I felt a whirring sound in my head. My husband married to my twin? No, God, that would be too cruel!
“Pulla?” Srikar looked anxious. His voice seemed to come from far away.
I slashed a vicious hand through the air. I’d fall apart if he showed sympathy now.
Srikar’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “What I didn’t mention earlier was that one of the conditions my grandfather laid was down was that I’d have to marry Lata. If I wanted my son, that is.”
“But why?”
“He claimed that it was to provide Lata the protection of a married name. Perhaps he did not want Lata in her grandmother’s home, reminding people that the marriage my grandfather had helped arrange had failed. Whatever the reason, he would not budge on that. He said he would hand the baby over only after I married her. Say something, Pulla.”
I couldn’t; my throat had closed.
Srikar continued. “I was angry with my grandfather for forcing me into this sham of a marriage Pulla, but I wanted our son too badly. How could I let him be raised by strangers?”
When I said nothing, Srikar said a little desperately, “You know when a woman with children dies, the husband often marries his wife’s younger sister to ensure the children are loved.”
“Not if the sister herself is married,” I said bitterly. “And not if the wife isn’t dead, to begin with.”
He reared back as if struck. “You know this is the only thing I could have done.”
“But Lata? How could you, knowing our history?”
God! Malli, Chinni – almost anyone else, I could have accepted.
“What happened to Lata’s husband?” I asked dully.
“Her husband – her first husband,” he corrected himself, “and his parents threw Lata out.”
“Because of dowry?”
“Because she wasn’t able to conceive.”
I was speechless at the irony. Lata had been forced to marry because she got pregnant.
He said, “Lata’s in-laws got their son remarried to another girl, but the second wife couldn’t conceive either.” He looked at me, longing in his eyes. “Pullamma, I wish –”
“Don’t,” I said sharply. I couldn’t handle more pain today. I refused to acknowledge the wounded look in his eyes. “So what now?”
“I don’t know,” he said, miserable.
I was so angry at Lata’s betrayal, I could have wrung her neck. It wasn’t enough that she’d caused Ammamma so much trouble with the illegitimate pregnancy, it wasn’t enough she’d given Kondal Rao something to manipulate me with, it wasn’t enough she’d stolen money; she’d gone after my husband? The husband she knew I cared for more than anyone else?
“Lata is the only mother Pullaiyya has ever known…”
My vengeful sister, the mother of my son – that was the cruellest joke of all.
><
Aunty came back a long time later. I’d not moved from my position on the sofa since Srikar left.
“Did you decide on something?” she asked, a hopeful expression on her face.
Had we decided on how to untangle the mess that was our lives? Was it even possible? “He married my sister, Lata.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, Child.”
“I asked Srikar why he named our child Pullaiyya.” I rubbed a hand over my chest. I needed an antacid, maybe two.
“Lata insisted?”
“She convinced Srikar that was the only way to stop this chain of calamities.”
“Srikar didn’t protest?”
“I never told him how much I hated my name.”
Aunty’s lips tightened. “I know that scoundrel Kondal Rao had a hand in arranging Lata’s marriage to Srikar. Don’t ask me how, because I couldn’t tell you. I just know he did.”
“Lata knew how much I hated my name,” I whispered. “She made fun of me almost as much as the other children did. To name my child that name…” My throat choked from the tears. “She married my husband, Aunty. My husband. She knew how much I cared for him; she made fun of me often enough.”
Aunty pulled me into her arms.
I said between sobs, “And you know the worst thing?”
“What?”
“I’m dreading the day she finds out I became a doctor. She will never let me anywhere near my son.” I had told Aunty the general story of my life, but not about Lata’s involvement; I was too ashamed.
“Why?”
“Because being a doctor was all she talked about. It was her greatest desire. And she was intelligent enough to be one, too.”
“But?”
“Ammamma fixed up an alliance for Lata behind her back. Lata was so angry that she slept with a boy in the village, and got pregnant by him.”
“Oh God!”
“That boy ran away, so Kondal Rao arranged her marriage to someone else completely beneath her in education.”
“So she got trapped into a marriage she did not want, and ended up with neither a child nor a medical degree.”
“She did end up with something,” I said with bitterness. “My husband and my son.”
“And you ended up with everything she’d ever wanted,” Aunty said. She sighed. “What a nightmare! And to think your grandmother had only your wellbeing at heart.” She paused a beat before asking, “Is Srikar going to let us meet Pu – the child?”
“You can call him Pullaiyya,” I said. “That is his name. About seeing him, Srikar said Lata was having a hard time with it.”
“Hard time, my foot! Must be the bloody woman’s way of making you pay for whatever wrongs she thinks you did her.”
Chapter 46
Meeting of the Wives
“How much longer before I can see my son?” I asked Srikar on the phone.
“He’s away on a school trip.”
“The last time I called he was in the middle of exams. Before that it was the chicken pox. Do you ever intend to let me see him?”
“Of course, I do. It’s just that –”
“What? It’s been two whole months. I can’t go on this way.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t working anymore. Give me a time and a date.”
“I –”
“It’s Lata!” I could have smacked myself for not seeing it. “She’s pressuring you, isn’t she?”
“It’s not that.”
“Tell me,” I screamed. “Enough is enough.”
“He doesn’t want to meet you.”
“What?”
“When I told him about you, he ran away from home.” Srikar’s voice sounded strained. “It took me two days to find him and bring him back.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.
“How could I?”
The phone clattered to the ground. My son didn’t want me. My husband didn’t want me. Yedukondalavada! What kind of test is this?
I had stopped sleeping at nights because dreams of my husband with my sister tormented me. Now, because my son didn’t want me, would I have to stop sleeping during the day, too?
I ran down the stairs, got in the car and directed my driver to Srikar’s house. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do once I got there, but I couldn’t sit around doing nothing.
I had the driver park on a side road, and walked to the junction where the house was.
The front door opened. I held my breath as Srikar came out, followed by Lata. I was shocked at the change in my sister – her lips seemed to have a permanent twist of discontentment, frown lines crowded her forehead. Lata said something. Srikar bent down to hear better. Acid burned the back of my throat. Lata held the gate open. Srikar got on his motorbike and drove away. Lata closed the gate, went back in, only to come back five minutes later, a young boy swinging his bag next to her.
I gasped. My son. Almost unconsciously, I raised my arms to him. A passing woman gave me a strange look. A small school bus pulled up. Five minutes later, my son was gone. A pain ripped my chest, the agony so sharp I al
most doubled over. I straightened up with difficulty.
This was my son. The son who didn’t want me. I finally knew understood the pain Aunty had lived with all these years. Trembling, I started to walk away.
“Wait!”
Oh, no! Lata had recognized me. Srikar must have told her to expect the changes.
I turned around.
Lata was running to catch up with me.
I started to walk faster. Whatever it was, I did not want to hear.
“Wait, I said!”
I started to run, almost tripping on my sari. A hand clamped down on my arm. I was turned around roughly.
“What are you doing near my house?”
I shivered at the hatred in her eyes.
No, how are you, Pullamma. No, where have you been all these years, Pullamma. Just ‘what are you doing near my house.’
No ‘Pullamma,’ either.
“What are you doing with my husband?” I asked back.
She gave my arm a vicious tug. “He is my husband now, and don’t you forget it.”
I looked at her, disbelieving that we could have been born of the same mother. Where was the special connection twins were supposed to have?
“We have been married for a long time now,” she said. “Don’t you poke your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I’d never realized Lata’s eyes could be so cold. My palms became tingly. That numbness again. I forced myself to concentrate. “We registered our marriage.”
Lata froze.
I felt savage satisfaction. She hadn’t known!
“Since Srikar and I are not divorced, you are the other woman. I am still his wife. Ask any lawyer. You have no standing. No rights. None at all.”
“But you abandoned your marriage,” Lata said, shouting. “You have no rights on him anymore.”
So this is what my relationship with my sister had come to – fighting over a man on the streets of Hyderabad. People had stopped to look. A passing peanut vendor took advantage of the gathering. He parked his bicycle and started doing brisk business selling coal-roasted peanuts wrapped in newspaper cones.
“Why don’t we talk inside your house?” I said, embarrassed. “People are staring.”
“You will never step inside the house I share with Srikar.”
“Fine, then,” I said, getting angry. “I did not abandon anyone.”
“You went willingly, no protest, no nothing. Just picked up your bag, and your precious globe and left. How can you complain now?”
“How do you know that?” I asked softly.
Lata must have heard the menace in my voice because she tried to backtrack. “Uh, Srikar must have heard it from someone in your old apartments.”
“No one saw us leave.” And the one person who had wouldn’t say anything.
“Why are you fussing? The point is, you did leave.”
I took a step closer to this sister of mine, this wife of my husband’s.
Lata took a step back. “What are you doing?” She sounded flustered.
“I’ve always wondered how Srikar’s grandfather found out,” I said softly. “We were very careful not to take any risks. You gave us away, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Lata blustered. “I have no time for such nonsense.” She turned to go.
This time, I grabbed her arm.
Across the road, people were watching us with interest. One man gave us an encouraging wave.
“Why Lata? What did I ever do to you?”
Her face twisted in a vicious mask. “If you had stayed, my marriage wouldn’t have broken up.”
The force of her hatred was almost physical. I stumbled back. “What are you talking about?”
“You could have given my in-laws enough dowry to shut them up. It was bad enough that I had to suffer a scandal before marriage. You could have spared me humiliation a second time. Had you stayed, you could have shared with me some of that luxury being a Goddess brought you. But did you think of me? Oh, no! You had to run off to your perfect love, to your perfect marriage.”
I was astounded by her version.
Lata was not done. “After you left,” she said, starting to shout, “my in-laws threw me out because there was no child. Their fool of a son was infertile. And, because you ran away, there was no dowry to keep them happy.”
“Catering to your in-laws instead of being with my husband – that was your plan for my life?”
Lata harrumphed.
“Didn’t you tell me that if I came back and helped you get married, you would find a way for me to be with Srikar?” I said, trying hard to keep my voice down. I stole a glance at the people gathered. A few bystanders had settled on the footpath. “Did you not?”
Lata had no answer to that.
“Nothing to say? You put me in a position where I was forced to come back to the village and bail you out. I got you married. You paid me back by ratting to Srikar’s grandfather? And stealing my husband?”
“Don’t take it personally. I was trying to escape my marriage. Any man would have done.”
I leaned forward and gave her a tight slap.
She put a hand to her cheek, her mouth open in shock.
“Does Srikar know you have a special relationship with his grandfather?”
By the scared look on her face, I knew he didn’t. “I didn’t steal your life. You stole mine – my husband, my child, my home.”
Lata crumpled on the footpath, beginning to cry in earnest. “You managed to survive,” she said between sobs. “You seem to have done well in life. I have a borrowed husband, a borrowed son. What else do I have?”
I turned my face away from my sister, feeling terrible anger at her betrayal, terrible sorrow for ruined lives. Marriage to Srikar was Lata’s payback for ratting on us to Kondal Rao. Who else would have married a cast off woman, a ‘barren’ woman? Who but an honourable man like Srikar? Lata continued to sob, holding up the edge of her sari to shield her face. The audience wasn’t going anywhere.
My driver walked over, speculation in his eyes. I had no doubt I’d be the topic of the month for the drivers and the maids. “Doctor garu, is everything okay?”
Lata looked at the driver and then at me, as if she could not believe her ears.
Oh no!
She got up slowly, wiping her tears with the edge of her sari. “What did you say?” she asked the driver, menace in her voice.
The driver seemed confused.
“Go back to the car,” I told him. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Why did you call her Doctor garu?” Lata asked the driver again.
“What else will I call Madam garu…” The driver’s voice trailed off, sensing there was more to it than a mere question. He backed away.
Pure malevolence radiated from Lata’s eyes. “Oh, so Madam is a doctor now?” She tossed her head at me. “Madam has grown so much in stature that she can afford a car and a driver?”
“Lata, please,” I said, trying to minimize the issue. I couldn’t afford to antagonize her. Lata was the only mother my son knew. “It was just something that happened. It is not important…”
“Just happened?” Lata gave an incredulous laugh. “Not important? You knew that’s all I wanted to be. You knew that.” Her voice rose. “I didn’t give up on my dream even after I married Srikar. I enrolled in a college. But your son was a sickly child, always needing attention. I had to give up my dream because of your child.”
“He... he is still sick?” No. Srikar would have told me if he were.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Lata screamed. “My dreams died because of your child. Now I’m too old to get admission in a college.”
“But Lata,” I said, close to tears. “None of this was my fault. If I had any say, I’d still be married to Srikar, raising my son with him. I never wanted luxuries, or education or anything else. All I ever wanted was the chance to be a wife and mother.”
“Life’s not fair, Pull
amma.” Lata’s face was hard. “Look at me. No education. No respect. Not even a real marriage.” At the look of shock on my face, she screamed. “Like he didn’t tell you? Like the two of you didn’t laugh behind my back? So what if he made it a condition for our marriage, hanh?” She leaned forward, face a mask of fury. “What kind of man stays away from something that’s so freely offered?”
I felt a fierce surge of joy flood my being. Not telling me this in order to protect Lata’s privacy, that’s exactly the honourable man I’d fallen in love with.
“What did I get out of this marriage, hanh? Not even a child of my own. My marriage is as barren as my womb. Someone else’s child to tie me down. That’s all I got.” She leaned forward, her tone fierce. “See if I let you an inch near my son.” She grabbed my arm, nails digging in. “My son, do you hear? My. Son.”
Chapter 47
The Past Catches Up
I shook with rage as I climbed the stairs to our flat. My own sister, my twin, had knifed me in the back. If that weren’t bad enough, she was using my son to control me. I tightened my lips. I wouldn’t let my child be used as a pawn. His welfare had to come first. I’d take him away. Eventually, he’d learn to love me. He had to, if we were to have a chance together.
A part of me, admittedly a very tiny part, felt sorry for her. She was in love with my husband. But there was no excuse for colluding with Kondal Rao to destroy my marriage, just so she could escape hers.
In my room I opened the cupboard and dumped out the contents of the locker. Spying the passbook to my bank account, I pounced on it. Not as much money as I’d have liked, since I was sending a large part of my salary to Ammamma each month. No matter. I could always earn more. I’d take my son and leave tonight. Srikar would have to let me – after what his grandfather did, he couldn’t possibly refuse.
I rushed around the house taking only the essentials, wanting to leave before Aunty returned. It broke my heart that she couldn’t come with us, but I couldn’t ask her to go into hiding again. Not when she’d just reunited with her son. As for Ammamma, I hoped Kondal Rao would recognize that I’d not been in touch with her for years. Hopefully, that would protect her.
Don’t think about Aunty or Ammamma now. You don’t have the time to fall apart. But I couldn’t stop thinking of Srikar. Knowing the kind of man he was, how could I have ever doubted him? How would I survive the rest of my life without him? It did not bear thinking about.
Tell A Thousand Lies Page 24