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‘I have given her marital bio-data to the Kerala Samajam. Let’s hope she likes a good Nair boy soon,’ said Shanta.
‘I have also circulated Bhuwan’s horoscope to the Agarwal brokers. I have already started shortlisting candidates. Why don’t you both come over for tea today, and I will show you all the photographs?’ said Padma Devi.
‘Come over to my place with the photos. That way, the husbands will not get in the way,’ Shanta offered. She had been widowed six years ago, and had now adjusted to a life without a spouse.
The three women then chatted about various things, including maids, the prices of vegetables, and how difficult it was to get their adult children to listen to them.
By the end of forty-five minutes, they had finished five rounds of the colony. On some days, when the topic of the discussion was very interesting, their walk stretched to an hour.
When Padma Devi let herself inside the house, she discovered that Bhuwan was still asleep.
‘Didn’t you wake him?’ she asked her husband, who was sitting in his usual chair on the balcony, having his morning tea, which Padma Devi had made and poured into a thermos flask before she had gone on her walk.
Her husband muttered something unintelligible and disappeared behind the newspaper.
‘Bhuwan, Bhuwan, wake up,’ she said, barging into her son’s bedroom without knocking.
‘Maaa,’ he said, and buried his face under the pillow.
‘Why are you bleating? Are you a goat? What is “Maa”? How long will you sleep like Kumbakaran? Wake up. I have finished my walk, and now it is breakfast time. And you are still in bed?’ she admonished, as she slid the curtains open. Bright sunlight streamed in, making Bhuwan squint his eyes. He got out of bed without a word and headed towards the washroom.
Bhuwan knew that his mother would not let him sleep. He had been out with a friend till late the previous night, and had drunk a little too much. He had staggered back home well past three in the morning. His head was pounding now, his throat was parched, and he just wanted to sleep a little longer, as it was the weekend. But for his mother—and for his father—the concept of weekends just did not exist. As far back as he could remember, his mother had woken up every morning at five. She made sure that everyone in the house knew that she did.
‘Every morning, I wake up at 5 a.m., and I cook for all of you. Not a single day do I take off. I am the only one burdened in this house with all the housework,’ she would rant every now and then, whenever things did not go her way or when she was irritated about something. It did not matter to her that the two were not related. She was ready to don the martyr’s hat and paint a sorry picture of herself whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Her son and husband had developed their own coping strategies. Her husband would promptly disappear behind his newspaper, and Bhuwan would get busy with his work. It never occurred to Bhuwan or to his father to point out to Padma Devi that there was no need for her to wake up that early every morning. It was something she had decided to do all by herself. Besides, she did have a maid, Shakubai, who came in at 6.30 every morning, to assist her with all the housework. The one thing about Padma Devi was that nobody could argue with her. She had a sharp tongue and a closed mind, and once she had made up her mind about something, that was what she would believe in, and would justify completely, with the zeal of a new convert who had discovered God. Her version of reality was the ultimate truth and gospel by which everybody else had to abide. She had her own rules, and these were non-negotiable. Bhuwan had been raised within the framework of these rules, and if he flouted any of them, he discovered quickly that there would be hell to pay.
As a child, he had to have a bath as soon as he came back from school. His school bag had to be put away on his bookshelf. His school books and the homework assigned had to be neatly arranged on his desk, before he headed for his bath. While he bathed, Padma Devi would check his school diary to see when the work he was assigned was due. After he was fresh and clean, she would give him a snack, and then it was time for him to finish his homework. She would inspect it, and only when she was satisfied could he head outside to play.
At six in the evening he had to be back home. He had to wash his face, hands and feet. His mother would then recite prayers, specifically the Hanuman Chalisa, and he would have to repeat the verses after her. He was twenty-eight now, and he still followed this routine, except that his school bag had been replaced by his office laptop bag.
When Bhuwan had wanted to move to a different city for his engineering degree, his mother had refused to let him go. ‘What is wrong with studying in Pune? What is the need for you to live on your own?’ she had protested. Her husband had tried telling her that it might be good for Bhuwan to live on his own, away from the parents, but Padma Devi wouldn’t hear of it. That was how Bhuwan had found himself doing his engineering degree, and later his MBA, in Pune, while living with his parents.
After a while, he got used to it, and after he started working, even though he was eligible for company accommodation, he chose to live with his parents. It was easier that way. He didn’t have to bear the responsibility of living on his own, and besides, he didn’t have the strength to fight his mother, for she was sure to raise objections if he as much as mentioned the possibility of moving out. He compromised and adjusted to minor inconveniences, such as waking up early on a Saturday. He knew that a piping hot breakfast would be waiting when he emerged from the washroom.
‘Ma, I am going out today. I’ll be back only in the evening,’ he said, as he joined his father at the dining table and tucked into the hot sabudana khichdi which Padma Devi had prepared.
‘Where are you going? And with whom are you going?’ Padma Devi asked, as she served him some chutney.
‘Vikki, Ma. We are driving to an eco-resort on the outskirts of Pune. He has bought a new jeep and he wanted me to go with him for a drive.’
‘Aaah, okay,’ said Padma Devi, satisfied that her son was not going out on a date, or any such thing.
Vikram and Bhuwan had been classmates at college and, over the years, their friendship had grown. Padma Devi liked Vikram and considered him a polite young man. He had come over to their place countless times over the last few years. His father had a shop that sold automobile parts, and they had done well for themselves. Vikram wasn’t very good with academics, and it was Bhuwan who had coached him throughout engineering. He had managed to scrape through the final exams, while Bhuwan had excelled. After graduating, Vikki had joined his father’s business and helped out at his shop. But his passion lay in filmmaking, and he intended to join the Film and Television Institute of India soon. He just hadn’t found a way to convince his father yet.
‘When is he getting married?’ Padma Devi asked.
‘I don’t know, Ma. I haven’t asked him about such things.’
‘Why not? He is your age. Tell him to let his parents find a nice Punjabi girl for him.’
‘Alright, Ma, I will tell him,’ said Bhuwan, and he looked at his father and smiled.
His father smiled back. Both men knew that Bhuwan would do no such thing. Padma Devi didn’t notice the little exchange, though.
‘Oh, by the way, that Sharmaji has sent photos of some nice girls. Would you like to see them, Bhuwan?’
‘No, Ma. What will I do with photos? I have told you this before.’
‘Are you okay with directly meeting the girls I select?’
‘Yes Ma, I am okay.’
‘But you will reject them after you meet them.’
‘No, it’s not like that. I haven’t liked anyone enough so far.’
‘Twenty-three girls, Bhuwan. Twenty-three. What is it that you are looking for? At least if you tell me what type of girl you want, then I can narrow in on that.’
‘There is no “type”, Ma. It’s just that I haven’t clicked with anyone so far. Anyway, I am off. I will see you later in the evening,’ he said, as he excused himself from the dining table, washed his hands and walked o
ut. Vikki had agreed to meet him outside his house. Bhuwan was looking forward to the drive, as he waited for him outside Kailash Mandir Colony.
After Bhuwan left, Padma Devi gathered the photographs of the girls that the broker had given her. Among the pile, there was one photograph that stood out. It was the one which her relatives from Joshimath had sent over. They had already met the girl and spoke highly of her. She marched towards Shanta’s house with all the photos. She had already chosen a bride for her son, and since her son refused to even look at the photos, she wanted to show them to her friends.
Chapter 4
September 1995
Joshimath
Veda was shaken by what had happened at her home the previous evening. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. She knew that she had to get married someday, but had not thought about it, as she had been immersed in her academics. Now, it seemed as if it was in the near future. She was filled with trepidation. She definitely did not feel ready. She recalled a conversation she had had at an older cousin’s wedding. ‘Look, no matter how old you are, marriage is a big step, and I don’t think anyone feels ready for it. You just jump into the cold water, start swimming, and then realise that it is not as bad as you thought it would be,’ the cousin had said.
‘What if I don’t know how to swim?’ Veda had asked.
Her cousin had laughed and said, ‘Well, you better learn quickly then.’
Veda wondered what the ‘boy’ would be like. Had those aunties who had come over spoken to the boy’s relatives? What had they told him? What were his expectations? With all these thoughts running in her head, Veda could barely focus on the lectures the next day.
‘What happened? Your meeting with Suraj—was it that good that you are so lost in thoughts of him?’ Rekha teased her.
‘Er . . . uh no. It’s not that,’ Veda replied.
‘It sure looks like it. You are so lost in dreamland,’ said Rekha.
At recess, Rekha made an excuse and left as soon as she spotted Suraj walking towards them. Veda raised her eyebrows as she hadn’t spotted Suraj yet. But the next moment she did, and she stood frozen at the spot as Suraj walked up to her and stood right next to her. Veda once again experienced that flutter of excitement in her belly. His very presence seemed to do that to her. When he was near her, all the thoughts in her head vanished, and all she was aware of was his presence.
Suraj greeted her with a warm smile and Veda smiled back at him.
‘Hi. Shall we hang out after college today? Yesterday was fun,’ he said.
Veda wished she could. She wanted to tell him that she had enjoyed herself too. But she knew that if she stayed back today, she would get into trouble at home.
‘I wish I could, but I cannot stay late after college today,’ she replied.
‘Meet me at lunchtime then?’ he asked.
‘But I have my own lunch. Ma always packs lunch for me,’ Veda replied, kicking herself mentally the moment she said the words. Why was she putting up these obstacles? She did want to hang out with him. But she had said the first thing that had come into her head. She wished she was a little more calm and composed when he was around, instead of blurting out whatever she was thinking.
Fortunately for her, Suraj was not one to give up easily.
‘So what? We don’t have to meet in the canteen. Let’s meet on the lawns?’ he asked.
She did not know what to say or do. She had genuinely begun liking him after the interaction last evening. But she knew there was no future in whatever it was that they were starting. Or whatever it was that he was hopeful of starting. She had to explain. She felt she owed that to him. So she agreed to meet him.
‘Alright, I’ll see you then,’ she said.
The bell rang and Veda went back to class, trembling with excitement at the prospect of another meeting with Suraj. She did not tell Rekha or any of their friends about what had happened at her home the previous evening. She was not ready. With Suraj, she felt a closeness, even though they had interacted just once. Perhaps it was because he had shared a part of his life’s tragedy with her. It was strange, but after that one meeting, she felt as if she had known him for a long time. She understood him, or so she thought. She was comfortable with him, and felt she had found a genuine friend in him. She wondered if she was imagining the closeness, or whether he sensed it too.
‘Did he ask you out again?’ Rekha whispered, as they sat down.
‘Uh, huh,’ Veda said, nodding.
‘He likes you! Not bad. Two dates in a row!’ Rekha exclaimed. The two girls sitting in front of them turned to look at them.
‘Shhh! Do you want the whole world to know?’ whispered Veda.
‘If he had asked me, I would have shouted it out from the rooftops,’ Rekha whispered back.
‘Shut up!’ said Veda, but she smiled. She couldn’t wait for lunch break to arrive.
Veda sat with Suraj on the lawn, under the large, shady peepul tree, where many groups of students, as well as couples at various stages in their relationships, hung out. This tree was a mute witness to many love stories. Veda felt a little awkward joining Suraj there. It was like announcing their ‘relationship’ to the world. But there was no better place to meet.
She opened her lunchbox and offered it to him. ‘Do you always eat at the canteen? Do you never get food from home?’ she asked.
‘I don’t like to burden my grandmother, although she claims it is not a problem to prepare lunch for me. But it just means she has to wake up very early. Some days, I do carry what she makes,’ he explained, as he bit into one of the methi parathas her mother had packed.
‘Mmm, delicious. Your mother cooks so well! You know, my mother was a good cook too,’ he remarked.
He made that statement so casually, yet Veda felt the sorrow behind it. His quiet acceptance of such a massive tragedy moved her deeply. Before she had met Suraj, she hadn’t even given a second’s thought to an ostensibly tiny thing like a home-cooked meal. But now, she was suddenly grateful for it. She was beginning to see the world through Suraj’s eyes, and she was gaining a whole new perspective.
They chatted easily and the conversation flowed smoothly between them once again. To her delight, she discovered that Suraj was an avid reader too. He talked about his favourite books and said that he loved the works of Frederick Forsyth. She confessed that she had read only a short story collection by him. She told him about her favourite writers, and what she loved about their writing. He hadn’t read anything by Daphne du Maurier, and she enjoyed speaking to him about her work.
It was only towards the end of the lunch break that she even remembered what she was there for. She had to tell him about yesterday’s event at her home.
‘Listen, Suraj, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet this way anymore,’ she said.
‘Why?’ he asked, startled. ‘Is it anything I said or did?’
‘No. Oh, no! Of course, not,’ she rushed to assure him.
Her story came out in a torrent. She told him about her upbringing, her father’s outlook, how it was her dream to study in Delhi, but that she had been forced to accept this instead. She spoke about how strict her father was, and how he thought that having four girls was a huge burden. She told him about how meek her mother was, and how she and Vidya cared for their other siblings. She told him almost everything about her life. Suraj listened carefully.
‘You know, you are the first boy I have had a “date” with, if you can call it that,’ she said.
‘What? Oh. I did not realise that,’ said Suraj, surprised.
‘Why? Now that you know my background, is it so odd?’ Veda asked.
‘No, no. It’s not odd at all. It is just that I feel a bit angry with your father right now,’ he said.
‘Because he doesn’t allow me to date?’
‘No, that’s not a big deal. But this whole marriage thing. . .’ he trailed off.
He was angry on Veda’s behalf.
Veda just shrugged.
She was resigned to her situation at home.
‘Veda, why don’t you protest? Why don’t you vehemently say you don’t want all this? How can you just silently agree?’ he asked.
‘I . . . I can’t Suraj. It just doesn’t work that way. I can’t. I am . . . I am afraid of my father’s wrath. Terrified,’ she admitted. As she spoke, tears came unannounced. She was embarrassed and horrified. She blinked them away furiously. She was not going to cry in front of Suraj.
But he had already noticed the change of expression on her face.
‘I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. My parents were always open-minded and I could talk to them about anything. There were never any restrictions on me. I guess I find it hard to understand your kind of upbringing,’ he said.
‘I guess so. Unless you walk in my shoes, how will you know what it feels like?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, Veda,’ he hesitated. Then he said, ‘All I want is to be your friend. I hope we can be friends?’
‘I guess so. Yes, yes . . . I would like us to be friends,’ she said, voicing her thoughts aloud. How could she refuse? All he was asking was to be friends with her.
The bell rung just then, and they had to return to class.
It was with a feeling of heaviness that Veda parted from Suraj. She had told him everything, and he now knew where he stood.
Veda couldn’t sleep that night. She kept tossing and turning, thinking about Suraj. She knew she would have to squash whatever it was that she felt for him. One part of her, the logical side, told her to end it before she got hurt. But another part of her reminded her that there was nothing between them, and that they were just friends. Vidya was lying next to Veda, and she couldn’t sleep either because her sister was moving around so much.
‘Can’t sleep, didi?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. Just not able to,’ Veda whispered back.
‘Do you want to talk?’ asked Vidya.
‘Outside?’ Veda replied.
The two sisters crept out into the moonlight and sat on the terraced steps. The mountains behind them were a dark mass. There were no stars at all in the sky, and it looked like the moon was fighting with the clouds to make its presence felt. The sisters, however, were oblivious to the darkness of the night. They had done this many times, when either of them was unable to sleep.