by Farahad Zama
Vani was silent for a few seconds and then she said, “I need two thousand rupees urgently.”
“That much?” said Aruna, looking up in surprise. “Why?”
“Actually…” said Vani and suddenly broke down. Aruna’s eyes widened in shock and she turned and hugged her sister.
“It’s all right, baby. Tell me what happened.” She was really worried now. What had Vani done?
“I was working in the computer room at college when a few other students came in and started horsing around, throwing a cricket ball at one another and playing catch. I told them to cut it out but they wouldn’t stop. I turned back to my work so I didn’t see exactly what happened, but suddenly there was a loud crash. I looked up to see one of the guys on the floor half under a table with his arm raised, clutching the red ball. Several keyboards, mice and screens had fallen off the table round him. He was all tangled up in cables and there was glass everywhere and…”
Vani shuddered. Her tears stopped and she wiped them away with a small handkerchief.
“Several lecturers and other staff members rushed over and we were marched to the headmaster’s office. I was asked to pay a fine and told that until I paid it, they would not apply for a hall-ticket for the board exam. The last date for the exam application is coming up and that’s why I need the money now.”
Aruna frowned. “How can they expect you to pay when it is not your fault? Did you not tell them that it was nothing to do with you?”
“Yes, I told them. They said that the actual loss was more than fifteen thousand rupees and they are charging the others a lot more. But because I was the one who signed out the key to the computer room, I am being held responsible and getting fined too.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Aruna.
“I know, akka. I’ve already talked many times to the lecturers and even went to the headmaster a couple of times but they are adamant. I have to get this sorted out by tomorrow, otherwise I won’t be able to apply for the exam in time.”
“They probably know that,” said Aruna. “This is just blackmail.”
“I know. I am sorry,” said Vani. Her face fell and she looked small.
Aruna said, “Anyway, let’s pay the fine now and get your application out of the way. We can then fight later.”
“Thanks, akka,” said Vani, squeezing her right hand in both her hands. “I knew I could count on you.”
Aruna took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “I don’t have that much money on me right now…”
“Oh, what shall we do?” said Vani, wringing her hands.
Aruna compressed her lips into a thin line and closed her eyes. She had almost a thousand rupees. Where could she get another thousand? She felt Vani get up from the sofa and heard her say, “Namaste, baava.”
She opened her eyes to see that Ramanujam had come in. He was smiling at her sister. She didn’t want to ask him for money now, but she didn’t have a choice. She stood up and said, “Do you have a thousand rupees? Vani needs the money urgently.”
“Why – ” he started saying.
“I’ll tell you why,” said a voice behind them and they all turned around. Mani had been sitting so quietly that Aruna had forgotten all about her sister-in-law. “The two sisters have concocted a sob-story to loot us. It’s not enough that Aruna has more silk and gold than she ever had in her life. She has to keep funnelling more money to her family at regular intervals.”
Ramanujam raised his hands and said, “Mani, don’t talk like that.”
Mani said, “Don’t stop me, Ramu. You are too innocent. You might understand how the brain works, but you don’t understand how the minds of these kinds of desperate people operate. They are like those long worms that attach themselves to people’s legs and slowly bleed them dry. The only way to detach them is to burn them out.”
Aruna was aghast at Mani’s outburst. She had gone far beyond anything she had said before.
Vani started blubbing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said, like an LP record stuck in a groove.
Aruna said to her husband, “What kind of talk is this? Any money I’ve ever given my family has always been from my own earnings. I have not even bought anything for myself with your money when you were not with me. Isn’t that true?”
“That’s right…” said Ramanujam.
“Then tell your sister to apologise. What she said is intolerable.”
“Apologise, me?” said Mani. “Why you…Ahh!” she screamed, clutching the sides of her bulging stomach. She sat down heavily in the chair behind her, knuckles white and face screwed up in pain.
Ramanujam rushed over to her. “Are you all right?” he said.
His sister nodded, slowly. Her eyes were tightly shut and two tears trickled down her cheeks. Mani opened her eyes after some time and smiled at him. “I am OK. Just a momentary weakness.”
“Thank God,” said Ramanujam and sat down on the chair next to her.
“What are you standing there for?” Mani said to Vani. “Your little plot hasn’t worked. Off you go.”
Vani turned to Aruna. “I’m sorry, akka.” She started walking towards the front door.
Aruna said, “Stop, Vani. You needed help and came to your sister. What’s wrong with that?” She turned to her husband. “Are we going to help Vani or not?”
“No,” said Mani loudly before Ramanujam could reply. Ramanujam’s mouth opened wide, his face turning from his sister to his wife, like a weather vane caught in a squall coming off the Bay of Bengal.
After several moments of this deadlock, Aruna snapped. “Fine, if you can’t help my sister, I’ll find some other way of doing it. And if there is so little respect for my word in this house, then I might as well leave.”
“Akka,” said Vani, her hand at her mouth. “Don’t. Not for my sake, please.”
Aruna’s slender frame stood straight as a reed, her fists clenched at her side. “This is not just about you, Vani. I’ve had enough. I don’t want to live where I’m not respected.” She turned, went to her room and started putting a few saris and other clothes in a bag.
She heard Vani pleading with Ramanujam in the other room. “Please stop her, baava. I don’t need any money but please stop her.”
She heard Mani say, “Stop it, silly girl. Your sister’s not going anywhere. She’s just grandstanding. There is no way that girls like you from poor families will ever leave a wealthy house like ours once they get their foot in.”
Aruna stiffened when she heard her sister-in-law. Did that woman think that she was so enamoured of wealth that she would lie in a corner and take whatever rubbish they dished out? She would show her.
In a few minutes, she was ready. Heaving the full bag off the bed, she took it into the living room. She put the bag on the floor and went to the alcove in the corner where the family deity’s idol stood. She put her hands together and bowed deeply, the ever-lit lamp casting a flickering glow on her face. She came back to her bag and looked coldly at Ramanujam and Mani.
Vani said, “Please don’t do this, akka. I beg you.”
Ramanujam raised his hand but his sister said, “Let her run. She is just acting. Where will she go?”
“Tell your parents that I apologise for leaving,” Aruna said, pleased with how steady her voice sounded. “I am glad that they aren’t here to see this sorry drama.” She picked up the bag, holding Vani’s hand, she walked out of the door. She remembered an old saying that a woman should leave her home only twice – the first time to go to her husband’s house and the second time to go to the graveyard.
Peter, their driver, was dusting the car with an old yellow cloth and came limping over when he saw them. He held his hand out for the bag and said, “Where are you going, chin-namma? Let me take the car out.”
“No, Peter. We don’t need the car. Just call an auto-rickshaw.”
“It’s no problem, chinnamma. Sir told me that he doesn’t need the car today.”
Aruna shook her head. Peter took he
r bag and walked out of the gate with them to call a three-wheeler. As they stood outside, Aruna looked back at the house. She knew it so well that it was hard to imagine that she had seen it for the first time less than a year ago. A shadow fell on the house as a dark cloud slowly blotted out the sun. She turned to see Vani looking at her.
“What is it?” Aruna said.
“Please go back, akka. It’s not too late. You are making me feel guilty now.”
“It’s nothing to do with you, Vani, so don’t feel responsible. I’ve made up my mind and that’s that.”
She turned her face resolutely forward. The first drops of an unseasonal rain started falling, stirring up the earth and releasing the smell of home as Peter came back with the auto-rickshaw.
♦
Rehman was standing under the eaves of a shop, watching the heavy rain falling on the street. There were many other men and a few women standing shoulder to shoulder with him – the rain had caught them all unawares and they had all scrambled to the nearest shelter. The fat drops of water splattered on the cement at their feet, wetting their shoes and the lower part of their clothes. Except for buses and cars, the roads were empty. Pedestrians and two-wheel drivers had disappeared in the sudden storm.
Five minutes later a car stopped in front of the shop and a tinted window rolled down. Usha waved and beckoned to him. Rehman stepped out into the shower and walked over, hunching his shoulders against the rain.
“What has he got that I haven’t?” called out the young man who had been standing next to Rehman. “Give me a ride and I will show you that I can do better than him.”
“Maybe,” Usha shouted above the noise of the rain and the traffic in the street. “Let’s talk when your moustache is fully grown.”
The young man blushed and Usha laughed.
As Rehman got into the car, rain poured off him into a puddle on the mat. “Sorry about that,” he said. “And thanks for picking me up.”
“I’m glad to be of service,” she said, smiling at him. “Getting wet in the rain is romantic only in the movies. What will you do about your two-wheeler?”
Rehman shrugged. “I’ll come back to it when the rain stops.”
At the Jagadamba junction, the car stopped at a traffic light and Usha turned to him. “What are you wearing?” she said.
Rehman looked down at himself. He had on a striped black and red T-shirt and jeans. His hair was neatly groomed and he was clean shaven. Instead of his usual sandals, his feet were shod in grey trainers.
“You wanted me to get rid of my ethnic clothes,” he said.
Usha shook her head.
Rehman folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t like it, do you?”
Usha said, “No, nothing like that. You are looking smart, as I knew you would.”
“But you don’t like it,” said Rehman.
“It’s just different, that’s all. I have to get used to it.”
“I did it for you,” said Rehman.
Usha reached out and touched his chin, smiling. “I know,” she said. “I love you. What did your parents say?”
“My father didn’t notice but my mother was very happy. She cracked her knuckles to avert the evil eye and said that I looked smart enough to start attracting girls. Luckily Pari was there and she changed the topic.”
Usha drove the car past Ramakrishna beach where they normally met. It was deserted in the rain except for the old woman who sold corn cobs huddling under an opened-up waterproof cement sack; Rehman hoped that the little charcoal brazier that she used to roast the cobs was keeping her warm. The sea was a steel grey and the waves looked higher and somehow more dangerous as they crashed on to the sand. As Rehman watched, the dark clouds were thrown into relief as a long jagged line of lightning whipped across the sky, seemingly splitting it in half.
“Wow!” said Rehman. It was rare to see lightning strike over the open sea without being obstructed from view by buildings or hills. It was several seconds before the thunder rolled over them in waves. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a storm like this,” he said.
Usha nodded. “We got a fax from the meteorology department at the TV studio. They say this is a major cyclone and they’ve asked all fishermen out at sea to go ashore immediately to the nearest landfall.”
“We are lucky in Vizag that the Dolphin’s Nose protects us from the worst of the weather.”
The protective arm of that mountain jutted out into the sea behind them, creating one of Asia’s largest natural harbours.
Usha parked the car at the Park Hotel and they ran into the lobby, laughing as the rain inundated them in the short distance from the car park. The sudden breeze in the air-conditioned restaurant chilled them and they shivered in their wet clothes. They sat by the big glass windows overlooking the wet lawn and a waiter came over.
“Two hot teas, samosas and a plate of onion pakori,” said Usha. The waiter nodded and she added, “Quickly, we need to warm up.”
Rehman’s shoulders shuddered in an extravagant quiver. Usha put her hand on his, looking into his eyes. Her hand was cool, but warmed up very quickly. “Tell me about the monkey wedding,” she said. “It sounds like such a funny story.”
“It was a pretty serious affair, especially for the bride’s mother,” said Rehman. “She took it hard. And they spent a bit of money – they followed all the rituals and fed several hundred guests.”
“What did Pari think of it?”
The waiter came over with tea and samosas. “The pakori is coming, madam.”
Usha bit into the hot samosa and took a sip of the steaming tea. In the background was a tinkle of china and silver, and the low hum of conversation, while the view outside was misty with raindrops playing a vigorous drumbeat on the windows.
Rehman was shocked, and delighted, when Usha’s foot touched his leg under the table. Her eyes were hooded and Rehman’s senses were suddenly heightened. He was intensely aware of her gently curving eyelashes, the flare of her nose and the sinuous coil of a loose strand of hair on her forehead. She slanted her head to one side and he saw how one of her long earrings rested against her skin while the other was suspended in mid-air. As she took a sip the muscles in her neck moved like the haunches of a deer poised to take a leap. Her foot followed the contour of his leg up to his knee and down again.
“Is there anything more romantic than eating hot snacks indoors while it is raining outside?” asked Usha.
“Yes,” said Rehman, smiling. “Eating hot snacks by ourselves in our own home rather in a public place.”
Usha blushed, her smile lit up the room for Rehman and her soft laughter was like a sweet Urdu love poem.
“I can’t stop myself much longer, Rehman,” she said. “Hurry up and fulfil my naannamma’s conditions quickly.”
The mention of Usha’s formidable grandmother was like a dose of astringent medicine and Rehman rocked back a little. He nodded in response. He couldn’t wait much longer, either. His passion was a monsoon-fed river in spate, held back with great difficulty. Something had to change soon or he would be swept away and everything in the river’s path would be destroyed.
Sixteen
Aruna woke up with a sudden jolt and, just for a moment, wondered where she was. The bedsheet felt rough and the arm across her chest did not have the comfortable weight of Ramanujam’s. Her husband definitely did not wear bangles, like the ones digging into her chest. The crack that crazed across the ceiling and down the wall reminded her that she was at her parents’ place.
She realised that the fan had stopped turning; the power must have cut off. She removed Vani’s hand and turned on her side but Aruna couldn’t go back to sleep – her mind was too busy.
It had been three days since she had come here. Have I done the right thing? What will I do next? Is he thinking about me? Is he even missing me? What am I doing here? Have I done the right thing?
Her thoughts went round and round like a blinkered buffalo turning an oil mill. Stop i
t, she told herself.
The next hour passed slowly until her mother got up to collect the water from the tap before the flow stopped. Aruna joined her, putting empty vessels under the tap to collect fresh water while her mother washed the previous night’s dishes with the old. The water soon stopped running and they moved on to other chores.
“When does the water come in your mother-in-law’s house?” asked her mother.
Aruna thought for a moment and said, “I don’t know. The servants collect it and we also have a well.”
Her mother smiled at her. “I am glad you still think of it as your house,” she said.
Aruna flushed and did not answer. She pretended to be too busy rubbing the heavy pestle on the stone mortar to make a paste of coriander leaves for the chutney.
“How long will you stay here? You’ve made your point, now go back to your husband,” she said.
“Is this not my house? Why are you driving me away?” said Aruna. She looked up, pushing back a loose strand of hair. The air was very humid and sweat glistened on her forehead.
“Nobody is driving you away. But people talk when a wife leaves her husband’s house. Padma from three doors away was asking if you were pregnant. She looked so satisfied with herself when I said you were not pregnant, you would not believe.”
“You don’t need friends like that,” said Aruna. “Cut her off.”
“Who will I stop talking to?” said her mother. “Everybody was envious that you married into such a wealthy family that had a house with a garden, a car and servants. Naturally they will feel a bit of joy that your life is not a bed of roses. Everybody will feel it; some will be better at hiding it than others. All couples go through problems – how will marriages last if the partners just up and leave instead of sticking it out? You still haven’t told me exactly why you left. Has your husband been beating you?”
“No,” said Aruna. “Of course not.”
“Then why? Whatever the tiff was about, you’ve made your point. Go back now.”
“Don’t force me. If you don’t want me here, just say so and I’ll go somewhere else, anywhere.”