The driver held the door of the car open. I slid in. Aunty stood, hesitating. I turned away. She got in the front. Once home, I slammed my bedroom door, and crawled into bed. When I awoke, it was dawn, and my face was wet from the tears.
Aunty was asleep on the chair in my room.
I couldn’t bear to look in her direction. The woman I’d trusted with my deepest secrets hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me where my husband was.
I turned on the electric water heater in the bathroom, and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I put the cup to my lips, and felt a sharp surge of nausea. Pouring the coffee down the drain, I went to the bathroom, turned off the heater, and took a long, hot bath. When I emerged, Aunty was no longer in my bedroom. She sat huddled on the sofa in the living room, her fingers wrapped around a rimmed steel tumbler of coffee. She looked up when she saw me. The skin of her face seemed to have sagged overnight. “Do you want me to move out?”
“I don’t know.”
She flinched. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
She set the steel tumbler aside and rubbed her eyelids. “If I had to do this again, maybe I’d have told you sooner. But…” Her voice trailed away.
“You might as well tell me the rest.”
“I went to my father-in-law’s political party office and bribed someone to give me Srikar’s address. I thought I was so smart.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve been going over to Srikar’s house, watching from a distance. Yesterday Kondal Rao followed me home. I led them to you, Pullamma.” She sounded distressed. “I’m such a fool.”
Suddenly I knew with deep conviction that this woman, whom I loved like a mother, was no more a manipulator than Ammamma was. I reached for her, and hugged her tightly. She trembled with emotion. I rubbed a hand over her back, feeling rage build up at Srikar’s grandfather. “I am sorry I reacted so badly yesterday. I was in shock.”
She looked pathetically grateful.
“However, I am very hurt that you didn’t feel you could trust me with this information.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, reminding me she wasn’t the villain here. She’d suffered, too. “But after his taunts, I just couldn’t tell you.”
“What are you saying?” My heart thumped uncomfortably against my ribcage.
Aunty gave a short laugh. “He’s known all along where your son is.”
My heart picked up speed. My hands turned clammy. Wrapping my arms around myself, I began to rock. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Aunty looked at me with compassion. “He said the child is where he belongs.”
I sat up with a jerk. My heart started to pound painfully. “Which is where?”
“With his father.”
“With Srikar?”
“Yes.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes. My limbs felt weighted down.
“Pullamma?”
I couldn’t believe this. I had been searching for my son for so long, hurting for Srikar that he didn’t know the fate of his child. I stared blankly, anguish welling up within. All this while he’d been the one raising our son. Kondal Rao must have stolen my baby and left him with Srikar. Kondal Rao – well, he’d stayed true to character. But Srikar? To believe I was unfaithful, was one thing. But to deprive me of my child?
“Say something,” Aunty begged.
I forced my eyes to blink. “What do you want me to say? That I miss my son desperately? You know I do.” I swallowed down the bile. “For my son’s sake, I’m glad he’s known the love of his father. I am glad it isn’t a stranger who’s raising him. But for my sake –”
Aunty put her hand on mine. “You are angry.”
“Wouldn’t you be, if you’d spent years searching for your child, not knowing whose hands he’d fallen into?”
“What are you going to do?” Aunty asked.
“Get back my stolen child. Convince Srikar I wasn’t unfaithful. See if we can build a life together.” I looked at Aunty. “How long have you known Srikar’s address?”
“Five months.” At the look of incredulity on my face, she grabbed my hands, pleading, “I was only trying to protect you.”
“From what? Happiness?” I shook her hands off. “So that’s where you disappear to each morning. You’ve been having a gala time with your son and grandson while I spend my days worrying myself sick about their welfare.”
“Pullamma –”
“Stop!”
“I didn’t know he was raising your son.”
“Enough of your lies,” I shouted.
“He passes by on his motorcycle, and he doesn’t know,” Aunty whispered, head down, tears wetting the fabric of the sofa. She started to sob in my shoulder. “He doesn’t know I’m his mother.”
“And you couldn’t tell me this.”
“No,” she said, sniffling.
“Why not?”
She sobbed harder.
I pushed her off my shoulder. “Aunty, I need to know. Why couldn’t you tell me?”
“Because he was with his wife.”
Chapter 43
Confronting Kondal Rao
I started at Aunty. She couldn’t be serious. Oh God, she means it! “Aunty,” I said, heart clutching, “what if he’s taught my baby to hate me?” Don’t think about the wife. Focus on your child.
Aunty hugged me. “He wouldn’t do that to his own child.”
“And Kondal Rao would never break up his own grandson’s marriage, right?” I swallowed. “Why was Kondal Rao here today? The real reason.” I’d had enough of people keeping information from me ‘for my own good.’
“He did find me near Srikar’s house. He came by to warn you to keep a low profile, and for me to stay away. Some journalist’s been trying to dig up dirt on him. He doesn’t want information about you popping up.”
“What about that attempt on my life?”
“He claims it was knee-jerk reaction. You escaped, he sent his men after you. It won’t happen again.”
I gave an incredulous laugh. “He said that?”
“That’s what he said.”
“I curse the day I met Kondal Rao.” I swallowed my tears. “Aunty, please tell me where they are, I’m begging you.”
“Pullamma, I don’t want you rushing off –”
“Rushing? After eight years, I’m rushing?”
“Pullamma –”
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
“No.”
I was shocked.
“I’m trying to protect you.” Aunty was apologetic.
“I’m sick and tired of people deciding what’s best for me. You won’t tell me? Fine. I’ll ask Kondal Rao himself.”
“Pullamma!”
I grabbed my purse, and shot through the door. Bloody Kondal Rao had gone too far. I sprinted down the stairs, ignoring Aunty’s pleas to come back. Hailing a passing auto-rickshaw, I jumped in, and directed him to the office of Kondal Rao’s political party. I arrived at the gate the same time the bloody man’s convey was pulling in. He descended from the jeep, laughing at something the man welcoming him said.
A roaring sound encompassed my head – he’d stolen my son, denied me my husband, and the monstrous man had the temerity to laugh? With a determined stride I took off towards him.
“What are you doing?” A strongman tried to block my path.
I pushed past him.
Kondal Rao raised his head at the commotion. When his eyes fell on me, his face darkened.
I lunged at him, grabbing fists-full of his kurta. “You stole my son,” I screamed. A goon grabbed my arms and twisted them behind my back. The goon started walking me backward. “You stole my husband,” I spat out. “Be a man. Face me without your goons. Tell me where they are.”
Kondal Rao smoothed the front of his kurta. “Poor woman. Must have suffered some trauma. Some mental thing. Why else would she make such a spectacle of herself?”
Enraged I opene
d my mouth. A meaty hand clamped down on my mouth, covering my nose. I almost gagged. I struggled to breathe. The man moved his hand lower, but didn’t release me.
Kondal Rao flicked a finger at his henchman. “Take the poor woman outside the compound, give her some money and release her.”
Patronizing bastard! If only I could get my hands around his stubby little neck.
Kondal Rao turned his back on me, and disappeared into the building. The remaining strongmen lined up against the entryway in a show of strength.
I bit down on the hand covering my mouth.
The man uttered an oath and let go.
I ran through the gates and jumped into an auto-rickshaw parked by the side, offering to double the fare if the driver got going. He took off, tyres screeching. As he sped through the city streets, I closed my eyes, feeling a sense of desolation.
When he pulled up at my building, I shoved money in his hands and dragged myself up the stairs.
“Where were you?” Aunty said shrilly.
“Kondal Rao’s office.” Wearily, I sank to the floor.
“Oh no,” Aunty moaned. “How could you do such a thing?”
“Don’t worry, he walked away.”
“It is a fool who jabs a poisonous snake with a stick.” Aunty looked scared.
My stomach muscles clenched in spasms. I bent over double, gasping from the pain.
“Pullamma!”
I crumpled to the floor in a foetal ball, pain radiating in all directions. The anger was gone, leaving behind despair. Gut wrenching despair.
To imagine Srikar with another woman... holding her... touching her...
This same woman was bringing up my son, the child I’d carried within me for nine loving months. Did the two of them lie in bed together, my husband, and his wife, holding each other, discussing my son? Another spasm shot from my stomach. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Spare me this suffering. I lay on the floor writhing in agony; the pain, both physical and emotional, more than I could bear.
Aunty slid to the floor, weeping. “Please, Pullamma, talk to me. I can’t bear to see you like this.”
“What would you have me do?” I gasped. “Jump in joy? My beloved husband is cavorting with another woman, his wife,” I spat out. “And they’re happily raising my son together.”
Aunty sagged against the wall. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“My sister, Lata, used to mock my ‘perfect’ love.” I clenched my teeth as another spasm speared my belly. ‘Chiranjeevi’ she’d called Srikar after the Telugu film star my friend Chinni and I had such a crush on. “Leave me to my misery.”
I lay on my side, not moving, not caring that Aunty wept.
The shadows lengthened. I watched the street lights come on. My husband and his... that… that woman... would be putting my son to bed. The window framed a sliver of the moon. Bedtime for my husband and that...
“It’s been hours, Child. Let me help you to your room.”
I curled into a tight ball.
A while later I sat up, disoriented, wiping drool from my cheek. Then it all came rushing back. My husband, my child and that... that...
At my sound of distress, Aunty scooted over and put her arm around me. She helped me to my feet and to bed.
><
“Get up, attend a prayer session, go for a walk, see patients, do something,” Aunty said as she sat by my bedside. “I’ve been filling in for you, but Dr. Govardhan’s asking if you need to consult with specialists for your health situation. How long will you keep this up?”
“Why? Who needs me?”
“Your son.”
“He doesn’t know I exist. He has a mother; he’s happy. My husband has a wife; he’s happy, too.” At some level I realized I’d shut down for self-preservation. Perhaps Aunty had been right to try and spare me the pain. Because it was a pain beyond measure.
Aunty got angry. “Great plan. Just lie in bed. Be depressed. Don’t fight for what’s yours. Your son probably loves his stepmother anyway. Why shake things up?”
“Aunty! How can you be so cruel?”
“Someone needs to. You’ve been moping for three weeks. Get yourself out of that bed and think about what needs to be done.”
“I don’t even know his name.”
“And you never will, if all you do is loll around in bed.”
“No!” Suddenly I was filled with rage. They’d taken away what was mine.
“Then do something about it.”
I swung my legs to the floor with grim determination. Enough was enough. They wouldn’t get away with stealing my child.
><
Later that evening Janaki aunty and I stood by the pale yellow house at the junction of two roads.
Srikar’s house.
The house was set to the back, the area in front a cemented rectangle. We walked to the house, trying to shield ourselves with the guava tree that grew to one side. A coconut tree, fruit ripe for the picking, stood on the other. An independent house in the city. Srikar seemed to have done well for himself. With a wife that wasn’t me. Raising my son. I clenched my fists, shaking with emotion. “This is nonsense,” I said. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Why am I hiding here like some thief? I’m going in to get my child.”
“Don’t be a fool.” Aunty grabbed my arm. “You can’t traumatize your son by springing up with no warning. As far as he is concerned, he already has a mother.”
“I’m hardly liable to forget that, am I?” Blood rushed to my face. “And this ‘your son’ business – we should know his name!”
“We will. I’d just prefer to do it without hurting –” Aunty’s voice caught, “our baby.” She sighed. “I’m not the enemy here, you know.”
I felt ashamed. She was right. I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on her. It was hardly her fault that Kondal Rao was filthier than a cow’s behind.
A child came into the yard. My heart picked up speed. My son? Had to be. He didn’t appear young enough to be Srikar’s child with his wife. He came to the edge of the hedge, chasing a butterfly, arm upraised. I watched him through the dense hedge, straining to get a clear look. He passed a few feet from me, face turned away. To be this close and not touch him, not to see his face even...
I ached that I knew nothing about my child beyond his date of birth. It galled me to think he could pass me on the street, and I wouldn’t know.
><
Early next morning, I waited for word from Janaki aunty. She was near Srikar’s house, waiting for my son to leave for school. Then we’d go in, confront Srikar and his loving wife. I’d opted to wait a distance away; another glimpse of my son, and I’d break down.
“Let’s go,” Aunty said, walking up. “We got lucky. His wife just left with a shopping basket.”
I was relieved. Much as I hated to acknowledge this, the wife was probably an innocent bystander about to be caught in the crossfire. If Srikar and I decided to be a family again, what would his wife’s status be? Venkat, back in the village, had lived in the same house with both his wives. Forget the bigamy aspect of it, I’d rather swathe myself in honey and tumble into an anthill than lower myself to that level.
Raising my hand to knock, I had a sudden attack of nerves. What if my husband didn’t want me back? What if my son hated me for disrupting his world? “By going in, we’ll be destroying an innocent woman’s life.” I wiped damp palms against my sides.
“By not going in, we’ll be destroying your own,” Aunty said recognizing my fear for what it was. “You’ll never get to meet your son.”
“And you’ll never get to meet yours,” I said softly.
“There is that,” Aunty allowed, nodding her head at the truth of it. “This is bad business, Pullamma. There can be no winners here. Someone or the other is going to get hurt for no fault of their own.”
“What if Srikar wishes we’d never found him? What if my son hates me?”
“Stop making excuses.”
My eyes chanced upon an aban
doned plastic tricycle. My son’s! I took a deep breath. There was no going back now. “Okay. Let’s do it.” I knocked and waited tensely.
The door opened.
Srikar!
I swayed toward him, heart full.
“Who are you looking for?” Srikar asked, a polite smile on his face.
I felt like he’d stabbed me in the heart.
Foolish me, to believe the connection between us was so strong he’d recognize me, no matter what. I realized I was being illogical, but the hurt was too great – come nightfall, he’d get into bed with another woman. “It isn’t enough that you raise my son, it isn’t enough that you remarry when I’m still alive? Now you question my identity?”
“Pullamma?”
“No, your grandmother.” I couldn’t believe he’d not recognized me, that he’d made a life without me. I pushed past him and leaned against the wall, trembling with emotion.
“Yedukondalavada! It that really you?” He looked disbelieving.
“How could you have married someone else?” I said, breaking down. “How?”
“Pullamma –”
“What is it, tell me.” I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, crying, broken up that he no longer belonged to me. “Did you have so little faith in me that you married someone else?”
“It’s not that…”
“Then what?” I forced myself to take deep breaths; getting hysterical wasn’t going to help the situation.
“Our son needed a mother, and you were not to be found…”
My heart started to beat painfully. “How did he get to you?”
“You don’t know?” He looked confused.
“For many years I didn’t even know we had a son. I thought I’d given birth to a stillborn girl. That’s what Kondal Rao had them tell me.”
“Oh my God!”
We looked at each other a long time, this man, my husband, who was not my husband. He was the only reason I kept going when I thought I’d die from the pain. He and our child.
“How…” I swallowed past the painful constriction in my throat. “How did our baby get to you?”
“I stormed my grandfather’s office, threatening to call the media and expose his misdeeds if he didn’t tell me where you were. He promised to bring you to our flat that evening. Instead of you, an ambulance showed up and transported me to the mental hospital.”
Tell A Thousand Lies Page 22