Monsoon Memories (26 page)

‘Reena?’

Murli was waiting for a reply. What had they been talking about? ‘The sunglasses were just a fad. She’s not acting in any movie, as far as I know.’

Murli looked disappointed. ‘Oh, well, I will get her autograph for my daughter, just in case.’

‘How are things in your village?’

Murli smiled again, a wide grin. ‘The monsoons arrived on Wednesday. Not a moment too late. It hasn’t stopped raining since. See, your prayers worked.’

‘I’m glad.’

The girls stopped swinging, jumped off.

‘So how long is she staying, then? Your aunt?’

‘A while, I think. She wants a break from everything.’

Murli nodded. ‘These posh people like your aunt, they tire easily. Not used to hard work, see,’ he said wisely.

Reena threw a pebble in the pool and they both watched it ripple.

‘So did you find out any more about your missing aunt?’

Missing aunt.
‘Don’t call her that, Murli. It... sends shivers down my spine. Her name is Shirin.’

‘Shirin.’ Murli rolled the word around on his tongue, dragging it into three syllables. ‘Unusual name.’

Should she tell him about the letters? She had been carrying the secret around too long. ‘Aunt Anita gave me letters to read.’

‘Letters?’

‘Aunt Shirin wrote to her.’ Calling her ‘Aunt Shirin’ still felt odd. ‘Before it all happened. Whatever it was that happened to make them wipe her out of their lives.’ She looked up to the open window of her flat, lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Aunt Anita won’t tell me what happened. Says it’s for the best.
I hate it
.’ Reena pulled out clumps of grass from beside where she was sitting, flung them hard. They did not go far like the pebble, just flopped down weakly next to her outstretched hand.

The girls came and sat by the pool close to where Reena and Murli were sitting. They started whispering something, their heads close together.

‘Every family has secrets, Reena,’ Murli’s voice was soft, ‘and they’re there for a reason.’

‘What could she possibly have done...?’

‘Maybe you should listen to what everyone says. Perhaps unearthing this will do more harm than good.’

‘Oh, Murli, not you too.’ Reena stood up, started stomping towards the stairs.

‘Wait.’ He caught up with her, held her hand. ‘I’m just saying... You might get hurt, Reena. Have you thought that they might all be protecting you?’

She stared at him, puzzled. ‘Why do you think that, Murli?’

‘I don’t know.’ He chewed his bottom lip. ‘I just thought it could be a reason, is all. Don’t look so worried. When did all this happen, with your aunt, with... Shirin?’

What was it Madhu had said? ‘Eleven years ago.’

‘Before you were born then.’

‘When I was a baby. I just turned eleven, Murli.’

For a brief moment, something flitted across Murli’s face: an expression she had never seen before. Then it was gone.

‘Anyway, it’s nothing to do with you. Forget what I said. I have to go back.
She’ll
be wanting her food.’

She glanced towards the pool. The girls were watching them curiously. When she met their gaze, they looked away.
I am Super Sleuth Reena Diaz. I refuse to be invisible anymore.
She retraced her steps, started walking towards them. She turned once and saw Murli give her a thumbs up and flash his yellow-toothed grin before dashing up the stairs.
The worst they’ll do is ignore you. Well, Aunt Shirin has been ignored for eleven years. You can do this, Super Sleuth.

‘Hi,’ she said, as she drew level with them. ‘I’m Reena. I live at number 26.’

Two pairs of brown eyes staring at her.

She kept her smile fixed.

Then, ‘That’s your flat isn’t it?’ said one of the girls, just as a monkey sneaked in through the open window.

‘Uh-oh,’ Reena said. ‘Mum did ask Dad to keep the windows closed.’

The girls laughed, and patted the space beside them. ‘Come, sit. We watched you skim that pebble before. Can you teach us how?’

She spent the rest of the morning playing with the girls, Geeta and Gowri. She taught them how to skim stones, and after, they invited her back to their flat to meet other girls from the complex, including the snooty one from number 36, who wasn’t snooty at all, only short-sighted and too vain to wear glasses. It turned out that her new friends were in awe of her friendship with Murli, that
they
had been afraid to talk to
her,
had thought
she
was superior. How could she have got so many things wrong? She mused as she walked home, unable to ignore her growling stomach any longer. On Monday, she resolved, she would talk to Divya; march right up to her and ask her if she wanted to be friends again. Perhaps Divya was afraid to take the first step and wanted Reena to instigate the conversation. She had caught Divya looking her way a few times, but she had always looked away when Reena met her gaze.
I do not want to ignore her for eleven years like my family have done with Aunt Shirin,
she thought. She felt courageous, different, brimming with energy. Was this how it felt to be a grown-up?

* * *

Reena sat in the kitchen watching her mum grind red chillies, coriander seeds, cumin seeds, turmeric and vinegar to a paste in the new mixer she’d purchased in the Diwali sales.

Her dad had locked himself in the bedroom; he was on an important conference call. Aunt Anita was having her hour-long cleansing and creaming session in the bathroom. There was still no reply—Aunt Anita had checked once when she returned from the shopping trip, and once before she went to have her bath. Reena knew Aunt Anita was disappointed. The euphoria of the day before had gradually dissipated and the sunglasses had reappeared.

Reena hugged the secret of her new friends close, but now that the buzz of talking to them, playing with them, had settled, Murli’s comment played on her mind.

‘I got such fresh mackerel from that Arun in the Mangalore shop, Rinu. He always saves the best ones for me. They must have been caught just this morning,’ Preeti said as she marinated the mackerel pieces in the red paste making sure they were completely covered and no skin peeked through. ‘I bet you, today, my fish fry will be better than Madhu’s.’

The warning Murli had given that morning had made Reena alternately worried and scared. Whatever had happened with Aunt Shirin had happened eleven years ago, right around the time she was born. Why had she not thought of this before? What sort of a detective was she?

Progress so far: Murli (this detective’s friend and confidante: think Doctor Watson to Sherlock Holmes) thinks that the reason nobody is willing to say anything about the rift is because they are protecting this detective. Could this be the case?

Reena stopped writing and sighed deeply. Her mother looked up, ‘What’s the matter, Rinu?’

‘Mum, why am I an only child? Why don’t I have any siblings?’ She had always asked for more siblings; it had never before occurred to her to ask why she was an only child.

Her mother came up to her, squatted in front of her, ‘Look at me,’ she said. Reena recoiled from the vinegary smell on her mother’s hands. The spices made her eyes water. Her mother yelled, ‘Wait!’ ran to the kitchen tap as fast as her limp would allow, washed her hands, dried them on her salwar bottoms and pulled Reena onto her lap, cradling her in her arms. ‘Don’t cry, Rinu. Whatever is the matter? Why this question all of a sudden?’

She was tempted to curl up in her mother’s arms and forget about everything: Aunt Shirin, Murli’s words. Murli’s words. Reena sniffed, buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.

Her mother patted her back gently, then pulled her up. ‘Come with me.’ She led her to the full-length mirror in the guest bedroom—Aunt Anita’s room—as the main bedroom was out of bounds; they could hear Deepak pacing behind the door, snatches of what he was saying: ‘…ready for testing… first week of November…’ Reena sneaked a glance at the bathroom. Still safely locked. She could hear the shower running. What had got into her?

‘There. Look at you. Do you see what I see?’

Reena squinted, blinked. Where was her mother going with this? She saw a plump, dark-skinned girl almost as tall as her petite mother. She saw another girl, one in pigtails and old-fashioned churidars, wanting Tariq of the beautiful eyes but willing to marry anyone if it made her mother happy.

Preeti cupped her face with her palm, traced her features with her fingers. ‘You are perfect, Rinu. Our special miracle. And not only are you beautiful outside, you are also loving, kind. You have a beautiful heart.’ Preeti pulled Reena close into a tight embrace and Reena was enveloped once more in her mother’s smell: sandalwood talcum powder, sweat, spices. She sneezed. Preeti held her tighter, whispered, ‘Ever since I was little, my dream was to get married, have lots of children. Then God gave me you. Just you. And in you, he gave me everything I had ever hoped for in a child. You were... you
are
perfect. You were enough.’ She looked at Reena quizzically, making sure she was fine. ‘Are you okay now?’

No, Mum. I want to know how I am connected with Aunt Shirin’s banishment.
She nodded.

‘It’s the start of puberty. That’s what’s causing all these mood swings,’ her mother said, smiling fondly at her. ‘I have to go cook. Your poor dad needs some sustenance after that phone call that’s been going on forever. Day off, he says. What day off? By the way, don’t you have any homework to do?’ A twinkle in her eyes.

‘I’m just going...’ As Reena passed the bathroom, it opened. Aunt Anita emerged in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around her head, her face devoid of makeup. ‘Still no reply,’ she mouthed when she saw Reena. She looked stunning. Like a film star—the steamed-up bathroom her stage.

Reena sat on her bed and took out Aunt Shirin’s next letter—a thick one. She wondered would things have been different if Shirin had had someone like Preeti for her ma. She thought of Mai, frail frame resting against the front door of the house in Taipur, looking into her eyes,
‘
Come back to visit your Mai soon, you hear?’ and felt guilty. She sighed, crossed her legs, leaned against the pillows and began to read.

Extract from letter 4:

This letter is composed of solely one extract in which Shirin describes preparations for her wedding:

And so, the wedding date is set. Ma is busy writing out invitations. We have to personally deliver them to every single guest, she tells me, even if they live on the other side of Mangalore. I still cannot fully believe it, Anu—that I am getting married to a man I hardly know. I look at it, written down here, and I think, surely not. And of all the many suitors, I am glad it is Vinod who’s said yes. Not that I got to talk to him or anything, but the fleeting impression of him that I had was a favourable one. I don’t know how I’ll feel the next time I see him, at the engagement—
my engagement
—next month. It’s all happening so fast.

Ma is going about doing a million things at once with a fervour I have not seen in a long time. She is so wound up. Even having Da home doesn’t seem to help. Guess organising a wedding does that to you. I try to keep out of the way as much as possible, but when she does corner me, I get a big lecture on how I should be happy and grateful, how my long face and moping is driving her to distraction. Then, when she runs out of steam, I get handed a list of things which are so urgent that they had to be done yesterday.

I would like to explain to her that I want to be happy. And in some ways I am. But then I realise that in a couple of months, in seventy days to be exact, I am going to have to leave my home and this village that I love and go live in the city. And what I’ve seen of Bangalore, I haven’t been too impressed. Where are the coconut trees bowing allegiance to the wind, the wide open spaces, the verdant green fields?

I am to say goodbye to my parents and relatives, to my brother and sister, and go and live with this new family, none of whom I know. I have to follow their rules, do things their way. I have to ask their permission to visit my own parents. And Bangalore is not easily accessible. It is eight hours away by bus. There is no train connection and flights are too expensive. It won’t be easy for all of you to come and see me.

And I have one secret concern, which worries me constantly: I am told I will learn to love Vinod. I am told love will come, it will happen over time. But what if it doesn’t? What if I cannot love Vinod?

And Tariq. He still visits me in my dreams. And I wake up guilty, feeling I have betrayed Vinod. And this is my other big worry: what if he haunts my dreams
after
I am married? What then?

And then there is Prem. I know I am stupid to worry about this man; he’s Vinod’s brother, what would he do? But the feeling I got when I saw him... And Ma feels the same. I overheard her talking to Aunt Winnie the other day. ‘Winnie,’ she said, ‘this family, are they all what they seem?’ ‘Why do you ask?’ Aunt Winnie said. I pictured her putting her hands on her hips like she does when she’s annoyed. I was pressed against the wall in the dining room, the shadows hiding me. ‘That Prem...’ Ma said. Aunt Winnie clicked her tongue, ‘Jessie, you are never happy unless there is something to worry about. And I don’t know what you’ve got against that poor boy. I looked into the family and they seem all right. There is nothing there... ’ ‘It’s just...’ Ma hesitated. I pressed my ear closer. ‘I don’t want to give her away without knowing what I’m getting her into.’ ‘You know what she’s getting into,’ Aunt Winnie huffed, ‘and it’s not as if you’ve got a lot of choice.’ That shut Ma up.

On a brighter note, Madhu has started preparations for the engagement. It will be held in the newly built hall adjacent to the church. Smells of cooking fill the house as she grinds masala and makes marinades and grates coconuts. Our freezer is already full and now she is stocking Nagappa’s. Ma did mention that she was happy to hire the Konkan caterers who do the food for all local weddings and engagements. You can imagine what Madhu had to say to that!