“I just left it here for a minute,” Kokila said, looking at Subhadra with stricken eyes. “Who could have taken it?”
“Well, you better find it by tomorrow, otherwise the electrician will take the TV with him, and then don’t come and blame me for it,” Rambha Devi said.
“All day you’ve been strutting around as if the television is a free gift to us and now you’re becoming so stingy,” Subhadra muttered.
“My husband said—”
“Look, the money got stolen. If you don’t believe it, that’s your problem. Kokila here doesn’t have a printing press that will print out three thousand rupees. So if it’s gone, it’s gone. You can take the TV today and be gone if you like,” Subhadra said angrily.
Charvi came into her room, her eyes scanning all the faces.
“The money got stolen,” Kokila blurted out. “I put it here and then went to pay off the milkman and the money was gone.”
“What money?” Charvi asked.
“The TV money,” Subhadra said.
Charvi nodded and then shrugged. “It’s just money. I’m sure it’ll turn up. No one steals at Tella Meda. Someone took it by mistake, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure too,” Rambha Devi said, looking accusingly at Kokila.
Charvi looked pointedly at Rambha Devi. “Kokila can take money anytime she wants to. No one knows how much money is in the safe and no one governs her. But she has never taken a paisa from Tella Meda. She keeps everything running and I know some months she puts her own typing school money inside the safe. So never look at Kokila with such accusing eyes. God punishes such unfairness. Some eyes that look unjustly may go blind.”
Rambha Devi was stricken. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s time for my meditation before dinner,” Charvi interrupted her, and then focused on Kokila. “Please let everyone know that there will be no television if we don’t find the money by tomorrow. I hope that the thief has some conscience.”
But no one came forward with the money.
“I saw Ravi out and about,” Puttamma said as everyone sat in the courtyard to discuss the lost money.
“You always have to blame him,” Chetana muttered.
But Kokila and Subhadra could easily see Ravi stealing. After all, he had stolen several times before from everyone at Tella Meda.
“When did you see him?” Kokila asked.
“He probably stole the money, that useless fellow,” Renuka said. “You don’t keep your husband leashed properly, Chetana, and see what happens?”
Bhanu sat quietly, unsure of what to say. Chetana’s husband was her father and even though he rarely spoke with her and never ever played with her, he was still her father and she knew what a father meant. She didn’t like it when Renuka called her father names, even if Renuka never referred to him as Bhanu’s father, always as Chetana’s husband. But Bhanu knew stealing was wrong.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Kokila said, and then sighed. “Puttamma, where did you see him?”
Puttamma looked at Chetana and then at Kokila. “In the afternoon. When I was coming here, he was going to the city.”
“That means nothing,” Chetana said, incensed, as she shifted Meena from one hip to the other. It was not that she wanted to defend Ravi; she wanted to defend herself. As a wife, it was her duty to keep her husband on the straight and narrow. She had failed on that account, but if he had stolen the TV money? Oh, no, it couldn’t be him. But even as she wondered who else it could be, Chetana was quite sure that the only person capable of stealing at Tella Meda was Ravi.
“He owes Simhan two months’ bill,” Puttamma said. “And Simhan threatened him last night, saying he’d break his legs if he didn’t bring the money today.”
“And who is this Simhan?” Rambha Devi asked, looking at Chetana with disdain. Her expression seemed to say, Well, what can one expect from a prostitute’s daughter?
“He owns a toddy shop in the kallu compound,” Chetana said indignantly. “My husband is a drunk and a womanizer. Happy now?” She ran inside her room with Meena wailing on her hip.
Kokila wanted to follow her but before she could, Chetana came back out, a red silk string bag in her hand. She dropped the bag on the tiled floor in front of Rambha Devi. The bag fell with a clang.
“That should be worth three thousand rupees, easily,” Chetana said, and patted Meena on the back, trying to calm her down. “Just shut up,” she told her daughter. At six years old, Meena was completely spoiled and cried to manipulate Chetana. It was easy to manipulate Chetana because she still felt guilty about not having taken care of Bhanu as a baby. So everything Meena wanted, Meena got because Bhanu had not asked anything of Chetana and never received anything either.
Rambha Devi opened the bag that lay in front of her and pulled out four thick gold bangles.
“Manikyam gave them to you. You can’t give them away,” Subhadra said, putting a hand on Chetana’s shoulder. “They are your insurance for later on in life; don’t waste them on a television.”
Chetana shook her head. “Not on the television but on Ravi. This is the last money I waste on him.” Chetana looked at Bhanu. “He’s not a good man. We won’t let him come back into Tella Meda again.”
“Never in Tella Meda again?” Meena asked curiously. Bhanu had ambivalent feelings about her father, but Meena definitely didn’t like him. Since she’d been born she had spent no time with him and saw him with jealous eyes. He was the man who made her sleep with Bhanu in Renuka’s room, away from Chetana.
“Never again,” Chetana assured her.
“Now, now, don’t be rash,” Rambha Devi said, weighing the bangles, assessing their worth. “He’s still your husband.”
“Are these worth a color TV or not?” Chetana demanded, speaking over Rambha Devi’s advice.
Renuka looked shrewdly at the bangles then and snatched two away from Rambha Devi, who tried to grab them back. “Two are enough. These are thick, thick, and two are enough. Don’t you think, Rambha Devi?”
Rambha Devi looked at the bangles in Renuka’s grasp longingly. She didn’t want them to think she was greedy or short of money, which she wasn’t. It was just that the bangles were beautifully made, the design on them was intricate and two on each wrist would look so much nicer than one on each wrist. Still, Renuka was right, they were quite expensive and two should be worth three thousand rupees. And she could convince her husband of their value by simply not buying jewelry for the next two or three months.
“Yes, two are enough,” Rambha Devi admitted grudgingly.
Chetana took the last two bangles from Renuka and put them on. They sparkled on her skin and she shook her head. The bangles were the only valuable things that had come out of her marriage and she had dreamed of so much more. She had dreamed of a big house, servants, a happy life . . . a life like Manikyam had.
And it had come to this.
The electrician from V. C. Ramarao’s company hooked the color TV up in the TV room and the antenna up on the terrace. Everyone stood in the front garden admiring the antenna as it was put up. Almost every home in Bheemunipatnam now had an antenna sticking out. It was a status symbol and even some huts had antennas. But they had black-and-white televisions, while Tella Meda was getting a color one. It was a night for celebration.
The money had just been sitting there.
Ravi had come to beg Charvi for some and usually she gave him a twenty here and there, but this was a stack of notes, some crisp, some dull, and he knew he had hit a gold mine. This was the color TV money that everyone was talking about. And he did think that the drab and dull Tella Meda needed a television.
Ravi didn’t want to deprive anyone of a TV and surely when the money went missing that devotee woman would give it to them for free. He felt no guilt or remorse for putting the money in his pants pocket. He hurried away before Kokila could spot him. They would get the television anyway and he would finally be able to pay back the money he owed Simhan.
&nbs
p; Ravi had seen what happened to others who didn’t pay the toddy shop owner what they owed. They were beaten, severely. Simhan was the only kallu shop owner in the area who allowed patrons to drink on credit. But he charged fifty paisas extra per bottle and if payment didn’t come at the end of the month, legs were broken and faces were bashed in.
Ravi was afraid of Simhan. He was a large, dark man with a thick mustache. He looked like an asura, a demon, from an Amar Chitra Katha comic. And he had arms as big as tree trunks and a voice that scared Ravi enough that he always paid his debt, no matter whom he had to steal from.
This time Simhan had given him almost two months’ grace period. The bill had risen and risen. Now he could not only pay off Simhan but also enter the brothel of Chamba, who had kept him out since he hadn’t paid her whore two months ago. They said she had some fresh bait. Maybe for the money he was left with, he could get the fresh bait.
Sometimes when he was drunk he would wonder what he was doing in Bheemunipatnam, drinking and whoring about. He would wonder why he couldn’t just go home and then he would drink some more because he’d remember that his father had kicked him out and that since he’d married that bitch Chetana, his life had gone down the drain like bad toddy.
All he could do to keep himself sane was to drink and when he was drunk, a whore made him happy, especially since Chetana hadn’t allowed him to touch her for over two years now. And now he had the means to get toddy and a whore. Sometimes good luck just fell into your lap.
Ravi didn’t come home that night and Chetana didn’t get the opportunity to kick him out. She made a bundle of his clothes ready to throw out after him. The television was set up on a Friday and he didn’t come on Saturday and neither did he come back on Sunday.
Though the television was turned on every evening from 7 PM after bhajan to 11 PM when the television station went off the air, it was Sunday evening everyone was looking forward to. Even bhajan had been postponed to 9 PM, after the movie, instead of at 6:30 after dinner. The movie with the superstar Krishna and famous actress Sri Devi would start at 5 PM and end at 9. There would be a small break for Telugu news for half an hour at 7:30 PM. That was when dinner was planned.
Charvi agreed with the new timing. She didn’t watch many movies and rarely went to the cinema but even she couldn’t stand up against the enthusiasm of the women of Tella Meda.
“Now let’s hope the electricity doesn’t go off,” Subhadra said during lunch. For the first time she was not interested in the devotees and guests at Tella Meda.
“Our own television! It’s so nice not to ask that Saraswati if we can come and watch this movie or that,” Renuka said. “The fuss she made when I wanted to see ANR in Sudigundalu.”
“And when they showed Missamma, she made all sorts of excuses,” Subhadra said angrily and with some satisfaction. Savitri was her favorite actress and Missamma her favorite movie.
“She behaves as if we’re not good enough,” Chetana commented. “We’re good enough to eat with and gossip with but if we need something she turns her nose up. It’s just Charvi whom she has any respect for.”
“I never liked her much. She’s so snobbish,” Rambha Devi said, earning snickers from everyone.
“People living in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,” Shanthi whispered to Kokila, who pursed her lips to stop from laughing.
But the electricity went out at 4 PM. Bhanu stood by a light switch, turning it on and off, on and off, hoping that by some miracle the electricity would come back on if she played enough with the switch.
“It’s not summer anymore, so why do they still keep taking the current off?” she moaned. In the summer months, the electricity was turned off for several hours a day to save it. But even during the rest of the year, the electricity was never stable and it occasionally went off due to some malfunction or the other.
“Just leave that switch on. If the current comes back we’ll know,” Renuka told her.
They were all waiting in the TV room, anxious.
Kokila, who had shown little interest so far in the whole television melee, also was disappointed. What if the power didn’t come back on? And after they’d done so much to get that television.
Puttamma came running to Tella Meda at quarter to five. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her sari was almost undone in her haste to get there.
“The current is gone,” Subhadra said as Puttamma came huffing into the TV room. “So you didn’t miss anything.”
Puttamma shook her head and then looked at Kokila. “Amma . . .”
Kokila, who was sitting in a corner with Shanthi, walked up to Puttamma. She had to lean over to listen to what Puttamma had to say. She looked at Puttamma in disbelief.
“What? No current all night? Is that it?” Renuka asked. “What did you find out, Puttamma?”
“Oh, why is it that they should take the current off today?” Bhanu demanded, and so as not to be left out, Meena pouted as well. “I like Krishna so much and now we won’t be able to see the movie.”
“Chetana,” Kokila said, ignoring everyone else. “Come with me.”
“What happened now? I don’t want to miss the beginning of the movie,” Chetana said on a long sigh. “Did some more money go missing? I can give the last two bangles but that’s it. I don’t have any—”
Kokila took Chetana’s hand and led her into the temple room. “Puttamma just saw . . . Ravi is dead, Chetana,” Kokila said bluntly, not sure how one should say something like this.
“Dead? Dead?” Chetana said, staring at Puttamma. When Puttamma nodded, Chetana nodded as well. “Completely dead?” she asked, just in case her question was misunderstood.
“Simhan got some bad toddy yesterday night and ten people died at the kallu compound,” Puttamma said.
“Oh,” Chetana managed to say despite the big lump that had appeared in her throat all of a sudden. She didn’t know how to react. There was so much shock along with relief and surprise.
Now there would be a funeral. She had to let Manikyam know. And the body, that would have to be brought to Tella Meda. Or would Manikyam want the funeral in Visakhapatnam? No, no, here would be better. It was closer to where his body was. His father or brother would have to do the last rites. After all, Ravi had no sons, at least none she knew about.
“Where is he?” Chetana asked.
Puttamma looked uncomfortable and shrugged. “We can get him here and . . .”
“Oh, Puttamma, just tell me where he is,” Chetana said, suddenly feeling very weary.
“At Champa’s. He had money and she has a new girl. He died in her room. She’s still screaming because he went into convulsions, vomited all over her. They want to get rid of the body right now. The police are looking into it as well. They’ve arrested Simhan for selling bad toddy, but you know how it is. He’ll be out by sundown, selling more toddy from his shop,” Puttamma said, the words rolling out of her mouth at full speed.
“Hmm,” Chetana said, and then looked at Kokila. “What now?”
“I’ll tell Charvi and then go to Vishnu Garu’s house and phone Manikyam, or do you want to do that? Ah . . . Subhadra can—” Kokila stopped speaking and held Chetana close as her face suddenly crumpled.
“I’m a widow now,” Chetana mumbled, and started to cry. “I was hardly ever a wife and now I’m a widow. Oh, Kokila, it isn’t fair.”
Puttamma looked at the two women with misery in her eyes. All the time she had cursed that Ravi to hell and blamed Chetana for his shortcomings and now that he was in hell, it was just sad. He had given no one any happiness in his life and even in his death his wife wasn’t able to find joy. If her first husband had died on her, Puttamma would have celebrated. Instead the son of a whore had stolen her money and jewelry to run away with the neighbor’s wife.
“Better to be a widow, Chetana Amma, than the wife of a bad, bad man,” Puttamma said. Most people didn’t think so but Puttamma had lived long enough and had spent enough time with no-good men that
she didn’t believe in the societal custom of putting up with a husband no matter how bad he was. If she had been married to Ravi, she would’ve beaten him and thrown him out of her life long time ago.
Chetana looked up from Kokila’s shoulder at Puttamma, amusement in her eyes at the remark. “And he was a terribly bad man, wasn’t he?”
“Oh yes,” Puttamma said sincerely. “He was the worst.”
“It would be so easy, wouldn’t it, if we could all be as practical as Puttamma,” Chetana said sadly.
“You have to learn to be practical to survive,” Puttamma said.
“I have to tell the girls,” Chetana said, and stepped away from Kokila. “You’ll take care of the—” Chetana looked up at the ceiling fan in the temple room as it whirred to a start. “The current is back.”
On cue, music from the TV followed. Applause and cheers from everyone in the TV room filtered into the temple room.
Puttamma rushed into the TV room and demanded that the television be turned off. At the curses everyone hurled at her for speaking loudly as the initial music of the movie began she said Tella Meda was in mourning and that it wasn’t proper to watch movies when a woman had lost her husband.
Dr. Nageshwar Rao performed the last rites. His younger son, Prasad, stood by his brother’s dead body wearing a white kurta and lungi, with breath that smelled of whiskey. He didn’t indulge in toddy. Rich men’s sons who married according to parental wishes didn’t have to drink toddy, he had discovered. He could sit in his own home with his friends and drink foreign whiskey, peg after peg, without worrying about how to pay for it. He didn’t quite see his brother’s death in the light his father hoped he would. Prasad didn’t believe that alcohol killed Ravi. It was bad alcohol and that whore’s daughter Ravi had married that killed Ravi. Prasad’s wife, Sita, didn’t live with him anymore because when she did, she brought the house down every time he got drunk. And every time she nagged him he felt like he had to slap her around and then she would start crying and the misery would go on all night.
One night he beat her so much that there were huge bruises all over her face. In the morning when the alcohol wore off he was apologetic but she didn’t want any apologies. She packed her suitcases and left. Good riddance, Prasad thought. Now his father-in-law was crying about divorce and as far as Prasad was concerned that was all right too. But Sita always came back because his mother always went to Srikakulam to bring her back. She would lure her back with new diamond jewelry, expensive saris, and whatnot. Prasad didn’t care all that much where she was, but he was happiest when his wife went to visit her parents.
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