Where Love Is

I had no inclination to write about the love story of Satish, when he begged for it. But by the time I resolved to write about him, he had simply vanished, leaving me in the void without a good friend.

  It had all happened in my early thirties, when I used to turn out cart loads of fiction.

  When I recollect Satish now, I cannot help but a tear in my eyes.

  On that day Satish charged into my study. “Rao” he said, panting “don’t disappoint me this time, you must pen the beautiful love story of Sarada and myself.”

  The moment he hopped in, I guessed the purpose of his visit. Satish and Sarada were happily married for five years and since then he had been pestering me to write about their love story. I tried in vain to explain to him many times that a writer needs an impulse from within to produce anything worthwhile.

  “Ish” Satish used to sigh; ‘Rao, whatever you say is Greek and Latin to me. Aren’t many others spinning out boy meets girl stuff.? Our, on the other hand, is a true love story. Can’t you realize the charm of it.?”

  Helping himself to a cup of coffee, Satish resumed, “Rao, do you know what happened the other day? While returning from the office I lost control of my bicycle and hit a scooter. Of course it was a providential escape and I escaped with minor bruises. I got the bruises dressed up at a clinic and  went home. Believe it or not, when Sarada saw my bandaged arms and forehead, she shrieked and fainted. I bet Rao, any other woman in her place would have been just worried for a while. That’s all. But great love only can cause a terrible reaction as Sarada’s. Rao, will you accept now that my Sarada loves me with all her heart and soul? In what way is our love inferior to that of Romeo and Juliet and Laila and Majnu?”

  His tone was charged with emotion. But for me they seemed just man and wife devoted to each other, like many other couples. Nothing more than that. But for fear of losing his friendship, I did not tell Satish how I felt. So I said soothingly, “Satish, right now I am working on a novel. On finishing it, I will think about your story definitely.”

  Later he was transferred to Delhi. When I accompanied him to the station to see him off, he entreated me again to take up his story. I smiled and assured him.

  Years passed by. Meanwhile the letters which I used to receive from him once in a fortnight gradually ceased. On my part, I also forgot Satish and the story I promised to him. Meanwhile  I suffered severe setbacks in my writing career as publishers refused to publish my works, complaining that they were stereotyped. 

  But in due course of time the wheel of fortune turned in my favor again. I caught the attention of the public with a classical novel and won the Academy award for the same. I left for Delhi to receive the award.

  On my way back, when the train halted at Bitragunta, a man in shabby clothes and a long beard got into the compartment and sat opposite to me. He put the suitcase on his lap and began to drum on it. “Love is illusory,” he muttered under his breath. Suddenly his eyes were fixed on mine. “Hello Rao,” he said.

  I stared at the unfamiliar figure and it took me a good minute to recognize the emaciated, careworn man as Satish. “Satish, It is you.” I cried.. “Where were you all these years?”

  For a while he did not speak. Then he began to talk as if talking to himself. “Rao,”he said, “life is like a detective story with a lot of suspense in it. You do not know what will happen the next moment.”

  He stroked at his unkempt beard and gave a little laugh. “Last year when I was in Delhi, on a fine sunny evening I was sitting with Sarada with a cup of coffee in our garden. “Honey,” Sarada said, sipping at the tea, before I had met you and married you I thought that my parents were everything to me, But now”she added looking into my eyes adoringly, “It is you, you only what means everything to me. You’re my world. There is nothing else.”

  I was overwhelmed with love for her. I held her tight in my arms and kissed her again and again.  Suddenly we heard a hissing sound. We were startled and got up. A white king cobra of about six feet was standing on its tail with a raised hood. It was ready to strike. I let a cold sweat run all over my body. I was perplexed for a while. But soon I was myself and threw the table cloth on the dangerous hood of the serpent.  As luck would have it, a snake charmer was passing by. I gave him ten rupees. He enticed the snake into his basket and took it away. 

  When it was all over I looked around for Sarada. I thought that she was by my side all the while. But she was not there. She had locked herself in the house safely and came out only after I had convinced her that the snake was not there any more. Then she came out. She hugged me and kissed,”Honey,”she said, “how fortunate I am! God heard my prayers. You’re saved.”

  I disengaged myself from her serpentine embrace. I wished I hugged the cobra instead. I thought that at the moment of impending death she was by my side. But she was not.It was a deadly shock for me from which I could not get over forever.

  The train stopped at an outer signal near Secunderabad station.

  I saw nothing unusual in what Sarada had done. Instead I pitied Satish for having not realized the basic instinct of human nature. When death stares straight into your eyes, self preservation comes first and every other thing is secondary. I closed my eyes and pondered for a while as to how to explain to Satish this elementary truth in a delicate way.

  When I opened my eyes, the seat opposite to me was vacant; Satish was no longer there. Through the window I saw Satish disappear into the darkness gradually. Looking at his diminishing figure, I muttered to myself that I must write about Satish and this is it.

 A Silk Saree For Sister-In-Law

Raghu was desperate. He was trying his best to make his wife Sita attend his younger brother’s wedding. “Sita dear” he implored. “We may have umpteen family squabbles among us. But on a festive occasion like this we must seem united.” So you’re attending the wedding: Aren’t You?”he looked at her hopefully.

  But contrary to his expectations, she declared “ No, I am not. I don’t care even if the heavens fall down.”

  Sita was the eldest daughter-in-law of the family. Raghu and she lived in the joint family till recently. But they were forced to opt for separate accommodation a little far away because individualism, a synonym of selfishness in many cases overtook them. Raghu had no objection to live with his parents, brothers and sisters. But his wife brainwashed him into seeking separate accommodation.

  Now came the wedding of Raghu’s younger brother Raju. A dowry of thirty thousand rupees was agreed to be paid and apart from the dowry, in-laws gifts were also agreed upon. The five daughters-in-law were to be presented with a five hundred rupee saree each during the wedding by the bride’s parents.

  It was suggested by the bride’s party that the gift sarees could be bought at a notified cloth emporium where a wide range of selections were available. All the other in-laws' hearts throbbed and their eyes glittered as they visualised before their eyes terene, terycot, nylex, American georgette, chiffon, polyester and voile sarees in bright colours and beautiful designs.

  And here came the hitch. The domineering daughter-in-law Sita rejected the proposal. She demanded that she be presented with a Jaipur silk saree which cost ten thousand rupees, because she was the eldest daughter-in-law.

  The hapless mother-in-law Lakshamma  found herself in a fix. A Jaipur silk saree would not cost less than ten thousand rupees. If Sita were to be presented with a costly Jaipur silk saree, in recognition of her seniority as the eldest daughter-in-law, other daughters-in-law would demand the same. Lakshamma was conscious that it would be a financial liability on the bride’s parents. Obviously Lakshamma was opposed to it.

  Now poor Raghu found himself a piece of thread in the scissors. He could neither convince his wife nor persuade his mother to buy the costly saree. Yet he had not lost his hopes. “Look dear,”he said,”After all this is the wedding of Raju whom you have raised in your arms when he was a little child. You’re like a mother to him. Have you forgotten?” He tried to appeal to her sentiment.

  But Sita was intelligent enough to see his game through. “Yes, I brought him up like my own son. I know it.”she replied. “I would like to invite Raju and the bride to our home and present them with a mixi as soon as the wedding is over. But mind it, I won’t be attending the wedding.”

  “Do as you like,” Raghu lost his temper and cried. Having failed to make her fall in line, he badly wanted to escape the tense atmosphere. “I am going out,”he said bitterly. “Mind one thing, we’ll not be on talking terms unless you change your obstinate attitude.”

  During their happy married life for two decades, Raghu had never been so rude to her. He was so understanding and affectionate to her. Now his tough attitude made her cry. “It’s all because of me.” she thought, sobbing and blowing her nose. “After all this is the wedding of my brother-in-law Raju. Shouldn’t  I make it up?” she thought.

  Then there was a knock on the door, Sita peeped through the keyhole. Her bosom friends Shakuntala Bai of Sholapur and Meenakshi Ammal of Madurai were standing in the verandah. On seeing them, Seeta’s face beamed with joy. “Please come in.” She opened the door for them. 

  Hefty Sakuntala Bai and lean Meenakshi Ammal were seated on the sofa comfortably. Sita served them hot, steaming coffee.

  Sipping the coffee, Sakuntala Bai asked eagerly,” Sitaji, have you brought your husband round? Did he agree to convince his mother into buying you a costly Jaipur saree?”

  Sita shook her head in the negative. “No, I couldn't,” she said. “My heart melts at the predicament of my husband. Tell me Shakunlaji, can’t I come down? Can’t I attend the wedding and make my in-laws happy?”

  “Hey Ram!” Shakuntala Bai exclaimed and drew the veil over her head. “An in-law gift of a hundred rupee saree for the eldest daughter-in-law!”

  Shakunlaji is right, Sita,” Meenakshi Ammal chimed in. “Do you know what I did during my sister-in-law’s wedding? I threatened my mother-in-law that If I were presented with a cheap saree as the in-law’s gift, I would throw it into a dustbin at the street corner. This made her realise that I was a tough daughter-in-law to deal with.”

  Once the poison was injected into Sita, who otherwise would have come down, it began to work on her gradually.

  When Raghu returned late in the night, his needs were looked after by his three children. Sita had locked herself in the bedroom.

  This way a week rolled on and Raghu and Sita had not patched it up. The worst sufferers in this conflict were the children. But they bore it stoically and prayed to God that their parents should be friends again.

  Meanwhile Raghu was not blind to the thickening gloomy atmosphere at home. He had hectic consultations with his mother as to how to resolve this issue. But she pleaded her inability. Both of them reviewed the pros and cons in case they demanded Jaipur silk sarees for all the in-laws but realised the impossibility of the demand. Then they were worried about the social impact of Sita’s absence at the wedding. They would have to devise an excuse for it. Otherwise what would the bride’s people think about Sita’s absence at the wedding. Then Raghu hit upon a bright idea. “Mother” he suggested,”can’t we say that Sita is busy preparing Ravi for his engineering entrance exam?”

  Lakshamma appreciated this ruse. They sighed with relief as if they had surmounted a great tension that gnawed at their minds for two weeks.

  Then the unexpected happened. Sita arrived on the scene. She looked at her mother-in-law and said,”Mother, how are the wedding preparations going on?”

  The mother and the son looked at each other, unable to comprehend this sudden development. Raghu scratched his head and as soon as the act cleared his head, he looked at Sita with love and gratitude.

  Lakshamma also adjusted her spectacles and offered Sita hot coffee as it would keep her in good stead. 

  Sita said, sipping the coffee, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t assist you all these days in the wedding arrangements as I had been busy all these days, helping Ravi in his engineering entrance exam. Now the revision of the lessons is over, I am at your disposal.

  That Sita had changed her mind and decided to attend the wedding was now clear to the mother and the son. But what brought about change? Is this realization or repentance? They did not know.

  Naturally Sita also had no intention of revealing what factors had brought about the change in her. How could she? A cantankerous wife, a domineering daughter-in-law and a formidable neighbour when her strong individuality is threatened, is but an indulgent mother to her children.
The children made her swallow a bitter pill to bring their mother to terms with their father.

  Sita was too proud to let the others in the family know that her children, inspired by the Gandhiji lesson in their textbook, made it clear to their mother that they would not touch their meal if she did not change her decision.

  “Anyway, all is well that ends well,”thought Raghu. He was very happy.

 When Anand Loved Razia

  Anand and Razia were a beautiful pair, ardently in love with each other. They were neighbours and as infants both of them slept in the same cradle. As little children they shared the same cot.
That long bondage between the two blossomed into tender love. Anand’s father Raghaviah and Razia’s father Ahmed were aware of their love for each other but adopted an indulgent attitude over it.

  Their love was to have borne fruit under their paternal nourishment but …

  “But Anand,” Razia said sadly “I don’t think even in my dreams that the village head would agree to our marriage.”

  Anand did not reply. He was throwing pebbles into the river and when they created small ripples, he muttered something under his breath. “Yes, Razia, how could he?” he said slowly as if talking to himself. “The cursed religions”he clenched his teeth. He was quite alarmed about the communal tensions gradually enveloping the village because of their love.

  “Anand!” Razia put her arm around his shoulder,”don’t be disheartened. You’re a man and my man. You must find a way out of this.”

  Razia’s soothing words injected new strength into him. “Razia!”He said resolutely,”we will persuade our parents to talk to the elders of the village. He took her hand into his. They both walked along the bank of the river and turned to the right to reach the lane that led to their houses.

  The river flowing majestically meant a lot for the young lovers.  They were initiated into the majestic presence of the river when they were children. While Anand’s father Raghaviah and Razia’s father Ahmed sat on the sands of the bank of the river and talked over the affairs of the village,  Anand and Razia played hide and seek games there.

  As young lovers they muttered sweet nothings to each other on the river bank on full moon nights. The river kindled the spirit of their love and now exhorted them to take the right action to consummate their love.

  Having been pressurized, Raghaviah and Ahmed met the elders under the banyan tree which served as the local court for the village and half a dozen hamlets around. 

  The elders of the village gave them a patient hearing. No doubt, they also had a soft corner for the  young lovers. But they were helpless in the face of the communal passions, gradually overtaking the village. The villagers of both the communities have no objection to this inter faith marriage. But the village heads of both the religions have their instructions from above to thwart this marriage.

  So despite the tearful pleadings of Anand and Razia and their respective parents, the banyan court of the village decreed that the inter faith marriage should not take place. It was also decreed at the banyan tree court that both Anand and Razia should be married separately within their respective religions within three months. That is - Anand should be married; with an eligible girl of his community and Razia with a suitable bridegroom of her community.

  Both Raghaviah and Ahmed had anticipated this decree. So they accepted their fate stoically. But the hot blooded young pair revolted against the decree of the village banyan court.

  That night both Anand and Razia met on the banks of the river. Razia, in spite of her heroic pretence, buried her head in Anand’s chest and wept bitterly. But Anand did not join her in her sorrow for he was a real man now.

  “Razia” he said firmly, “our wedding will be performed at ten o'clock  tomorrow morning, Come what may.”

  “But Anand…”Razia was startled. She was very much worried about Anand’s safety. She wanted to express her doubts and fears. But Anand stopped her. “No ifs and buts Razee,”he said, “even if the heavens fall down, the wedding will take place at the appointed hour.

  Love, devotion and gratitude overwhelmed her and she bent down to touch his feet. “No, Razee,”Anand raised her and hugged her. “The rightful place of my lady is my heart, not my feet.”

  A little while after that rapturous mood, “Anand said,”Razee it’s already half past nine. Let’s get along. I’ll see you home.”

  The next morning the entire village was agog with the revolutionary decision of the young lovers. People began to gather at the village Ramalayam and the adjoining mosque as Anand announced that the marriage would take place at the mosque according to Islamic traditions and later at the Ramalayam according to Hindu customs.

  Just before the wedding at the mosque and at the temple later, villagers gathered there in large numbers. There were discussions and heated exchanges as to what should be done now.

  They were all agitated over the possible future result of this interfaith wedding, as communal clashes were already taking place in nearby towns.

  Suddenly as if a bolt from blue, a farm hand came there running. He was panting for breath as he ran about a mile non stop. He reached Ahmed in one long stride and cried,”Goodas are going to attack our village. They’re coming this way.

  At this unexpected turn, the villagers who gathered at the temple and the adjacent mosque, began to run helter-skelter fearing for their lives.

  Raghaviah expected the impending attack beforehand. So he was least perturbed. He turned to Ahmed, now his brother-in-law and said,”brother, “let’s take the challenge. But we must be composed.”

  Then he looked at the fear-stricken and dispersing villagers from the temple and the mosque. Both Raghaviah and Ahmed mobilised the villagers who were fleeing. They asked the villagers to gather at the river bank, the border of the village with their women and children.

  Shortly an army of men, women and children gathered at the bank of the river with weapons of various descriptions from swords, knives, sticks, pestles and baskets filled with stones. A sizable army of boys were also at the scene with catapults. Only a signal from Raghaviah and Ahmed, they were ready to charge.

  On the other side of the river, there were about twenty ruffians with swords, sticks and country; made bombs. Their initial plan was to indulge in looting and arson in the village and then kill the bride groom and kidnap the bride. 

  But now they were frightened and perspired profusely as they were badly outnumbered. It also dawned on them that as long as the majority community and the minority community were united under the bondage; of love and oneness, no evil force could attack them.

  Had they crossed the river, they were sure to be lynched to death.

  As they took a last, timid look at the vast army of the villagers, the better part of their discretion prevailed on them to do the right thing and they took to their heels.

  Unfortunately our hero Anand had been deprived of the opportunity to show his heroism.

  Thus the crisis was over without any bloodshed.

                                            The April Fool

  I always remember All Fools Day with a sentimental regard. It was this day of fools that had saved me from a romantic embarrassment. When I was found out to be a liar by my father-in-law, instead of kicking me out of the wedlock with his daughter, he forgave me pleasantly and blessed me.

 It all happened when I was a lecturer in English in a co-educational college a decade ago. Usually the girls sat in the front rows and the boys on the back benches in the class. 

  Lakshmi was one of my students for whom I fell in love from head to toe. She was tall, slim and oval faced with a classic nose and ear to ear smile on her lips.

  She always sat in the front row and when I took the platform and began to lecture, my concentration was often disturbed by her bewitching looks, emanating from her big round eyes which were transfixed on mine. The result was - I fumbled with the lesson and the girls giggled, chorussed by the cat-calls from the boys.

  That day also her gaze met mine and I lost track of my lesson again. I blabbered ‘Somerset Maugham’s Hamlet…” The instant response was giggles and catcalls. 

  “What has come over you all of a sudden?” I cried.

  “Nothing serious sir,”Lakshmi said, getting up from her seat, “we all believe that Shakespeare wrote Hamlet. But now you seem to contradict it.”

  “Well said,’the other students tittered.

  If it were any other student, I would have sent him out of the class, charging him with indiscipline. But now I was not all offended. Instead, I felt elated because I was made a fool of myself by a heavenly creature. 

  Lakshmi’s body language and her cryptic comments on my lectures convinced me that she was in love with me. I thought that it would not be chivalrous on my part not to return her love.

  On a pleasant spring evening I invited her for a cup of coffee in the canteen. That was the Alpha of our love.

  Months rolled on and all the film houses, restaurants and gardens in the town brought us closer day by day.

  But the inevitable had happened one day.

  Lakshmi met me in the college library. “Rao,”she said in a depressed tone.”My father wants to get me married to my damned cousin, who is a foreign returned. 

 “Rao,”she continued, her voice choking with emotion.”Can’t you be chivalrous enough to kidnap me  and marry me like Prithviraj Chauhan did in the case of Samyukta.?”

  “My dear,”I replied, “I am not lacking in chivalry. But the hard truth is …if I kidnap you, I will find myself in the police lockup.”

  I paused for a while and continued,”class distinction hinders our marriage. Doesn’t it.?”

  She nodded, making scratches on the library card with her long, polished nails.

  “Don’t worry,”I assured her, “I have a head that can hatch instant plans.”

  My plan was a success and I tricked Lakshmi’s father into believing me that I was a reasonably rich guy.

  The wedding and the honeymoon were over and that bright morning myself and Lakshmi were having coffee in a recently rented spacious apartment. Suddenly some six or seven of my students burst into my study. “Hi! My boys” I greeted them and asked them to sit down. But my students seemed to be very angry. I knew very well why they were angry. I asked my wife to get them  coffee. 

  But they were still angry. “Courtesies can wait”they blurted. “Sir, we’ve come to demand our money which we gave you as a feigned tuition fee in the presence of your father-in-law when he met you. You said that you would return our money in a week. But you failed to keep your promise.”

  It was all a ruse. I planned that some of my students should pay me a thousand rupees each as a monthly tuition fee when my future father-in-law met me, so that he would believe I was reasonably well off.

  Now, to make an honest confession, I lavished all that money on buying gifts for my in-laws. I wanted to create a grand image that I was a rich bridegroom.

  I was trying to placate my boys. “Come my pets,”I coaxed them, “don’t you believe in your teacher? Next month I will repay the debts to all of you, believe me.Without your help I wouldn’t have married your classmate Lakshmi at all. Would I forget all this? No, I wouldn’t.”

 My students were satisfied with my explanation and apology and left finally.

  “You cheat,”my father-in-law cried. He stood at the entrance while the entire ugly scene was going on. “You’ve given me the impression that you earn thousands of rupees every month through tuitions, when I met you to consider the alliance. But you…”he stopped half-way as he gasped for breath.

  I kept silent till his hissing subsided. Then I faced my father-in-law calmly. “In fact, it is my moral principle not to engage in tuitions for my students. I offer free coaching to my students off my class hours. I loved your daughter deeply from the depths of my heart. No doubt, you can get a rich guy. But you can’t get a more loving husband than I am. So, it is up to you whether to bless us or leave us as we are. Anyway,” I continued with a wry humour,”Today is April Fools Day and in a way we all fooled one another. I tried to fool you by pretending that I was a rich guy. On your part you wanted to fool me by giving away your daughter in marriage to some other rich guy. Can’t we pardon each other?”

  All of a sudden Lakshmi appeared there from nowhere. She whispered something into her father’s ear.

  Immediately he changed his countenance from that of anger to happiness. He gathered me and his daughter into his arms and said,”give me a little April Fool soon.”

 The Predicament

Vijaya can be cordial to her sister-in-law Saraswati if the latter refrained from passing adverse comments on the former. Sarawati comments that Vijaya goes on jolly rides with her husband on the scooter, that she is a fashion peacock and that she behaves impudently in the presence of her grown up children.

  As neither of the in-laws relents to patch up, Vijaya’s husband Bhaskar is the poor victim of their long wordy duels. 

  Vijaya feels that her husband should be on her side while Saraswati thinks that her brother should support her.

  Usually such wordy duels of the in-laws spark off severe storms in the otherwise happy married life of Vijaya and Bhaskar. The estrangement that follows such storms is quite unbearable for him and he prays to God that his sister Saraswati who lives nearby should visit him less frequently. His personal request to God would be that his sister should not visit him especially whenever he is about to have a pleasant outing with his wife Vijaya.

  But God seems to have a peculiar inclination to counter what the poor creature Bhaskar proposes to do.

  That evening Bhaskar returned home with a grand plan of going to a movie with his wife Vijaya.

  “Hai Vijji,” Bhaskar entered home and had given Vijaya a bear hug,”get ready, quick, we’ve got to go to a movie.” 

 “Movie!”exclaimed Vijaya,”I’d love to. But what about the kids? Anil and Sunil will be late home today as they’ve cricket match at school.”

  “Don’t worry my dear Vijji, give the keys to our neighbour. Ask her to tell our kids what to eat and what to drink. Go, dress up, quick.”Bhaskar said, releasing her from his embrace.

  Vijaya went into the dressing room and closed the door behind her.

  Bhaskar was pacing up and down the hall, looking at his watch every now and then.”Vijji,”he cried teasingly,”If you don’t dress up and come out quickly, I’ll rush in and give you another bear hug.”

 “Hush, don’t cry like that. What’ll the neighbours think?” Vijaya said, coming out of the dressing room in her favourite Georgette saree and tight silk blouse which suited her slim figure well.

  “Vijji,” Bhaskar said rapturously, “how pretty you are in this dress! So fresh as a rose! Nobody would think that you are the mother of two grown up children.”

  “Oh, darling, keep your romantic prattling to our bed time. Hurry up, by the time we reach any movie house, the show would’ve begun.”

  Just then the door-bell rang. Bhaskar’s sister Saraswati was at the entrance. Her husband was standing behind her.”Brother and sister-in-law are in the mood for an outing, I suppose.” Saraswati said, “We wish we hadn’t come now,”She said again,”But your brother-in-law insisted that we should visit you now. He wants to discuss some shares and stocks with you.”

  But it was Saraswati who proposed the visit to her brother’s house to upset her brother’s evening program. She knows very well that Bhaskar would take Vijaya out almost every evening. But Sarawati made her husband the scapegoat. She looked at her husband tauntingly, who sat beside her meekly. “Didn’t I tell you that my brother and sister-in-law would be going out in the evenings? But you thought that your shares and stocks were more important.”

Saraswati was secretly happy for upsetting her brother’s outing. But she said aloud,”You should’ve married a share broker instead of me.” She blew her nose in feigned anger. 

  Saraswati’s outburst embarrassed Bhakar. He was aware that his sister’s money mindedness made his brother-in-law unhappy too. It was Saraswati’s love of money which made her husband preoccupied with shares and stocks. This made him an introvert and he would not take his wife out during the evenings. Saraswati knew that it was she who drove her husband into the shares business more and more which ultimately became his first love.

  “Bhaskar,” began his brother-in-law, driving his fingers into his thin hair.”I want to buy shares of the ABC Mills for ten thousand rupees. Will the company come up or will it go down?”.

  Bhaskar did not give an immediate reply. His attention was not there. He was thinking about the conversation that was going on between his wife and his sister in the adjoining room. He did not have to eavesdrop to know what they were talking to each other. The result would be known when Vijaya would finish her kitchen chores in the night and come to the bedroom, blowing her nose and rubbing her swollen and reddened eyes due to weeping. She would sit on the edge of the bed and begin,”Your sister said that I was a filthy snob because I had become rich suddenly by marrying you. Why should she be jealous of me? Isn't she rich? She finds fault with me because I go on jolly rides with you. Am I a fashion peacock? Do I behave impudently before our children? Tell me.” She paused for a while and continued with sobs, “If your sister’s husband doesn't understand her properly, doesn’t buy a scooter and doesn’t take her out, it is not my fault. If she hasn’t borne a child till now, let her curse God for it, not me. Why should she say that our children look like scamps?”

  Bhaskar would advise her gently to adjust and patch up. But it would make matters worse. She would become furious and break down sobbing,”you always support her, because she is your sister.

  Bhaskar couldn’t be even a bit rude to his sister for she was his only surviving sister. His position was so delicate that he often found himself in a quandary, as to whom to side with.

  Good night,” his brother-in-law got up,’you look tired now. Think about the shares of ABC Mills and tell me your opinion.”

  A year rolled by without any let up in the quarrels between the in-laws.

  It was the first day of the new year. When Bhaskar returned home after wishing happy new year to one of his close friends, to his surprise, he found his sister chatting with his wife, and the two boys pulling their paternal aunt by her arms to play a game of carroms. 

  “Happy new year,”Bhaskar greeted his sister.

  “Bhaskar, why are you breaking in now,”Vijaya cried jovially.”while we in-laws are discussing the menu for dinner”

  “O.K. carry on, I shouldn’t have disturbed you.” Bhaskar said and left the room. He reclined on a cement bench in the garden. He smiled to himself. The previous night after his sister and brother-in-law left Bhaskar’s house after one of their usual visits, he did not go out to buy cigarettes only. He bought two new year greeting cards at a nearby stationery store. He forged the signatures of his wife and sister and posted them to each other’s address.

  The next morning, on getting the greeting cards by post,  each of them thought that the other person sent the card to bury the past on a new year’s day and became in-laws in the true sense of the word.

  What else could Bhaskar wish for on a new year’s eve?

A Tearful Farewell To My Mother

venkata Lakshmi Jonnalagadda

Though it was half past six in the morning, I was still half asleep. The door of my room was opened a little and my mother, clad in pink saree, walked into the room. She drew an easy chair to the window and prepared herself to watch the sunrise. It was her habit to sip the coffee while looking at the sun rise gradually behind the clouds.

 My wife rushed into my room,”dear.” she cried,”the pundit is expected anytime now. Get ready and prepare yourself to perform the rituals.”

  I was shaken out of my sleep and looked at the easy chair beside the window. The chair was empty. So I was dreaming all the while. Only the day before yesterday I consigned my mother’s body to flames at the crematorium. It was my dream or a paranormal experience since my mother was very much attached to me.

  My mother breathed her last at the ripe old age of one hundred and three years with the name of Sai Baba on her lips. Her last words were,’Son, Sai Baba’s calling me.” Then she lay still.

  My mother was born in a hamlet, called Reddy Naidu Brahmana Agraharam near Machilipatnam, Krishna District, Andhra Pradesh in 1918.

  She was born into a large family and studied upto fourth standard. She was lean and tall for her age. When she reached her ninth year, tongues in the neighbourhood began to wag that my grandfather was not serious enough about getting her married.

  A funny thing had happened which ultimately led to her happy marriage with my father. My father Nageswara Rao Jonnalagadda was a municipal doctor at Machilipatnam. My mother’s younger brother, Sharma aged five, stuffed a tamarind seed in his nostril. My grandmother and grandfather could not extract it out though they tried all the grandma techniques at home. So my grandfather took the boy to the municipal dispensary, at Machilipatnam. My father extracted the tamarind seed from the boy’s nostril with forceps deftly.

  Then my grandfather inquired of my father whether he was an eligible bachelor of the town - his caste, creed, clan etc. When these preliminary details satisfied my grandfather, a meeting of elders of both sides was arranged. My grandfather (my mother’s father) Rama Seshaiah agreed to pay six hundred rupees as dowry.

  Thus my mother was married off at the tender age of nine. When she was escorted to her in-laws house, she was scared of the strangers there and began to cry. Then her father-in-law lifted her in his arms and said cajolingly,”child, don’t cry. This is your home hereafter.”

  She was sent to Madras to lead family life with my father, when she was sixteen years. She bore her first male child - my eldest brother when she was twenty. In all she bore seven children, out of which four survive till day.

  My father had studied both Ayurveda and Allopathy. So he used to manufacture Ayurvedic medicines also to supplement his income along with his practice in Allopathy.

  As my father’s medical practice and sales of Ayurvedic medicines had increased gradually, he got a big house constructed at T.Nagar, Madras.

  My mother was the queen of the huge house with five men and women servants to attend to the household chores. They were Annasamy, his wife Govindamma, son Balakrishnan, daughter Radha and her daughter Chinnaponnu who was married to Balakrishnan.

  These servants were at the beck and call of my mother. 

  She celebrated all the festivals with great pomp and gaiety. Pongal was her most favourite festival during which she would exhibit the dolls and invite women and girls to witness them. The women guests were offered bananas, betel leaves and a piece of cloth to stitch a jacket.

  In addition, we had a buffalo also. My mother used to milk the buffalo at 3 AM in the morning and prepare coffee for my doctor brother who had to catch the train from Kodambakkam to Park and from Park to Ponneri, where he worked as a government doctor.

  She was an unqualified but good pharmacist too. When my father prescribed the required quantities of ingredients to make required quantities of medicines, my mother collected all the ingredients and oversaw the servants prepare them. Huge quantities of Chyawanprash, Draksharishta, Dasamoolarishta, blood tonic, syrup vasaka etc., were turned out by mother’s blessed hands.

  She led a full and fruitful life of over a century and bore seven children, twelve grandchildren and sixteen great grandchildren.

  She had a fall while going to the washroom at midnight. The next day her legs were immobilised. As her other vital organs were failing one by one, she was hospitalised. She suffered the pangs of death for two days at the hospital. Finally she left the world with God’s name on her lips.

  As my cousin Anand observed rightly, with the death of my mother, the generation of our relatives who had actively participated in Gandhi’s meetings had come to an end.

  I fell out of my thoughts as the pundit cried in a shrill voice to get myself ready for the final rites to be performed for my mother.

 Lapse Realised

  Vinay and Vanita would have been made an ideal couple if their married life had not been marred by typhoons in the tea cup. Vinay and Vanita were no doubt affectionate to each other, but the hitch came when Vanita always disapproved of the selection of sarees, jewels and commetics by Vinay.

  “Sorry dear,”Vanita would pout her lips in utter disapproval, “the saree you’ve selected for me doesn’t suit my complexion at all.”

  Vinay was stung to the quick at Vanita’s disapproval. “Sorry to have disappointed you, dear,”he would offer an explanation meekly. “You’re of golden brown complexion and I thought that this pale yellow colour saree would suit you excellently.”

  “You’re mistaken Vinay” Vanita would retort., “Only scarlet red saree would suit my complexion and slender figure as well.”

  As a natural consequence of Vanita’s disapproval, Vinay would return the saree to the cloth shop owner with a hurt sentiment. He could not help it.

  The same scene was enacted between them when Vinay bought her a gold necklace, studded with square stones. “Oh Vinay,” Vanita was angry with her husband again, “A necklace with round stones only would suit my conch shaped neck well. Don’t you know it?”

  Vinay was too loving a husband to burst out against his wife. “Sorry dear,” he said as if offering an explanation. “I do agree that I have a poor taste.”

  Vinay always received the same treatment even when he selected cosmetics for Vanita.

   If he selected a rose colour lip-stick for her, she would say that she preferred only red colour lipstick for her ruby coloured lips. The selection of face powder, snow and perfumed hair oil by  Vinay was time and again rejected by Vanita. So Vinay had given up the habit of buying things for her. Instead, he gave her money to do the shopping by herself.

  When Vinay’s friends made excellent selections for their wives or fiancees, his sentiment gnawed at his heart. But he got used to it. He told himself that he was not fortunate enough to select anything for his beloved.

  Though it was a bitter pill for him to swallow when Raghu or Ramesh met him at the canteen during lunch hour and told him that the saree he selected was greatly liked by his life.

  All this Vinay bore with great fortitude. He did not say an ill word to his friends about his wife.

  But Vanita was not at all aware of what was going on in Vinay’s mind. When Vinay put on a wry face during the ‘selection wars’ she simply thought that her husband lacked good taste. That was all.

  Of late Vinay was becoming very moody. When Vanita gave him a cup of coffee early in the morning, he would take it silently, drink it and put the empty cup down. Then he would bury his head in the newspaper. But in the happier days of their wedded life, Vinay imprinted a kiss on Vanita’s cheek when she had brought him his coffee. Also the ‘send off ceremony’ while going to office became casual. No more kissing and hugging while going to the office.

  Gradually Vanita also began to feel that there was something wrong with Vinay. But she was quite unconscious about the mental agony she was causing to Vinay. She reasoned to herself that career worries might have made him moody now-a-days.

  While days were rolling on heavily, one day Vanita complained to Vinay that she was suffering from splitting headaches and her sight was growing dim.

  When the general pain killers did not work, Vinay was alarmed. He took Vanita to an ophthalmologist. Vinay expressed his doubts and fears whether Vanita was suffering from Glaucoma, an irreversible optical disease in which eye sight is lost gradually.

  The eye specialist dispelled his fears and prescribed eye glasses and Vitamin-A tablets for Vanita.

  While going back home, Vanay was very tender to her and told her many pleasant things in the taxi.

  But it was a short-lived happiness. When it came to selecting the frame for the eyeglasses, Vanita became her old self again and stubbornly rejected the frame selected by Vinay. “Don’t you know Vinay? ''Vanita said petulantly, “this rimless gold frame doesn't suit my round face. Why don’t you exchange it for a black coloured one?”

  “Of course I do,”Vinay said wearily. “But let us go to the shop together.” 

At the optician’s shop, Vinay sat on the sofa with a resigned look over his face. By that time Vanita had already tried more than a dozen frames. She put on each and every frame and looked at herself in the mirror. She pouted her lips and said that this frame didn’t suit her well and that frame didn’t fit her eyes well. “Vinay,” she said, “let’s go to some other shop.”

  Vinay got up and followed her. He didn’t say anything. He was grim.

  When they were about to move out of the shop, another couple entered. The young man asked the shopkeeper to show the most beautiful frame. The shopkeeper showed one. The young man put it on his wife’s big, round eyes and exclaimed,”dear, you look gorgeous with this frame.” 

  “Then dear,”she replied,”let me have it.”

  “But madame,”the shopkeeper said out of professional courtesy.”You can try some other frames too.”

  “Yes dear,”the young man said,”you have a wide choice here.”

  “No dear” she replied, looking at him with half-closed eyes which spoke of many things,”I know how much you adore me. You know what frame suits me best. Your selection is my selection.”

  Vinay could no longer control his anger that was seething within him for many months now. “Vanita,”he said gritting his teeth,”that lady seems to love her husband. Isn’t it?

  Vanita could not grasp for a while what he was saying. When she realised it, she was stunned.
“Were her casual observations that Vinay had a poor taste was the root cause of his extreme sulkiness all these months? As she realised that it was she who caused her husband’s silent anger though unconsciously, her eyes were filled with tears. Now she recollected how cruelly she rejected the sparkling diamond ring he presented her with, on their nuptial night. Then she had not the least idea as to how heartless she was to have rejected the ring which he presented with a thousand dreams. She didn’t think that her heartless response would have devastated their married life. The thought that it was time now to make amends for her rudeness. She wanted to win back Vinay's love. She looked at him through tears and said,”Dear, your selection is my selection. Choose the best frame for my eyes.”