Watching Nalini and Harish together, Ramchandra had often wondered what kind of marriage they had. They acted more like office colleagues than husband and wife. Each was formal with the other, never raising a voice or stating a complaint. Not once had Ramchandra seen Nalini touch her husband. They didn’t exchange glances as married couples often did in company. No signals. There was a curious distance between them, so that even when they sat next to each other on the sofa, they appeared far apart. Ramchandra had voiced this observation to Goma one night, and she reprimanded him. “Not everyone relates to each other in the same way. How do you know what they do when no one else is around? They love each other. I know that for a fact.”
“See, that’s what I mean,” Ramchandra had said. “Have you ever heard one of them scold the other as you just scolded me?’’
“If there’s nothing to scold about, then why scold? Perhaps they don’t like to wash their dirty linen in public.”
Ramchandra had let it go. But now, as he watched Nalini walk to the kitchen to get more tomato soup, which Rakesh was devouring like a wolf, it occurred to him that Harish and Nalini most likely weren’t intimate in bed. That’s why they didn’t have a child. He dismissed this theory instantly; he was assuming too much. Goma was right. Of course they behaved differently when they were alone. To distract himself from speculating more about their sexual life, Ramchandra started asking Harish about his business.
In the middle of dinner, there was a knock on the door. “Did you invite anyone else?” Harish asked Nalini, who shook her head. The old servant went to open the door, and as soon as he heard the voices of the visitors, Ramchandra groaned silently.
“Who’s here?” Mr. Pandey said, walking in. Rakesh jumped up from his chair and went to his grandfather, expecting a gift.
“Had I known you were here, I’d have definitely brought something,” Mr. Pandey said, patting the boy on the head. “But who invited us?”
Mrs. Pandey followed her husband, appraised the food on the table, and said to Goma and Ramchandra, in a peevish voice, “Oh, I think we came at the wrong time.”
The servant brought two chairs from the kitchen.
“But we’re not invited,” Mrs. Pandey said. “Otherwise we’d have received a phone call. Even during Dashain, no one thinks about us anymore.”
Flustered, Nalini said, “It was a last-minute arrangement.”
“So, we’ve become strangers now?” Mrs. Pandey said. “Or have we become a burden?”
“Shut up,” Mr. Pandey told his wife, waving his cane at her, “and sit down.”
The servant brought more food to the table, and once Mrs. Pandey tasted some of her daughter’s cooking, her mood improved. She reached into her bag and took out two silver earrings, which she dangled across the table at Sanu. “Look what I’ve been carrying in my bag day in and day out, just for my dear granddaughter.” Sanu looked at the earrings and pursed her lips. Goma said, “Go ahead, Sanu, don’t be angry anymore.”
“I don’t want them,” Sanu said.
Goma rebuked her. “Don’t be foolish.”
Sanu folded her arms across her chest and repeated, “I said I don’t want them. Didn’t you hear?”
Mrs. Pandey kept swinging the earrings in front of Sanu.
“Sanu, take the earrings,” Goma said. “Don’t act like that.”
“I’ll take them only if Hajurba and Hajurma stop saying those things to my father.”
“What things?” Mr. Pandey asked. He drank some water. “Who’s been teaching her such nonsense?”
“No one,” Ramchandra said. “My daughter has a mind of her own.” He didn’t know where his boldness came from, but something had loosened inside his chest.
“Be quiet,” Goma said to Ramchandra. “Is that a thing to say?
“What did I say? I only said she speaks what’s on her mind.”
Mrs. Pandey glared at Ramchandra, put the earrings back into her purse, and said, “I’ll find someone else to give them to.”
Sanu got up. “Go, go! Who needs your earrings? I spit upon your earrings.”
“Sanu, don’t talk that way,” Ramchandra cautioned.
“Great,” Mr. Pandey said to Ramchandra. “First you teach her to talk that way, and then you pretend you’re innocent.” He was clearly angry at Ramchandra, but was controlling himself.
“Please, let us eat our food in peace,” Harish said.
“There’s no peace in this family,” Mrs. Pandey said. “Otherwise, why would we hear such things from our granddaughter?”
There was a brief silence. Everyone stared at the food.
“Come, let’s eat,” Goma said. “This is over now.”
“I’m not eating,” Sanu said, and went inside the house.
“You shouldn’t encourage her,” Goma said to Ramchandra.
He felt a sting of anger. “How did I encourage her? You think she doesn’t hear things that other people constantly say about me?”
Now Mrs. Pandey got up. “If by other people you mean us, fine; then we’ve become other people. But all we want is that our daughter live a comfortable life. That’s all we’ve asked.”
“Why are you arguing?” Rakesh said in a small voice.
“Always criticizing, always complaining,” Ramchandra said to Mrs. Pandey. Again he felt a rush of heat, and he knew he was about to cause more trouble for himself, but he couldn’t stop. “You treat me as if I were a street vendor,” he said. “If you wanted a rich son-in-law, you should have married your daughter to someone else.”
Goma, who had been holding her head in her hands, said, “I can’t listen to this,” and left the porch, opened the main door, and went outside.
The servant nervously started piling more food on everyone’s plate. Harish, who so far had been playing with his rice, said, “Is this necessary?”
“Yes, this is necessary,” Ramchandra said. “This has gone too far.” His hands were trembling, so he hid them under the table. “There’s clearly a distinction between how you are treated and how we are treated.”
“Son-in-law, we have never thought badly of you,” Mr. Pandey said. “We’re only trying to help.”
“And a great help you are,” Ramchandra said. “You make me feel this small every time you talk to me.” He indicated about an inch between his thumb and forefinger.
Mrs. Pandey appealed to the ceiling. “Hare Bhagwan, why are we subjected to this? Weve never made any distinction between the two of you.”
“Let it go,” Nalini said. She looked as if she was about to cry.
Ramchandra picked up a spoon and started tapping the table. He was breathing hard and sweating inside his vest. He wished Goma would come back, just so that she could see that he hadn’t backed down, that he wasn’t going to take it any longer. No one spoke. Ramchandra wanted to leave, but he was determined not to make the first move; he sat there, tapping the table lightly with the spoon, until Rakesh reached over and snatched it away. “Is this a fight?” Rakesh said. No one responded.
“The food will get cold,” Nalini said.
“The hell with the food,” Mrs. Pandey said, getting up from her chair, her face flushed. “Now I know the truth. Now I know what you really think of us. I will not stay in this room any longer.” She slapped her husband’s back. “Get up. What are you doing, sitting there like an idiot? We’re not wanted here.”
“Mother,” Nalini implored. But Mr. Pandey obeyed his wife meekly. They walked out the main door, and, a few moments later, Goma entered, her face solemn. “You’ve done a great job today,” she said to Ramchandra. Nalini went over, wrapped her arm around her sister, and led her to the bedroom. Harish got up and mumbled something about having to use the bathroom. Ramchandra and Rakesh stared at each other; then Rakesh started to cry, and it took some time for Ramchandra to soothe him. “Go get your mother and sister,” he said. “We have to leave.”
“But I haven’t finished eating yet.”
“We’ll eat at home.”
“But the food at home isn’t this good.”
“Son, please do as I say.”
Rakesh left, and Ramchandra sat there, the servant standing behind him. In the silence, Ramchandra could hear the man breathe, could feel the man’s eyes burrowing into his back. He turned around and asked, “Will you get me some water?” The servant pointed to the glass of water in front of Ramchandra. He drank it, listening to his own gurgles. Soon he heard the muted voices of Nalini and Goma coming from the bedroom. Where was Sanu? Where did Harish disappear to? Doubts about himself began to nip at him, but he angrily brushed them aside. The Pandeys needed to hear what he’d said, and he hoped they’d start treating him better. But part of him knew that this would not happen.
He dosed his eyes and conjured up the image of Malati in a bright red kurta suruwal, her face clean and eager, and slowly the warmth of pleasure entered him. The harsh words, the strained faces of his in-laws, dissolved, and he was left with a sweet sensation in his throat, his chest.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Sanu said, “Ba, are you crying?”
He took her hand and said, “No.”
“Should I not have said those things?”
Of course you should have, he thought, but he said, “Perhaps this was not the right time. Your mother is upset.”
Her face was gloomy. She sat down next to him. “What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know. I think we should leave.”
Goma, her eyes puffy, came out of the bedroom with Nalini and Rakesh. Nalini was caressing her back. After a moment, Nalini went to look for Harish so that he could drive them back to Jaisideval. Goma stood by the door, saying nothing. Rakesh examined the family pictures on the wall.
“This food is only half eaten, gone to waste,” the servant said.
In the car, Ramchandra sat in the front with Rakesh on his lap, and Goma, Sanu, and Nalini sat in the back. No one spoke for a long time, until Harish cleared his throat and said something about how the weather was supposed to warm up considerably in the days to come. Ramchandra added that warm weather, without any rain, would probably lead to more dust in the city, which was already filthy.
At Jaisideval, the four of them trudged up the stairs, and Goma went straight to bed. Rakesh complained that he was hungry, so Ramchandra rummaged around in the kitchen and discovered some leftover cauliflower and rice. Sanu stood by the door, her face glum. When Ramchandra asked whether she wanted to eat, too, she shook her head. He tucked the children into their bed, noting that Sanu, with her growing body, would soon have to sleep apart from her brother. He turned off the light and went to his room.
In bed, he lay staring at the ceiling. He could hear Goma’s soft breathing. Her back was turned to him, but he knew she was awake. A while later he said, “It had become too much, Goma. Don’t you understand?”
Slowly, she turned toward him. “They are my parents. Don’t you understand? Was all of that necessary?”
“It was bound to happen. You know how your parents always treat me.”
“They don’t think badly of you. They just want a better life for both of us.”
That sounded exactly like the Pandeys, but he didn’t want to argue with Goma this late. “We can’t take back what’s happened,” he finally said.
“I’m worried about Sanu. That attitude toward her elders, especially her grandparents, who love her so much; that doesn’t bode well.”
“She’s a sensitive girl, that’s all.”
“And you encourage her.”
“I have never encouraged her,” he said sharply. “If you want to keep blaming me, maybe we shouldn’t talk right now.” He turned away and closed his eyes. He could hear her breathing hard. Then, gradually, her breath became softer.
Soon, he felt her hand on his shoulder. “How is she? Sanu? What is she saying?”
“I think you’d better talk to her. She’s miserable.”
“I’ll make up to her tomorrow.”
Turning around to face her, he asked, “Do you still want Malati to come for lunch tomorrow?”
“Oh, I nearly forgot that,” Goma said. “Yes, I’ve already asked her, and she seemed eager to come. I told her to bring her daughter, too.”
“We should think of something we can play together so that Sanu and Rakesh will also enjoy themselves.”
“Why don’t we play carom?”
Ramchandra wondered whether he and Malati could be partners, and then realized what a ridiculous thought that was. He clasped Goma in his arms. “Let’s forget about what happened today and get a good night’s sleep. What are you cooking tomorrow?”
“I’ll go to the market early and buy some squash and goat meat.”
“Goat meat is expensive these days. What? Forty rupees a kilo?”
“What’s the point of inviting someone if we don’t feed them properly? I’m tired of counting each paisa.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’m just suggesting that we watch our money.” He nuzzled Goma’s breasts.
The tension was dissipating, but he knew that there was much more to come, that the next time he saw his in-laws, the strain from this argument would hover in the air, creating even more distance between them. Mrs. Pandey was not the forgiving kind. She would be resentful, and Goma would reflect her mother’s attitude. But he didn’t want to think that far ahead, so he pressed his face deeper into his wife’s bosom.
As if she were materializing from Ramchandra’s daydreams, Malati appeared at their door in a bright red kurta suruwal, with Rachana straddling her hip. Two silver earrings dangled from her ears, and around her wrists were bangles that tinkled as she talked and moved her hands. “We hadn’t set a time, but I thought ten o’clock might be when you eat.”
“Yes, yes,” Goma said. “You came at the right time.” She smiled at the baby. “Looks just like you,” she said. “Same nose, same eyes.”
Ramchandra looked at Rachana from where he sat on the bed. Yes, indeed, Malati’s daughter looked like her, something he hadn’t noticed before. He wondered whether Rachana also showed any likeness to her father.
“Sit, sit,” Goma said, and when Malati attempted to sit on the floor, Goma caught her arm and said, “Not today. Today you’re not a student. So, on the bed,” and she asked Ramchandra to move so that Malati could sit comfortably. He stood up, his arms dangling awkwardly by his side. Rakesh came running in, acted shy around Malati, and then started making faces at Rachana, who began to cry. Ramchandra scolded Rakesh and shooed him out of the room. When Sanu entered, she sat beside Malati and asked if she could hold the baby “You might drop her,” Goma said. Sanu said she was a grown-up now. Malati carefully passed the baby to her, and Sanu held the little one in the crook of her arm. She cooed softly at Rachana, and everyone watched and smiled. “She’ll make a good mother,” Malati said.
They drank tea and made small talk. Malati expressed her anxiety about the exams. Ramchandra assured her that she’d do fine. Goma told Ramchandra that he should tutor her more, that perhaps he could tutor her even during the festival, except, perhaps, on the day of the Tika, when they’d be visiting relatives. “No, no,” Malati said, “I obviously can’t impose that on you. You must celebrate the festival, too. Besides, I can’t pay any more than what I already pay.” Goma said that it was no imposition, that Ramchandra would gladly do it. And who said anything about more payment? Goma looked at Ramchandra, who said, “Of course, you should come during the festival, except on the day of the Tika, and don’t talk about more payment.”
The baby was passed around, and when she came to Ramchandra, he held her awkwardly. Rachana smiled at him and said something that sounded like “ba, ba.” Everyone laughed, including Malati. Goma joked, “Maybe she thinks you’re her father,” and Ramchandra felt embarrassed. He kissed the baby and, out of the corner of his eye, looked at Malati, who, once again, had that soft smile on her lips. Goma went to the kitchen to check on the food, and Sanu followed her. For a while Ramchandra and
Malati were alone, except for the baby and Rakesh, who was engrossed in his toy army truck.
“I am glad you’re here,” Ramchandra said. “I thought you might not come.”
“Why wouldn’t I come?” Malati said, looking at the baby, now in her lap. “Goma bhauju invited me with such an open heart.”
“She likes you.”
“I like her too. She’s so gentle.”
Ramchandra pointed toward Rachana. “Is she hungry?”
“She ate before she came, but you never know.”
“You can feed her now,” he said.
“Not in front of you!” she said.
Rakesh looked up from his toy. “Is the baby hungry?”
“Maybe,” Malati said.
“Can I watch her eat?”
“She doesn’t eat dal-bhat like us,” Ramchandra said. “She drinks her mother’s milk.”
“I want to watch her eat,” Rakesh said.
As if prompted by Rakesh, the baby started clawing at Malati’s breast.
“Looks as though she’s hungry,” Ramchandra said. “Why don’t you go to the next room and feed her?”
He escorted Malati to the children’s room, and just as he was shutting the door, Rakesh slipped inside.
In the kitchen, Goma was stirring the goat meat, and Sanu was shelling green peas. “It smells great in here,” he said.
Goma didn’t respond. From the back she looked tense, so he asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said.
He looked at Sanu, and saw that she once again had a sullen face. “What happened?”
“I can’t deal with your daughter anymore.”
“What happened?”
“She refuses to apologize to her grandparents.”
“And why did you have to bring it up now? They’re not here, are they?”
Goma put the ladle into the stew and faced him. “I was just talking to her, trying to make things right. She cannot keep treating her grandparents this way.”
“You told me you’d make up with her, and the first chance you get, you argue again.
The Guru of Love Page 11