raj forgave him, and they seemed to be on better terms. Better than ever, really, so we let it go,” said Mommy-ji.
“What was happening at the time that might have caused Ajay to have so much anger toward his younger brother?” asked Dax, as he leaned closer toward Raj’s parents.
“We don’t know. Ajay’s wife just had their third child and they were very happy. We were all very happy for them. It was a wonderful time in our family, so when Ajay tried to poison Raj, no one could believe it at first. Raj insisted he had been poisoned and went to hospital where it was confirmed. The doctor said had Raj not come in when he did, he would have died. Ajay became so upset when he heard the news that he broke down and admitted his put the poison in Raj’s tea,” replied Raj’s father. “He was so remorseful, and Raj forgave him, so we did not push for more answers. Now I think maybe we should have done more.”
“It’s not your fault if Ajay killed Raj. You are not responsible for the actions of your children,” Dax said, rushing to comfort the grieving family.
Marlee wasn’t so sure that she agreed with Dax. If they knew Ajay tried to kill Raj twice before, didn’t they have some responsibility to make sure it didn’t happen again? They could’ve kicked Ajay and his family out of the home or sought to find a new home for Raj, so he would be protected from the murderous whims of his eldest brother. Marlee wasn’t sure how common this type of thing was in big, extended Indian families and what the normal course of action would be. It was understandable that the parents might not want to put Ajay, his wife, and three children out on the street if they were unable to find other accommodations. Marlee also knew it would be difficult for any parent to turn a child into the police. There was no clear-cut answer, but doing absolutely nothing seemed to be the poorest choice of all.
Changing the focus of their questions, Marlee asked, “Was Raj dating anyone or considering anyone else for marriage?”
“This is deeply embarrassing for our family. It is a horrible rumor, and we do not believe it, but I will tell you what we heard. A cousin told me that Raj was having an extra marital affair with a professor in the Sociology Department. The rumor is that she was mentoring him in his graduate work and then their relationship became less than professional.” Raj’s father bowed his head toward the floor, and a blush crept up his brown cheeks.
“We are not here to judge you or your family,” said Dax and Marlee nodded in agreement. “We only want to understand what happened to Raj and find out why he died.”
“That is all we want too. We are just so worried that Ajay might be responsible, and if that is so, then we will have one son in prison and one son dead. That is just too much to bear.” Mommy-ji dabbed at corners of her eyes with the end of her sari.
Marlee felt horrible at the plight of this family. Raj was dead, and his eldest brother was likely the murderer. What parents could endure the loss of not just one but two of their three children?
“If Ajay did poison Raj, and that’s what killed him, what will you do?” Marlee asked as she realized reporting him to law enforcement might not be the automatic result. Since Raj was already dead would their allegiance now be toward keeping intact what family they had left?
“We have discussed this and do not know. Ajay should be punished if he killed his brother, but we do not wish him to be imprisoned away from his wife and children. Without his income, we will have to sell the home to pay off our debts.” Raj’s father wrung his hands and shook his head from side to side. “There is no easy answer.”
“Do you think someone else could’ve poisoned Raj in an attempt to put suspicion on Ajay?” Dax enquired.
“But who? No one else in the family had such a problem with Raj as did Ajay. It was his idea to evict Raj from the house after the debacle with our finances and his false claim that he had cancer. Ajay and Raj met while he was living away from home, and Raj agreed to become employed and be honest with the family from that time forward. It was then that we agreed to let Raj move back into the house,” said Mommy-ji.
“And Ajay agreed to this arrangement as well?” asked Marlee.
“No, not at first. He put pressure on Raj to become employed full-time, so he could pay back the money he caused the family to lose. When Ajay told us of this, and Raj had begun working at university, we decided to invite him to move back home. Ajay was not in favor of this plan, but I am in charge of the family, and I make the decisions,” said Raj’s father. Mommy-ji gave a slight Mona Lisa smile, knowing that she was the real influence in the family but that for the sake of her husband’s ego, she had to let him think he was in charge.
“Did Raj get along with his sisters-in-law and his nieces and nephews?” Dax asked.
“Yes, very well. Chandra and Gita have never said a bad word about him to me. And that is remarkable since Chandra is Ajay’s wife, and he has surely confided in her his dislike and distrust of his brother. Raj’s nieces and nephews are all under twelve years of age and adore him. Even if one or more of them did not, I cannot envision a child younger than twelve poisoning an uncle. Can you?” asked Mommy-ji.
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Marlee answered, unsure if she really believed it or if she was just trying to keep the conversation flowing. “In the United States, we hear of a child bringing about the death of someone, but it’s rare.”
Dax capitalized on the momentary silence. “Do you know of anyone specifically at university who would want to do harm to Raj? Perhaps the husband of the professor with whom he was supposedly having an affair?”
“That is just a nasty rumor,” Mommy-ji snapped. “There is no truth to that claim.”
“It may be a false rumor, but if the professor’s husband heard about a supposed affair, he may have believed it and taken action,” Marlee interjected.
Raj’s parents both turned to look at Marlee. “I never thought of that,” said Raj’s father. “If the husband believed the rumor, he could have assaulted Raj both times and also poisoned him.”
“Have you ever met Professor Appleton or her husband, Professor Kingsley?” Marlee asked.
“They both came here as guests of Raj last year for a family meal. We thought they were a lovely couple. They were British, but so interested in learning more about the ways of India. I cannot believe the woman would have an affair with Raj, or the man would kill him. It does not make sense,” said Raj’s father.
Marlee noticed he wasn’t disputing that Raj might have an affair but thought Eleanor would be above such behavior. Raj’s parents seemed to have a handle on the true nature of their youngest son, even though they were hesitant to believe rumors about him.
“You say that Raj and Eleanor were not having an affair, but I heard that not only were they seeing each other, but that Eleanor is pregnant, and Raj is quite possibly the father.” Marlee held her breath. The Sharma’s son just died, and now two strangers, one of them a foreigner, were in the family home telling tales
they heard circulating about their deceased child. She wouldn’t blame them if they blew up and threw her and Dax out on their ears.
To Marlee’s surprise, both of the Sharmas’ ears perked up. “A baby?” asked Mommy-ji, a smile spreading widely across her face. “We may have a new grandchild,” she said turning to her husband.
“You would be fine with that?” Marlee asked.
“Oh, yes. It would give us part of Raj to hold onto now that he is gone. We disapprove of an affair and also a baby born outside wedlock, but it would give us such pleasure to have a child of Raj’s.” For the first time since she’d met him, Raj’s father was smiling too.
At Marlee’s apartment, she and Dax drank Kingfisher beers and processed their evening interviews with Raj’s parents. “I think his parents are hoping the baby will be a better version of Raj. All of his good characteristics without any of the bad ones,” Dax said, taking off his jacket and hanging across the back of the chair.
“That’s the conclusion I came to as well. At first, I thought they would be angry, and I was worried I’d gone too far in telling them this rumor. Of course, we don’t know that Raj is the father, but I guess that will be fairly obvious when it’s born.”
“Yes, I’ve seen Eleanor. She is very pale and has light hair. So, does her husband. It will be clear when the baby is born if the baby belongs to Raj or to her husband,” Dax said.
Marlee contemplated that statement for a moment. “Maybe, but maybe not. We’re assuming Eleanor had an affair with only Raj. She could have been sleeping with multiple men at the same time, so we can’t just assume a baby with dark skin is Raj’s, or a baby with light skin is her husband’s.”
“I had not thought of that,” Dax said with a distasteful expression on his face. “This does not put Eleanor in a good light.”
“I don’t think anyone in this scenario comes out smelling like a rose,” Marlee bristled, hoping Dax was not going to make horribly sexist comments about women in general and Eleanor in particular.
“No, but the burden is on the woman since she carries the child,” Dax stated.
“What do you mean?” Marlee asked, knowing damned well what he meant. She took a long drag off the beer bottle as a means of stalling for time to get her argument ready.
Dax sensed trouble brewing and took a moment to choose his words. “Since Eleanor is the mother of the child, she needs to know the paternity. And that is not just because it is the right thing to do. There are medical and social issues to consider. What if the child needs a kidney or another body part later on in life? It would be most compatible from a family member. How about when the child is growing up? They would want to know their real father.”
“But you know many women throughout the world don’t necessarily know the paternity of their child. They may have had several sexual partners and be unsure who is the father. They may have been raped and not know the identity of the assailant. I hear what you’re saying, but in reality, that just isn’t going to happen for many women.”
“I know you are going to be angry with me, but I will say it anyway. Women in India are much more conservative, and most of them will be certain of the paternity of their children because it will be their husband’s. I understand that things are much more relaxed in America.”
Marlee finished her beer and set the bottle down on the table even though she felt like cracking it against Dax’s head. “I recognize that India is more conservative, some might even say repressed, in its views on women and their roles in society. But, I also think the views in India will change as your country becomes more advanced. And I know you will take exception to that comment, but I will say it anyway,” Marlee said, staring at Dax, daring him to challenge her further.
Of course, he did. “So, you think your country is more evolved than mine and that can be measured by the number of women who have multiple sexual partners?” Fire was nearly jumping from Dax’s eyes as he stared back at Marlee.
Fortunately, Marlee had taken an online class in conflict management last year and knew this conversation was headed down a dark alley. “Dax, I can recognize and celebrate differences between our cultures, and I’m sure you can do the same.” She took a deep breath, knowing she sounded like a self-help book. “I have very strong opinions on the role of women in society, and you do as well. Maybe there are some areas where we can agree to disagree.”
Dax was bowled over by her calm, detached response to his obviously inflammatory comment. He crossed and then uncrossed his legs, tapping his fingers against the green beer bottle as he looked around the room for inspiration. “I suppose that is so, but we will need to come to an agreement on many issues before we marry, and you move to India.”
Marlee opened two more beers, again stalling for time as she chose her words. “Dax, I think you’re very attractive and intelligent. If I lived here in India, I would consider dating you. But as I’ve already stated, I’m going back to South Dakota at the end of May. I’m not going to marry you, and I’m not moving to India. There is absolutely nothing you can do or say to change my mind.” She walked three steps from the mini-fridge to the chair where Dax was sitting and handed him the beer.
“That is what they all say,” Dax said with an air of mystery.
“What do you mean? Do you have multiple wives?” Marlee was horrified that she’d been out to supper and was entertaining a man in her apartment that was already married.
Dax squinted his eyes as he laughed. “No, I do not have any wives. You will be the first and only wife.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Let me ask you this. Have you noticed how many women from the United States, England, Canada, and Australia live in India? I am not talking about street vendors but women in professional positions, like Eleanor.”
Marlee thought for a minute as she pulled at the paper on her beer bottle. “Now that I think of it, there are a lot of white women here. Why is that?”
“Women come to India by themselves because of their professions. Then they meet an Indian man, marry him, and stay in the country,” Dax said with a smug grin.
“Ah, I see. You think women who come to India in the first place are husband-hunting, and once they find a match, they relocate to your country. That probably makes sense for some women, but I’m not looking for a husband. It wasn’t even my idea to come to India. No offense, but my plan was to do research in Ireland. I’m here until the end of May, then I’ll return home. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but you need to realize that I’m different than any other women you know. I’m happy on my own and don’t plan to get married to you or anyone else.”
He gave her a knowing smile as he sipped the last of his beer. “I believe you. And now I must be on my way. I will speak to you soon.”
She didn’t know what to think. She was pissed and perplexed at the same time. Dax seemed to think he knew her better than she knew herself. Sure, he was an attractive guy and was interesting, but that didn’t mean she was going to throw her life away in America and move to India. The country and the people of India were really growing on her, yet she knew she wouldn’t be happy there. Even as intelligent and enlightened as Dax was, he still had very rigid views of women. India was a land of contradictions; loving and welcoming on one hand but restricting and judging on the other.
The situation had an easy answer; teach and carry out the rest of the required academic duties through May. Then she would return home. End of story.
Believe what you see and not all you hear.
Indian proverb
Chapter 22
Marlee woke early and went to her office even though there was very little to do. She had her class notes for the American Criminology class and had a general idea of what she would do each day in class. Since she’d taught for eight years, she knew that a balance was needed in the classroom. Lecturing for the whole class period every time was not well received by American students. They needed practical application of the concept
s they learned or else they became disinterested.
Technology had its advantages and disadvantages in the classroom. Marlee loved that she could pull up all kinds of visual examples in class. When speaking about the types of prisons in the federal system, she accessed the websites for the Federal Prison Camp in Yankton, South Dakota as well as the various prisons in Leavenworth, Kansas. When she was a student in the 80s, her own classroom instruction consisted of lectures supplemented with hand-written plastic transparencies on an overhead machine and maybe one film per semester. American students today needed more engagement and entertainment. There were proponents and naysayers of the new generation of students, but the fact remained that the students of today had their standards. Marlee’s main objective was to figure out how to convey her knowledge on American Criminology to the students in India.
She found her way to the darkened main office and Meena was there typing furiously at the computer. “Hello,” Marlee said, walking through the open door.
Meena jumped, so intent on her typing that she didn’t hear anyone enter the office. “Yes, hello. How are you this morning?” she asked, darkening the computer screen.
“I’m fine. What are you working on? I’ve seen you typing very early in the morning on two occasions. Are you just getting a jump start on your work for the day?”
“Do you promise to keep my secret if I tell you?” Meena whispered. Marlee nodded her consent, not knowing what she was agreeing to, but believing it was worth the risk.
“I am writing a book, and I do not want anyone else to know about it. My family only has one computer, and there are ten of us in the home that use it. This is the only opportunity I have to write. It is a secret, and I do not want anyone else to know.”
“I promise not to tell anyone,” Marlee said earnestly and she meant it. She’d always wanted to be a writer but had never taken the time to develop the craft. If someone else was willing and able to undertake writing a book, she wouldn’t be the one to blab the information to their boss or anyone else. “What is your book about?”
Blood Feud Page 17