Tell A Thousand Lies (21 page)

“And I’m very grateful to you for it. It’s just that Lata is in so much pain.”

Lakshmi
garu
sniffed, and flounced out.

“Pullamma, help me up,” Lata demanded.

I settled her against the pillow.

“Now that there’s no baby, there is no reason for me to get married.”

Ammamma wouldn’t meet Lata’s eyes.

“Ammamma? You talked to Kondal Rao, didn’t you?”

She nodded miserably.

“And?”

“He said he has already paid the caterer a deposit for five hundred people. Can’t back out now.”

“You’re joking, right?” Lata was incredulous. She turned to me. “Pullamma. You’re a Goddess. Can’t you do something?”

“She’s a Goddess, not a magician.” Ammamma’s shoulders slumped. “Kondal Rao said after your folly, you have no choice but to get married to whoever will have you. He said, no tricks, or we could expect serious consequences.”

I was bitter. If fate had to have miscarriage in store for Lata, why couldn’t it have been sooner, before Kondal Rao got wind of it? I could have been back with Srikar by now. As it were, we were forced into postponing the wedding to give Lata the time to recover.

But get married she must.

><

Gopal, the devotee who had been managing the collections, came to me a few days before the wedding. He fell at my feet, face streaked with tears. “
Ammavaru
. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

I bade him up and said, “Please, have no fear. Tell me.”

“Five hundred rupees have disappeared from the collections.”

I was stunned. “How could that be?”

Gopal wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“You have some knowledge of this, I take it.”

“How can I say such a thing in your presence?” He looked down at his hands.

“You won’t be held responsible, I promise you.” Even a month ago I couldn’t have imagined saying something like this to a person older than me.

“Lata madam…” his voice trailed off.

God, No!

In the three weeks since I’d returned, collections had been pouring in.

As she recovered from the miscarriage, Lata watched the money pile up, as the devotees lined up. “Since you’re forcing me into marriage, you might as well increase my dowry.”

“No.” Ammamma was firm. “This money is meant for God.”

“For God, or for the Goddess’s grandmother?” Lata said, her voice hard. “I can see the quality of your own life has gone up.”

Ammamma struggled for control. Probably because she wasn’t in a position to defend herself. The devotees had indeed spent some of that money on making improvements around the house. Our protests were ignored.

Now, as I looked at the troubled Gopal, I had no reason to doubt him. He was a hard working devotee. I sighed. “I will deal with this.”

Visibly relieved, he bowed and left.

After dinner, I broached the topic. “Lata, Gopal came to me today to discuss the finances.”

Ammamma looked curious.

“For someone who had no interest in studies,” Lata said, “you’ve been using an awful lot of big words.”

“Lata, please,” I said wearily, rubbing my neck.

“Did he come by to tattle about the money?” At the look on my face, she said, “Oh, he did,
hanh
?” She flicked her braid over the shoulder. “I took it. So what? It’s not like you are going to miss a measly five hundred.”

“Five hundred rupees!” Ammamma clutched her chest. “You stole five hundred rupees?”

“
Bah
! Not like the Goddess can’t afford it.”

“Lata!”

“I gave it to my future in-laws to buy a few household necessities, okay? It’s not like you, or those pathetic creatures that are going to be my in-laws, are sinning directly. Besides, who is going to miss the money?”

“That’s not the point. It is stealing. That, too, from God.” Ammamma’s face became so red, I was afraid she was going to have a heart attack.

“Oh, I need a lesson in morality now?” Lata’s face was tight with fury.

Before I could stop her, Ammamma picked up the broomstick, and started to thrash Lata with it.

Lata was so shocked by this unexpected assault, she didn’t move for a second. Then she started shouting. “Stop her! Stop her! She has gone mad.”

But the relatives and friends helping us prepare for the wedding had left for the day.

“Ammamma, it’s been only two weeks since the miscarriage,” I begged.

Lata tried to dodge the broom, but Ammamma was like a raging bull. Lata tripped and fell.

“Want more money?” Ammamma said, panting, “I’ll give you more money, you ungrateful wretch!”

By the time I was able to wrest the broom away, Ammamma was spent. She collapsed to the floor crying.

Lata lay on the ground, hands up to ward off the blows. Angry tears flowed down her cheeks. Her hair was in wild disarray, her lips in an ugly twist. “You… you…” She was so angry she couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

I went up to her, thanking the Gods above that no one had been there to witness this madness that was tearing my family apart. I tried to help her to a chair, but she turned on me. “Didn’t you and that cow-faced friend of yours always say –
help arrange a wedding, even if you have to tell a thousand lies to do so
? That was forgotten in a hurry, wasn’t it?”

I never realized how much Chinni and I had wounded Lata with our teasing.

She turned on Ammamma, face venomous. “I will never forgive you for this. Never.” She stormed out of the room, aiming a vicious kick at the door.

My heart thumped in tune with the vibration of the door. I sank onto the floor next to Ammamma and put my hand on her back.

She raised her head. “Where did I go wrong?” Grabbing my hands, she begged, “Tell me, Pullamma. What I did – was it so wrong? I was trying to do right by my dead daughter. I swear on that
Yedukondalavada
– may he knock me dead if I’m lying – I never desired anything for myself. All I wanted was for her daughters to settle well.”

I helped Ammamma up and held her tightly. “Don’t, Ammamma. You did no different than any other grandparent. You can’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s actions, even a granddaughter’s.”

Ammamma pushed herself back, panic in her eyes. “Watch out for that one, Pullamma. Don’t let her get away with things just because she is your sister. You know the saying –
atta
sommu
,
alludu
daanam
?” Literally mother-in-law’s property, son-in-law donates; Ammamma was referring to people who took credit for charity by donating what did not belong to them.

When I nodded, Ammamma said, “It kills me to say such a thing of my own grandchild, but she is the kind who will accept offerings in your name, and spend it without a second thought, and stab you in the back while she is at it.”

Chapter 27

Lata Is Married Off

F
rom the corner of the stage, I watched my sister get married, wishing it were Chinni’s wedding I were attending. But Chinni was long gone, married and settled – happily, I hoped – in Kurnool.

After that terrible fight, Lata and Ammamma hadn’t exchanged a single word. It didn’t help that despite her miscarriage, Lata wasn’t allowed to back out of the wedding. What a terrible position for a girl to be in. Ammamma’s position wasn’t much better, though Lata didn’t seem to realize it – after having settled this alliance with all the drama leading up to it, Kondal Rao wouldn’t allow loss of face. This wedding, after all, was to be a showcase for his munificence.

Help arrange a wedding
,
even if you have to tell a thousand lies to do so
.

I gave a short laugh. We’d certainly told a lot of lies, some of omission, others more direct, to get to where we were – Lata’s wedding. My heart clutched – was my own wedding based on a thousand lies? A thousand devotees did not know I was married, a thousand people lied to. Would Srikar and I pay for it? Forcing my thoughts away from my husband, I wondered if any of the ancient sayings covered my little Goddess problem.

The ornate carving of the armchair I sat in dug into my sides through the three or four really expensive silk saris draped over the back and sides. There was a time when I would have swooned over the saris; now they only made me sweat in the back. I would have happily given up a hundred such saris to be with Srikar again.

I couldn’t help but compare this fancy wedding, with its five hundred attendees, with that of my own, where the only participants had been Headmaster
garu
, the registrar, Srikar and I. Other than missing Ammamma, Chinni and my sisters, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Srikar – no, I wouldn’t think about him now, or I would fall apart, devotees or not.

Lata, sitting cross-legged on the raised platform, stared glassy-eyed at the sacred fire in front, her lips a straight line. Her husband-to-be sat next to her, following the priest’s directions to pour more ghee into the fire.

And so the happy couple weds.

Ammamma sat stiffly behind the couple, not looking at Lata. The groom’s parents sat to a side, sneaking awed glances at me every so often. Lakshmi
garu
and Murty
garu
were officiating as parents of the bride; as a widow, Ammamma couldn’t be part of anything auspicious.

Kondal Rao’s henchmen walked around, occasionally bowing at me, making sure everyone knew of their boss’s connection to me. My devotees sat on thick, woven cotton rugs. Only a hundred odd guests had been invited by the bride’s or the groom’s side. The rest had been rounded up by Kondal Rao as a show of strength.

Each time I thought of that man, my blood pressure spiked. The sudden, and increasingly frequent, violent feelings within me ended up leaving me terrified. I lived in fear of losing control, of lashing out at whomever crossed my path, of ripping apart everything around me. The next time someone touched my feet, I feared doing them grievous harm. Sometimes my head felt ready to explode with all the anger that had no expression, all the sorrow that had no resolution. I was desperate to give this all up and hurtle down the highway to Hyderabad, to Srikar.

I watched the wedding rituals, trying to take in deep breaths without drawing attention to myself. I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck to loosen the tension. Migraine. A devotee sprang up, palms of his hands joined together. “
Ammavaru
, what is your desire?”

Was the Goddess allowed aspirin?

I thought not. I waved him away.

“
Melam
,” the priest shouted. The three snoring musicians, who’d been curled up on the floor, recovering from an all-night wedding, rose up in one fluid motion and assumed their positions. Sounds of the
sannai
rent the air in under thirty seconds. The bride and groom pressed the cumin-
jaggery
mixture on the top of each other’s heads. The priests chanted hymns at a shout, trying to make themselves heard over the loud music. The
sannai
players blew louder. Turmeric coated rice was showered on the newlywed couple. Job done, the musicians set their
sannais
on the floor, and went back to sleep. The couple was married. The wedding was over, but the rituals would continue.

There was only so much I could take. I got up to go. My entire retinue hurried up along with me. I stifled a sigh.

“Pullamma!” Lata called across the room. “Bless us before you go.”

I swallowed a surge of resentment. Like Lakshmi
garu
, Lata seemed to revel in my new role. She made sure everyone was always aware of her relationship to me. Unlike Chinni’s mother, Lata liked the attention my ‘powers’ brought her.

I waited for the newlyweds to come up to me. I blessed them, and stalked out.

My entourage rushed to catch up.

We proceeded the one kilometre to Ammamma’s in a four Ambassador convoy. Once there, I was helped out of the car by a devotee. He held a long, ornamental umbrella high above my head to protect me from the sun as I walked across the courtyard. Another helped me onto an intricately carved bench swing, fortunately more comfortable than the chair at the wedding. She helped tuck my feet beneath me. A third devotee pushed the swing in gentle rhythm, while yet another fanned me with a palm-leaf. Power cuts were on four hours each day, so each devotee took a thirty minute shift. Kondal Rao had promised to speak to the local electrical substation to make sure I was exempt from this foolishness, but till that happened, the fanning would continue.