The Rule Breakers Page 6

  ‘Can I continue going to college then?’ asked Veda.

  ‘Yes, no point in your staying at home,’ said her mother.

  Veda had no idea how she would be able to focus on her studies, with the marriage looming large in the near future. Now the date was finalised too, adding certainty to it. It all felt like a surreal dream.

  But she discovered to her surprise that she was able to concentrate. By focusing on her lectures, and pretending that nothing was going on, she was able to forget this whole marriage thing for a while.

  But the moment her classes got over, or the moment the bell rang for lunch break or for recess, reality came rushing back. It made her anxious and she tried to block it out. She still hadn’t told Rekha or anyone else at college about her impending wedding. That would have made it seem more real. Also, she thought that Rekha might judge her for still wanting to meet Suraj, despite being engaged to be married.

  She and Suraj met at lunch, as though nothing had changed. She told him about the latest developments. She told him all about Bhuwan, the conversation they had had, and how she had felt oddly comfortable with him.

  ‘Is it final then?’ he asked, as he drew a circle on the lawn with a twig, poking hard into the ground beneath, uprooting the grass.

  ‘Stop doing that, you will ruin the lawn,’ said Veda.

  ‘It will grow back, Veda, it is only grass,’ he said, not looking up, refusing to meet her eyes.

  ‘Are you upset?’ she asked.

  He did not answer.

  ‘Suraj, I had told you that there can never be anything between us. You knew all this from the start. We shouldn’t have continued meeting,’ said Veda, looking away.

  Though she was unhappy herself, she couldn’t bear to see Suraj like this. She felt she was letting him down in some way.

  ‘Hey, listen, there isn’t anything between us. We are just friends, okay?’ Suraj said.

  ‘That’s what I told myself, when Bhuwan asked me if I had a boyfriend,’ Veda replied.

  ‘That’s that, then. You are right in your thinking,’ said Suraj. The circles he was making in the lawn were getting deeper.

  Veda was silent.

  Then she took a long, deep breath and asked, ‘Can we . . . be in touch?’

  That was when Suraj looked up.

  ‘How?’ he whispered.

  ‘I will write to Vidya. She will give you my letters. And you can give your letters to her. She will put your letter in the envelope along with hers, and send it to me. Nobody will know then.’

  Veda had thought about it all night. It was the only way she could stay in touch with Suraj.

  For the first time since Veda’s wedding had been fixed, Suraj smiled.

  ‘God, you are clever,’ he said. Then he added as an afterthought, ‘But, why are we hiding it? What is there to hide? We are just friends, right?’

  ‘Yes, Suraj. I don’t know how the others will interpret our friendship, though. So I think it’s best if we don’t tell anyone,’ Veda explained.

  ‘I don’t think it is right, Veda. You should tell your future husband.’ Suraj couldn’t bring himself to say his name.

  ‘You think I should tell Bhuwan?’ asked Veda.

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘I am scared.’

  ‘What are you scared of?’

  ‘What if he doesn’t approve? What if he says I cannot keep in touch with you?’

  ‘Then you must not.’

  ‘Come on, Suraj! How can you say that? Is that all that our friendship means to you?’

  ‘You know very well it would kill me not to be in touch with you. But what is the solution?’

  ‘Look, he doesn’t own me, okay? He is marrying me. Not buying me. He is not my father, that I have to take permission. You leave that part of my life to me. I will handle it,’ Veda was emphatic and spoke with a confidence she didn’t feel. A moment later, she asked, ‘What is the alternative, Suraj? Do you see any other way out?’

  Suraj paused for a moment. Then he said, ‘Just refuse, Veda. Say no to this marriage. Say you don’t want to get married.’

  Veda frowned, deep in thought as she considered this. On what basis could she refuse this marriage proposal? There wasn’t anything going on between Suraj and her. And, there was no guarantee that any another guy that her parents chose would be better than Bhuwan. Bhuwan seemed sweet and considerate. There was no reason strong enough for her to refuse. It would also make her parents look bad, if she refused at this point, without any concrete reason.

  When she spoke, she was clear. ‘I can’t, Suraj. All the arrangements are in progress. Papa has already spoken to a few people, and has booked a marriage hall with great difficulty. He will be made to look like a fool if I say anything now. Everybody in the community will laugh at him. It’s too late. This was one of his conditions, when he let me attend college. And in any case, all the girls in my family get married early. All my cousins got married before they were twenty-one. It is the norm. I can’t break it. And based on what? Based on our friendship?’

  Suraj was silent again. Veda was right in all that she said. How could he be selfish and ask her to break off her engagement? What right did he have to do that?

  ‘You know what—I am sorry. You are right. I honestly do not know why I am behaving like this. I guess it is just the thought of . . . losing you,’ said Suraj.

  ‘Look, I know all this writing letters in secret makes you uncomfortable. Let me just get to know Bhuwan a little better. I will tell him, alright? Don’t worry about it,’ Veda assured him.

  She knew she wanted to stay in touch with Suraj, and she was willing to do anything to make it happen. The weeks she had spent with him had been beautiful. Theirs was a unique friendship, and they completely understood each other. She did not want to lose him. Veda was determined about that.

  She spoke to Vidya about it. Vidya said she liked Veda’s plan, and that she was more than happy to be a part of it.

  ‘Good friends are hard to come by, didi. Why should you lose touch with him just because you are married? Are married people not allowed to have friends of the opposite sex?’ Vidya asked, indignantly.

  ‘I will speak to Bhuwan about it at some point. Let me just get to know him a little better,’ Veda said.

  ‘Yes, he seems to be a reasonable guy. And he does seem nice. Are you excited about the wedding, didi? Now that the date is so close, I am looking forward to it. I feel very bad that you have to go away, though,’ said Vidya.

  ‘I have mixed feelings now. Initially, I was horrified at the thought of marriage. But now, it is like I have accepted it. Look at it this way, Vidya—this guy, Bhuwan, seems kind and understanding. What if I refuse and the next guy they pick is worse than him?’

  ‘True—and if you had refused this guy, it wouldn’t have gone down well at all. Didi—don’t worry, we will stay in touch through letters. I promise to write regularly,’ said Vidya.

  ‘You better! I am not sure whether we will be able to talk on the phone. You know how prickly Papa gets about big telephone bills, and I don’t know if Bhuwan is like that too. But I will call when I can,’ said Veda.

  ‘Yes, we shall write regularly, didi,’ Vidya agreed.

  Now that the wedding was to happen soon, Rajinder was overjoyed, and so was her mother. Veda’s father had never spoken to her with as much affection as he did in the days before the wedding. He was suddenly kind and sweet towards her. It was as though, by agreeing to the marriage, she had been elevated in his eyes. She was now the star of the house.

  The last few days had flown by with the arrival of relatives, visits to the beauty parlour, the mehendi ceremony, sangeet and all the excitement of a typical Indian wedding. Veda had silently participated in it all. She wasn’t too keen, but she knew that her cousins were enjoying themselves and she played along.

  A week later, Veda’s marriage took place with great pomp and ceremony. Rajinder walked around proudly, greeting all the guests at the venue,
welcoming them. Everybody talked about the wedding for days afterwards. All the relatives said that the caterer had done a great job.

  ‘How are you feeling, didi?’ Vidya asked Veda on the day of the wedding. She was the only one who understood her sister.

  ‘Like a lamb being led to the slaughter,’ whispered Veda, decked in her bridal jewellery.

  ‘Come on, didi, Bhuwan isn’t all that bad,’ said Vidya.

  ‘Yes, I know. I will try—to love him.’

  Vidya felt a sharp wave of sadness engulfing her when she heard her sister say this in a resigned manner. They were the saddest words she had ever heard.

  Veda dutifully took part in all the rituals associated with the wedding, even though she found them tiresome. She did not look up at Bhuwan or meet his eyes during any of the ceremonies.

  Veda had invited Suraj to the wedding. From time to time, her eyes would covertly scan the hall, searching for him. She didn’t see him. She spotted some of her college mates, though. Rekha, who was dressed in a blue lehenga choli, was laughing and chattering away with their friends. It seemed like everyone was having a good time at her wedding, except for her.

  Veda called for Vidya as the priest chanted the mantras. When she came close, Veda whispered, ‘Is he here?’

  Vidya shook her head.

  He had not promised her that he would attend when she had given him the wedding invitation.

  ‘I honestly cannot be a part of this, Veda. I wish you joy. Write to me, if you can,’ he had said. She had begged him to try and attend.

  It was during the bidai ceremony, the final conclusion to the wedding rituals, when the bride leaves the marital home, that she spotted him. Her heart leapt up with joy as their eyes met. She saw sadness in his.

  She crossed the doorstep, accompanied by her parents and her relatives, and according to the custom, threw back three fistfuls of rice and coins over her head.

  One of the coins landed near Suraj’s feet.

  Nobody noticed, as he picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of his kurta.

  It was an emotional moment—the bride leaving her parental home. Even Rajinder hadn’t been able to hold back his emotions and looked like he would cry when he escorted Veda to the waiting car. Veda’s mother and her relatives started crying as Veda got into the car with Bhuwan, the entourage following them. The car had been decorated with flowers and looked grand, festive and splendid.

  As the car drove away, Veda looked back through the rear windshield, feeling numb.

  Is this all there was to a girl’s life? Get married and leave the home you have known all your life? What was she getting into? Why hadn’t she listened to Suraj and protested? Why didn’t she have the courage to stand up for herself, and express what she wanted?

  She was filled with regret at how passive she had been through all that had happened.

  But it was too late now—there was no turning back.

  The car made its way slowly down the mountain slopes, and with each turn it took, Veda felt her heart sink further.

  She had never felt this alone in her life.

  Part Two

  PLAYING BY THE RULES

  How dreadful . . . to be caught up in a game and have no idea of the rules.

  – Caroline Stevermer, Sorcery & Cecelia: or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot

  Chapter 7

  December 1995

  Pune

  Dearest, dearest Vidya,

  How are you? How are Vandu, Vaish and Ani? Are you putting them to bed each night by reading out stories like I did? Animesh was distraught when I was leaving, and as you know, I had promised him that you would read them stories after I am gone. You had agreed too. I hope you are keeping your promise? Are Ma and Papa happy? I sincerely hope they are.

  It’s been a fortnight here, and it is only now that I am getting the peace and quiet to settle down and start writing to you. Pune is a nice city, but it is so different from Joshimath (naturally). The flat that I am staying in is in an old building. It is a tiny, two-bedroom flat on the third floor. The good thing is that it has a fairly large balcony off the living room. I can see that some of the homes in the colony have plants on the balcony, but we don’t have any. There is just cane furniture there—two chairs and a circular table. My father-in-law mostly sits on this balcony, reading his newspapers and financial magazines.

  ‘My bedroom’ (I still have not got used to calling it ‘my bedroom’, as the term instantly brings to mind the room that you and I used to share) is small, and does not have a balcony. When I say small, I mean very small. There is our bed, and opposite that there is a desk. We have a chest of drawers filled with God-knows-what (all old things) standing in one corner. We also have a small attached bathroom. This flat is so much smaller than our home at Joshimath. At least, over there, we could step out and feel the fresh air. Here, I feel suffocated, but I guess I will get used to it.

  We have had to visit countless relatives, and go to countless temples. There have been visitors coming over all the time too, and each time I have had to wear a saree and all the wedding jewellery. I also had to dutifully serve them tea and snacks. I hate all of it, but my mother-in-law insists.

  And Vidya—I know how your mind works. I know what you desperately want to know. Yes, yes—I can read your mind! No, Bhuwan and I haven’t done it yet. I told him I was nervous about it. Do you remember how much we discussed it and how Anita didi had scared us with all those suhaag raat stories and how much it would bleed and hurt? I told all this to Bhuwan frankly, and he sounded so relieved, can you believe it? He said, ‘You know, I am as nervous as you are about all of this. I am glad you told me. Let’s not hurry anything. Honestly, it is not important for me.’

  So, you can see, he is quite a considerate and understanding guy. I can only imagine from all the stories Anita didi and our cousins told us that the men they got married to must have been desperate to have sex. Who knows? So, for now, I am happy to let things be this way.

  I can’t talk to you freely on the phone, because the phone here is in the living room. My mother-in-law is around all the time. She hardly leaves me alone. Every five minutes it is, ‘Veda beti this . . . Veda beti that’. It feels so odd when she calls me beti. She says I can call her Ma. It doesn’t feel right. I mean, for me, it is only our mother who is Ma and no one else can take her place.

  My father-in-law keeps himself busy always. When he is not looking at his financial magazines or reading the paper, he is out meeting friends who live in the same complex. They are all retired professors like him. I think they bought these apartments at the same time.

  Though it is an old complex, it is comfortable and nice. There are no lifts in the building, but I don’t mind that. Three floors is not too hard to climb, especially when you are used to climbing hills in Joshimath! There are a few trees around in the compound, and some plants which form the ‘garden’. They need to be taken better care of.

  I can hear my father in-law calling out to me. My mother-in-law has gone out to some temple with her friends. I shall come back later and finish this letter.

  ‘Yes, Baba?’ Veda said as she placed the cap on the pen, put it away and went out of the bedroom to see why her father-in-law had called out to her.

  ‘Come, beti. Make some tea and join me here, on the balcony,’ her father-in-law said.

  Veda was surprised. He had never invited her to join him before. She had noticed how he rarely spoke when her mother-in-law was around. It seemed to Veda that he was frightened of her. The moment her mother-in-law went out somewhere, her father-in-law’s personality transformed. He became friendlier towards her. Veda had also caught the silent understanding glances between Bhuwan and his father whenever her mother-in-law said something which they did not quite agree with. It was evident to Veda that they were humouring her. They never argued with her, but found a way to change the subject. The only person who seemed to be unaware of it was her mother-in-law.

  Veda was pleased at her fa
ther-in-law’s invitation. She quickly made two cups of ginger tea and joined him on the balcony.

  ‘Sit, beti,’ he said, indicating the chair opposite him. Veda sank into the cane chair and discovered that it was very comfortable. Bright winter sunlight streamed in, lighting up the balcony. Veda squinted her eyes to adjust to the brightness. She had never sat here before.

  ‘This is lovely. You make a good cup of tea,’ said her father-in-law.

  Veda smiled. ‘My father too loves the tea I make,’ she said.

  ‘So, how are your studies going, beti? Do you like the college?’ asked her father-in-law.

  ‘Yes, Baba, it is nice,’ she said, though she hadn’t yet made up her mind. Two days after she had joined, Christmas break had started. She knew he had pulled a few strings to get her in. She did not want to sound ungrateful by complaining.

  ‘Okay, that’s good,’ he said. He glanced furtively around. Then he lowered his voice and said, ‘Listen, beti, I want to tell you something.’

  ‘Yes, Baba?’ said Veda, curious, as she sipped her tea. She had started addressing her in-laws as Maaji and Baba. She did not know how else to address them, and this seemed the most respectful way.

  ‘You know my wife—she is just an eighth class fail. She is not educated. She does not understand or appreciate the value of education. They lied to me at the time of marriage, saying she had done her matriculation. I found out only later. But anyway, that is all many years in the past. Why I tell you this is because I do not want you to be upset about the remarks she makes. I have noticed that you feel bad, beti. I see it on your face. Bhuwan and me—we have learnt to put up with her moods, anger and sharp words over the years. But you—you are new here. I wanted to tell you all this right at the start. But only today, have I got the chance,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ said Veda, completely taken by surprise.

  So her father-in-law had noticed the sharp remarks that her mother-in-law made. He was observant. She had never thought that he was on her side. Veda felt happy that she had an ally. He understood her, and he had taken the trouble to explain things to her. She found it endearing.