by Vas, Mahita;
Lavinia reached into her bag and handed him her keys, grinning. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Uday turned down the volume of the Taylor Swift song playing in the background. “Is there some other music? All these songs sound the same.”
“Daddy, she’s my favourite singer and her songs are the best!”
Uday laughed. “Your mother and I failed with you and your brothers when it comes to your taste in music. Switch it to radio, please, or turn it off.”
Lavinia found a station playing some hits from the seventies. Uday smiled and nodded.
“Daddy, something bad happened this morning. Maribel ran away.”
“What? Why? Was she in one of those moods again?” Uday slowed down, moved into the centre lane and stayed within the speed limit. Maribel had been with the family for twelve years and while she was efficient and competent, she was also temperamental and impatient. Maribel still saw Ashwin as the fifteen-year-old he was when she first arrived from the Philippines. To her, Lavinia was, at times, still a ten-year-old who needed a friend to play with, or a troubled teen who missed her beloved mother.
Maribel had been known to walk away in a huff and lock herself in the bedroom she shared with Wati. Uday and his family tolerated Maribel’s erratic behaviour because she was honest, caring and kept the house spotless, an ability prized by Julie, who, Uday was convinced, went undiagnosed as borderline obsessive compulsive. But not once had Maribel ever threatened to leave.
Lavinia turned to look at her father, who kept his eyes fixed on the East Coast Parkway Road. “Why else, Daddy? Your darling Tamara woke up this morning and decided to pick a fight with Maribel. I was on my way out when I heard some yelling in the kitchen. As soon as I walked in, I heard Maribel saying something about not having to work with a wicked witch—I think there were some Tagalog vulgarities thrown in—that the only queen in that home will be her late madam. She meant Mummy, you know, and then she made the sign of the cross and said, “god bless your soul ma’am”, and ran to her room. I really had to run as I was already late, so I called Maribel while I was on the train. She said she couldn’t be at our home for another minute and was going to her sister’s employer’s home. She said she wants a transfer to another employer but only you could make the arrangements, so I promised her I’d talk to you.”
Uday pursed his lips and cocked his head. “Maribel didn’t say what triggered it?”
“I asked her. She didn’t want to talk about it. I asked Wati when I got home this evening and after much coaxing, she said it might have been because Tamara asked—no, she told Maribel—to give her a full body massage. Can you imagine? Maribel, spa therapist. Ha!”
“Maybe Tamara was used to that in Shanghai and didn’t realise it was not the norm here, to have helpers provide such services.”
“I’ve heard some employers expect to be massaged by their helpers. Even the men. Disgusting people! Probably Tamara’s friends amongst them. Tamara’s a real dragon woman.” Lavinia chuckled. “Madam Naga. That’s what I once overheard Wati calling her. I like it. That’s what I’m going to call Tamara from now on. Lol—”
“I wish you’d stop using that word. Seriously, why don’t you just laugh out loud, instead of using an abbreviation without even making an effort to laugh? It’s so silly, like so many of your millennial words.”
Lavinia chuckled. “You sound like Sayana. I can imagine him saying the same thing to his students. Anyway, as I was saying, Tamara has had a few names, apparently, so this would be just another one on the list.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you know, Daddy? She had been a fan of Jimmy Choo shoes for a couple of years before reading in some fashion magazine about Tamara Mellon, a co-founder of the brand. Some friends had given her grief about her previous name, so she changed it to Tamara. Just like that. Apparently, people in China have Western names, usually taken from luxury brands or celebrities.”
Uday knew about the practice of absurd names for men and women in China. It was becoming increasingly common in Singapore, too, but Uday had simply assumed Tamara was a name she had adopted while she was a student in the United States. “Did she say what her previous name was?”
“She didn’t offer it, but I did ask. Are you ready for this, Daddy?” Lavinia took her eyes off the road for a moment, to face Uday. With sheer delight, she said, “Her name was Lulu Wang. Can you imagine? Sounds like a stripper! And before that, she was Ariel because she loved The Little Mermaid. I laughed when she told me. I honestly didn’t mean to be rude. She got up and went off to your room in a huff.”
“Lavi, that really wasn’t nice. I’m very disappointed. I hope you apologised.”
“I did, when she finally emerged from your room, but she responded with a sulk. So, Madam Naga it will be.”
“Please, Lavi. Don’t speak of Tamara like that. There must be some misunderstanding. It isn’t easy for her to leave her home and move here, first as a tourist without financial or immigration security, and then having to wait some months to get married.”
5
November, A Few Days Later
Uday could barely wait to see Tamara, who undoubtedly was waiting with equal delight. He had found it especially pleasing to see Tamara in those years when he was in Shanghai on business trips. After a day of largely pointless meetings and even more pointless phone calls, the sheer joy of being greeted by his beautiful Chinese lover, waiting in his hotel room in her signature tight dress and high heels for their clandestine rendezvous, was like nothing he could describe. Not even when Uday had conversations with himself during his most private moments in the dead of night, when he was plagued by the guilt of loving someone else just a few years after Julie’s death. To have her waiting for him in his home, to be able to see Tamara every day, was a reality he had never allowed himself to imagine. Not until Richard died.
This evening felt odd. Along with the elegant sway of her hips and the swing of her impossibly long limbs, Tamara wore a strange expression on her meticulously made-up face. The one where her skilfully tattooed eyebrows were arched just so, and her eyes drilled through his, while her lips curled. The look which supposedly said everything but nothing he could ever comprehend.
Uday hugged and kissed her while Lavinia skipped towards the kitchen. Tamara patted him on his back, like a mother welcoming back her teenage son from school, the son who did not like displays of affection. She then pulled away without looking at Uday and walked towards their bedroom.
Uday followed behind. What happened while he was away? Why did Lavinia not warn him? “Something wrong, Tamara?”
Tamara had her hands on her hips as she pirouetted to face Uday. “Yes! Something is wrong! Why didn’t Lavi tell me she was picking you up at the airport? Why didn’t she ask me to go along? So she can poison your mind? Tell you bad things about me? Hmmm?” Tamara’s face was flushed and her nostrils were flaring. Her pale skin was turning dark pink.
“I don’t know, Tamara. It was the first time in years. Maybe she didn’t think to ask you simply because she’s not used to having you around. I don’t think she asked Angela or Priyanka. They’re her sisters-in-law, she’s very close to them, and they live in the next block! She probably just decided to pick me up on impulse. There’s nothing to it, darling.”
Tamara sat on the bed and sulked. “She hasn’t made any effort to speak to me. In fact, I think she’s going out of her way to avoid me. You know, in the five days you were gone, she only had dinner at home twice, both times in the kitchen. I think she deliberately came home late so she could have dinner with the servants. Aaron said the servants don’t talk to him but they’re very friendly with Lavi.”
Uday ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted after his long flight from London. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss domestic issues. That had always been Julie’s territory.
“Of course they’re friendly with each other. They’ve lived with us for over a decade! Your reporter
-nurse-friend can surely understand that?” Uday walked towards the door. “I’m going to pour myself a Scotch. Would you like one?”
Tamara nodded. “I need one.”
“Let’s watch an episode of Big Bang Theory. I could use a few laughs. Then we’ll go to bed and discuss Maribel tomorrow.”
“Maribel? Lavi told you about her! I was right, she met you at the airport to poison your mind!” Tamara threw herself on the bed.
Uday sat beside her and stroked her back. “Tamara, you must understand. Maribel has been with our family for a long time. Twelve years! Lavi was just ten and was on the verge of losing her mother.”
Tamara turned around. Between sobs, she said, “I’m sorry Uday. So sorry. I understand your obligations towards Maribel. You’re a good man. Find her another employer, but she mustn’t come back!”
Frowning and shaking his head, Uday asked, “Why? What did Maribel say or do to you that you feel she should not be allowed back?”
“Can you hear yourself, Uday? Listen to your tone. Look at the concern on your face! All that … not for me! For Maribel! A servant! She has such a hold on you! Can’t you see it? Did your wife not see it?”
“Good grief, Tamara! I can only call this paranoia. When did you become like this? A few weeks in Singapore and you feel threatened by a domestic employee from the Philippines?” Uday stormed out of the room.
Uday’s hand shook as he poured himself a Scotch. He had never known Tamara to feel threatened by anyone, least of all a housekeeper. Tamara was the most confident person he had ever met. There had been times when he wondered if it was even possible for someone so self-assured to make room in her life for another person. But not long after falling for her like a love- sick puppy, he learnt it was nothing but a carefully cultivated disguise. That cold, steely exterior was mere cladding for a terrified woman trapped in a dismal marriage. Tamara Wang was like a porcelain doll, safest when kept in a locked cabinet. Uday Aurora had never known any pleasure greater than taking that doll out to play, her fragility dissipating with every little stroke of her perfect body.
Uday took a generous gulp of his drink before he entered their room. Tamara had stopped sobbing. She sat up as soon as she saw him. Uday noticed the room looked different; Tamara had bought a new rug and a few cushions in deep shades of blue and green. He preferred the neutral colours Julie had picked earlier, but felt sure he would soon get used to being surrounded by azure and emerald.
“I’m sorry, Uday. I’m just not used to servants—”
“Tamara, for the last time, Wati is our cook and Maribel is our housekeeper. You may refer to them as helpers but never servants. The word went out nearly thirty years ago when the foreign domestic workers came in.”
Tamara whipped out her phone from her handbag. After a few taps on the screen, she read out aloud, “Servant. A person who performs duties for others, especially a person employed in a house on domestic duties or as a personal attendant.” She placed her phone by her side and with a look that betrayed her smugness, said, “Maribel and Wati are servants. They are not helpers. We pay them to work, not to help us.”
Uday rolled his eyes and sighed. It was tiresome enough having to discuss the issue of domestic help. Discussing semantics made his head hurt. “Alright. Let’s just call them maids. Commonly used term preferred by agents, employers and migrant welfare organisations. Okay?”
Tamara nodded. “Can we just get another maid? Maybe it’s best that I do the interviews? I’m the one who has to deal with her eventually.”
Uday shrugged. He had no desire to get involved in the employment of domestic help. “Sure. What about Wati? Are you planning to fire her?”
“Uday, I’m not a witch!” Tamara spoke softly through her pout. “I’m sorry about Maribel. I didn’t fire her. She left. I know Lavi is upset—”
“Not just Lavi. The boys will be equally upset. They were all very fond of her. Try and understand if they’re not exactly warm towards you for the next few days.” Uday looked away. Or weeks. Possibly months. “I’ll speak to Maribel tomorrow. See if I can help her find a suitable employer. I’ll sort something out. Right now, I’d like some sleep.”
6
New Year’s Day
The phone vibrated and rang at the same time on his bedside table. Uday looked at the phone screen. It was nearly 6am, and the caller was Shivram Gopinathan. Uday made a mental note to change the annoying ring tone, one of Lavinia’s recent pranks, before answering the phone. Being woken up to the strains of a young pop starlet repeating “shake, shake, shake” was too much to bear at any hour.
“Damn it, Shivram, it’s six in the morning!” Uday was not sure why his head felt like someone was pounding it against the wall.
“And happy New Year to you, too, Uday-ji!”
Uday sat up, and remembered returning from Ashwin’s home long past midnight, having sung the obligatory Auld Lang Syne, toasting guests with free-flowing champagne and pulling several party poppers. “Yes, of course, happy New Year, Shivram. I’m sorry. I only got home a few hours ago. What’s up?”
“I think you need to come to Mumbai. Today if you can. The boys are fighting. And you’re an enemy now, about to be unseated, if that’s possible.”
Uday massaged his forehead with his left hand. “What? How did I become an enemy?”
“Rohit feels he is more suitably qualified than you or Aditya. He is doing all he can to replace you. There will be war between the brothers tomorrow. Mrs Gupta is more than capable of quelling this little revolt, but I think she wants her sons to sort this out themselves. And clearly, they can’t, so she wants you to be the fire-fighter.”
Uday’s head felt as if it was being bashed through a wall.
“Just get the earliest flight. I’ll book a conference room at the hotel. Please convey my apologies to Tamara.”
“She’s back in Shanghai. Visa run. Her son got an extension because of his condition. The nurse managed to get an extension quite easily. But Tamara didn’t. Back next week. By the way, why can’t we meet at the office?”
“Public holiday, no aircon in the building. Important detail, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Both men laughed.
Shivram Gopinathan was waiting in the lobby. While walking with Uday towards the reception desk, Shivram confessed, “I wanted some time alone with you before the meeting. Aditya’s cool, but Rohit … Rohit seems hell-bent on taking over. Today. Something to do with the start of everything new and the stars being in alignment. He’s gone completely nuts, I tell you!”
Uday shook his head. “My future son-in-law.”
The two men spoke in Uday’s suite. It was dreary outside. As there wasn’t even a sliver of sunshine breaking through the clouds, no light to lift his spirits, Uday fixed himself a Scotch from the mini bar. Shivram opted for ginger ale.
“Tell me everything from the beginning. But before that, did the boys actually have the annual New Year’s Eve party at their house? So soon after Suresh’s death?”
“Yes. We thought it was disrespectful. Some of us discussed it and decided not to go, but Mrs Gupta heard about our concerns and insisted we continue the tradition. She said it was what Suresh would have wanted. So, we dispensed with the usual mourning rituals and went to the party. Just after midnight, Rohit grabbed a mike from one of the live singers they had hired and announced that this was going to be the Year of Rohit’s Fortuna Global. Started thumping his chest and throwing around names I’d never heard of except for Jobs, Gates and Zuckerberg. Repeated those names a few decibels higher and said they were all leaders when they were still in their early twenties. Rohit insisted he was just as capable, and he would prove it. More chest-thumping. Dead silence in the hall.
“Aditya tried to get him off the stage, thinking he was drunk, but Rohit fought him off and Aditya stormed off. Rohit only stopped when Mrs Gupta went up to him and whispered in his ear. No one knows what she said, but Mrs Gupta was smiling while Rohit scowled as he made his e
xit. Just before he left the room, he came up to me and in a cold voice said, “Gopinathan, call Uday. Tell him to be here tomorrow.”
Shivram paused to take a sip of his ginger ale. I yelled after him, “You think the CEO is going to fly here straightaway just because you asked him to?” And then like any thug in a B-grade Bollywood movie, he swaggered towards me, patted my chest, and said, “Yes. Because you’ll see to it.” I tell you, Uday, never in my life had I ever felt so scared, not even when my grandfather came after me with a whip. But that look, that voice … I never thought that child who used to run along our corridors and who helped himself to our stationery would turn out to be so vicious. Luckily my family had left an hour earlier. I was too ashamed to tell them that I felt threatened by a twenty-eight-year old spoilt brat.”
“This could have waited a day, even a week. To start a meeting at 4pm on New Year’s Day is thoughtless and insane. Goes against everything we stand for.”
“I agree, but Rohit … Rohit …”
Everyone knew what Rohit was capable of. He was pre- disposed to violence, and for years had been protected by his mother, who made excuses for her son’s behaviour. Rohit, his mother’s golden boy, was always jealous of his older brother, Aditya, who was everyone’s golden boy. There was a rumour, long believed to be true, that as a teenager, Rohit had lured a neighbour’s puppy and strangled it to spite the neighbour’s daughter, for talking to Aditya while spurning Rohit’s advances. The puppy was found outside the neighbour’s door with slashes all over its small body, nearly decapitated. Aditya, believing Rohit was vindictive enough to commit such an evil act, avoided speaking to the girl and her family. There was never any proof to link Rohit to the cruelty, but years later, while he was away in university, the girl’s mother said that Aditya had secretly apologised to the family and resumed his friendship with the girl.
Uday paced the living room, aware of the stillness. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Pausing to absorb the image staring back, Uday wondered when he began looking older than his age. At fifty-five, his hair was completely white and thinning at the top. The dark circles under his eyes—common in brown skin—had worsened over the past year; he now looked like a racoon. Those lines along his forehead and the crevices running down by the sides from his nose to his lips … they must have appeared overnight.