Song of the Cuckoo Bird

by Amulya Malladi

  Bhanu was smart. She wasn’t about to marry a good-for-nothing man like her father. She would marry a man who was already established. She wouldn’t marry some young chit of a boy who needed his parents’ permission to do anything.

  And she already had someone in mind.

  The Bheemunipatnam photo studio owner, Rajendra Babu, was ripe for plucking and he was interested in Bhanu. He would coax her into his studio and take pictures of her while her half-sari shifted just enough to allow him a glimpse of her ripe breasts covered by the thin cloth of a tight blouse. Bhanu asked Shanthi to stitch tight blouses for her so that she didn’t have to wear a brassiere all the time. She was going to use those blouses to get her man.

  Rajendra Babu, who was called Babu, was just over thirty years old. He had been married for two years but his wife had died just a year ago of some disease and he had no children. He did have a thriving photo business on the main street of the burgeoning town of Bheemunipatnam. He had a brand-new Bajaj scooter in the coveted blue color and a nice house right above his photo shop. The house had four rooms: one main room, a kitchen that opened to a small and narrow balcony in the back, one bedroom, and a small room that Babu used for storage. The main room had been nicely decorated by his wife with little dolls and pictures of Lord Venkateshwara Swami. The sofa was not too old either. Babu’s wife had brought the sofa and the color TV with a remote control as part of her dowry.

  Babu did small spreads and photographs for local businesses. And sometimes he also shot some women in the nude for an underground pornographic magazine run by a friend. There was a lot of money in the nude pictures business and besides it was not a hardship to take photos of naked women.

  Bhanu obviously knew nothing about the nude pictures, though when she found out later on she was surprised but not really upset. She got angry at Babu and used her tantrum to get new gold earrings from him. Then she conveniently forgot what Babu was involved with.

  Babu, on the other hand, couldn’t believe his luck. This young, fresh virgin seemed to be interested in him. She hung around the photo studio and batted her eyelashes at him and let the sari covering her bosom slip by what seemed like an accident.

  Like Chetana, Bhanu knew how to ensnare; unlike Chetana, she wasn’t about to aim too high and end up with nothing. She finally drove Babu so mad with pent-up desire that he showed up at Tella Meda with his widowed mother and a proposal of marriage.

  “She’s just sixteen,” Chetana said, staring at Babu with open disgust. The man was a disgrace. He was so much older than Bhanu and he looked like a lecherous fool. “It isn’t legal to marry a girl off that young.”

  “Legalities can be dealt with,” Babu said quietly. “If we have your blessing, the rest can be easily managed.”

  “Children these days, you have to let them do what they want,” Babu’s widowed mother said, and Chetana wanted to remind the woman that while her daughter was a child, Babu was no child.

  “I don’t think this is a proper match,” Renuka said openly to Babu and his mother. “You’re much older and she’s just a—”

  “Why don’t you talk to Bhanu first?” Babu suggested politely.

  Bhanu had prepared Babu for when he and his mother would come. He knew what he had to do to get that blouse off Bhanu’s breasts. These old bats could say and do what they wanted but he was not about to give in and lose his chance with a fresh girl like Bhanu. So what if she was flirtatious and headstrong? Once he married her he would tame her. Babu wasn’t worried.

  When Bhanu told Chetana and Renuka she was in love with Babu and wanted to marry him, Chetana slapped her across the face.

  “In love, it seems. Nonsense. You won’t marry that old lecherous pig.”

  “I’m pregnant,” Bhanu lied easily. “And he’s the father.”

  The wedding took place at Tella Meda with no pomp or show, just the bare rituals. Chetana didn’t have the money for a fancy ceremony and there was also reason for haste. Bhanu insisted that the marriage take place immediately and implied that her pregnancy was reason enough for hurry. Chetana suspected Bhanu was lying but was afraid to call her on it. What if she wasn’t lying and the marriage fell through? An abortion was possible but . . . Chetana sighed. She hoped Meena would have the sense to not pull such a stunt.

  After the marriage ceremony, as Bhanu packed her belongings, getting ready to leave for her husband’s house, Kokila gave her the bank passbook Ravi’s father had left in her care for his granddaughters. She had contemplated giving the passbook to Chetana and letting her do with it what she wanted but she knew that Chetana was angry enough and proud enough that there was a chance she would throw the passbook away.

  “This is a lot of money,” Bhanu said, and then looked at Kokila. “Does Amma know about this?”

  Kokila shook her head. “She would kill me if she knew.”

  Bhanu grinned. “Amma likes money . . . but I think she hates Manikyam’s husband more. Why didn’t you give me this money before?”

  “I thought it would be wise to give it to you when you were ready for it. Are you angry with me for not giving it before?” Kokila asked.

  Bhanu shook her head. “I would’ve just wasted it. Now it will help Babu and me have a better life. He has a good business but this is . . . Do you think I should send a letter to them saying thank you?”

  “I don’t think it’s necessary,” Kokila said. “In my opinion, the man doesn’t deserve thanks. He did this, I think, to assuage his guilt for turning Ravi and Chetana out of his house. If he was truly penitent, he would’ve accepted Chetana and you and Meena after Ravi died. But he has chosen to not accept you as his granddaughter. Just take the money, make good use of it, and be happy.”

  “I’ll keep it just as is and not tell Babu about it,” Bhanu said. “I’ll save it for a rainy day. Do you think that would be wise?”

  “I think so,” Kokila said, impressed with the maturity Bhanu was showing all of a sudden. “Do you think you’ll be happy with Babu?”

  Bhanu nodded eagerly. “I like him. I know he’s not young and handsome, but I don’t want that. I want a man who loves me. No, I want a man who worships me and will take good care of me. Babu will do that. I’m not going to spend my life waiting for a prince to ride down on a white horse to sweep me away. I’m not going to end up like her, sitting in Tella Meda, going out with men like Srinivas and having no home of my own.”

  “Chetana did the best she could,” Kokila said in defense of her friend.

  “She made mistakes,” Bhanu said firmly. “I won’t make mistakes.”

  When it was time for Bhanu to leave for her husband’s house, she had tears in her eyes. She hadn’t thought she would cry but suddenly she was swamped with sadness. She knew she would miss Tella Meda; she would miss Renuka, Chetana, even Meena. Now that she was leaving she could be benevolent. She even touched Charvi’s feet on her way out, something she’d never done in her entire life. She was just sixteen and she had achieved the one thing her mother had never been able to do: she was leaving Tella Meda, forever.

  “She is getting away,” Chetana said as she wiped her tears after Bhanu left. “Oh, Kokila, did you ever think that I’d have children who would grow up so much that they would get married?”

  “Someday Karthik will grow up and get married too,” Kokila said as she watched her son bounce around the courtyard.

  “You let him marry whomever he wants and accept his wife, okay?” Chetana said, and Kokila smiled.

  “He’s too small for me to worry about the kind of woman he marries,” Kokila said.

  Chetana shook her head. “One minute they’re born and the next they’re grown up. I think Bhanu was lying about being pregnant.”

  Kokila was shocked. “How do you know?”

  “She had bleeding last week, I think. She’s cunning, that girl,” Chetana said. “And Babu, they say he takes pictures of naked women in that studio of his.”

  “Maybe you should heed your own advice and accep
t whomever your daughter has married,” Kokila said.

  Renuka was sobbing quietly in the courtyard, sitting by the tulasi plant.

  “She’s sadder than I am,” Chetana whispered to Kokila.

  “She raised Bhanu,” Kokila said, and Chetana nodded.

  Whether she liked it or not, and she didn’t like it at all, Chetana knew she had abandoned Bhanu as a baby and Renuka had picked up the responsibility. Chetana had always looked at Renuka with disdain, as a woman who stole her child, but now that Bhanu was gone maybe it was time she forgave Renuka for something she herself had forced her to do.

  “It’s okay,” Chetana said going over and putting her arm around Renuka. “She lives close by, almost next door, she’ll come and visit often.”

  Renuka looked up at Chetana and fresh tears started to roll down her cheeks. “She is like a daughter to me,” she said.

  “And you are like a mother to her,” Chetana said as emotions choked her as well. She hugged Renuka close and they mourned the loss of their daughter.

  1990 5 March 1990. The Indian Government announced interim relief of 3.6 billion rupees to half a million victims of the 1984 Bhopal gas tragedy.

  20 October 1990. The Andhra Pradesh government declared a fiveday work week for all offices and educational institutions starting November 1, 1990.

  The Actress

  It was unimaginable that Subhadra would leave Tella Meda. She had been like the house, solid, never needing any repairs, self-sufficient and irreplaceable. She had been with Charvi for forty years now, a lifetime really, but at the age of seventy, she was starting to feel tired and burdened by the chores at Tella Meda. That didn’t mean she relinquished control of her domain freely to Sushila without a grudge. Subhadra liked Sushila very much and in the three years since she had come to Tella Meda Sushila had become just as much of a permanent fixture as Subhadra had been.

  “She doesn’t make the pulusu the way we do,” Subhadra confided in Kokila as she packed her things in two big black metal trunks and one big suitcase. “She doesn’t cut the ladyfingers properly. They get sticky if you don’t cut them correctly. And she has no idea of how to make chakli properly. She puts too much chili powder in the batter. I don’t feel right about leaving like this.”

  Kokila had heard that long-term prisoners when freed had trouble adjusting to the idea of the world outside. They preferred to stay in prison rather than go out and live with real people in the real world. Subhadra was trying to find reasons to stay in Tella Meda rather than leave.

  The telegram had come a month ago, announcing the death of Subhadra’s husband, and her decision to leave had been made instantly, but the planning and procrastination had been constant. Subhadra missed the funeral of her husband but she didn’t feel right showing up there in white when it was her sister who was really the widow. Her sister was the one, after all, who had stayed with Shiva for a good forty years. She had borne him children and had taken care of him when his health went bad. Subhadra had done none of that.

  Subhadra phoned Chandra from Dr. Vishnu Mohan’s house as soon as she got the telegram. Her usually calm and in-control sister was weeping openly, sobbing uncontrollably; she was completely devastated. “Come home, Akka,” she pleaded. “I can’t live here all alone.”

  It wasn’t as though Subhadra didn’t want to leave; she was excited about living with her sister and sharing her life. There would be children and grandchildren who would visit and she would be part of a real family again. And since Shiva was dead, Subhadra didn’t have to feel uncomfortable about his presence. It was the perfect setup. Subhadra was thrilled that her sister needed her, but she wasn’t sure what to expect.

  “What if they don’t take care of me?” she asked about Chandra’s son, Madhu, and his wife, Harini, who lived with Chandra.

  “They will,” Kokila assured Subhadra. “Harini is devoted to Chandra and does everything according to her mother-in-law’s wishes. And Madhu is a good boy. They’ll take very good care of you.”

  Subhadra nodded as she dropped another stack of saris into the trunk. “I have missed her and it will be nice to live with her again, like when we were growing up.”

  “It will be very good for you. We will miss you here . . . I will miss you very much,” Kokila said. “You have been . . .” She paused and bit back the tears. “Like a mother.”

  Subhadra came to Kokila and hugged her, crying herself.

  “Can you come with me to Tirupati?” Subhadra asked when she drew away. “I’m scared of going alone. Chandra said she would send Madhu but that boy is probably devastated because of his father’s death. I don’t want him to have to come all the way here to accompany an old lady.”

  Kokila hesitated. She had a son now; life wasn’t as flexible as it used to be.

  “You can leave Karthik for a few days with Shanthi,” Subhadra coaxed because Kokila looked so stricken. “Nothing will happen to him if you go away for a few days.”

  “I know,” Kokila said in a low voice. “I have never been away for a night from him. And—”

  “Please, Kokila,” Subhadra said, and Kokila sighed. This woman had been like a mother, always there, always understanding, and now she needed something.

  “I’ll come,” Kokila said with a smile. “You don’t have to say please. I’ll get one more ticket. But I can’t stay there long. Just two, three days and then I will come back to Tella Meda. Okay?”

  The day before Subhadra left everyone gathered to wish her a safe journey and bid her good-bye. There were tears and hugs, gifts and pieces of memories. It was a sad time at Tella Meda. Even Charvi had tears in her eyes. Subhadra had always been by her side, her strongest devotee and supporter. There would be a hole in her heart, Charvi told Subhadra, when she left because when Subhadra left she would take a piece of Charvi’s life with her.

  For Subhadra it was an affirmation that she had been a useful member of the Tella Meda family. Shanthi stitched several blouses for her, for free, and made some pillow covers to take for Chandra as a gift. Sushila, though she had been at Tella Meda the shortest, had become quite close to Subhadra because of working with her in the kitchen every day. She was dismayed that Subhadra would leave.

  “I can’t find the ingredients sometimes and if you aren’t there . . .” Sushila hugged Subhadra and wept. It was a surprise to see her so emotional because Sushila was a no-nonsense person who did a good job in the kitchen and raised her daughter with a strict eye. No one had ever seen her get sentimental over anything and Puttamma always said there was something wrong with Sushila because she didn’t even cry when she chopped onions.

  The train journey to Tirupati was a difficult one. It was terribly hot that summer of 1990 and patches of sweat appeared on women’s blouses, in the back, the underarms, right under the breasts. Thighs stuck to each other underneath light cotton saris and petticoats. Rivulets of sweat formed patterns on men’s shirts. The fans within the train compartments provided little surcease against the heat and Kokila had to buy a small battery-operated fan in Vijayawada to stick in front of her face and neck. Subhadra fanned herself with a coconut-straw fan she’d brought along from Tella Meda.

  They bought water at every railway station to ward off thirst and whenever they could they bought and drank coconut water. The ladies’ compartment was packed and Subhadra and Kokila had to sit in the general second-class compartment. The train was crowded but at least now the new regulations had created a third-class compartment with sitting room only, while in the second-class compartments only those who booked a berth could lie down. A young couple was in the berths across from Subhadra and Kokila. They seemed to be newly married.

  Subhadra took to clearing her throat when the couple appeared to forget that there were no doors to lock in a second-class compartment and people were sitting on the other side where they could see the obscene display of young love.

  “I have seen men like him but that girl, chee-chee, she just doesn’t seem to be able to keep her hands
to herself,” Subhadra whispered to Kokila when the young girl snuggled up to her husband and thought she was discreetly touching his crotch.

  “Maybe they are not even married,” the woman who had the window berth on the other side of the aisle told Subhadra. She was traveling with her young son, who slept all through the journey in the berth above his mother’s.

  “You think so? Not even married?” Subhadra asked, and then raised her eyebrows. “Some people have no shame.”

  They reached Tirupati at eight the next morning. The train was only one hour late. Both Kokila and Subhadra were tired and haggard after the sleepless night.

  Madhu and Chandra were waiting at the train station to receive them. Chandra hugged Subhadra close and burst into tears while Madhu nodded toward Kokila and asked about Charvi’s health. His wife, Harini, was at home because their younger son was sick, he said, otherwise they all would have come to receive them.

  This time there were no rickshaws waiting to take them to Chandra’s home. Chandra proudly introduced Subhadra and Kokila to her son’s brand-new red Maruti 800. (Well, it was not really brand-new; it was used and about three years old, but it had never been in an accident so it was almost as good as new.)

  “Turn on the AC, Madhu,” Chandra instructed as soon as they got into the car. “Usually we don’t turn on the AC. It takes up too much petrol, but for you, I think we definitely should.”

  Subhadra was terribly impressed. “So Madhu is doing well, is he?” she asked Chandra in a whisper.

  Kokila was sitting in the front with Madhu while Subhadra and Chandra were sitting in the backseat. The car was quite small, especially compared to Manikyam’s Ambassador, the only car besides taxis Kokila had ever been in. So even though Subhadra was whispering in the back, both Kokila and Madhu could hear her clearly in the front.

  “He just became bank manager here. He is so young too,” Chandra said proudly. “Doing very well. This car, he bought with all his money. Saved one lakh of rupees and bought the car.”