Bombay Brides

by Esther David

  To make the wedding memorable, my mother and her friends decorated my bedroom with flowers. She also joined the two divan beds in my room and covered them with a floral rose-pink bedsheet.

  That night, there was a teary farewell in our drawing room. Naturally, I also cried. I dreaded entering my bedroom. I need not have worried, as Moses, wrapped in a shawl, was sleeping on the farthest corner of the bed.

  The next day, after breakfast, we left for Ahmedabad in a station-wagon taxi, booked by Matchmaker Uncle, who had decided to take the expressway to Ahmedabad, as it would be more convenient with my bags. If we had left by catamaran from Alibaug to Mumbai, I would have had to leave behind some of my belongings. As it was a big car, Matchmaker Uncle and Ezra made themselves comfortable in the seats behind the driver, while I sat with Moses in the backseat. Throughout the journey, the men chatted as though I did not exist, so I watched the changing landscape. I was pleased that I had had my way and my harmonium was packed in a box right behind me in the taxi.

  When we reached Shalom India Housing Society late that night, we were given a warm welcome by some families who were waiting for us. I was tired but politely shook hands with everybody. Daniyal, the caretaker of the society, and others helped Moses carry the bags to the elevator, and Daniyal’s wife, Salome, accompanied me to Moses’s apartment, my new home. Ezra’s wife Sigaut sent us vegetarian biryani and told me that they would be there for the wedding reception Moses had organized on the lawns of Shalom India Housing Society. I assumed that Moses had forgotten to tell me about it, so I smiled and entered the apartment without ceremony. I needed a shower and change of clothes. As soon as my bags came up, I took my nightclothes and was happy to disappear into the bathroom. But before that I carried my harmonium to what looked like an unused bedroom, next to Moses’s master bedroom, and pushed it under the divan bed, covering it with a dupatta I had pulled out from my bag. I then took out a lace-trimmed nightdress, which my mother had insisted I wear on my first night with Moses.

  Later, when Moses came in, he gave me an extra bunch of keys to the flat and explained some basics about the kitchen, the cooking gas, the geyser in the bathroom. He told me to keep the balcony doors closed, as langoors often raided the flat. I told him I would manage. Then he went into the bedroom, showered, changed into his pyjamas and came straight to the dining table as if it was the most natural thing on earth. I had laid the table with two plates, spoons and the biryani. He ate hurriedly and went back into the bedroom, where he switched off the lights.

  I collected the dishes, put them in the kitchen sink and kept the leftovers in the fridge, as I did not see any other food in the house. I then filled a bottle of water for myself and stood at the bedroom door watching Moses. He had switched on the ceiling fan and was sleeping in the same way he had slept on my bed in Alibaug. He had left place for me to sleep next to him. The bed looked as though it was divided in two. There was a pillow and a shawl for me…

  I stood at the door, feeling like an intruder. The apartment was a mess. I was troubled that Moses had not made any effort to make me feel welcome in our new home. I consoled myself that maybe he had been in a hurry to reach Alibaug for the wedding and had not had the time to make the flat liveable. Maybe he was exhausted.

  I blessed Sigaut for the food she had sent. Anticipating this situation, my mother had also packed boxes of dry snacks, aloo parathas and sweets, otherwise we would have slept on an empty stomach. I froze the parathas in the fridge, in case we would need them for the next day’s lunch. I did not know what to expect of Moses. I peeped into the bedroom, saw that he was fast asleep and decided not to enter. I switched off the lights and made myself comfortable in the smaller bedroom. I lay down on the narrow divan bed and slept, feeling comforted by the harmonium next to me.

  Next morning, I woke up to the insistent ringing of the doorbell. I sensed that Moses was not in the apartment, so I rushed to open the door. A boy in his late teens was standing there. He said that he cleaned Moses Saab’s flat every morning. He was Franco Fernandez’s full-time help, but also worked as a part-time cleaner for others. He offered me a rose, saying, ‘Shaadi mubarak, Madam,’ congratulating me on my wedding. Touched by his gesture, I thanked him, placed the flower in a glass of water and busied myself in the kitchen. I looked in the fridge and saw that there was no milk, but by then Moses was back as his help greeted him with ‘Shaadi mubarak’ as well. Moses left two packets of milk, a loaf of bread and butter on the counter and sat at the dining table reading the newspaper, waiting for tea. Then he dressed and, before leaving for work, stopped at the door saying, ‘I have organized a wedding reception downstairs at 7. I have invited everybody from our community and some friends from my office. The caterers and decorators will look after everything. I will be back by 4 in the afternoon.’

  When the doorbell rang again, it was Salome. She offered to help me organize the apartment, as she knew where Moses kept the linen. Together, we changed the bedsheets and curtains, so that the house looked presentable. While I was cleaning the fridge, she showed me a cupboard where Moses kept basic provisions. He hardly ever cooked, eating at his office canteen or ordering food from a tiffin service in Block B. She offered to send me lunch but I told her there was enough food in the fridge. By the time she left I had understood the geography of the apartment. I saw that there were only two photo frames on the walls, one of Moses’s late aunt and the other of the Prophet Elijah in his chariot.

  Then I went into my room to arrange my clothes, had a leisurely bath, wore a white salwar-kameez with orange sprigs and lit two candles, one for the Prophet, asking him to help me settle down, and the other for the aunt who had brought up Moses. As I looked up at her, I felt she was staring at me with a severe look. I did not know what the future held for me.

  By then I was hungry. When I was heating the leftovers, the doorbell rang again. I opened the door and saw a man with a bagful of tiffin carriers. He offered me one, saying, ‘Moses Saab has sent food for you.’ I accepted it, wondering if Moses really cared for me. Then I told myself that it was nice of him. He had made arrangements for lunch, knowing that there was nothing in the house and I was new to Ahmedabad.

  I sat at the dining table, opened the tiffin and ate a little of everything, wondering what to wear that evening. But Prophet Elijah has a solution for everything. The doorbell rang again and when I opened the door, I saw a good-looking woman standing there. She entered, introduced herself as Sippora and said that she had a beauty parlour in her apartment. As a wedding gift, she had decided to help me dress for the reception. From my saris, she helped me chose a sky-blue silk one embroidered with gold thread, with a matching blouse. She suggested that I wear the gold mangalsutra Moses had given me as a symbol of my marital status, gold bangles and gold earrings, and approved of my Kolhapuri chappals with gold straps. On the spur of the moment, she gave me an eyeliner to accentuate my eyes and asked me to wear lipstick, which she was sure I was carrying in my purse. Then she brushed my hair till it cascaded down my back.

  Sippora was already dressed in a wine-red skirt and silver-spangled kurti, so she dabbed on some lipstick and sat chatting with me, as she sensed that I was tense. Moses had not returned from work and I did not know the people invited to the party. I was sitting on the edge of the sofa-chair as though I was a stranger in my own home. I jumped when I heard Moses open the door. He looked uncomfortable when he saw Sippora sitting there, smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. He ate the leftovers from the tiffin and then locked himself in his room to dress for the evening. When he emerged, he was wearing the same suit he had worn for our wedding in Alibaug, which had since been ironed. He left quickly to supervise the preparations downstairs.

  Sippora accompanied me to the lawns of Shalom India Housing Society and led me to the floral dias, where Moses was already standing, giving instructions to the electrician. As soon as Sippora left me there, Moses asked me to stand next to him to greet his guests. The evening passed happily amidst flo
wers, lights and live music, which Franco Fernandez played on his violin, as waiters served glasses of orange juice and plates of samosas. Moses introduced me to the Jewish community of Ahmedabad, his childhood friends and office colleagues. We were given innumerable bouquets of flowers, envelopes of cash and a variety of wedding presents such as glasses, cups, wall clocks, dinner sets, cutlery and other knick-knacks, which would be useful in setting up our new home.

  Then I noticed Moses watching me with a look of disapproval. I smiled and kept talking to the guests, but knew that I had displeased my husband in some way. Whatever his feelings, for appearances’ sake he kept a smile pasted on his face through the evening. The reception was followed by a buffet dinner of traditional chowli or black-eyed peas, paneer in red masala curry, hot naan, spicy dal, rice, a salad and roasted papad, followed by mango ice cream.

  By the end of the party, I had assumed that Moses was a gentle, quiet man, but on our way to the elevator, he hissed, ‘Don’t ever keep your hair open. Keep it tied.’ I knew that it was going to be difficult living with a ‘simple’ man like Moses.

  Within a week, I noticed that he had a smooth body with hardly any hair. That was his ‘flaw’. While growing up, he may have wanted to have body hair like most men. Instead, his body was as hairless as a baby’s bottom, so in a way, we were ‘made for each other’. It was for this reason that we were not destined to make love. Maybe he hesitated because he was almost hairless. Whenever I thought about this matter, I sometimes wanted to laugh, sometimes cry … I had neither love nor music in my life. My marriage was just a signature on a certificate.

  After the wedding reception, it was understood that we would live different lives. I looked after our home and made sure that there was food on the table for my ‘Lord and Master’. I accepted my fate. And whenever I spoke to my parents, I painted a rosy picture of my married life. The way I spoke, they never guessed that we slept in different rooms. When the help arrived in the morning, one of us was always up and about and my bed was always made. But I used the bathroom of the master bedroom without permission and kept my toiletries there, as a reminder to Moses that I lived in the same apartment.

  Moses slept in the master bedroom, while I had made myself comfortable in the smaller bedroom, almost like a guest. The smaller bedroom is usually known as the children’s room, guest room or servant’s room. I arranged the room according to my needs, while the harmonium gathered dust under my bed.

  When alone, I would open the harmonium and had to make an effort not to touch it. I did not play even a random note on it, for fear that one of the neighbours would hear music coming from our flat and ask Moses if I was a singer. The secret had to be buried deep within my being, even if it tormented me. I was desperate to sing a raga, but held myself back, as I had promised not to.

  When Moses was at home, he often switched on the television, watched the news, a film or television serials while I held the precious iPod I had received as a gift from my childhood friends. I studied the pamphlet, learnt how to play it and listened to music with my headphones on.

  Moses never came home for lunch, so it became my music hour. I lay on the sofa, reduced the volume of the television and zapped all the music channels. This life of deception went on for some time, as when Moses was not at home, I also listened to music on my iPod while doing housework, cutting vegetables, rolling chapatis and cooking.

  In a way, we had drawn a line of control in our lives. We rarely spoke, but Moses had mastered the art of giving instructions about simple household matters. Maybe he had picked it up from his aunt. And, since the night of our wedding reception, I made sure that my hair was always braided or rolled into a chignon.

  Every day, I heaved a sigh of relief when Moses left for work and with my iPod, I disappeared into my world of music. The sofa transformed into my flying carpet and I floated into unknown regions where Moses could never reach me.

  Once in a while, I had to leave my comfort zone and accept invitations from the women of Shalom India Housing Society for a get-together, where we would talk about household matters. Gradually, this became a friendly distraction as I started opening up.

  I liked Sippora. Sometimes she came to see me alone and discreetly asked if she could help me remove the unwanted hair. She knew the latest beauty treatments. She was deeply concerned and promised that she would find a solution for my allergy. These interactions helped. Otherwise life was boring and I was often depressed. But then, as they say in the Bible, ‘Help comes in many ways…’

  Day after day, I would stand facing the picture of Prophet Elijah and ask him to help me. Whenever I stood there, reciting the Eliayhoo Hannabi prayer, I saw the light from the window fall on his raised hand. I assumed that it would take a year or two to find a solution. I felt comforted.

  Eventually, it came in the form of Matchmaker Uncle, when he was in Ahmedabad, hunting for brides and grooms as usual. Moses invited him on Friday evening for Sabbath dinner. And, being an old hand at the games men and women play, he guessed that all was not well between us. A month later, he called me to say that he had found a job for me as a music teacher in an international school on S.G. Road. It was rather far from our apartment but they had a school bus, so transportation would not be a problem. He had made an appointment for me to meet the director of the school and had even asked Sippora to drive me there. I met the lady director of the school, who saw my biodata and immediately gave me an appointment letter, asking me to join in a fortnight. I was elated.

  Moreover, Matchmaker Uncle returned to Ahmedabad and came to see us and inform Moses about my new job. Moses listened, expressionless, and then, after what appeared to be ages, nodded his head in the affirmative, saying, ‘Fine. If that’s what Golda wants to do. In this way she can contribute to the household expenses. I always wanted a working woman as a wife. You see, my aunt worked all her life and brought me up…’

  It was the beginning of a new phase for me. Life was suddenly hectic as I had to get up early and make tea, breakfast and lunch. I would leave Moses’s tiffin box on the dining table, pack my own lunch, go for a shower, dress and catch the school bus, which also dropped me home in the evening. I would enter the empty apartment, heave a sigh of relief, make a leisurely cup of tea, eat a snack and go shopping to a nearby mall for vegetables and groceries. I would return to the apartment, cook dinner, set the table, pick up newspapers, clothes and empty teacups. Then, I would change into my night clothes and listen to music, waiting for Moses.

  The hours I spent at school were my secret world. That was the time I recreated my world of music, far away from Moses and his silence. The school had four music rooms, two for music, two for classical Indian dance, according to the age of the students. My colleague was a well-known elderly musician who taught vocal music to senior students, while I was in charge of the junior classes. The music room was like a dream come true, as it had every possible musical instrument, arranged in glass cupboards along the walls. Suddenly, I was in a world of tunes and melodies. For a few hours, I forgot the stressful life I led with Moses. In six months, the authorities were impressed with my work. Whenever I was alone in the school music room, I would open the harmonium as though it was the most valuable object of my life and sing. I lived two lives, one silent with the iPod in the apartment, the other in school, where I had the freedom to sing.

  In the school bus, on my way home, I would feel as if my songs would burst out one day and break the walls Moses had built around me, in which I felt like an imprisoned bird.

  Since I had started work I had not met Sippora, so I was happy when she came over. She told me about her friend Sharon who lived in Block A and whom I had met at the wedding reception. Sharon played the sitar and was a lecturer at a local college of performing arts. Sippora sent a text message to Sharon, asking if she could join us when she returned home. She also asked me if Moses was interested in music. I did not answer. Sippora understood. I did not want Sippora and Sharon in the apartment when Moses ret
urned so I said that I would meet Sharon some other time. I was relieved when we decided to meet at Sharon’s place.

  When I met Sippora and Sharon together, we bonded as though we had always known each other. Yet, I looked at Sharon’s drawing room with a certain amount of envy, where her sitar was placed on a beautiful carpet, along with a pair of tablas, a tanpura and a harmonium. Sharon had the freedom to display her musical instruments in her home. Then Sharon asked me to sing. For a second I was euphoric and forgot the promise I had made to Moses. Then I told them about my problem with him. They listened compassionately and said that they wanted to help and also hear me sing. I sang for them; they liked my voice. I felt I had found another family in Ahmedabad, as we made a pact of secrecy. For the first time in months, I felt happy and loved.

  Moses and I rarely spoke to each other, except regarding household matters. Sometimes he asked me to accompany him to the synagogue if there was a malida, bar mitzvah, circumcision, an engagement, a mehendi ceremony or a wedding. But I rarely got the opportunity to dress up and go to the cinema. In Alibaug, I always used to see the latest films on Saturday afternoon with my friends, after which we would have ice-cream soda at Sam Uncle’s stall on the way home. Those were happy days.

  Moses never suggested that we eat out at a restaurant or go to a café for coffee, samosas or ice cream. I would ask myself, ‘Is this romance, love, marriage … or am I just an extra piece of furniture in his apartment?’

  But if and when Moses went to meet his office colleagues or childhood friends, I sent a text message to Sippora and Sharon. We would meet. I felt a great sense of relief spending time with them. During these secret meetings, Sippora often tried one of her beauty treatments on my arms, to see if she could solve my problem of unwanted hair, gave me a manicure, brushed my hair, taught me to braid it in different styles or gave me a facial with herbal cream, making sure it did not give me a rash. Slowly, my life was taking unpredictable turns.