Tell A Thousand Lies

by Rasana Atreya

  His young face was serious. “Bamma agrees.” He darted a glance at Janaki aunty for confirmation.

  Aunty nodded tearfully.

  “Why now?” I needed to be sure.

  He looked embarrassed.

  “Ved?”

  “I miss you,” he mumbled.

  “What about your father?”

  “He’s agreed to my request.”

  I put my hands on his shoulders. “There is nothing in this world that’s more important to me than you. Nothing.”

  “Not even Nanna?”

  “Not even him. But,” I said, taking a shuddering breath. “You need to be sure this exactly what you want. If you decide to go away again, I don’t think I’ll survive it.”

  “You care for me that much?” His voice was small.

  “How could you doubt that?” I choked. “I love you more than life itself.”

  “I want to come home,” he said softly.

  ><

  Ved and I returned the day before the elections, only to find Kondal Rao had struck again.

  Satyam, the priest, was tied to a donkey and paraded through the village, half his head shaved off. Punishment for his ‘newly discovered’ sin of gambling. Publicly, there would be no connection between his unmasking and Kondal Rao. The wily politician couldn’t afford the Election Commission’s scrutiny this late in the game.

  But we knew, of course, it was Satyam’s punishment for muscling in on Kondal Rao’s territory, for trying a little blackmail on the side. The priest had crossed the wrong man – Kondal Rao had appropriated the rights to all the wrongdoings in the State.

  At a special bhajan, Kondal Rao appointed a new priest. “What is the world coming to,” he roared to thunderous applause, “if you can’t expect piety from a priest?”

  Satyam fled the village in humiliation – he didn’t even bother to collect the money the temple owed him for his services.

  Kondal Rao won the election in a landslide.

  ><

  Janaki aunty phoned. “How are you?”

  “Terrible isn’t it? About Kondal Rao?” It was intolerable that he was being considered for the Chief Minister of the state.

  Aunty sighed. “And Ved, how is he?”

  “Wonderful,” I said, smiling and sniffling. “I can’t tell you how happy it made me when he chose to come back to me.”

  “I’m happy, too.” Aunty sniffed. “How is Ammamma’s health?”

  “Not too well.” My voice caught. “How is Lata?” I said mainly to change the topic. I really didn’t care to know.

  “Surprisingly, she seems to be missing Ved a lot. She’s finally on medication, is able to control her mood swings a lot better. The only problem is that she won’t take her medicines consistently.”

  “I don’t want to keep Ved away from them, you know. He can visit them as often as he wants, as long as he continues to live with me.”

  “You seem to be making a life without Srikar.”

  “Do you blame me? I’ve finally come to the realization he’s never going to be able to leave her.”

  “It’s not out of choice, Pullamma. He feels honour-bound to be with her as long as she is unwell.”

  “I don’t disagree. If he were a different man, I wouldn’t miss him as much. But I need to get on with my life, Aunty. I have my child. I’m as content as I can be, under the circumstances.”

  “You’re settling for so little. What about a husband, more children? You’re not even thirty!”

  “I’m free to come and go as I please, free to practice medicine, free to love my child. I also have you in my life, Ammamma, Chinni, maybe a new friend, Bhavani. What more can I ask?”

  “I suppose.” Aunty sounded sad.

  ><

  Bhavani sat on the cot in my courtyard, shoulders slumped.

  Chandrasekhar looked down at his shoe, lost in thought.

  When I thought of that Kondal Rao, my blood roiled; I could have happily dismembered the rotten scoundrel.

  “We tried our best but still lost,” Chandrasekhar said.

  “Let’s face it,” Bhavani said. “We were routed.”

  “Kondal Rao is an old man,” I said. “How long can he hold on to power?”

  “That’s not the point,” Bhavani said.

  Of course that was not the point. My friend had fought an honourable campaign, which he would have won, but for Kondal Rao employing blatantly unfair tactics. But how could I console my friends, when I myself felt so helpless?

  “The Party elders will be coming to help Kondal Rao celebrate his massive win,” Bhavani said gloomily.

  Chandrasekhar looked up suddenly. “I will go, of course.”

  “Why?” I was startled.

  “I’m not so ashamed that I am going to slink off into the night. I ran an honest campaign and I am going to make sure Kondal Rao doesn’t forget it. I want to remind people that I might have lost this time, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  I despaired at the naïve idealism of my friend.

  ><

  On her next visit, Janaki aunty said, “Your grandmother’s health seems to have improved.”

  “She is looking better, isn’t she?”

  “It’s more than that, Child.”

  “What do mean?”

  “Have you considered she might have had spontaneous remission?”

  “Aunty, there’s a greater chance Kondal Rao will start a charity for widows.” Cure of cancer without treatment was so rare, it could almost be a myth.

  “Maybe so, but I’d like to order a few tests.”

  “If it makes you happy.” I couldn’t allow myself hope, only to have it snatched away. But the thought sneaked in – what if Aunty were right? Most spontaneous remissions did occur when the patient was at peace and preparing for death, having accepted the inevitable. It was almost as if the body had given itself permission to rally its own defences.

  Aunty took Ammamma back to Hyderabad. She called me from the hospital, her voice tight with excitement. “I was right. There is no trace of cancer.”

  I sank to my knees, the receiver clutched to my chest, my head resting against the wall, willing, hoping, desperately needing for this news to be true.

  “Pullamma? Pullamma?” Aunty’s voice through the receiver increased in pitch.

  I put the receiver back to my ear and tried to clear my throat. “I’m here.”

  “Your grandmother wants to talk to you.”

  Ammamma had only one thing to say. “My body has rid itself of its cancer. What are you doing about the cancer in yours?”

  My cancer was on his way to becoming the Chief Minister of Andhra Pradesh.

  Chapter 62

  Where Do We Go From Here?

  It was four short months since Ammamma had returned from the hospital, cancer-free.

  It was four long months since Kondal Rao had managed to secure a toe-hold on the steeple of his life’s greatest aspiration.

  Everything my grandfather-in-law had pillaged for, ravaged for, plundered for – had led him to this particular place in time – the Chief Ministership of Andhra Pradesh. His journey was at an end. For us, the hapless denizens of this state, it was just beginning.

  I settled in my armchair on the veranda and closed my eyes. If I could get past Kondal Rao’s triumph, perhaps there was a God after all. Ammamma sat on the cot knitting for Ved, a sweater he might need about three times in any given year because of the way seasons were in our little corner of India – pleasant, hot and very hot. Ved lay across the swing, arm pillowing his head, eyes lazily tracking the passing clouds. My son was back where he belonged, and happy with his choice. Ammamma was getting stronger by the day.

  Now, if only Srikar and I would find our way back to each other.

  Janaki aunty reported that Lata was still swinging between the highs and lows of her moods, though frankly, I’d never been subjected to any of her highs.

  Why did my thoughts always circle back to Lata? Srikar, I could unde
rstand. But why Lata? I forced myself to think of something pleasant, not work related, not Kondal Rao related… How about a new recipe? Srikar would love…

  Ammamma’s gasp dragged me out of my reverie.

  Lata stood at the gate, Srikar a few steps behind her.

  I sat up, disoriented for a second. Where had they come from?

  “Nanna!” Ved jumped from the swing, and raced to his father, almost knocking him over. Srikar laughed. My heart warmed at the sight of my husband and son hugging; I was resigned to spending the rest of my life watching my husband from afar.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Lata. Please God, don’t let her disrupt Ved’s life again.

  Srikar looked strangely tense. “Ved, do you want to go over to Ramu’s house?” he said.

  “No!” Ved folded his hands, mouth mutinous. “I’m twelve years old. I deserve to know what’s going on in my family.”

  Srikar looked at me questioningly. I shrugged, not knowing what this was about.

  Lata walked over to Ammamma, knelt by her cot and took her hand in hers. “I’ve come to apologize to you, Ammamma.”

  “Oh?” Ammamma looked dazed. Not surprising, considering these were the first civil words the two had exchanged in years.

  “What’s this about?” I asked.

  “Lata wants to talk to you first,” Srikar said.

  Apprehension made my hands unpleasantly moist.

  Lata turned to me. “Pullamma? As you know, my marriage is no marriage at all. I –”

  I pointed my chin at Ved, who was listening avidly.

  Lata took a deep breath. “I’m really ashamed that I aligned with Kondal Rao. I’ve used Ved to control you in the past, so if you don’t believe me, I’ll understand.” She squared her shoulders, as if gearing for something.

  What, I wasn’t able to determine.

  “Will you let me raise Ved?” she said in a rush.

  “Just like that?” I was astounded.

  Ved looked distressed. I shook my head at him, trying to reassure him.

  “Didn’t you tell me you were here to reconcile with your family?” Srikar looked incredulous.

  “Ved is my family, too.” Lata leaned forward, as if waiting for my verdict.

  Curious to see where this was going, I said, “What’s in it for me?”

  She cleared her throat. “Maangalyam is so important for every woman. I’ll not fight it if Srikar and you want to be a family again.”

  Ved shot a look at Srikar. Srikar put an arm around him, pulling him closer.

  Lata was trying to bribe me with marriage-hood? “Why now?”

  “It’s no secret that Srikar doesn’t want to be married to me. I have no desire to marry again. I want to do something with my life. It is too late for medicine, but I can always investigate other options. I’d like Ved to be part of my life.” She looked at me, beseeching. “Will you give him to me?”

  “He’s not a toy that we can toss back and forth, Lata. Besides, he’s old enough that he be allowed a say in this.” I looked at Ved, tense with fear. If he chose to go back to Lata again, I didn’t know what I’d do. “Do you want to go?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No!” I was fighting for my son here. I knew now that he loved me, and I would not give him up. He streaked across the courtyard and slammed into me, hugging me fiercely. I held him tight. Thank you, God!

  “Fine, then.” Lata looked sad beyond belief. “Let’s go home,” she said to Srikar.

  “Lata,” Srikar said. His voice was gentle. “You can’t go around making decisions for other people, you know. Remember what we talked about?”

  “I didn’t realize you were serious.” Her voice was oddly small.

  “You married me because you wanted to punish Pullamma, and also get away from your first husband. Now it’s my turn. I want to be with Pullamma, but it’s not because I want to get away from you. I want to make a family with my wife and son.” He looked at me, uncertain.

  Suddenly, I was angry and hurt. “Why did you wait till Lata forced the issue? Why couldn’t you have been the one to take the first step? You think this is easy on me – the way you seesaw between her and me?”

  “Pullamma!” Ammamma clapped her mouth. “You’re questioning your husband? Isn’t this what you’ve waited for all these years?”

  Ammamma wouldn’t understand. Not in a thousand years. “I waited for my husband, Ammamma. Not for leftover crumbs from Lata. Why do I always have to settle for being second, hanh? Have I no feelings, no pride?”

  Srikar looked bewildered. “But Pullamma, I thought this was what you wanted.”

  “This is what I wanted. But I wanted it to come from you.”

  Srikar was silent for a long moment. “I know I’ve put you last, Pullamma. I’ve done it over and over. I know I’ve hurt you. But I’ve hurt myself, too.”

  Why was I fighting my husband? Just when my greatest wish was on the verge of coming true? “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It is, actually.” He sighed. “Look, Pullamma. I’m not reacting after Lata made her declaration. A month ago I told Lata that I was going back to my family – to Ved and to you. I sold my business, transferred the house in Lata’s name, set her up with enough money that she can lead a comfortable life. Now I’m here.”

  “Why did you wait so long?”

  “I had to make sure my grandfather was no longer a threat to you. Ask Lata, if you wish.”

  “I have no desire to ask her. Not now, not ever. She’s been the third person in our marriage for far too long, and I’ve had enough.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t want me back?”

  Ved made a sound of distress.

  I sagged against the wall. “No, I’m not saying that,” I said slowly, tears beginning to stream down. “I might be proud, but I’m not foolish.” Dear God, I’d waited so long for this. Why wasn’t I happier?

  “Lata, perhaps you should leave.” Srikar looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. “It’ll be for the best if you and I have no further contact.”

  Lata’s shoulders drooped. She trudged towards the gate. Her hand on the gate, she looked back, her eyes lingering on Srikar, then Ved. Then she was gone.

  Ved broke down. Srikar took him in his arms, rocking him gently. Ammamma rose up, wiping the edges of her eyes. She put a hand on my shoulder in support. Then she hobbled to the front room of her portion of the house and closed the door behind her.

  I swallowed, feeling intense sadness for a relationship ripped beyond repair. I might never forgive Lata for what she’d done, but when it came down to it, we had shared a womb.

  “Who will take care of her?” Ved asked, sounding heartbroken.

  “We are not banishing Lata from your life, Child,” Srikar said, holding Ved’s face in his hands. “You can visit her whenever you want, okay?”

  Ved bit his lip, sniffling.

  Srikar ran a gentle hand over our son’s hair. “As long as she takes her medicines regularly, she’ll be fine.” He put an arm around Ved, hugging him closer. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Ved nodded, burying his head in Srikar’s side.

  “Pulla?” Srikar walked Ved over to where I stood. “Do you think we can make this work?”

  I looked a long time at him and Ved.

  “We owe it our little family, don’t we?”

  Chapter 63

  Someone Has To Pay

  Three Months Later

  I opened my eyes, disoriented. Someone was banging at the door. Srikar propped himself on an elbow, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He smiled at me and dragged on a shirt. I sat up, smiling sleepily, the old familiar warmth flooding my chest.

  He opened the door, and Ved fell in.

  “Amma! Nanna! There’s kumkum and a dead chicken by the gate.” His face was ashen.

  Sleep fled as I jumped to my feet. “What are you talking about?”

  At the gate, a crowd had gathered. Most eyes we
re on the heap. Kumkum and chicken. The very items that had been left at Renuka pinni’s house, supposedly confirming to the villagers that she was a witch.

  Ammamma collapsed against the compound wall, the edge of her sari stuffed in her mouth. “Yedukondalavada!” she whispered.

  I looked at the rapidly expanding crowds with a pounding heart. Chinni pushed her way through, badly out of breath. Srikar held Ved tightly to his side as he scanned the crowds. Chinni’s mother came up and stood a little apart. I gave her a distracted smile, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. A muttering swept through the crowd.

  Kondal Rao was advancing, palms joined together, multiple flower garlands swinging from his neck, looking very much like an ox decked up for a festival. Only missing were his horns. He stopped every few steps, talking to people, kissing babies, blessing youngsters.

  What was this man up to now?

  A couple of his goons, big streaks of red tilakams on their foreheads, followed. I could hear Ammamma chanting furiously, prayer beads in hand.

  “He got what he wanted,” Srikar said angrily. “What is this drama about?”

  “The Party Chief might be forced to replace Kondal Rao as the Chief Minister,” Chinni whispered.

  “Why on earth?” I was shocked.

  “A tape of him has surfaced. He was caught promising favours in return for money to fund his election campaign. It’s causing great embarrassment to the party.”

  Bad luck for Kondal Rao. As far as political parties were concerned, getting caught on tape was the only sin; demanding favours was business as usual.

  “Arrogant bastard,” Srikar said. “Coming here without police protection. What’s he trying to prove? That he doesn’t need the security because this is his home constituency?”

  “But why would he be here?” My heart began to thud. I shrank against the compound wall thinking again of Renuka pinni. He wouldn’t, would he?

  “Pullamma. Srikar.” Ammamma began to tremble. “He’s brewing up trouble, I know he is. Go in, all of you. Right now.” She tried to drag me in.

  A man stepped closer to the kumkum and chicken, then another man, then another, till we were forced against the wall.

  “Pullamma!” Ammamma started to sob in terror. “He’s probably cooked up an affair between Chandrasekhar and you. He’ll incite the mob, have you stoned. Come inside, I beg you, come inside.” She pushed Ved back towards the gate and hurried him in. The gate clanged shut. “Come in Pullamma, Srikar,” Ammamma begged from behind the gate. “The gate isn’t locked.”