by Anubha Mehta
Sheila had completed her story. Gayatri’s story. She bowed her head and wept. This time we let her. It seemed that the lines on her forehead and her mouth had deepened. Maya was crying too.
Maya found a small voice: “But what happened to the music teacher?”
“I don’t know, Beti. He just vanished. You see, after the Madam was gone, Ram Kishore told me that the Master hunted him down, and left him for dead after a good beating by the Master’s goons. I thought that this was so unnecessary as he would have left anyway….” Then she hesitated.
“Well? What is it, Sheila? Don’t stop now.”
“Just a few weeks ago, I heard that a poor old man with perfect Pashto from Peshawar has been employed by the Khanna family’s youngest daughter Radha, who is an aspiring singer.”
“Have you seen Radha’s music teacher?” If anyone could recognize Sachin, it was Sheila.
“No, I have not, but I have heard that he has a small boy with him. A white child.”
Both Maya and I were thinking that we might be so lucky as to have found Sachin in our corner. But the child, it did not make sense.
“Did you know that your mother-in-law has invited Radha to perform tonight?”
Sheila was an astute woman and had put the pieces together. The puzzle was falling into place, as if we were all playing a part in a preordained plan directed by forces beyond us. There was a good chance that Radha would come with her teacher. There was a good chance that we would find Sachin.
By the time we were done, the party music had started on the front lawn. The trees, which were adorned with white fairy lights, were swaying in the cool breeze. Their whispering had started again.
Within a short time our worlds had changed irrevocably. It made us extremely uncomfortable, and I could only imagine what Sheila had gone though all these years. It was a hard secret to keep, and now Maya was its custodian.
We escorted Sheila back to the pantry and then entered the decorated section of the house. We had missed the cocktail hour. Maya made a beeline for the section with an open stage with neon lights. We were only interested in Radha’s performance. The live band had started, and the crowd was flocking around the barbeque grills. I recognized Veer’s mother and her sisters as they headed for the front rows facing the stage. Veer’s mother, completely ignoring my presence, said to Maya, “Where were you? A lot of people wanted to see Veer’s bride, and, as usual, you….”
Maya smiled politely at her and bent her head. This was a new Maya.
Radha had taken the stage amid loud claps. Kitty was introducing her as a talented and successful TV star. But there was no mention of her music teacher. How typical, I thought. Anyone who is paid a salary is not worthy of respect in the minds of people like this.
Radha sang her first song, then another. Finally, she concluded by reciting prose in Pashto. When she finished, Radha added, “I would like to thank my music teacher, who has taught me so much in such little time. I am also sad to announce that he has decided to return to his native Pakistan. I am heartbroken to see him go, but we wish him well.” Radha called out for him. “Please welcome Ustad Sachin.”
Maya looked like her heart had stopped. I clenched her hand to shock her back to life. My heart was racing. Maya clutched my palm tightly.
From the shadows of the trees emerged a tall lean man with a dark coat down to his knees, a red Karakul hat over his scruffy peppered hair, and tan leather shoes woven with gold thread that curled up at the tips. And then the light radiated on his face. His square forehead with high cheekbones imparted an instant sophistication to his long face and prominent nose. His chin had a cleft and was covered with the same salty stubble as his hair. In spite of the deep lines around the edges of his eyes, his entire demeanour gave him charisma. He opened his lips to reveal a magnetic smile. I looked around and saw the audience smiling back effortlessly. There was a compelling simplicity about him that made him attractive. The audience instantly warmed to his towering presence with a standing ovation. He thanked them in Urdu, turned around, and without a moment’s lapse, fell back into the shadows.
Neither Maya nor I could move. We had just seen Sachin! We were sure of it. Who else could it be? Ustad Sachin, she had announced. But we had to find out for sure.
It took us two minutes to come back to life. We raced backstage as quickly as we could. I could feel Veer’s mother’s prying eyes piercing our backs. Poor Maya! Now I understood what she was up against with Veer’s family.
We reached the shadows under the heavy mango trees. He was nowhere to be found. The long driveway to the west wing was deserted but lined by lighted lampposts. Maya sat down on a large boulder and tried to exhale her frenzy. The night had unfolded too quickly. I saw tears flowing down her cheeks. I did not like how deeply she was falling into a story that was not hers.
“Maya, let’s go inside. It is very dark here. We will find him tomorrow.”
Completely ignoring what I had said, she replied, “Anita, will you walk with me to the gate at the end of this path?”
It was a long, bitter walk. The shadows were catching up, and not even the crickets challenged the eerie stillness following us from behind the litchi and kul trees. We reached the towering iron gates and walked up to the last cobbled stone before our path greeted the public road ahead. The gates were ajar. A sharp rustle was followed by a strong smell of tobacco.
Squatting on the curb, smoking a cigarette rolled in a dried leaf was Sachin. And next to him was a little boy, white as a sheet. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and the same radiance as Sachin.
Sachin saw Maya. His eyes widened. We both knew then that this was no other than Sachin. Only someone who had known Gayatri could have had this reaction when they first saw Maya.
Not bothering with social niceties, Maya dug into her purse and handed him Gayatri’s photo. He took it slowly and gazed at it for a long time. His face did not betray his emotions, whatever they might have been.
“Who are you?” he finally asked Maya.
“I am Maya. I am married to Gayatri’s grandson, Veer.” The faint light from the tall streetlight fell between them like a shield.
“No, that cannot be. Gayatri does not have a girl of her own. How come you are…?”
Maya finished the sentence for him, “Just like her?”
He looked very perplexed now. The child tugged at his father’s arm. “Baba, let’s go….”
“Okay, Albert.”
Sachin got up to leave. I knew Maya wanted to talk some more. She dug into her purse again and this time she held out Gayatri’s bracelets. “I want you to have these,” she said. “These were her last parting gift before she died.”
His face filled with colour and his fingers caressed each contour of the peacock head. He put the bracelets in his pocket and abruptly turned to leave, with little Albert holding tightly to his fingers.
“Wait, don’t go!” He turned back and looked straight at Maya without blinking.
“If your spirit is trapped in these golden walls, then fly. Fly before they catch you and never look back.” He turned again. This time Maya did not stop him.
Sachin disappeared into the mist and darkness. The only thing that remained to remind us that this had not been a dream was the lingering aroma of tobacco.
We walked back to the house in heavy silence. We both felt crushed under the weight of these sinister family secrets. Maya looked disturbed. I held her arm as we waded through the dark garden. The guests had gone, and the party was over.
“Anita, stay with me for a few days. Veer is not back for another week, and I cannot stay alone in this ominous house anymore.” We had reached the safety of her room.
I could not deny Maya this request, knowing now what I did. But I could not agree to stay with her either. My internship was starting next week, and I had to leave for Chambal Valley fairly soon. I had to per
suade Maya to come with me. That was the only way. The trip would take her mind off these matters. We would re-live some of our fun times together. Who knew when we would have such a time again?
“Maya, come away with me.”
She looked at me as if I were mad. “Where are you off to?”
“I have one week before I leave for my internship project in Chambal valley. Come away with me for this week. We will have fun, do all the things we used to before.” She looked dazed. I repeated myself. She stirred a little.
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
“Why? What could possibly hold you back here?”
“I am not sure if Veer would like it if I leave in his absence.”
This new Maya was timid, reconciling, and totally unrecognizable to me. The old Maya would have jumped at this offer. What had Veer done to her? What had she done to herself? I had to shake her out of it. “Maya, have you heard yourself? And where is Veer, eh? Is he here to like or dislike anything? Has he not left and gone? Besides, we will be back before he comes home.”
Maya still did not respond.
“Okay, I will sleep here tonight, Maya. But tomorrow I leave. And I am hoping that you will come with me.”
15. MAYA
HAD TONIGHT BEEN a figment of my imagination? Such menacing secrets had been revealed. And what right did I have to pull Anita into this? Was Sheila telling the truth? Why would she lie? Would one man’s obsession, possessiveness, and jealousy escalate to such extremes that he would kill the only person that he lived for? And then kill himself pining for her? Did Veer also carry those genes? Could Veer have the seed of such obsession too? Was that really Veer’s grandmother’s lover that we met? How did we know for sure? After all, Sachin was a common name. He might have been an impostor, happy to abscond with real gold heirlooms. We would never know now, would we? But I could have sworn that the look that I saw on his face was anything but phoney. Did I really look like Gayatri? I did not feel like Gayatri. I lived in her house, and I lived in her circumstance, but I did not live life with the same feelings. I looked forward to being with Veer, feeding the peacocks, and fooling around. Yes, I could see some madness in Veer’s eyes, but only occasionally. And who is not guilty of insanity of one kind or another these days? Were these all coincidences? Or was this all my imagination?
Oh my God. I was going mad. I was spinning in circles. The moon was spread over the lily pond, the peacocks were quiet in the mulberry branches, and Anita’s peaceful face was on the pillow next to mine. I felt blessed to have a friend like Anita. I missed our fun, carefree days together. Maybe she was right to suggest going away with her. If we came back before Veer returned, he would not be angry with me. And how much did it matter to his parents? They were never here themselves. My parents were away, too, on their annual vacation to the Ayurveda retreat in Kerala.
If I didn’t go with Anita, would I be able to live here alone till Veer got back? Would I be pulled under by these dark questions? Were there more secrets to uncover? I didn’t think I had the capacity to take any more ghastly surprises. Perhaps it made more sense to go with Anita. If I did, then maybe the fatigue that visited me every morning would disappear too. Here were more questions that I did not have answers to.
It was time to step out, get away from this place, and live a little with Anita. I’d made up my mind.
***
When we left the next morning, the house was asleep as always. Except Sheila. She had slept in the next room. And she was up before we left.
“Sheila, I have to go away for a few days with Anita.” I was glad that she did not ask me any questions because I myself did not know the answers.
To my surprise she said, “Yes, that will be good.”
The warm blood pumping through my veins picked up my circulation and my spirits. Anita and I threw our bags into the back of her car, and climbed into the front. Anita was giddy with excitement. I inhaled from my stomach and filled my lungs with cool morning air.
As the distance from the walls of Veer’s mansion increased with each passing mile, so did the lucidity of my mind. Sachin’s last words, Fly and never look back, were still in my ears. But I had to look back … and I knew I had to come back. The craziness of what I was doing suddenly hit me. I feared that Veer would be furious.
Anita looked at me and smirked. “From the look on your face, Maya, you would think we were up to something criminal!”
I smiled back at her and tried to calm my uneasiness. Anita was right. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was enjoying a few days with my friend before she embarked on her next mission. Anita, the eccentric, fervent artiste, her eyes filled with stardust, lived for the work she did in isolated rural communities to help improve the lives of impoverished villagers.
And I realized that before she left, she wanted to ensure that I would be okay. I let myself sink back into the seat and looked forward to spending the next few days with Anita.
***
What a whirlwind week this had been. These few days snatched from my life had been a gift. A week with this childhood friend had revived my soul.
We had stayed up all night watching old movies, laughing and crying and reminiscing about school pranks, shopping and dining with Tina and Jiya at all kinds of places, from roadside vendors to full course formal dinners with silver cutlery. And in all this time, we had never spoken about the mansion, its story, or its people.
Then as the week drew to an end, I said aloud, a little surprised at my own nervousness, “Veer will be back soon. We should go.”
I knew Anita did not approve of my meek demeanour. But I also knew that she trusted my reasons enough to not question me. And for that I was grateful.
I thought about Anita, armed only with hope, conviction and fortitude, who did not think twice about travelling to dangerous regions of the country for a cause she believed in deeply. I was so proud of her. And I was also a little ashamed of myself for all my mistrust and fear of Veer and his family. How inconsequential were my issues compared to the gross realities of life that Anita would be working in, a world in which no one knew what tomorrow held, in which every day counted, and had to be survived. I wished that I could have borrowed some of that resiliency in my life too.
As we climbed into Anita’s car to return, a dark and heavy sky descended. By the time we wound down the oval Rajsinghania driveway, everything was smudged under dense sheets of rain. But I could still see that our entrance door was slightly ajar. Veer came out to greet us. My heart leapt as I saw him and Anita waved to him with a big smile on her face. But to my surprise, Veer didn’t wave back.
I bade Anita goodbye as I stepped out of the car, and my heart was heavy as tears pricked at my eyelids.
16.
WHEN I SAW VEER’S FACE, I wished that I could have ridden away with Anita. Just as I had dreaded all along, he was angry.
“Where were you?” he lashed out. I did not want to answer to such a tone, so I brushed past him and walked down the dark corridor leading towards our rooms. I heard him follow.
The peacocks were pecking around the lily pond. My head hurt, and I felt weak. But I had to pretend to be strong. So I sat under the shade of the peepal. It was almost midday. The rain had stopped and the sun was peeping from behind the clouds. A flutter on the branches above made me look up. I saw white wings, but then the sun blinded me. Veer was standing in front of me. His arms were crossed, and he was sweating.
He repeated, “Where were you?”
I got up and walked towards the pond. “I went with Anita.”
“Where?”
“Why does it matter where, Veer? Am I not back now?”
“Maya, I told you not to go anywhere when I am not here.”
“Why not? You are not here!”
Our voices were escalating. Bahadur walked toward us with two tall glasses of lemonade with ice. I wante
d to drink it so badly. My head had started spinning, my body was burning, and there was a sharp shooting pain in my stomach.
“Maya, do you understand what I am telling you? Mummy told me that you had run away without telling anyone….” Veer did not care who was around. He did not care how I felt. He was shouting at me in front of Bahadur and he was so loud that anyone else lingering in the corridor and overlooking this spectacle would have heard him too. His voice hurt, but his behaviour hurt more.
I had to get out of there. I took one step toward the door to go inside. But my foot flew in the sky and my head landed on the grass instead. For a moment, all I could see was a faded blue and cloudless sky. I was lying on the ground in pain.
***
When I awoke, I was lying on my bed and it was dark outside my window. I could hear Veer on the veranda. “I should check on Maya,” he said. “I should not have shouted at her. God knows where she was coming from….”
Veer’s mother responded: “She should not have run off like that, you know. I’m sure it’s just the heat—you know girls these days….”
Then Veer’s father spoke: “I will make an appointment for a medical check-up at Robby’s clinic tomorrow. He will look after this.”
Veer’s mother interrupted him. “Oh ho, let me show you the photos from last week’s dinner party at the Shah’s. Notice how pretty Ritu Auntie’s daughter looks, and see how garish her renovated patio is….”
Veer shook her off and entered the room. I turned my back, pretending to sleep. I had no wish to talk to him.
The next morning, I was driven to Dr. Robby’s posh clinic in West Delhi. It had colourful plastic flowers in ornate vases and big acrylic paintings of half-nude village women carrying urns on their heads. We were ushered into a special room with an ultrasound machine, and I was asked to change into a backless green gown. Dr. Robby entered the room with an eager intern at his side.
“How are you guys?” he asked. Robby was almost our father’s age. Turning to face Veer, he added, “Looking good, old boy. Marriage is treating you well—ha ha!” And then he turned to me. “And you, my dear, uh huh … let’s see now … very pale … very pale indeed …. Veer, you will have to take better care of this girl,” he said, wrapping the blood pressure apparatus around my arm. Then he took a stethoscope to my chest and back. The nurse covered my thighs with a towel and rubbed gel on my abdomen. Then Dr. Robby rolled a transducer over it.