by Farahad Zama
Aruna opened the dark blue jewellery box. Nestling on the maroon velvet inside were a pair of earrings and a necklace. She put on the earrings, took out the necklace and placed it round her neck. Her sister moved behind her and fastened the clasp. Vani then went into the bathroom to wash her face. Aruna just stood there blankly.
Vani came out of the bathroom and quickly put on a plainer sari. Aruna moved mechanically to help Vani. The two sisters had just finished when there was a knock on the kitchen door and they heard their mother call out.
Vani said, ‘Yes, amma. We are ready.’
Their mother came in and said, ‘They will be here any moment. Vani, help me put the snacks on the plates.’
Aruna moved to help as well, but her mother said, ‘No. You just stand there. Don’t spoil your sari.’
Aruna watched as her sister and mother bustled round the small kitchen getting everything ready. Soon, they heard voices at the front door. Aruna heard Shastry-uncle’s voice and then her father answering.
What’s the point of this charade? she thought despairingly.
The door opened and Shastry-uncle came in to the kitchen. He said, ‘Aruna, you are looking really beautiful. They will love you.’
‘What about me, Shastry-uncle?’ asked Vani.
Shastry-uncle pinched Vani’s cheek. ‘You are looking beautiful too, my dear.’ He turned to Aruna’s mother and said, ‘Sister, take some ash and smear it on Vani’s cheeks. We don’t want them to prefer Vani, do we?’
Vani laughed at her uncle’s words. Aruna refused to smile. He walked up to her and said, ‘Don’t look so gloomy, Aruna. They have come here seeking a bride for their son, not a human sacrifice. ’
‘What’s the point, Shastry-uncle?’ said Aruna, looking ready to burst into tears.
He quickly drew back. ‘Don’t cry, Aruna. Your eyes will get puffy. Maybe things will be different this time. You mustn’t lose hope.’
Once upon a time, when life was innocent and light, Aruna had been similarly dressed and waiting for a young man and his family to come and see her. She had been nervous, obviously, but also very excited at this event that might take her to the next stage in life.
The young man, Sushil, who had come to see her was five years older than her. He was working as an accountant in a ship chandlery firm. He was fair, not very tall and had a pleasant, open face with a ready smile. Sushil’s family was quite small - just his parents and himself. Apparently a younger brother had died by drowning in the sea several years earlier. The match was ideal in many respects: the age difference was just right; Sushil was taller than Aruna but not too tall; their horoscopes matched; he had a good, if not quite ideal job; the families were distantly related; their economic circumstances were pretty much the same.
Both sides approved the match. Talks progressed over some weeks about the dowry and other exchanges of gifts, with Shastry-uncle acting as the mediator between the parties. Aruna was impressed by how Shastry-uncle (as he later told her) had convinced Sushil’s family that as the groom was not a civil servant, they couldn’t really expect the dowry they were asking for and then argued with her father that nowadays government jobs were not everything and private jobs were almost as good. Finally, these matters were all settled. Aruna’s father consulted his calendar and pulled out two auspicious dates - one in a couple of weeks for the engagement and another in four months’ time for the actual wedding.
A couple of months after the engagement Aruna’s father fell seriously ill. The illness dragged on and the wedding was postponed. Her father got worse and the doctors were baffled. They could not diagnose what disease her father had contracted. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Months passed. The doctors - one junior and one senior doctor - came up with different theories and drug regimes. Nothing helped.
Sushil and his mother came to their house one evening and broke off the engagement. Aruna’s mother protested that her husband would get better any day and they could proceed with the wedding.
‘We have been very patient,’ said Sushil’s mother, ‘but there are limits. Does the education department cover the cost of a retired teacher’s hospitalisation?’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ admitted Aruna’s mother.
‘We have savings,’ said Aruna.
‘Didn’t your parents teach you not to interrupt when older people are talking?’ snapped Sushil’s mother.
Aruna was shocked into silence. Sushil’s mother had always been nice to her before. Aruna looked at Sushil, but he looked embarrassed and avoided her eyes.
‘You agreed to give us two hundred thousand rupees as a dowry, in addition to forty grams of gold and a scooter. Can you still afford that dowry and celebrate the wedding in style?’ asked Sushil’s mother.
Aruna and her mother were silent. Aruna had been handling the finances for the last few months and she knew they couldn’t do it. More than half their savings had been eaten up by the medical bills, her father was still unwell and they didn’t know how much more money would be needed for his treatment.
‘One has to be realistic in these matters,’ said Sushil’s mother to Aruna’s mother. ‘I would be the last person to question a woman’s marriage, but I cannot help feeling that your mangalsootram has come at the expense of your daughter’s. If your husband had died quickly, his savings would not have been exhausted and your daughters could have been married off.’
Aruna always regretted that she had been so shocked at the woman’s words that she had not made any response, as a shamefaced Sushil and his brazen mother stalked out of their house.
Her father’s illness continued for a few more months. Shastry-uncle found another house for them and helped them move. He said that just before Aruna’s father fell ill, he had told Shastry-uncle that the vaastu of their house was wrong. There was no door or a window facing east and that was trapping vaastu ill-energies in the house. The new house had correct vaastu. In addition, their new house was smaller and the rent was cheaper.
Her mother took a vow and went round the Kanaka Maha Lakshmi temple one hundred and sixteen times on her knees.
The junior doctor came to Aruna one day when she was at her father’s bedside and said that he thought her father had a simple viral infection that had somehow attacked his liver. He asked her if she would consent to a new experimental drug that he had read about in a foreign medical journal. In desperation, she agreed.
The illness left her father as suddenly as it had come. Everybody had their own theory about why he recovered from the mystery illness. The junior doctor told Aruna that the convalescence would be long and that her father would not be himself for months if not years.
When he was strong enough, Aruna explained their financial status. He wept and said, ‘I wish I had died. Then the money that has taken all my life to save would have been of some use to my family rather than be eaten up by doctors and pharmacists. ’
Shastry-uncle brought a few more matches after her father recovered. But they were all inferior to the first match - they were older, their sub caste was not as good; their jobs were worse. One boy had even been unemployed. The men were fatter, shorter or darker or all three. Aruna realised that in their changed financial circumstances, she didn’t have much choice, but she sickened of the whole experience and started protesting at being shown off to various people like a prize cow at a cattle mandi. Shastry-uncle finally stopped bringing more matches. This was the first proposal in almost a year. Aruna hoped it wouldn’t start another round like last time because she didn’t want to feel she was again part of a cattle market.
Aruna stood in the kitchen, still as a pillar. She became aware of voices in the other room. The guests had arrived. She heard Shastry-uncle saying: ‘Welcome to my sister and brother-in-law’s house. We are a simple, respectable family. My brother-in-law is a retired government teacher. His forefathers are traditional temple priests of the large temple at Annavaram. In fact, his elder brother is still the priest there. The girls are both well educ
ated. They have also read the holy shastras in both Telugu and the original Sanskrit.’
Aruna’s mother gave her a tray of snacks. Aruna pulled the pallu of her sari over her head and walked slowly into the living room. She was barefoot and her silver anklets tinkled as she walked forward. Her head was bent as she kept her eyes on the ground in front of her feet. She walked to where her father, uncle and the guests were sitting. She put the tray of snacks down on the low table in front of them and stood by her father. There were five guests - she could make out the groom and his parents. She didn’t know who the others were but they looked like the groom’s uncle and aunt. All the guests were looking at her intently and she was embarrassed and self-conscious.
The silence in the room stretched on and Aruna was getting more and more uncomfortable. Just as she was planning to go back into the kitchen, the groom’s mother asked, ‘Daughter, what did you study?’
‘BA, madam,’ replied Aruna.
‘That’s good. Where did you study?’ asked the groom’s uncle.
‘SVN College,’ said Aruna.
The conversation spluttered to a stop. Aruna’s mother came out of the kitchen with glasses of water on a tray. She must have left instructions for Vani to stay in the kitchen because her sister did not come out.
‘Namaste,’ her mother said. ‘Please, take some snacks. Aruna made them.’
Everybody reached out and took a plate each. Aruna’s mother made a small sign to Aruna to serve the water. Aruna took the tray from her mother and placed it on the table. She gave a glass to each of the guests. Shastry-uncle, who was sitting in front of the groom, stood up from his chair and asked Aruna to sit down in his place. Aruna shook her head in refusal but her uncle insisted and she sat down delicately.
The groom’s mother asked Aruna, ‘How did you get the pakoras so soft?’
Aruna told her that she had added a pinch of baking soda to the batter and made sure that the oil was really hot before frying the pakoras.
The young man asked her, ‘What’s your name?’
‘I heard you are working. Where are you employed?’ said the groom’s uncle.
‘Do you plan to continue working after marriage?’ asked the groom’s aunt.
‘What about . . .’
‘Why did . . .’
‘How much . . .’
The visit went on for another hour. Once they had left, Vani came out of the kitchen and asked her, ‘What do you think of him?’
‘OK,’ said Aruna. ‘At least he didn’t leer at me like the last one.’
Shastry-uncle came back after seeing the guests off. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘that went well. They are a good family. I know them from way before. They are also being very reasonable. All they want is a scooter and one lakh rupees. Where do you get bank employees for one hundred thousand rupees nowadays?’
Everybody looked at Aruna’s father. He said in irritation, ‘Why are you all looking at me like that? The dowry is one hundred thousand rupees, the scooter is thirty thousand and the wedding ceremony will cost at least seventy thousand. I do not have two lakh rupees and that’s that.’
Aruna gave a sob.
‘Brother-in-law, I have a solution for that problem too. I went to Annavaram,’ said Shastry-uncle.
‘What? Why did you go there?’ asked Aruna’s father, looking confused.
‘I met your brother,’ said Shastry-uncle.
‘And?’ said Aruna’s father.
‘Your great-grandfather was granted land by the King of Rajahmundry.’
‘Yes, and what has that got to do with this? It has been divided down the generations and only a small piece of it came to my father. And only half of that belongs to me. The other half belongs to my brother.’
‘I—’ began Shastry-uncle.
‘Anyway, how dare you go to my brother behind my back? What were you doing there?’ interrupted Aruna’s father.
‘Relax, baava-garu. I am worried about my nieces’ weddings. And I am not the only one. Your brother is a good man. When I explained the situation, he was willing to sell the land and use it for Aruna and Vani’s weddings. He only has one son and he doesn’t need the money. His wife wasn’t too happy, but he promised me that if Aruna’s wedding was fixed, he will sell the land and help you,’ said Shastry.
‘How dare you?’ said Aruna’s father. His face was red with anger.
Aruna’s mother had been silent all this while and now she spoke out: ‘My brother is trying to help our family. Your daughter is crying and all you are worried about is your pride.’
The two sisters watched their parents rowing, their eyes wide.
Shastry-uncle raised his hands in a placatory manner. ‘Relax. Everybody is trying to do their best for the girls. We are all family - this hasn’t gone anywhere else.’
‘Even if my brother gives me the whole piece of land, it still won’t be enough. It is in the middle of nowhere and it is not very fertile either. You will be lucky to get twenty bags of rice in a good year from it,’ said Aruna’s father.
‘Brother-in-law, you don’t go out enough. Land prices all over the state have gone through the roof. That piece of land will go a long way to paying for Aruna’s wedding.’
‘Even with the land, I cannot get Aruna married off. The money still won’t be enough. We will have to find other money for the dowry. Once she is married, we will have other expenses - we have to spend money on treating our son-in-law properly. She might get pregnant, in which case we will have to pay for her childbirth expenses. Also, we need money to pay for Vani’s education. We cannot do all these things without the money Aruna is bringing in as well,’ said her father, shouting.
Aruna and Vani were hugging each other, crying. Aruna’s mother was horrified - she was standing still, with her eyes wide, her open mouth covered by her raised hand.
‘How can you say that, brother-in-law? How can you talk about living off your daughter’s earnings?’ asked Shastry-uncle, aghast.
Aruna’s father just shook his head, mulishly.
Shastry-uncle continued, ‘When will you get Aruna married then?’
Aruna’s father remained silent.
‘Keeping a daughter unmarried after she’s reached of age is a sin. It is against Hindu dharma and tradition,’ said Shastry-uncle.
When Aruna’s father still did not reply, he continued, ‘Why am I trying to teach you the difference between morality and immorality? You are the teacher. You are older than me - both in age and in relation - being my elder sister’s husband. You always taught us that money is not the most important thing in a man’s life. Leading an upright life - a life of dharma - is much more important; this is what you have always told us, isn’t it? What happened to that moral man? Why has money become so important all of a sudden that you are willing to go against every convention, every tradition, against the shastras, the holy books themselves and keep a grown daughter in the house, unmarried? ’
He turned to go.
Aruna’s father said, ‘Money is not important only when you have enough of it.’
Shastry-uncle turned back. ‘Who among us is rich? Was my dad rich? Was your dad rich? Were we ever wealthy? We always had to look after every paisa. All of us. How many times have you bought jewellery for your wife? A lot less often than you wanted to, I am sure. When my wife died, she had just her mangalsootram and silver anklets. Everything else was gone - sold off to pay for my daughter’s wedding. Forget jewellery for our wives - how many times did we deny some small thing that our children wanted because we couldn’t afford it? What did you tell me when I used to get angry about that? You used to say that it was our karma - we had to bear it with patience.’
Shastry-uncle’s face was red, his chest heaving. Sweat poured off his forehead.
‘You are right,’ said Aruna’s father, ‘my daughter will get married when it is in her karma to do so.’
Shastry-uncle raised his hands in disgust. He said, ‘This is truly Kali kaalam - the age of evil. What t
he elders said is true. Honest men turn knaves. Teachers forget what they learned at their mother’s breast. Rivers turn against their banks. Priests start loving money more than God. I cannot believe this of you, brother-in-law. You were the man I respected above everybody. If men like you get corrupted . . .’ He stood silent for a moment, then shook his head and continued, ‘When gold starts rusting, what can one say about iron?’
He stalked off, leaving Aruna and her unhappy family behind him.
Aruna turned to go into the kitchen to change back into her normal clothes. She heard a sob behind her and looked back. Her father had his face in his arms and he was crying. This was so unusual that she rushed back to him and knelt in front of his chair. She took his gnarled hands in her own hands and slowly pulled them away from his face.
‘Naanna, don’t cry. I don’t want to get married now anyway,’ she said.
Aruna’s father sobbed even more loudly.
‘Naanna, please don’t cry,’ she said. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as well.
‘When I retired and got the letter confirming my pension, I knew it had been calculated wrong. I was a maths teacher, after all. But I said nothing. I took the side of adharma, immorality, and all our troubles since then are a result of that wrong decision,’ said Aruna’s father.
‘You mustn’t say that, naanna. You were not the only one who received that letter. More than a hundred employees retired at the same time as you and they are all in the same boat,’ said Aruna.
Her father shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We all have to take responsibility for our own actions. I wouldn’t have minded if the consequences of my deeds fell on me alone. But the burden of these consequences is falling more heavily on your young head, my dear daughter, than it is on mine. I don’t know how to bear that.’