Karthik was the Tella Meda advocate for satellite television, which all his friends in school had. They talked about watching NBA basketball, NFL football, and MTV, and he wanted to watch that too. He also wanted to see the shows with all the kissing and groping and the half-naked women gyrating their hips in an obscene fashion but he knew not to mention that, so he only talked of the sports. If they had satellite TV, Karthik argued, he could watch all the cricket matches, instead of just the few shown on Doordarshan, the government-run television station. Last year Doordarshan had not shown several matches from the India-Australia series. All his classmates had been able to talk about the games, while Karthik had had to listen on the radio, which was just not the same thing.
“It’s not like it’s all just naked women. There is a lot of cricket,” Karthik protested to Sushila and Kokila, who had joined Charvi in saying that they didn’t want that nasty satellite TV in Tella Meda. “And once Padma goes to America, this is the TV she will watch. Don’t you want her to get used to it before she goes?”
“She will have a husband who will help her adjust to America, don’t you worry about her,” Sushila said as she peeled potatoes for lunch.
Kokila, who was chopping the bottlegourd for bottlegourd pappu for lunch, had already said her ears were closed to the topic. Tella Meda had been prospering the past few years and they could definitely afford satellite TV, which wasn’t too expensive, but this was not about money. It was about morals and Kokila had heard enough bad things about all that foreign programming that she didn’t want it to be a part of Karthik’s everyday life. She couldn’t stop what he saw in his friends’ houses but she definitely would control what he saw at Tella Meda with her.
“All my friends have satellite TV,” Karthik said, his twelve-year-old face glum.
“Well, all your friends don’t have me for a mother,” Kokila replied.
“Lucky them,” Karthik muttered as he went out of the kitchen.
“Sometimes I’m scared I’m spoiling him completely and other times I’m scared I’m too strict and he’s going to start wondering if he would’ve been better off with his real parents instead of me,” Kokila said with a sigh.
“Parenting is never easy,” Sushila told her. “And Karthik is a smart boy. He knows he’s adopted but he understands you love him like a real mother. Does he ask a lot of questions about his real parents?”
Kokila shook her head. “Just that one time last year. I told him his mother was dead and that I knew nothing about the father. I didn’t mention Bangaru Reddy to him. Maybe when he’s older and he asks again, I’ll tell him. Now he’s too young and I’m scared he’ll hate me for not being his real mother.”
“You are his real mother in all the ways that count,” Sushila said firmly. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“Are you going to miss Padma when she leaves?” Kokila asked, changing the subject.
It had taken Sushila two years, but she had found a U.S. boy for her Padma. There had been numerous bride-seeing ceremonies, and many grooms rejected Padma because she lived in Tella Meda. One marriage broker even warned Sushila that she should find another residence. People didn’t want their future daughter-in-law to have grown up in a place like Tella Meda with people like Chetana, who everyone knew was a prostitute’s daughter.
Sushila would have left if she could, just to be able to find Padma a good marriage match, but she didn’t have the resources to leave Tella Meda. So she had doggedly kept on looking for a match, hiring every marriage broker from Visakhapatnam to Bheemunipatnam.
And finally, when she least expected it, the right marriage offer had fallen into their laps like a ripe mango from a tree.
Sushila laughed softly. “All my life I have wanted that girl to leave my side and make a better life. And now I’m scared she’s going to make a better life and she’ll never thank me, never know how much I did for her. Children forget their parents’ sacrifices for them. Padma is already busy with her fiancé. She doesn’t have time for me. She only has demands: ‘I want this and that for the marriage and for America.’ Once she’s gone . . . I wonder if she’ll even write.”
“She’s still angry that Meena went to medical college and she’s still here,” Kokila said.
“I know. Maybe I should’ve let her take the EAMCET exam again but I wanted to protect her from that hurt. And myself too. I love Meena just like she were my own, but I was so angry that she got such a good rank and Padma was left behind,” Sushila confessed. “Now when Meena comes for summer holiday I don’t know what to say to her. She wrote to Chetana that she’s coming for Padma’s wedding. Maybe they will patch things up and become friends again. What do you think?”
Kokila cut a big chunk of bottlegourd into small pieces. “Chetana and I didn’t speak for several years after Bhanu was born. We just drifted apart and lost our friendship. And then it came back. Maybe Padma and Meena can be friends again too.”
“Chetana said the same thing. I told her I was so sorry for my behavior. She was angry, saying that it wasn’t Meena’s fault that Padma didn’t get a good rank. But she said that she didn’t have any hard feelings, and that Meena probably didn’t as well,” Sushila said sadly. “I wanted Padma to become a doctor. I wanted it so much.”
“And now she’s going to go to America,” Kokila reminded her. “Her fiancé seems like a good boy. He phones every Sunday and sends her presents and sweets. She’ll be happy with him.”
“Yes,” Sushila said, and her face lit up suddenly. “My daughter is marrying a good boy from a good family. Ah, so his mother is not a Brahmin, but we can’t have everything. His last name is a good Brahmin name and my girl is going to have her own car in America. And she will have children, and who knows, I might go to America too, stay with Padma, take care of her children.”
If Padma had heard her mother’s dreams for herself, she would have been appalled. She couldn’t wait to leave Tella Meda and her mother. Padma wasn’t sure if she hated Sushila but she didn’t love her, she knew that much. Sushila had been very harsh after Padma’s bad EAMCET rank. She had called her a good-for-nothing girl who must be married off. Padma could have gotten a good seat in a degree college in Visakhapatnam but Sushila had said she would rather save the money and spend it on her wedding than send her to some silly degree college. A degree college was where losers like Padma got their bachelor’s degrees. Smart people with good EAMCET ranks went to engineering and medical colleges. Padma had hated going to the degree college in Bheemunipatnam. She had wanted to go to a good one in Visakhapatnam but Sushila wouldn’t hear of it. The college in Bheemunipatnam was small and the students all seemed stupid. The girls were only interested in marriage. She hated it that Sushila had made her like them as well.
But she couldn’t deny that she was excited about getting married. Agreed, Manoj, her husband-to-be, was no catch. When they first showed her his picture, Padma had wanted to run, but her mother warned her that this could be her only chance of going to America. Manoj Chintalapaty came from a decent Brahmin family. His father was an officer at the railway department and his mother was . . . well, his mother was not a Brahmin. She had worked in the same railway department until a few years ago. Manoj’s parents had had a love marriage, which Sushila didn’t condone, but the boy was an engineer from the Indian Institue of Technology in Madras, had a master’s degree from a nice American university, and now worked for a big software company in California. So he was a little dark, maybe a little too dark, and his bout with chicken pox as a child had left a few marks on his face. But he wasn’t fat or losing his hair or anything.
Padma had had objections, but Manoj, after seeing just one picture of Padma, had said yes. But why wouldn’t he? Padma was fair and beautiful, like a marble statue. Everyone said she looked a little like the actress Madhuri Dixit, and Sushila knew that was, alas, her daughter’s only asset. A fatherless girl with no money in the family was hard to get rid of these days, especially if she didn’t have a medical or engin
eering degree. In addition, there weren’t many decent families that would want a daughter-in-law from Tella Meda. The fact that Manoj’s family was saying yes was because they had their own problems finding a good Brahmin girl for their son. No good Brahmin family would want their daughter to marry a boy whose mother was not a Brahmin.
Manoj sent some new photographs to Padma as the marriage talks progressed. In one of the photographs, Manoj stood next to his brand-new black BMW wearing dark sunglasses, looking like a movie hero. In another he was standing in front of a big building, which was his office. And in yet another, a big red bridge was behind him. Padma didn’t know why they called it the Golden Gate Bridge when it was red but she was impressed. The car was nice and big and Manoj was already talking about buying a car for his new bride. Not a BMW, his parents told Padma, because they were so expensive, but maybe a Toyota or a Honda.
It would be years before Meena could own a car, Padma thought, and asked Sushila to agree to the match. Once the tamboolam was exchanged, the engagement was finalized. Padma’s future in-laws were good people, Padma learned, who loved their only son and wanted the best for him. Her mother-in-law had indicated without malice that they had hoped for a doctor or an engineer but Manoj had seen Padma’s photo and decided that he wanted to marry her and they didn’t want to crush the boy’s dreams. If he liked Padma, they liked her as well.
The wedding was to take place in Tella Meda. Manoj’s parents didn’t want any dowry or an extra-lavish wedding. They just wanted a decent wedding where they wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of family and friends. A reception was arranged by Manoj’s parents in Visakhapatnam. They hoped that everything could be arranged smoothly by June, when Manoj would come to India. He only had two weeks’ holiday so the wedding would have to take place in the first week, after which the new couple would go for a honeymoon to Ooty or somewhere close to Madras. Padma could get the necessary H-4 visa required for her to go to America in Madras as well. Manoj said he would pay for his wife’s plane ticket and Sushila was very happy to hear that this particular expense would not have to come from her meager savings.
Padma didn’t care about the expenses. She told her mother she wanted a fabulous wedding. Since she had forgone a good education to get married, she demanded that she not be disappointed.
“I didn’t get a good EAMCET rank but thanks to my looks I got a great groom. Now you give me a good wedding,” she told Sushila.
Padma and Manoj talked every Sunday on the new telephone that had been installed in Tella Meda two years ago. The phone had first been placed in Charvi’s room and then when she complained about the noise, the phone was moved to the temple room. The phone was moved back to Charvi’s room on Sundays to avoid misuse by devotees who came on that day to pay their respects to Charvi.
Padma would settle down at Charvi’s desk and talk with Manoj for a good hour while everyone else in Tella Meda was busy with the influx of devotees.
She told him about Meena and how she hoped that Meena would come for the wedding. Then she could show Meena how much better she was doing than her. So what if Meena was going to become a doctor? Padma was going to get married and go to America. And her husband would buy her a Honda car. Manoj warned her that the car might be slightly used but promised it would be safe and in good condition.
As the wedding drew closer, the hubbub at Tella Meda increased. Chetana bitched and moaned that no one had been this involved in her daughter’s wedding and she had lived in Tella Meda all her life, but she still helped with stitching falls on saris and helped Shanthi cut blouse pieces for new blouses for Padma and Sushila.
Sushila had saved saris for years for this day and she brought them all out, one after the other, from a trunk. She bought new saris for the ceremony for Padma and herself, and she bought saris, as required by tradition, for Padma’s mother-in-law and Manoj’s cousins, who would be acting as his sisters for the wedding ceremony.
Karuna’s new husband, Puttaswamy, was arranging the shamiana tent and the marriage musicians. With the blistering July heat in full swing during the wedding, it was absolutely necessary to have a good shamiana to provide shade for the guests.
The three guest rooms (including the TV room) in Tella Meda were being set up as the bridegroom’s home, while the other rooms were occupied by the bride’s side. Dr. Vishnu Mohan’s home was also being used to house some of the people from the bridegroom’s party. Dr. Vishnu Mohan’s wife, Saraswati, had not wanted to help but when Charvi personally asked her to open her doors for Padma’s wedding, Saraswati agreed.
Meena had written offhandedly to Chetana that she would maybe attend the wedding. She wasn’t planning on coming back this last summer of her college days. She had plans to go to Bombay and Goa with friends and that seemed a lot more appealing than attending Padma’s wedding. Meena had moved on since she left Tella Meda, making new friends in college.
“Why is everyone in this great hurry to go to America?” she wrote to Chetana. “Even here at Gandhi, there are some girls who want to finish their medical degree and marry some engineer in the United States and go there to do postgraduate work. I just don’t understand why we can’t stay in India and make India as wonderful as the United States is supposed to be. All of my friends intend to stay in India. A good friend of mine, Asif, and I have decided to finish our postgraduate studies and work in India. I hope Thatha Garu will offer Asif a job in his clinic. He’s a very good friend and if I do come for Padma’s wedding, I’ll probably bring him along. I really get bored during the summer at Tella Meda. I can spend time with Bhanu and you, but really, I don’t feel I have anything in common with anyone there anymore.”
That was the nature of Meena’s visits in general. On her way to Tella Meda, she stayed in Visakhapatnam for a few days with Dr. Nageshwar Rao, who had truly now become Thatha Garu to Meena. Manikyam, who was addressed as Bamma, would shower her with gifts and express great gratitude that she was amounting to something.
Prasad’s health had deteriorated and he was coughing all the time, drinking himself to death, living mainly in his room. Manikyam looked at Meena and saw the future, leaving her only living son to his own devices.
And Meena knew her future was rosy. She had a job already lined up in Dr. Nageshwar Rao’s clinic, to begin right after postgraduate studies. Her only concern was her growing relationship with Asif. Even though Chetana might overlook the fact that Asif was a Muslim, her grandparents probably would not. Already Manikyam was suggesting this one’s son or that one’s brother as a potential husband for Meena. Meena was only interested in Asif and smartly decided not to tell anyone at home about him. For now it was enough that Chetana knew he was her friend.
Asif was her classmate and Meena had felt an immediate attraction to him. A very bright and intelligent boy, he felt the same for her and within the first month of college they became good friends. Before the first semester was over they were lovers. It had been four years since they started seeing each other, and they planned to marry right after they graduated, hoping to do their postgraduate studies in the same place. After that Meena wanted them to work together in Dr. Nageshwar Rao’s clinic.
Asif had warned Meena that she might have to change her religion to marry him because even though his parents weren’t conservative, his grandparents were and he didn’t want to upset his entire family if it was too important to them that his wife be a Muslim. Meena didn’t think much of it. She didn’t feel much like a Hindu and she didn’t think of Asif as a Muslim. How would it matter what her religion technically was? But she understood that this subject would have to be broached with caution in front of her mother and grandparents. And she could only imagine what Charvi would say about Asif and how she would react to Meena becoming and marrying a Muslim.
The matter was moot right now as Asif wasn’t entirely sure she would have to change her religion to appease his family and the wedding was still a whole year away.
But anti-Muslim sentiment was high in India. It
hadn’t been easy for Asif and Meena to be a couple. Some of the Hindu students had threatened them, and some Muslim students who had strong ties with the conservative Muslim community had done the same. It was difficult to be a mixed-religion couple, even in a metropolitan city such as Hyderabad. Since the whole Babri Masjid incident in 1992 things had only gotten worse. And with the Bharatiya Janata Party in power in India, the Hindi-Muslim rift was only deepening.
Both Meena and Asif saw themselves as a symbol of peace between the Hindu and Muslim communities. If there were enough couples like them who had mixed-religion children, this war between the religions would disappear. And their close friends agreed with them. Growing up in Bheemunipatnam, Meena had never met a Muslim before and Asif had at first seemed like an alien creature. She used to believe the stories and the rumors about Muslims: they married four women, they didn’t take baths, they only ate beef, all Muslim men were lechers, all their women were subjugated and wore burkhas all the time. It was a revelation to meet Asif and find out that his family was actually quite normal, more normal than Meena’s.
Falling in love with Asif had been easy, but Meena knew that keeping that love alive through threats, gossip, and hatred would be the difficult part. At least she wasn’t in her mother’s position, she thought happily. If her grandfather refused to accept Asif as his grandson-in-law, both Asif and she had a solid education that they could fall back on. They wouldn’t have to live their lives in Tella Meda, wasting away.
Karthik couldn’t understand why everyone was making such a big fuss about satellite TV. Everyone had it these days, so what was the big deal? He was sick and tired of having to go to someone else’s house to watch television when they had a nice color one in Tella Meda. It was a little old and didn’t have a remote control, so what? It worked and could receive satellite TV.
Song of the Cuckoo Bird Page 36