by Anubha Mehta
***
My hands were still cold in the morning mist as I entered Maya-Beti’s room to check on the new maid. Both mother and daughter were sleeping soundly. Such a heavenly sight they were. Master Veer was staring out the window at the neglected peacocks. He seemed distraught and did not respond to my greeting.
Instead, he asked, “Sheila, what you said last night about a change of scenery…” I eagerly encouraged him to go on. “I think it is good advice. I think I shall take it.” I nodded and smiled.
19. MAYA
TIME WAS A GREAT HEALER. I felt better as the days passed. Today was an especially good day. I felt like I had just emerged from a deep slumber. The words of Veer’s mother no longer rang in my ears. And I no longer lived among the ghosts of this house’s past. There were no long shadows following me, and Gayatri’s tragedy was inconsequential when I looked into Diya’s eyes. I felt like the old me. Where had the year slipped by? Diya walked a few steps now, all too quickly, to fall plonk on her rear. And I was always ready to catch her before she fell.
Sheila laughed. “Our Diya is running before she can walk. She will take you far.”
Whatever little time Veer could spare in the evening, he joined in to play. But he kept long hours at work now. And that is why I was so surprised to see him in the middle of the afternoon. He smiled as I came to greet him in the peacock garden. “You look happy today, Maya.”
“And aren’t you happy, Veer?”
He thought a little before he replied. “Maya, you know what will really make us happy?”
“What?”
“Going away.”
I was surprised.
“Papa wants me to open a branch in the West. This means that I will either have to travel for long periods of time or simply live there till the expansion is well established.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. Did that mean that I had to live without Veer in this mansion? I felt my fear returning.
Veer continued. “Maya, I have been thinking. This may be a blessing in disguise. We can leave together and start a new life.”
At first I couldn’t focus on what he was saying, but he repeated himself several times, saying the same thing in different ways. It finally sank in.
His gaze was piercing. I was stunned. Just the thought of leaving my country, my parents and friends … leaving everything I had ever known … was overwhelming. I did not speak. But I knew Veer was reading my mind.
He said, “We can go for a couple of years and then we can decide if we’d like to stay on or come back.”
My head started to hurt. I was falling into the darkness again. I didn’t give him an answer right away.
I walked back into the house and I immediately called my parents. I could hear the same anxiety in my mother’s contrived tone and ruptured exhales. I knew it was taking her all her strength to carefully sculpt sentences of consolation.
I called Anita. She listened intently to what I said. “Maya, what do you have to lose? Imagine discovering a new land, something magical in each city, something insane in every new person’s story. It’s like being born again ... when you have all the possibilities at your feet to take any path leading to any unknown destination. Maya fly … fly away from the ill wishes of Veer’s mother, away from the evil secrets of the past. It is time to move on, Maya, for you, for Veer, and for your daughter, Diya. Embrace it….”
Why did Anita have a way of making anyone look forward to the hardest of decisions?
I didn’t like it. I wanted at least one person to indulge me, and agree that we should not leave. That night I lay awake thinking about all that had transpired since my wedding day. Was this really a blessing in disguise? Was this really a way to fly away as even Sachin had suggested? And what did I have to lose, as Anita said? Was this an opportunity for me to gather some of the courage that I had so admired in Anita?
And then there was Diya. Maybe her fate was away from the curses of this mansion. How could I deny her a clean slate, a life that had every possibility, good and bad? And then there was Veer. I would have to endure his possessive behaviour in a new land. But then maybe he would cease to be so insecure and grant me a little understanding, a little space. Perhaps, away from his mother, he would have more courage, more confidence. Yes, the possibilities were endless. For once, I was not going to be a coward. I was going to take up this challenge head on.
***
Months had flown by since that fated day when Veer had spoken about leaving for another land. Over the year, Veer spoke only once more about a possibility of us moving to Canada. In the meantime, I had gone on the internet to see what Canada looked like. Except for the long Canadian winters, there were many good things posted about this quiet and polite northern neighbour of the United States.
Life was moving fast whether we liked it or not. Diya was another year older and talked continuously. Anita had had to dig into some of her own optimism when she was faced with the hard decision of settling down with someone she had met on one of her internships and had fallen for head over heels. Ajay was an Assistant Commissioner of Police who had been placed in one of the rural districts where she was leading a grassroots artisan project.
I still remember the hot spring morning when an excited Bahadur brought with him the telephone receiver along with my morning mango shake. Anita was always someone I looked forward to talking to.
“Where have you been, girl?’ I asked her, breathless with excitement.
“Why, you should ask! I have called you so many times and you have never returned a call.”
“When? I didn’t get a single message from you.”
“Oh!”
There was silence.
“Anita, who did you speak to?”
“The first time I spoke to Veer’s mother, and then some other lady … I think she said Kitten or Kitty or something like that.”
I did not want to know more. I changed the subject.
“I’m so sorry, Anita. I would have been so happy to talk to you. So, what’s up?”
Anita’s voice cheered up. “Maya, I’m getting married!”
My heart jumped. “What? Really? Oh my God. Our grand Anita has finally succumbed and is now indulging in the acts of us common mortals!” I teased.
“Yes, it was a hard decision for me.” Her tone was serious. “You know that my work takes me for months on end to no man’s lands deep in the country. So how can someone like me think of settling down to a domesticated life if I have to be apart from my family for so long? But Ajay explained this to me in a way that made perfect sense. You see, I can only work in one district at a time. Ajay’s next posting is in the North East at the base of the Himalayas, in a small town called Udalguri in Assam. Here, for the first time, I will get to work with the tribal people on the tea plantations. Since each of his postings is for a minimum of five years, this gives me ample time to understand and support these folk and rural tribes that are barely eking out a living. With Ajay’s support and connections, we will have access to resources and networks for them.”
She was breathless. Her excitement was palpable and I was thrilled for her.
“Yes, Maya. I thought about it long and hard,” she sighed. And that’s why I called you so many times. But it’s a boon in disguise that we didn’t talk, because now I will not have anyone to blame if things go wrong.”
“Anita, why would anything go wrong? Remember what you told me? What do any of us have to lose when we decide to move on?”
“Maya, my eternal optimist. So I gather you have thought about moving away with Veer?”
“Yes, Anita. I have thought about it.”
***
It happened fast. Once the decision was made that we were leaving our life in India, there was not enough time to reconsider, to regret. Our school friends were surprised but not particularly moved by our decision. V
eer’s relatives had been visiting in droves, mainly out of curiosity. My parents were respectful of our decision but I knew they were distressed to see me go. Then they sped up their plans to renovate to their summer cottage in Kasauli. And our peacock had shed his entire tail this season, as if in protest.
I had stopped thinking about how I felt. I had started packing a few things to take with me and parcelling other belongings that would be given away.
And, as I packed, I found once again, the conspicuous polka-dotted diary of trouble—Gayatri’s diary. I did not want to take it, and I did not want to leave it. What if it got discarded and ended up in the hands of scrap paper collectors, and eventfully got pulped in a large iron machine? Gayatri would be lost forever. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to be its de facto custodian. It would mean carrying the grisly past with me. And would that not defeat the entire purpose of my leaving this place?
As I contemplated this, I heard Sheila call for me. “Maya-Beti, Maya-Beti, come quickly. See what Diya is up to!”
I absentmindedly tucked Gayatri’s diary into the bottom of my suitcase, away from all prying eyes, thinking I could make a decision about its fate the following day when the house was quiet.
I walked into the living room where Diya was fiddling with the phone receiver, pretending to speak to her imaginary friend. We both laughed at her antics as she continued to babble into the phone. Sheila had been hanging around us like a protective shield. She had been sleeping in Diya’s room in order to wake up early and help me pack.
I wanted to give away everything I wasn’t taking with me. There were many things that I thought others might find useful and who needed them more than our waiting empty rooms did.
Of course, Sheila did not agree with me. There were labelled boxes everywhere. Our soul collection of music was going to Veer’s favourite cousin, Esha, whose gift of the peacocks had made our mornings magical; our clothes and books were stacked in piles for donation; our cutlery and the best of the china were for Veer’s aunties; our cars were to be left behind for family use; and our freedom was still with us.
“Maya-Beti, I will seal your room till you come back. It will be covered and locked,” Sheila said to me after putting Diya down for her afternoon nap and joining me in the garden outside. In a flash, my mind was back in the west wing, in Gayatri’s mirrored room with the jacquard drape. I shivered. The last thing I wanted was a waiting mausoleum.
“No, Sheila, please don’t do that. I want these rooms to be living, happy spaces, alive with people—where you have parties, where you have house guests.” Sheila’s expressive eyes narrowed with disapproval. “And Sheila, have you ever thought of the possibility that we may never come back?” I teased.
What Sheila said next shook me out of my carefree mood.
Shaking her head with conviction, Sheila said, “But here’s the truth, Maya-Beti: even though I don’t wish it, even though I wish you to go away to live your life in peace, I know that you shall return. I just know.”
She hobbled to the edge of our lily pond and picked up the lone peacock feather that had been left behind by the gardener while clearing the leaves this morning. She straightened its tassels and caressed its crescent. I could have sworn that she was talking to this feather, as if casting a spell. Then she hobbled back to me and stretched out her hand. I took the brilliant blue-green stalk in my hand. I felt Sheila watching me intently. “Maya-Beti,” she said, “please take this peacock feather with you and return it to me as a sign that you are well and happy. But, mind you, remember to return it. For, I will only die in peace when I see it back in my hands—not before.” Sheila was upsetting me. She was being so melodramatic, but somehow what she said also sunk deep inside my heart.
I tried to laugh it off. “So, Sheila, does that mean that you cannot die until I bring this feather back to you?”
This time she laughed with me. “Okay then, Maya-Beti, it is settled. You will have to come back to return it!” She had won her point. I had conceded to coming back just as she had originally wanted.
As she turned to go back inside, I walked over to the peepal tree. As I stood there stroking this eye-tailed feather, I wondered if the peepal had witnessed what had just happened. I had been bound by a pledge to return even before I had left.
***
It was our last day at home. It was past the breakfast hour, the smell of the porridge and burnt toast still lingered on the veranda outside the pantry. In the study, the fierce sun was penetrating our transparent drapes to smoulder every corner and crevasse with angst. Sheila and Bahadur had promised to look after our peacocks. Veer’s mother did not mind having these exotic birds around as they were an impressive showpiece for her evening parties.
We did not want to say goodbye. We were not leaving, only visiting another exciting place for some time. Denial was a wonderful thing. Besides avoiding the immediacy of the problem, it also always gave room to retreat. We would come back home whenever we wanted.
As our time to leave came closer, all I wanted to do was slip away quietly. A long cold bath did wonders to soothe my nerves. I dressed in a “western” outfit that Anita helped me buy: long leather boots with a tweed skirt and a matching suede coat with tassels. Gathering every ounce of courage and faith that I could muster, I stepped into the living room to face the family. Veer’s parents were standing next to his mother’s two inseparable sisters, who were with their husbands. My parents were sitting quietly on the edge of the sofa. Diya was playing in a dimly lit corner with Sheila, who was singing her a lullaby and occasionally wiping her tears. Ma picked up Diya to cuddle her for the last time. We checked our meagre belongings and zipped up our suitcases. I had coached myself for this moment for weeks. I was brave and showed no obvious signs of weakness.
I looked at my mother. She had the same face that I was trying to emulate. Papa placed his hand across my shoulders.
“It will be okay. Just be true to yourself and never bend down to anything that does not seem right to you….” His voice cracked. Being such a practical man, his presence had always calmed me, and his words had always grounded me in a pragmatism that only a few possessed. But not today. I nodded vigorously, more to convince myself than him. A sneaky tear absconded from the edge of my lashes, but I quickly brushed it off.
Veer was tightly sandwiched between his mother and aunts, who were holding his hands, one on each side. Their exaggerated gestures of wiping imaginary tears with a succession of tissues in between loud sniffles almost made me laugh. Veer’s mother had not spoken a word to anyone, implying that the spectacle and occasion of her son’s going away took precedence over all other things that day.
And away is where we were going. .
I suddenly wanted to crumble. My mind started protesting, and my heart began to sink. But it was too late for this indulgence. We were about to leave.
Our bags were loaded in to the car, and our driver started revving the engine to tune it. The strands of hair at the back of my neck stiffened. I tried the poker face that I had been practising for days. With Diya in my arms and Veer by my side, with folded hands, one by one, we said goodbye and descended the stone staircase to our waiting car.
I turned to give my parents one last look. My mother had her arms open. I ran back to her, up the stairs, and into her arms. She held me tight and let me cry.
After a few satisfying moments, she said, “Maya, stand up.” There was strength in her voice.
Gathering some of her spirit, I walked straight to the open car door and didn’t look back again.
PART II
PEACOCK IN THE SNOW
20. MAYA
IT WAS A LONG JOURNEY. I tried to grab as much sleep as I could with Diya in my arms clinging to any part of my clothes or my body that she could grab. It was very uncomfortable. It was not till we stepped off the plane that it dawned on me: What have we done? A sense of loss hit me hard, and it hurt lik
e nothing had before. I didn’t know if Veer felt the same.
We stepped into the airport lobby and were greeted by a group of dark-skinned people under a banner with a large red maple leaf. “Welcome to Canada! Please come this way.” This group lacked the typical North American twang; instead, their accent seemed to hint at a tropical language. Diya was grumpy and tired. I was expecting a tantrum at any time, so I unbuckled her from the stroller to give her some air. As our attention was caught up in filling the long forms that were presented to us at Customs, Diya saw her opportunity. She wiggled out of her stroller and ran towards the thickest part of waiting passengers.
Thud!
We all looked up. She was lying face down. She had tripped over the suitcase of a passenger and had hit her face on the ground. I ran to scoop her in my arms. The irritated passenger scolded me. “How do you people let your children loose at an airport?”
Diya’s tiny nose was swelling up, and she had started crying loudly.
But inside my head, the only sound that I could hear was the one from the group that had greeted us: “Welcome to Canada.”
Veer was looking out for someone in the waiting crowd. His mother had arranged for her distant cousin to pick us up.
“It is all taken care of,” she had said. “Gautam Uncle will put you up in his house until you find your own place, and he will help you settle. We have done a lot for his family in the past, and I trust him.” She had handed Veer a photograph of his uncle so that we could recognize him.
I watched as Veer started waving. Gautam was a stocky and short middle-aged man in a khaki safari suit with large pockets on the chest. He had small beady eyes under bushy eyebrows, a broad nose, and spiked, oily hair parted in the middle. We finished the paperwork and made our way over to him. He hugged us with enthusiasm and then pulled Diya’s cheek with affection. She started bawling again.