Song of the Cuckoo Bird

by Amulya Malladi

  “Only women are at seemanthams,” Chetana replied with a smile. It was one of the good days, Kokila noticed. Some days the couple would be like a newly married one, loving and adoring. Other days, Ravi would be drunk.

  “Maybe I can hide and watch the secret things you women do,” Ravi suggested. He sat down in front of Chetana and took her hand in his. “My mother will be here soon. She sounded very happy in the letter.”

  “Children have a way of making everything better,” Chetana agreed.

  And it had indeed become easier in the last few days because Manikyam had finally responded to Charvi’s invitation to the seemantham and said she would definitely come to bless her daughter-in-law and unborn grandchild. She had, however, made apologies for her husband, who was too busy to travel.

  “Maybe we can go back to Visakhapatnam with her,” Ravi said with a smile.

  In the past years Tella Meda had lost its appeal for Ravi. He wanted to go back to his father’s house, where money was in abundance. Of course, he was adamant about not going to college or getting a job, which frustrated Chetana. The little money she made by making papads for Kanka Lakshmi was hardly enough to live on but Ravi took part of that as well. He had also been caught stealing money and after the loss of a few hundred rupees, Kokila had started locking up the safe in Charvi’s room where the meager Tella Meda money was kept, and hung the key at her waist.

  “Do you think your parents will take you back?” Chetana asked, her eyes glittering with excitement.

  “Why else do you think my mother is coming?” Ravi asked with a broad smile. “There will be gifts and presents for you and the baby and we can go back home.”

  “What do you think, Kokila? Is Manikyam coming to take us with her?” Chetana asked.

  “I think you shouldn’t get your hopes up,” Kokila said honestly. “Why don’t you just enjoy the seemantham and not worry about these other things?”

  “You don’t think Manikyam will want her grandchild with her?” Chetana demanded angrily.

  Kokila sighed. “Look—”

  “Why can’t you just be happy for me?” Chetana interrupted. “Ever since I got pregnant you’ve been . . . you’ve been strange . . . and—”

  “You’re imagining things,” Kokila said softly. “I’m very, very happy for you. And I do hope that Manikyam will accept you and your marriage. I just don’t want you to get hurt if she doesn’t. That’s all.”

  “Oh, she will take us home. I know my mother, trust me,” Ravi said.

  Kokila tied the last knot to secure the jasmine flowers on Chetana’s hair. “All done,” she said. “Here, put the kumkum on and we can start the seemantham as soon as Charvi is done with puja.”

  “You look beautiful,” Ravi whispered, and then winked at Kokila. “Isn’t my wife beautiful, Kokila?”

  “Yes,” Kokila said tersely. Kokila didn’t like Ravi, didn’t like the way he looked at her, didn’t like the way he treated her, didn’t like the way he talked to her.

  “I need to go to the bathroom first,” Chetana said, happiness written all over her face.

  As soon as Chetana was out of earshot, Ravi leaned over Kokila, who was picking up the remaining flowers and cotton thread. “But she isn’t as beautiful as you,” he whispered. He stood so close to her that Kokila could feel his breath against her neck.

  “I have to get ready for the bangle ceremony,” Kokila said without looking at Ravi, and walked away.

  Manikyam came during the bangle ceremony. Dozens of glass bangles were collected in a straw basket in the temple room. Married mothers invited for the seemantham slid bangles onto Chetana’s wrist.

  Manikyam kissed Chetana on the forehead, her eyes glistening with tears, and she slipped four gold bangles onto Chetana’s wrist. “I wanted to give my daughter-in-law these when Ravi got married, so here they are now.”

  Chetana, already overwrought and emotional because of the pregnancy, burst into happy tears. Everything is going to be all right, she told herself, and then looked at Kokila. She didn’t seem happy at all for her. Why couldn’t she be happy? Even when she and Ravi got married, Kokila had been full of warnings. She must be jealous, Chetana decided. Jealous that my marriage is finally working out and now my mother-in-law has brought me beautiful gold bangles. Thick, beautiful gold bangles.

  Kokila would never get married, never leave Tella Meda, never have a seemantham. Even as Chetana felt sorry for her, she felt haughty. Kokila had decided not to go to her husband’s house—this was her karma.

  Charvi watched the proceedings with unconcealed joy. Even though she was not a married woman or a mother, her status of guru allowed her to slip bangles on Chetana’s wrists and bless the mother-to-be. Traditionally, widows were not allowed to be at festivities but at Tella Meda no such distinction was made. Still Renuka stayed in her room, refusing to smear the happy ceremony with her widowhood.

  After the bangle ceremony, Manikyam poured fragrant oil on Chetana’s head and then drew a parting through Chetana’s hair thrice with three stalks of kusa grass that were bound together. She chanted, “Bheer, bhavar, svah” while tears rolled down her cheeks. She seemed deliriously happy that she was to have a grandchild soon.

  Kokila brought a basketful of fruit out from the kitchen and placed it next to Chetana’s chair. Chetana spread the pallu of her sari and women dropped the fruit on it, blessing her with a fruitful womb.

  “My little girl is so big now,” Subhadra whispered to Kokila, sniffling a little, holding her tears back. “She’s going to have a baby.”

  Kokila didn’t know what to say because she was worried about the baby. What would happen to that child? Even if the baby was a boy, there was no guarantee that Ravi’s father would accept the son as heir. And if the baby was a girl . . . only problems would come of that.

  “Both my girls are happy,” Subhadra said, smiling at Kokila. “You are like my own daughter as well.”

  Kokila nodded at the empty words and a heat started to spread through her. She was no one’s daughter, no one’s wife, no one’s anything.

  Finally, the seemantham was over. The guests left, Chetana changed into a cotton sari, and life at Tella Meda went back to the way it always was. Subhadra cooked dinner, Kokila and Renuka helped, everyone talked about how wonderful it was that Manikyam had come for the seemantham. Everyone was also sure that Manikyam was here to take her son and his wife back with her. Manikyam had not said anything and no one had asked her directly.

  It was inevitable that someone would finally ask and an answer would have to be given. It was Narayan Garu who paved the way for the heated fight that night.

  “So, Manikyam, taking Chetana and Ravi back with you, eh?” he asked without malice, and it wasn’t really a question; he was absolutely certain. “We will miss them both very much.”

  Manikyam looked uncomfortable. She pushed her plate aside and stared at the untouched food.

  “I’m thinking of starting college in Visakhapatnam once we’re home,” Ravi said, not for a moment doubting that Manikyam or his father would not be amenable. “And with the baby, Chetana is going to be busy, so it will be a good time for me to study. I’m thinking of doing my B.Com. and looking for a job as an accountant. Nanna keeps saying he needs someone to take care of the accounts at his clinic and I can start working there while I go to college.”

  “And I will help you with the household work,” Chetana said demurely. “And you can watch your grandchild grow, right in front of your eyes.”

  “Yes, yes,” Ramanandam said as he finished his meal. “It is a great joy to see children grow, and a grandchild, that is extra special. So, when is Nageshwar Rao planning to come and take you all back? Or are you three going to go back right away?”

  Manikyam cleared her throat and smiled uneasily. She looked at Charvi and then without warning burst into tears. In between sobs she told everyone that her husband didn’t know she was here. She had lied to him, saying she was visiting a relative, and had come
for the seemantham. He was adamant about not taking Ravi back if he wouldn’t leave Chetana and she was desperate to see her son and make sure her grandchild was well taken care of.

  Chetana’s heart started to pound loudly. The sound was so deafening, she was sure everyone could hear it. She automatically looked at Kokila, who was standing at the kitchen doorway, waiting for everyone to finish eating so that she could clear the table and then eat dinner herself. She didn’t look disappointed, Chetana thought angrily. Everyone else was disappointed; everyone else was arguing with Manikyam that she should convince her husband and giving suggestions as to how she could go about it. Everyone had something to say but Kokila just stood silently as if she had been waiting for this to happen. She had wished this. Just a while ago she had said that Chetana shouldn’t get her hopes up. She had looked at her with evil eyes, jealous eyes, and that was why Manikyam was saying these things.

  Rage clouded Chetana’s vision and she walked on unsteady legs toward Kokila. “You cursed me,” she said, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

  Taken aback, Kokila stared at her, shock written all over her face.

  “You couldn’t stand my happiness and you wished me ill,” Chetana cried out. “Just because you are stuck here, you want me to be too. Well, your wish came true. Are you happy now?”

  Kokila tried to form the words to explain to Chetana that she didn’t understand what she was saying but nothing came out. How could she defend herself against such fantastic accusations?

  “It’s not Kokila’s fault,” Charvi said, as surprised as Kokila by what Chetana was saying. “These things happen. It’s fate.”

  “Oh, really?” Chetana said, a twisted smile on her face. “And what are you planning for me? Praying to God that I have a dead baby?”

  “Chetana,” Subhadra cried out, and even Ravi looked surprised.

  Tears burst out of her eyes as suddenly as her temper had flared. “Oh, Charvi, I’m sorry,” she said, and kneeled down beside Charvi. She put her head on Charvi’s lap and started to cry.

  Everyone consoled her. Only Ramanandam looked at Kokila’s startled and hurt expression.

  That night, he came to her. He didn’t knock, just entered her room. She was folding her sun-dried clothes as she always did at night before she went to sleep. There was stiffness in her body that she couldn’t expel. She felt as if a deep wound was bleeding within her. He hadn’t come to her for a few days now, as he was busy writing. That added to what happened with Chetana and her talk with Subhadra had wound her into a tight coil of anger and resentment.

  “How are you?” Ramanandam asked.

  Kokila nodded but didn’t say anything, her attention focused on the red and yellow cotton sari she was folding carefully so that the creases would not be too obvious and she wouldn’t have to pay the man who pressed clothes on the street corner one rupee to iron it.

  “Manikyam said she will try and talk to Nageshwar Rao. I’m planning to go to Visakhapatnam and talk to him myself,” Ramanandam said.

  “When do you leave?” Kokila asked without emotion.

  “I’ll leave with Manikyam tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll come back soon.”

  “Okay,” Kokila said, and turned her back to him as she started stacking her clothes in Vidura’s old Godrej steel cupboard, which she had been using ever since he ran away.

  “Don’t be like this,” Ramanandam said, and put his hand on Kokila’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. Why do you ask?” Kokila demanded, and closed the almirah. “So, do you want me to take my sari off or are we just going to talk?”

  Ramanandam sighed. “Maybe I should leave.”

  “Okay,” Kokila said, still angry that when Chetana had accused her, he hadn’t comforted her, hadn’t come to her until now, hadn’t defended her.

  “Did you want me to say something to Chetana for yelling at you? Comfort you while everyone was watching?” Ramanandam demanded angrily.

  Kokila cleared her throat. “So you do know what is wrong? Then why did you ask?”

  Ramanandam shook his head. “She’s a pregnant woman; they are usually volatile. She didn’t mean what she said.”

  “Well, that makes me feel better.”

  “Do you want to take the risk and let everyone know about us?” Ramanandam demanded. “If that is the case, let’s take this fight out into the courtyard so all can hear. I’m not the one who is afraid of letting others know, you are.”

  “Of course I am. I am the woman in this relationship,” Kokila spat out. “And Subhadra knows.”

  “She knows?”

  “Oh yes, she knows,” Kokila muttered. Ramanandam sat down on Kokila’s bed and looked at the floor as he ruminated over what Kokila had just revealed.

  “How do you feel about that?” he asked after a long while.

  Kokila shrugged. “Subhadra didn’t seem to be upset. She thought that it was just wonderful because you were so happy.” Bitterness laced her tone. The more she thought about what Subhadra said, the angrier it made her. Here was a woman, a sort of a mother to Chetana and her, and yet she thought there was nothing wrong in a twenty-two-year-old girl having an illicit sexual relationship with a sixty-one-year-old man. Would a real mother be so blasé? Kokila didn’t think so. A real mother would be torn apart that her daughter’s life was going to amount to nothing. Subhadra thought it was all right for Kokila’s future to be sacrificed at the altar of Ramanandam’s happiness.

  “We are happy together,” Ramanandam said carefully. He could sense her anger and silent rage. He didn’t know the reason but he was attuned enough to her to know that somehow Subhadra had bruised Kokila’s feelings. She was angry and this had more to do with what Subhadra had said rather than with Chetana’s outburst.

  “Are we? Really?”

  “I am very happy,” Ramanandam said, still in that careful voice.

  At his soft tone, at his nonchalance, Kokila felt more anger. “Well, I’m not happy,” she declared for the first time to him. “I’m never going to have a husband, a family, children, nothing. I’m going to be here in Tella Meda and we’ll be happy until you’re ill or dead, and then what am I going to do? Light a lamp in your memory for the rest of my life?”

  Ramanandam pursed his lips and hurt swam in his eyes. “If I could be younger for you, I would,” he said simply.

  His words made Kokila’s anger disappear. She had never thought that their age difference plagued him. If she worried about her life, he probably worried about it as well. He loved her, she had no doubt, and loving her would have made him think about the same things she thought about. She sat beside him in the bed and took his hand in both of hers.

  “I love you just the way you are,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes, a response to the pain she knew she had caused him. “I don’t want you to be younger.”

  “But you wish you didn’t love me so that you could love someone else,” Ramanandam said with a sad smile.

  For an instant, just for an instant, she thought to lie but then decided that being honest with Ramanandam was as important as being with him. “Yes,” she said. “But this is my karma and I have to endure it. And loving you is no endurance.”

  “My skin is wrinkled, I’m old, I don’t give you pleasure in bed or out. I don’t shower you with flowers and jewelry. I don’t take you out to the cinema and I don’t marry you or give you children. And you tell me that it is no endurance to love me?” Ramanandam asked.

  “Yes,” Kokila replied.

  “You humble me,” Ramanandam said, and kissed both her hands. “I think you should come along with us when we go to Visakhapatnam. We’re going to be uninvited guests in my son-in-law’s house. I don’t know what he will do when he sees Chetana and Ravi. She will need you for support, despite what she said to you today. And I want you to come.”

  “Why?” Kokila asked.

  “Because I don’t want to be away from you,” Ramanandam said quietly.

 
“Then I’ll come,” she responded, and leaned over to touch her lips to his.

  As Ramanandam predicted, Chetana profusely apologized to Kokila and insisted that she come along with them to Visakhapatnam.

  “We’ll all go in Manikyam’s white Ambassador,” she said excitedly. “And”—she looked around the rooms of Tella Meda from where they stood in the courtyard—“this is the last time I will live in Tella Meda.”

  The three-hour drive to Visakhapatnam was tense. Chetana was the only one with an air of smugness about her. Kokila, Manikyam, Ramanandam, and even Ravi were nervous.

  “I hope he’ll accept,” Manikyam said tightly.

  She was sitting next to Chetana in the backseat of the large car. Ravi was sitting next to the driver, while Ramanandam and Kokila were squeezed next to each other. The driver had been with the family for years and Manikyam didn’t worry about being discreet in front of him. Wearing a white pair of pants, a white shirt, and a white cap, he looked like he was a driver for rich people in movies. Kokila had been amused to see him, while Chetana felt that all her dreams were about to come true.

  She’d always known Ravi’s parents were wealthy. She had seen the driver and the car before, but she had never thought that she would ride in the car, sitting next to Manikyam as an equal. And she was an equal. She was a married woman, a pregnant married woman. She was as legitimate as Manikyam and it didn’t matter who her mother was. She felt very satisfied now for marrying Ravi and for having a baby in her belly. Just a few days ago she hadn’t been sure about either; now she was beaming with uncontainable joy. It was spilling out of her and she had to restrain herself from crying out and thanking God aloud.

  “When I told him that Chetana was pregnant he was not very happy,” Manikyam continued. “He told me that I shouldn’t go for the seemantham. But I couldn’t stay away.”

  “Nanna will want us to live with him,” Ravi consoled. “He wouldn’t want his pregnant daughter-in-law or his grandson to live in Tella Meda.”