Amrita

by Usha Rajagopalan

"I knew you would like it," the young woman said triumphantly. "This is my favourite too. It's not difficult to make at home but who'll bother? I prefer to buy it from Dhanshakbhai or Yogeshbhai on M.G. Road. Nothing much to it really – just curd, sugar, elaichi and lots of arm power. The last, I can't spare. Rahul is not my only child, you know. I have a daughter, Revathi. She's younger to him by nearly two years and worse than he is. I leave her with the ayah most of the time. My son is naughty but Revathi makes an angel of him. Just look at him! Rahul, come here. . ."

  Seeing his mother rush towards him, the little boy took flight. He pushed his way through the legs of guests to the centre of a large crowd.

  Kamala smiled to herself. He knows she can't do anything to him when others are around. He reminds me of Maya, the same exuberance, the same vitality. It's got to do with that age of innocence, I suppose.

  The rush around the tables had thinned considerably. The serving bowls and platters with drying lines of food on their sides looked like tired soldiers, eager to retire. It was getting late but where was Raghu? Even as she looked around, he came beside her.

  "Ready to leave? You must be. After all, you have hardly spoken to anyone. At least have the courtesy to thank our hosts. I don't want them to think that my wife lacks manners as well."

  With every step she took behind him, the heaviness in her stomach increased. She geared herself for an onslaught of accusations. Yet, curiously, she was also looking forward to it, as a challenge to her endurance.

  However provocative he is, I'm not going to retaliate.

  Raghu manoeuvred the car out of the compound, smiling and waving to others as they went past. Kamala's smile was pasted on her face and she remembered to wipe it off as soon as they were out of sight.

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye. His face could have been carved of marble, so pale and stern did he look under the fleeting bluish-white lights on the road. Soon, they came to the long straight stretch leading to their house. She wondered if he was going to say anything at all. That would be a let down.

  Now he won't have much time to. . .

  "Have you swallowed your tongue?" he asked, startling her. "Nothing to say about the evening? What will you have to say, anyway? You did the dumb act so well! What must everyone think of you? That woman whom you did talk to, do you know her name?"

  'Know' – that's what the young woman used so frequently while talking to her but she did not tell Kamala who she was nor gave her an opportunity to ask.

  Raghu snorted. "Just as I thought! You didn't find out. She is Mrs. Jain, the wife of one of our leading distributors. A dynamic woman. Typical of her to realise that you were a wallflower and make you feel at ease. You could learn a great deal from a person like her."

  To shop ?

  "Her husband is good only at his work. He's quite a dud otherwise. In fact, sometimes I wonder whether she helps him out. How else could he bag so many orders? He stammers even while talking to us. How can he do so well with total strangers? But his wife. . . what a woman!"

  Kamala realised that he was talking more to himself than to her and kept quiet. A little twinge of something pricked her.

  "They have two children. Like us. Very smart kids. Like the mother."

  Raghu glanced quickly at Kamala but she kept her eyes fixed on the road. They were approaching the house. In another five minutes they would be lost in its confines, within the walls of their minds.

  "Do you realise we could have kept Maya with us? The other girl I can understand but Maya? She could have been a different girl. It's all in the upbringing. If only you'd been able to bring her up properly, taught her some decent behaviour, instead of letting her grow up like a junglee."

  The twinge became a stab.

  "Am I the only one responsible for her 'upbringing'? What makes you think I didn't do my best?" Kamala didn't want to shout but that was how the words came out.

  "Don't be hysterical. It's night. People will wonder what's happening," Raghu warned.

  "I don't care what anyone thinks. Come on, answer me. . . how can you accuse me of being indifferent to our children? Remember those days when you blamed me for spending too much time with Amrita?"

  Kamala could now control the decibel but not quite her breathing. It caused the words to collide and tumble, in their haste to be heard. She didn't want to carry the battle into the house, where Revabehn would be an interested spectator.

  "What did you achieve in all this time? The girl's exactly the same as before. A school might have been able to do something. . ."

  "Ha, don't we know that! What happened at that special school to which we had sent her? Almost at once we heard about the goings-on there and had to take her out. God knows what would have happened if she had continued there any longer."

  "There must be another school that's better run."

  "Why don't you find out?"

  "That's not my job."

  "Then I'll have to start a school myself.

  "You? You can't manage your own child. Worse, you only know how to spoil a normal child. If Maya is with my mother today, you are to be blamed."

  "I never wanted her to go. She would have settled down with time. . ."

  "Nonsense. You don't want to admit that you failed with her just as you failed with the other one. I suppose you are happy now."

  He screeched to a halt outside the gate. Kamala got out of the car quickly. She didn't want to spend another minute with him in the enclosed space. Raghu parked the car and went into the house while she closed the gate and followed him slowly inside.

  Despite her anger, she had to admit that Raghu was right about one thing. She had failed with Amrita. She no longer liked to spend time with her as she had done in the past.

  She's just the same as before. . . then I must have changed. What's the point in trying to teach her anything? My early attempts have all failed completely. Those were when she was still a baby and could have been moulded but now she has crossed 12. I can't work miracles. It's up to the Almighty to do what He wills. After all, we are only His pawns. I can only rue my fate and look after her till I die. After that. . . .?

  Kamala sat on the swing, forcing her mind not to think any further. Revabehn and Amrita came from the back of the house and stood outside the window.

  "Here," said the maid, handing Amrita a broom. "I don't want a single leaf flying around."

  She then sat on the doorstep and took out her little packet of tobacco. She thrust a wad into her mouth. Kamala winced. She had told Revabehn so many times to give up tobacco but the woman did not heed her. Neither would she keep Amrita within the house.

  Why can't she keep the girl out of sight of strangers, especially in the evening when it is time for people to return to their homes? And how many times am I to tell her not to pass on her work to Amrita?

  "Revabehn. . ." she called. "At this rate, I'll have to pay her, not you!"

  "Not a bad idea. I can retire at last."

  "How can you talk of retirement? You know I need you."

  "So do my children but am I with them? I am here all the time, with this little one. Not that I'm complaining but for how long? I'm not growing any younger and my bones ache so badly at the end of the day."

  Kamala changed the topic quickly. "Did you drink the tea I had kept for you?" she asked. "It must have gone cold by now. Go, I will look after her till you return."

  The maid stood up slowly, her hand supporting her back.

  "Bitiya, finish this place before I come, okay?"

  Amrita waited till the woman entered the house. She then threw the broom down and followed her inside.

  "What's it, Ammu? You are not feeling well? Here, let me see. . ." Kamala felt her daughter's forehead. It was sticky with sweat. Amrita sat beside her on the swing.

  "No fever. You are all right. Go. Finish sweeping. Look, the wind is scattering the leaves all over the place. If you are given some task you must finish it or else, Revabehn will get angry with you."
r />   Amrita kicked the ground with her feet and the swing jerked back and forth.

  "Not so fast. I feel queasy," Kamala protested, but Amrita swung even faster, her hair flying with the breeze.

  Kamala shot her feet out and they dragged on the ground as she tried to bring the swing to a standstill. Since she was sitting at one end, the wooden plank swayed madly for a while before coming to a stop.

  She turned to her daughter. "I told you not to do it, didn't I? What's the matter with you? Can't you understand a simple instruction?"

  Amrita stared at the floor and tried to push the swing once again. Her mother's feet were anchored to the ground and she could only sway her side of the plank.

  "You obstinate girl! I told you not to do it!" Kamala slapped Amrita sharply across the cheek just as Revabehn entered the room.

  "What's the matter, behn? What did she do?" she asked, hugging the girl to her chest.

  "Such disobedience! I told her not to push the swing so fast and she won't listen. . ."

  "She's not quite herself today. Something's wrong with her."

  "Rubbish. It is all your doing. If you didn't indulge her so much she wouldn't have tried to act smart with me."

  "Okay, okay, blame me for everything. After all, I'm the one who's always with her."

  Kamala calmed down quickly.

  "Take her upstairs. Enough of her roaming around the house."

  Revabehn hustled the girl upstairs, clucking and tut-tutting all the way.

  ***

  9

  t that early hour Kamala was not conscious of the telephone ringing. The 'tring. . . tring. . .' forced its way into her sleep and blended with her dream.

  The milkman's cycle bell sounds just like a telephone. No, that's the ice-candy man. Amma, I want ice-candy. Please, amma.

  'Tring. . .'

  She licked the pink coloured ice stick in quick strokes before the heat could do its bit. It was a narrow finish. Long streaks of pink ran down her blouse.

  'Tring. . .'

  It was her youngest brother Sridhar. He had just learnt cycling and was showing off. She jumped out of the way even as he rang the bell stridently and laughed at her annoyance.

  'Tring. . .'

  "Hello?"

  Sridhar became Raghu and Kamala's sleep was immediately disturbed. Her eyes refused to open, however, and she continued to lie in bed, listening. He was either talking nonsense or in some foreign language, she decided sleepily. It was tempting to shut her eyes once again and dream of her cherished brother rather than awake to the reality of a hostile husband. She forced herself to lift her head and look at him. Through the chink of her eyes she saw his back turned to her.

  Who on earth is calling him at this time?

  The clouds of sleep lifted at once and Raghu's gibberish unscrambled into distinct everyday words.

  "How is she now? Okay, I'll reach as soon as I can. I'll leave today morning. No. . .no, I will come."

  He replaced the telephone on its stand. By then she was standing behind him.

  "Who was that?" she asked.

  "Amma is serious. I must go to her."

  "Shall I come with you?"

  "How can you? Who will look after Amrita?"

  "Revabehn. . ."

  "There's no time to fetch her. I must leave as soon as I can. I'll take the morning flight to Bombay and then go from there somehow."

  Raghu looked distractedly at the clock.

  "I should get the ticket first. What time will the airlines office open? I'll ring them up now. Maybe they have a round-the-clock counter. I must be on the earliest flight. Money. . . I'll have to stop at the ATM. I hope she's all right. . ."

  Kamala had no words to comfort him. She watched quietly as he packed his bag hurriedly and left the house.

  He did not call her after reaching home. She hung around the telephone the whole day taking calls from his office. The second day drew to a close as well without any news from him. That evening she telephoned and learnt from a neighbour that Raghu's mother had passed away soon after his arrival. Maya was so shattered by her grandmother's demise that she had confined herself to her room. Raghu brought her home a fortnight later.

  It had been three years since Maya had left home. She was nearly 13 years old, still a skinny, flat child all arms and legs topped by a large head. Only her eyes had changed. They used to flit restlessly earlier but now there was a depth in them that made her seem older than her years. Kamala bustled around Raghu and Maya, changing expressions like a chameleon, at once condoling with him and welcoming Maya back home. She tried not to show her happiness too much but couldn't help thinking that the house would now come to life with the return of her younger daughter. She wanted to hug her, flood her with questions, make her favourite dishes, treat her like a star but the little girl who had romped all over the house, scattered her things everywhere, talked and argued constantly had gone. In her place was a composed young lady who entered the house without any fanfare as if she had left it just that morning.

  Raghu offered to help Maya carry her bag upstairs. She preferred to do it herself. They stood silently as she lifted the large suitcase off the ground with both hands and thrust a knee forward to rest it on a step. Step by slow step she took her bag upstairs. As if the curtain had fallen at the end of the show, Kamala went to the kitchen. Raghu hesitated, then followed her. Standing by the door he watched her keep a saucepan on the stove. She had not noticed him following her and was so startled when he spoke that she dropped the gas lighter.

  "Maya is still upset about what happened," he said. "Leave her alone for some time but keep an eye on her as well. She did not speak more than a couple of sentences to me on our way back. Those were only about her sister. I hope she'll adjust well with us. After all, she's been staying with amma for a long time. The neighbours were all praise of her. It seems amma had been bedridden for more than a year and Maya had looked after her better than anyone else could have. She had taken her to the doctor, got medicines, and managed the house and her studies as well. She would not let anyone tell me about amma's ill health. It was only when they realised that nothing more could be done for her that they decided to call me. I wouldn't have believed any of this if the doctor himself hadn't praised Maya so much. He said that if it hadn't been for her, amma would have gone long ago."

  Kamala stood like a statue, the gas lighter still at her feet. She bent down to pick it. Raghu talking to her so normally was as astounding as what he had to say about Maya.

  "Don't pester her for anything," he continued. "We'll give her time to settle down and then send her back to school. She has not done too well this year . . . not that I'm blaming her for it. She was busy tending to her grandmother but we must think about her future now."

  He left the kitchen but Kamala was still rooted with the lighter in her hand.

  'We'. . . he had used the word 'we'!

  She turned around joyously and began to boil the milk, the tiny word reverberating in her mind like a boy newly learned to whistle. Her excitement lasted for a week. It was not very difficult to 'leave Maya alone' since most of the time she confined herself to her room upstairs with her sister, coming down only at meal times to take food for both of them. On the first day Raghu asked her to join him but she refused. She did not attempt to talk to her parents though she had a lot to say to Revabehn.

  "Kem cho, Revabehn? You look so frail. You have become so old!"

  "You have grown too, bitiya. You are no longer that little brat who made my life so miserable," the maid retaliated. Her wide smile exposed the dark gums and bits of teeth that had survived the tobacco.

  "Yes, how I used to trouble you. But that's because I was very young at that time and did not know better," Maya protested with an embarrassed laugh.

  "Arrey chokri, at every stage people trouble others for one reason or the other. You harassed us with your pranks when you were young. You are not much older now. God knows what you will be up to. When you grow some mor
e you will trouble your parents to marry a rich, handsome young man. Then you will shift your attention to that poor fellow and later to your children and then their children. . ."

  "Is that what you do now? Trouble your little grandchildren?"

  "Little? They are old enough to have children of their own. Shanti, the one who looked after you as a baby has three children. Her husband is no good though. Most of the time he is drunk. Just the other day. . ."

  Kamala put an end to the maid's recital. "Are you going to spend the whole morning boring her like this or are you going to do some work as well? There will be a big pile of clothes to wash, Saab's and. . ."

  "Revabehn, I'll wash my clothes myself," Maya interjected.

  "You don't think I will wash them well or what?" the old woman's face crumpled into deep wrinkles.

  "No, no! It's just that I've got used to it. Paati used to insist that I take care of my things myself. At first I protested about this and on some days I just left them in the bathroom but when I saw her washing my clothes along with hers I began to do it myself."

  Revabehn and Kamala did nor look at each other. This was the girl who used to leave her clothes in a wet heap on the bathroom floor?

  "Chalo, at least you have learnt something good. What else did your grandmother teach you?"

  "Lots more than you or anyone else could have taught me."

  "Good, you can teach some of those lessons to your sister."

  "Of course! Now that I've come back I'll take over. You've been very patient with her all these years and now it's my turn."

  "Chalo, I can die in peace."

  "Don't talk of dying. I need your help for some time at least."

  "Your mother can help you. . ."

  "Not like you will be able to. Stay alive till I get used to the things here,"

  "Arrey bitiya, life and death. . ." Revabehn began, but Kamala turned away abruptly and went inside.

  If Maya sensed her mother's displeasure she did not show it. She chatted with the maid for a while longer before going upstairs.

  Kamala could hear this conversation since it took place just outside the door but not when Maya talked to her sister in their room upstairs. She itched to find out what she had to tell Amrita. Sometimes she stood at the foot of the staircase and tried to listen as she had done in the past. At first her heart pounded and made it difficult to hear any other sound. She climbed up a couple of steps and stopped. That was close enough to hear Maya's steady drone and Amrita's occasional chuckle and far enough to make a quick exit if anyone came that way. Even from these snatches she realised that Maya may not have changed physically but she certainly had towards her sister.