The Girl in the Garden

by Kamala Nair

  My breath was coming in short gasps, but I tried to stay calm for fear that she would stop talking, thinking I was too young to hear what she was telling me. I did not have to worry, however, because she no longer seemed to be addressing me. Her eyes had a distant look. I had melded in with the green vine that crept over the stone railing and tumbled over my shoulder like Rapunzel’s braid.

  “I can’t help feeling that some of this is my fault,” she continued with a sorrowful shake of her head. “I should have set a better example. If I had been nicer to Dev, then the others would have followed my example. And if we hadn’t been so awful to him as kids, maybe he wouldn’t have blackmailed our family. If I had been a better person, maybe he wouldn’t have turned into such a monster. If I had only…”

  “It’s not your fault, Veena Aunty,” I said, “You’re a great person. I mean, you saved Amma’s life. I would have never been born if it hadn’t been for you.”

  Veena Aunty’s confused eyes met mine. “What are you talking about, Rakhee?”

  “You know—how Amma got her scar… when you were both in the jungle together and Amma got bitten by that snake. You carried her to the hospital so that her father could give her medicine. She would have died without you.”

  Veena Aunty stared at me. “That wasn’t me, Rakhee,” she said, then pressed her fingers to her lips with a sharp intake of breath.

  “Who was it, then?”

  “Oh God, I’ve opened up a can of worms here.” Veena Aunty’s fingers migrated to her temples.

  “Tell me, please?” I grasped her wrist. “If you don’t tell me, then I’m just going to go ask Amma, and think how much it will upset her.”

  “It wasn’t me.” Veena Aunty let out a long sigh. “It was Prem.”

  My grip on her wrist tightened.

  “Prem was with her. Prem carried her home. They used to go running around in the forests together all the time, just the two of them—” She broke off abruptly, and I knew without her having to tell me what the secret was, what they had been trying to hide all this time.

  My moment of revelation was surprisingly quiet, as if I had known all along, known somewhere deeper than my mind—in my blood, in my soul.

  “Tulasi is my sister,” I said.

  Veena Aunty drew away from my feverish, clinging hand. “Rakhee, how do you know about her?”

  “I found the garden. I’ve been visiting her all summer. We’re friends.”

  The portrait had been so disconcerting because it had been like looking into the mirror and seeing another side of myself.

  “Does anyone else know?” Sweat had formed beads on Veena Aunty’s upper lip. “Have you told your cousins?”

  “No, no one knows, but I think Sadhana Aunty suspects.” I closed my eyes as I felt the rage beginning to build up inside me. “How could Amma have kept this from me? I have a sister and nobody bothered to tell me?”

  “Rakhee, I know this is hard, but you have to understand it’s complicated. There’s no easy way of dealing with such things. I know there’s nothing I can say to justify it. This really has to be something your mother explains to you herself.”

  “No!” My anger was temporarily replaced with desperation. “Please don’t tell her I know. You can’t tell anyone, not yet. You won’t tell on me, will you, Veena Aunty?” I didn’t want anyone finding out until I had figured out a plan for setting Tulasi free. Amma clearly didn’t want her. But surely Aba wouldn’t just leave her behind. If Amma found out that I knew about Tulasi, though, she might do something. She might hide Tulasi someplace where I would not be able to find her. I leaned forward and pressed my head against Veena Aunty’s bosom. Aba was not here yet. I had no one else to turn to.

  Veena Aunty stroked my hair, but the gesture was surprisingly discomforting. I felt the cautious fear trembling in her fingers, as if she were petting a tarantula. “Rakhee, I can’t make that promise. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. This isn’t something you can handle on your own. This is an adult matter.”

  Veena Aunty had been the one grown-up I thought I could rely upon and now this final illusion was shattered.

  “Are you listening to me, Rakhee? Just don’t get any more involved, and let me handle this. I’ll take care of it. And your dad will be here soon. We’ll figure out a way.”

  I withdrew my head from Veena Aunty’s breast.

  I had a sister.

  A real sister.

  I knew with certainty that I couldn’t depend on any of them to save her. It was up to me.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay. But since I know this much already, can’t you tell me the rest of the story?”

  “I suppose there’s no keeping it from you now, though God knows I wish I could. I wish I could have protected you from all this.” She shook her head back and forth before continuing. “Chitra got pregnant at fifteen. When your grandfather found out, he was furious and mortified. He convinced Prem’s father to send him away to school at his expense. Then he forced your mother into seclusion. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house or to see anyone. He went so far as to tell Prem and his father that she had miscarried. They never even told Prem’s mother about the pregnancy because they didn’t want to upset her. The only people who knew were Chitra’s immediate family and, soon after, me. Nalini Aunty, the girls, no one living in this house knows except for Sadhana, Chitra, and Vijay. And I believe Muthashan’s sisters know, too, which is why he kept them away all these years. That’s it.”

  I imagined Amma as a young slip of a girl in a white nightgown, with a grotesquely inflated belly, humming a tune through the bars of her bedroom window, the lonely notes floating into the waiting forest. My own stomach bucked at the image, and I had to swallow hard to find my voice. “What happened then?”

  “Your grandfather had decided to bring the baby to an orphanage and then go on as if nothing had ever happened. But when the baby was born and he saw that it was—she was—deformed, he took pity on her, knowing that she would have no chance of ever being adopted. He also knew there was no believable way they could keep the child openly or explain her existence. So instead he brought builders down from the north, and had the cottage and the wall constructed deep in the forest. They fitted the house out beautifully, sparing no expense, to cover their guilt.”

  Veena Aunty peered at me through the corner of her eye. Hearing the story of Tulasi’s birth and the plot to keep her hidden intensified the twisting pain in my gut, but I forced my features to remain composed.

  “It was the perfect plan, your grandfather thought, except that Dev found out about the baby,” she continued. “When Chitra went into seclusion he noticed she wasn’t out and about anymore, and he took to hanging around the house, waiting for her to come out. One day he saw her sitting on the verandah with her belly all swollen. When the baby was born, he was lurking outside. He saw the poor child with his own eyes. He agreed to keep the secret as long as your grandfather gave him what he wanted. Your mother ran away shortly after, and then the baby was cared for by Muthashi, Hema, and Sadhana. As Muthashi got older and Hema grew more deranged, Sadhana took over almost completely. And Sadhana is just like her father, proud and stubborn, maybe even more so. She will give up everything before she betrays the secret. She feels that she owes it to him after she married against his wishes and broke his heart.”

  “But what about Prem? Why didn’t he do anything? Amma didn’t care, but what about him? It was his baby, too.”

  “Rakhee, it’s not that your mother didn’t care. She was young and scared. She was a child herself who didn’t know what she was doing. And Prem—he didn’t even know Tulasi was still alive until recently. It was Vijay who wrote to him finally, telling him everything. Vijay was getting desperate, so he went behind Sadhana’s back because he knew she would never agree to it. He hoped that by writing to Prem and revealing the truth about Tulasi, Prem would do the right thing and come back for her. He hoped Prem would take Tulasi away and that their financial
problems would finally be over. But it wasn’t that easy. Sadhana doesn’t want to give her up. She’ll fight tooth and nail to keep that girl right where she is, even if it means forcing Gitanjali to marry Dev. You see, she has grown quite fond of Tulasi, perhaps even more so than her own children. She was the one who named her Tulasi, after the holy plant. I think she feels more like the girl’s mother than Chitra, and I don’t blame her. After all, she has been her main caretaker for all these years.”

  So was that the big plan? Were Amma and Prem plotting to take Tulasi away in stealth, and me along with her?

  “When Prem got the letter, he immediately contacted your mother. Until then, he wanted to let her move on with her life, but when he found out about Tulasi, all the memories came back. I think he had always planned to return to Malanad when he was finished with school to marry your mother. He wrote her letter after letter telling her to wait for him and that his love for her had never wavered, but your grandfather intercepted and destroyed them. At least, that’s my only guess as to why they never made their way to Chitra. She thought he had forgotten about her or that he had lost interest because of the pregnancy. When Prem’s parents told him that Chitra had run away and that she eventually married someone else, he was devastated. He stayed away, barely even coming back to see his parents, because being here reminded him too much of her. It breaks my heart to remember all of this. Those two were so perfect for one another, they were so in love, even as children.”

  Just then, Krishna came tripping down the stairs.

  “There you are, Rakhee! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said before stopping in her tracks. “What is wrong?”

  I wiped my face with the edge of my dress. I hadn’t realized that I was crying.

  “I was just telling Rakhee a sad story,” said Veena Aunty.

  “Can I hear it?” Krishna snuggled up next to Veena Aunty, who smiled.

  “I’m just about done. Why don’t I tell you girls another story?”

  “Okay, then,” said Krishna.

  Veena Aunty began to spin some fairy tale or another, but I didn’t hear a word. My stomach ached and my mind was numb.

  Finally Veena Aunty stopped talking and stood, telling us she had to get going because Valsala would have lunch waiting. She leaned down to hug each of us, and at my turn, she whispered in my ear: “You’re okay, right? I know this is a lot to digest, but I’m just asking you to leave it to me and not do anything rash, all right? We can talk as much as you want when this is all over and done with.”

  “I’m fine, Veena Aunty.”

  After she had disappeared around the curve in the road, I told Krishna I was taking a nap. I waited in my room for a while, and when the coast was clear, I dashed around the side of the house, over the wall, and into the forest, my body propelled by a new delirium.

  My sister.

  I ran as fast as I could because I needed to see her and also because the wind waving through my hair and the twigs scraping my ankles distracted me from the tumult of emotions. Happiness that I had a sister, shock at Dev’s story, and, most of all, hurt at the thought that Amma had once had a child and abandoned it. She had not wanted it, not cared for it, not loved it. If she was capable of such an act, then how did I know that she had ever wanted me, that I wasn’t just a mistake, a regret, like everything else?

  When I got to the wall, I dug my fingers and toes into the dry stone, heaved myself up, and jumped over, expecting to be greeted by the cushiony lawn. Instead, my knees fell hard upon rough grass that peeled away a thin layer of skin. But I could not dwell on the fast, sharp pain or the weak dribbles of blood that snaked down each knee. It was not just the grass. The entire garden had transformed into a crumbling shell of its former self. The tender, sculpted roses and wide, bright peonies sagged on their stems, shriveled up like the wasted fists of old women, and the pollen of the stooping gray hibiscus was ashed upon the crusted soil. The ground was strewn with crunchy leaves and dead fruit that sent sweet, rotten fumes swirling up into the air. I picked my way through the wreckage toward the cottage.

  Inside it was cool and dim. Shades had been drawn down over the windows. I went over to one and tugged at the string, letting in a shock of golden light.

  “Tulasi?” I called.

  Everything was clean and in its place.

  I walked toward the bed, suddenly feeling very drawn and tired, as if all my energy was being siphoned away. Even breathing was a chore. What was happening to me?

  Raising a weak arm, I drew back the netting and saw the outline of Tulasi’s thin form coiled beneath a white cotton sheet. The top half of her face peeked out from the sheet and rested on a pillow. Her skin had a yellowish-gray tinge. I looked down at my own hand and saw that it had taken on a violet hue that was almost unearthly. My veins were clear as blue rivers.

  Why was I so tired? What was wrong with me?

  Puck was curled at the foot of the bed, his wings tucked beneath his body, like a nesting hen. He examined me with his round black eyes, but did not move or make a noise.

  “Tulasi, are you awake?”

  She stirred, moved her face from side to side, then opened her eyes and pulled the sheet down away from her bloodless mouth.

  “Rakhee,” she whispered. “Is that really you?”

  “It’s me,” I said, and felt the tears start in my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back, I’m sorry it has been so long—”

  “It does not matter, you are here now. I wish I could make you some tea, but I am so terribly tired—”

  “I don’t want tea,” I said, and climbed onto the bed. I bent down and hugged my sister with trembling arms.

  “Come under the sheet, you are so cold.”

  I lay down beside her, the sheet molding to me, and held her close, with my cheek pressed against hers. Her breathing was slow and labored, and as I lay next to her I realized so was mine.

  “What’s the matter? Are you sick?” I asked.

  “I am not well. How about you? Are you sick?”

  “Don’t worry about me. What’s happened to you? What’s wrong?”

  “Rakhee, please just lie here with me. Let us not talk of sickness.”

  There was so much I wanted to tell her, so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t have the energy.

  “Tulasi—”

  “Rakhee, just lie quietly here with me, please. Stay with me.”

  “I’ll stay,” I said. No one could separate us now.

  We lay together like that silently, and even after she fell asleep I continued to lie there, unable to let go, until I, too, fell. A heavy sleep swept over me and I succumbed without a fight, as if it were the first time that summer I could really rest.

  My mind was undisturbed by dreams. I don’t think I have ever slept so well since.

  When I finally opened my eyes, I realized with horror that night had come and gone, and the warm, rosy light that lapped in through the open window was the light of dawn.

  I looked down at my hands. They still had a pale, mottled look, and my body felt hollow, as if someone had scooped out my insides. I could have easily closed my eyes and slept for another day, another night.

  But I had work to do, so I gingerly disentangled myself from Tulasi’s arms.

  “Tulasi?” I touched her shoulder and her eyelids fluttered, but did not open.

  I said her name again, but still, she did not wake, so I kissed her cheek and took one last look at my sister.

  I made it back to the house, stumbling, heartsick. The first thing I saw when I got to the doorway of my room was Amma kneeling on the floor, sobbing. She was holding something white in her hands.

  Sadhana Aunty was standing near her and turned when she heard my footsteps.

  She stared at me for a moment with her unreadable eyes, then slowly, deliberately began to move toward me.

  “What’s going on?” I said.

  Sadhana Aunty did not respond, just kept walking.

  She was going to hug
me. For some reason, Sadhana Aunty was going to hug me.

  Was it Aba? Had something happened to Aba?

  It was only when I felt my face stinging and my body falling that I realized she had slapped me.

  Chapter 22

  My cheek burned and my ears rang from the force of Sadhana Aunty’s slap. I fell to my knees. Through the haze I heard Amma cry out: “Chechi, don’t!” But she made no move to help me.

  I looked up. Sadhana Aunty’s fists were clenched and her elbows stood out at angles, like wings. She was a wild bird whose nest had been plundered.

  “How dare you,” she said in a voice strangled with hate.

  I tried to stand. At the same time, she yanked me up by the shoulders and gave me a shake.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I gasped. Had Veena Aunty betrayed me? My teeth pierced my tongue and I tasted blood.

  Sadhana Aunty glared at me, then released my shoulders and went over to Amma, who was still kneeling on the floor, weeping. She snatched the something white out of her hands and held it up for me to see. It was Tulasi’s portrait.

  “You’ve been seeing her, I knew it. Who gave you the right? Were you intending on showing this to her? To lie and make her believe that she was beautiful?” Sadhana Aunty began to shred the portrait with the scruple of a butcher, strip by strip. The portrait that I had poured so much of myself into creating, the portrait that had revealed so much to me, the portrait I had planned to keep with me forever should Tulasi and I ever be separated again. Each tear felt like another slap. She crumpled up the pieces, opened her fist, and let them fall like snowflakes.