Monsoon Memories (7 page)

‘Who is she?’ asked Reena.

Madhu stared at her sharply for a moment and then shook her head, a funny half smile playing on her face. ‘Of all the people who could have found it…’ she whispered almost to herself.

‘I mean she’s obviously a relative. Is she my dad’s cousin?’ Reena didn’t want to sound impatient, not with Madhu in this state, but she was a sleuth and sleuths had to follow rules. ‘
Get to the point;
don’t allow the subject to digress’
was one of them.

‘She is your dad’s younger sister. The one in the middle. First Deepak, then Shirin and then Anita.’

The shock Reena felt must have shown on her face, because Madhu put down her tumbler and gently stroked Reena’s cheeks with her callused hands.

‘Why doesn’t anyone mention her? What has she done?’

Madhu’s open, expressive face closed before Reena’s eyes. Her lips became a thin straight line. She stood up wearily, went to the sink and deposited her tumbler. Then she turned to face Reena. There was such sorrow in her eyes that it hurt Reena to look.

‘It’s not my place to say anything, Rinu, to comment on what goes on. I have always felt part of this family, but I did not agree with what was done eleven years ago, with what is still being done.’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t agree then and I don’t now,’ she repeated.

‘But...’ Questions scrambled through Reena’s head and she couldn’t decide which to ask first.

‘I could tell you about her if you like...’ Madhu said softly.

‘Yes, please.’

‘Come here then and sit beside me. It’s a relief to be able to talk about her at last.’

‘Tell me everything: how she looked, how she was...’

Madhu smiled fondly, brushing a wayward strand of hair away from Reena’s eyes and tucking it behind her ear. ‘Let me get you something to eat first. I could talk about Shirin forever, you know. Stop me when you are bored...’

So, sitting on the kitchen step, eating sannas and dry fish chutney, with Chinnu and Gypsy begging for scraps, Madhu told her about Shirin, Madhu’s favourite. The aunt whom Reena hadn’t known existed: a dusky, plump, shy girl who felt she wasn’t good enough—not nearly as pretty as her sister, and not the coveted male, the son to carry on the family name, like her brother...

‘Oh, poor Shirin...’ Reena’s heart ached for the girl her newly discovered aunt had once been.

‘Yes, she was always trying to please.’ Madhu’s eyes had a faraway expression, as if she was looking not at the fields in front of them, but directly into the past. With an effort, she pulled her gaze away and focused on Reena. ‘Right, I have to prepare dinner. Your mum, dad and Mai will be here soon.’

‘They will have eaten at Aashirwad.’

‘Not your Mai. She likes to have red rice, curds and lime pickle for dinner.’

‘Tell me more, Madhu.’

‘I thought you would tire of my ramblings and ask me to stop.’ Madhu smiled fondly at Reena. ‘Thank you for finding that picture. It’s been wonderful to talk about my Shirin.’

‘What happened, Madhu? What did she do?’

Madhu stood up slowly, joints creaking and stretched. Then she turned to Reena, held her face in her palms and kissed her nose gently. ‘I told you; it’s not for me to say.’

At least, thought Reena as she came away into the living room and lay down on the mat beside the front door, she had garnered a few facts. She wrote them down in her notebook, below the list of suspects.

Mystery Girl—Name: Shirin

Relationship to other subjects in photograph: Deepak (this detective’s dad) and Anita (aunt): sister.

Other: Madhu’s favourite.

IMPORTANT: Rift that caused her to be erased from family happened eleven years ago.

‘How could they all do this?’
she wondered, re-reading what she’d written and correcting the spelling of ‘favourite’. How could her dad live his life, visit his old friends and reminisce whilst completely blocking out a major part of his childhood: his sister? How could you forget your sister existed? What had Shirin done to deserve this sort of punishment?

If she, Reena, had had a sibling, she would have stood by them no matter what they did. She longed for a sister or brother. She had hounded her parents for a time, but had given up when the answer was always: ‘You are perfect, darling. You are enough for us.’

‘Yes,’ she had countered. ‘But what about what
I
want?’

‘When you are older, you can have lots of children,’ her mother had said, laughing at Reena’s expression of disgust.

Reena pulled out the picture and looked at Shirin again. She looked ordinary and a bit shy. Her eyes were kind. She thought of the story Madhu had told, of a timid girl always trying to please. Had Shirin changed when she grew up? Turned into the monster that sometimes stirred within Reena when she wearied of being the good girl she was expected to be? Sometimes, when her parents told her off without even bothering to
listen
to her, she felt this monster waking, growing, and she lashed out, without thinking, without caring. She had even bitten her mother once. Afterwards, when the monster retreated, she had apologised to Preeti.

Preeti had lifted Reena’s chin and softly wiped the tears streaming silently from downcast eyes. ‘We all get angry sometimes, Rinu. But it’s not okay to hit, bite or lash out physically, however angry you are. No pocket money for two months.’ Reena had looked up then, her gaze settling on her mother’s face. ‘Consequences, Rinu, consequences. Think before you act. Even when you are so angry you want to hurt someone very badly,’ her mother had said, gently tapping her nose and pulling her close into a hug. Her mother understood, had known about the monster without Reena ever having to tell her…

She had come to believe that everyone had a monster living inside them. But was it possible for someone to change so drastically, to completely renege on the person they were and become only the monster? Could she, Reena, change too?

And her grandmother, Jacinta: how could she turn her back on her own child, one she had carried for nine months, one she had watched grow from a helpless baby to an independent adult? Weren’t mothers supposed to forgive even the worst sins when the perpetrator was their child?

TO DO: Find reason for rift.

Plan A: Madhu. Refuses to tell. Work on her.

Plan B: Mai? Not a good idea. Deepak (this detective’s dad)? Even worse. Preeti (Mum)? Does she even know? Aunt Anita? Possible.

Plan C: Find Aunt Anita and ask her about Aunt Shirin.

Reena looked up from the photograph and the past, at the world beyond the front door. While this revelation had turned her whole universe upside down, nothing had changed outside. If anything, the fields looked a more brilliant green than usual, and the flowers in the courtyard shone. It was as if the rain had decided to be extravagant and applied an extra coat of paint on Nature.

Smells and sounds drifted from the kitchen: pots banging, onions sizzling as they hit the pan of hot oil. Reena lay there, with Gypsy, who was sprawled across the steps leading down from the front door, for company and pondered the doings of the adults in her life, people she thought she’d known—until twilight set in, sapping the world of colour; until mosquitoes started feasting on her flesh; until it started raining again, and her parents and grandmother returned from their shopping trip, wet but happy and full of news, bringing noise and busyness into the quiet house.

‘You should have come, Rinu. We had such fun. And the rain held off, well until just now.’ Preeti flopped onto the mat beside Reena, her face animated. ‘I bought a sandalwood jewellery box for Mrs. Gupta. What do you think? Will she like it?’

Reena looked at her mum as if seeing her for the first time. Did she know about Shirin?

Preeti didn’t seem to notice that Reena hadn’t replied.

‘And the food at Aashirwad was great. But there was a fight just outside. When we went in, it was a small spat between two people and we thought nothing of it. But when we finished, we couldn’t get out of the restaurant! The entrance was blocked by so many people all arguing and shouting at each other. The little quarrel had ballooned into this huge altercation between the Hindus and the Muslims. We had to leave by the side entrance. As we were leaving, the police drove up... In a way I was glad you didn’t come, Rinu. Dommur is changing. Ma said there’s been plenty of unrest in the last few months. Isn’t that so, Ma?’ Preeti turned to include Jacinta who had just hobbled into the room, sighing with exertion, into the conversation.

Jacinta lowered herself gingerly onto the sofa and stretched her legs out in front of her. ‘What to do? Things change. It used to be so peaceful around here. Now the Hindus have started complaining about the Muslims’ call for prayer. And the Muslims don’t want the Hindu crematorium on their land.’

‘Their land?’ Preeti asked.

‘They are claiming Nemar as theirs. They don’t want the Aata held there either, which has the Tulu community in uproar.’ Jacinta shook her head. ‘All these petty disputes! It’s shameful. Nobody is tolerant anymore.’

Reena looked at Jacinta’s lined, familiar face.
She
had not been tolerant of whatever her daughter had done. What if Reena did something wrong in the future? Would her parents pretend she had never existed and throw her unceremoniously out of their lives like the jar of prawn pickle gone bad that her mother had chucked away before coming here? Sudden tears pricked her eyes at the thought.

‘What about you, Rinu? Did you have fun?’ her mother asked.

‘Yes,’ Reena mumbled, hiding her face.

‘Anyway, guess what’s for dinner? We packed the paper masala dosa from Aashirwad for you. Your favourite,’ Preeti announced, expectant joy at her daughter’s reaction lighting up her face.

Impulsively, Reena reached up and gave her mother a hug.

Preeti laughed happily. ‘If I can guarantee this reaction from you, Rinu, I will get you dosas every time I am out...’

Reena buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, drawing comfort from her familiar smell: the faint remnants of sandalwood talcum powder mixed with sweat.

Madhu came in with a tumbler of ginger tea for Mai. ‘Madhu,’ Jacinta said, ‘Bijju Bai’s only son, Lucky, has run away with Sumati the fisherwoman’s daughter, it seems. Winnie was in Aashirwad. She told me. The shame of it! Bijju will be voted out of the parish council committee of course.’

Deepak walked in, freshly bathed, wearing a lungi and running a towel across his bare torso. ‘Who will?’

‘Bijju of the big house up the road, who’s always bragging about her daughters in America: Shanta this and Jaya that…’ She took a sip of ginger tea. ‘When is Anita going to have a baby?’ she grumbled, irritably, the talk of daughters having reminded her of hers. ‘Winnie was asking if there was any good news. “How old is she now? How many years since she married that Hindu?” she asked.’

Uncle Uttam was a Hindu? Why had Reena never thought about this, thought to ask? So had Aunt Anita…?

‘It’s none of her business,’ her father’s voice interrupted Reena’s musings.

‘You know how things are here, Deepu,’ Jacinta said wearily. ‘I will never live it down. Anita’s marriage. Even though Uttam is a Brahmin from a distinguished family. I was only reinstated to the parish council committee when Anita became the face of Ponds.’ She sighed loudly at the mention of her errant daughter. ‘Will you talk to Anita about starting a family for me?’

So Aunt Anita had
not
had an arranged marriage like Reena’s parents. She had gone against her mother’s wishes, fallen in love with a Hindu no less. It figured. Her impulsive, daring Aunt Anita would not meekly marry the man her mother chose for her. But
she
was not disowned. So what had Shirin done?

‘Yes, Ma,’ her dad was saying to Mai.

‘Though sometimes I think, was it worth it?’ Mai was saying.

‘Was what worth it, ma?’ Deepak asked.

‘All that happened.’ Wearily, Mai leaned back in her chair, fingered the rosary beads she was wearing, ‘So worried about status. At the cost of… I can’t sleep you know, some nights. My back…’ She laid a gnarled hand on her hip. ‘And then I wonder…’

What did Mai mean? And why was she talking in this strange way, in half-baked sentences?

‘Ma, are you applying that balm I bought you? It is very effective you know.’ Deepak said.

Jacinta looked at her son fondly. ‘You are the only one who has made me proud. Such a good son.’

Deepak preened.

Preeti rolled her eyes at Reena behind Deepak’s back. Despite herself, Reena giggled.

Deepak turned to Reena, smiling. ‘How is my favourite girl doing?’ he asked.

Reena could not bear to look at him. ‘Fine. Shall we start the rosary now?’

‘My goodness, Preeti! I think Reena should stay here more often. She is actually suggesting saying the rosary instead of pretending to fall asleep while reciting it. What a transformation!’ her father joked.

Reena gritted her teeth. Everything about her father irritated her. She had considered him to be a man of principle, a man who didn’t lie. And now she had caught him out in a lie of colossal proportions. Something made her ask, ‘How many brothers and sisters do you have, dad?’

Deepak stole a glance at his mother, who had gone very still on the sofa. He leaned forward and, with his palm, gently tipped his daughter’s face upwards. Reena refused to meet his gaze. He laughed then, a cheery, false laugh. ‘You’re being silly. You know I have one sister—your Aunt Anita. Okay, let’s pray the rosary. In the name of the Father...’

‘Liar,’
Reena thought. ‘
You liar. How can you lie and pray at the same time? How can you live with yourself?’

Later, after she had eaten the paper masala dosa her mum had packed for her—somehow it didn’t taste as nice as she remembered—she sat on the veranda breathing in the scent of rain-drenched earth mixed with night jasmine, the chattering of crickets and Gypsy’s warm weight on her legs for company, and in the light of the flickering bulb crossed out her father’s name from Plan B altogether.

Progress so far: Aunt Anita had a love marriage—she married a Hindu (Uncle Uttam) and caused a scandal.
She
wasn’t disowned. So what did Shirin do that was so bad that she is as good as dead? Find out.