Tell A Thousand Lies (6 page)

Ammamma cleared her throat.

“Anyway,” Murty
garu
said, “They needed help at home, so the girl was sent over.”

“
Hanh!
” the groom’s father said.

The groom’s parents exchanged suspicious glances. They knew about the hiding of prettier, younger daughters, of course; they would have done the exact same thing. The question was – did what was being hidden concern them in any way?

The groom’s father concluded his prolonged inspection of Malli
.
“We shall proceed.”

I released my breath.

“Come,” the groom’s mother said, patting the stool next to her. Luckily, her headache seemed to have gone away. “Put the tray down.”

Barely in time. Malli’s tea-laden tray was beginning to tilt.

Malli was trained in household chores, of course, but balancing fully loaded trays for long periods of time hadn’t been one of them. As she walked across the room, the groom’s mother stared intently at Malli’s feet. Couldn’t blame her; Lakshmi
garu
’s own sister’s brother-in-law had been tricked into marrying a girl with diseased legs – with the sari tied low enough to cover her feet, there had been no way to tell she had
elephantitis
.

Taking Malli’s hand in hers, the groom’s mother said, “Come, sit here. What is your name?”

“Malli.”

Putting a finger under Malli’s chin, she said, “What a pretty name. Almost as pretty as you are. My son’s name is Ram.”

Murty
garu
chuckled. “This is what happens when we name our children after Gods and Goddesses. Because, if this alliance goes through, the Gods Ram and
Seeta
will no longer be a couple.”

Ammamma, who was named for the Goddess
Seeta
, turned red in the face.

Lakshmi
garu
frowned at Murty
garu
.

“Anyway,” Murty
garu
said, “why don’t you question the girl?”

“What have you studied?” the groom’s mother asked.

“6
^th
class fail,” Malli said in a whisper.

“Good, good. Our son almost passed his 7
^th
. Missed by a mere two marks, he did,” she said, holding up two fingers. “Two marks, can you believe that?”

Murty
garu
clucked in sympathy.

“T...o...o educated girls,” the groom’s father said, sinking his teeth into a luscious
kaaja
,
“won’t comfort us in our old age.” He flicked his tongue to lick the syrup from the corner of his lip. “Worried about themselves, they will be.”

“Shouldn’t allow these girls to think,” Lakshmi
garu
said, jumping in. “Then they won’t listen to us.” Lakshmi
garu
should know. She had daily battles with her 9
^th
class passed younger daughter-in-law.

“We want a girl who has been trained well,” the groom’s father said. “We are getting old. She will be needed to take care of us, no tantrums, no nothing.”

“My Malli will be the perfect daughter-in-law for you,” Ammamma said. “No mind of her own. Just does what she is told.”

The groom’s mother nodded approvingly.

“We won’t let our daughter-in-law leave the family home for work, or gossip, or any such nonsense,” the groom’s father said. “We have our honour to think of.”

“Our girl is a homebody,” Ammamma said. “You needn’t have any fears on that account. Our Malli will maintain the honour of your family – only time she’ll go out is to the temple. Otherwise always home.”

The groom’s father nodded. He raised an eyebrow at his son. At the groom’s nod, the older man said to the room in general, “We like the girl. She may be taken inside now. We elders need to talk.”

“Pullamma.” Murty
garu
tossed his head at me.

I hurried to take Malli’s arm.

Chapter 6

The Negotiations

“S
hall we proceed with the alliance?” the groom’s father said, as I returned from escorting Malli the nine steps back into our house.

Murty
garu
looked at Ammamma. She nodded.

Thank you,
Durga
Devi!
I held my arms out for the little boy, not wanting the grandfather distracted during the negotiations. The child came to me grinning, two front teeth sticking out. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bite. He grabbed my long braid with sticky fingers and shoved it in his mouth.

“We want the wedding to take place in our village,” the groom’s father said. “Can’t expect all our relatives and friends to come all this way now, can we?”

Ammamma blanched. Tradition demanded that the groom come to the bride’s house for the wedding. But what could the girl’s side do if the groom’s family tried to weasel out of their share of the expense?

In our village we could perform the wedding in our courtyard and be done with it. But in the groom’s village...
 
I shuddered, thinking of the additional cost.
 

“We’ll want twenty silk saris for our relatives,” the man continued. “This is in addition to the saris you will be giving to the bride, and to my immediate family, you understand.” He ticked off on his fingers. “One scooter for the groom. One gas connection. One Godrej
Almirah
for the newlyweds to put their clothes in. Five
tolas
of gold.”

 
“I’m just a poor widow,” Ammamma said, raising the joined palms of her hands in entreaty. “I, myself, cook in a coal-fed earthen stove; I can’t even afford a kerosene one – it would be great hardship to acquire a gas connection. On top of it, the gold, the
Almirah
...” Her hands trembled.

The face of the groom’s father remained impassive.

“I have two more granddaughters after this one. No male support in sight. No husband, no son, not even a grandson. Where will I get that much money from?”

“Oh!” The groom’s father seemed taken aback. He turned to the marriage broker, but the woman was busy examining the strand of flowers strung across the doorway.

To Ammamma, he said, “Remember, our boy has a good job as a flour mill operator. He’ll keep your granddaughter in comfort.”

Ammamma looked uncertain.

“I’m Kondal Rao
garu’s
right hand man,” the groom’s father said.

“Unlikely to forget it, am I?” Ammamma muttered under her breath.

Murty
garu
looked enquiringly at Ammamma. Her lips tightened, then sagged. She nodded slowly.

“It is settled, then,” Murty
garu
said rather heartily.

I managed to pry my braid away from the child’s mouth.

He stared unblinkingly, then smiled, his plump cheeks dimpling.

I smiled back.
Now that the negotiations were concluded, I handed him to his grandfather.

The groom’s mother leaned to whisper something in her husband’s ear.

“Oh, that’s right,” the groom’s father said. “I forgot. After all, we are taking home a fatherless girl.”

No father meant no one to bend backwards for the
maryadalu
, the to-the-point-of-servitude catering to the family of the groom, during the wedding and after; who else would bear the endless indignities associated with being the father of the bride?

The anxious expression was back on Ammamma’s face.

“But we are willing to overlook it,” the groom’s mother added, face radiating sympathy.

“For –” the groom’s father said.

Ammamma’s back stiffened.

“Five hundred rupees. Cash.”

Chapter 7

Alliance is Fixed

L
akshmi
garu
’s sons were dispatched to inform Kondal Rao
garu
, the politician, of the success of the bride viewing. For almost an hour we mingled with the guests, talking to them, making plans for the wedding.

Ammamma’s lips were a thin white line, betraying her tension. She probably wanted to finalize the details before the groom’s family thought up more demands. Not that finalizing the details now would stop them later.

Finally Kondal Rao
garu
showed up, entourage in tow.

The gathering arose.

The groom’s father hurried forward with the best chair and placed it near Kondal Rao
garu
. Then he removed the ceremonial white cotton
khanduva
draped over his shoulder and dusted off the chair, though there was not a speck of dirt on it. “Please.” He bade Kondal Rao
garu
to sit.

Once Kondal Rao
garu
was settled, sweets and Malli were brought out to conclude the deal. Lakshmi
garu
had instructed Malli to say she’d been up all night making the round
rava
laddus
, but no one asked.

The groom’s father set the child on the ground.

“Whee!” the child called out as he ran around, arms spread like a plane, weaving through chatting elders. He crashed into a chair. Tears threatened.

“Come, come,” the groom’s mother said, pulling the child onto her lap. She offered him a
rava
laddu
. The child opened his mouth wide.

The woman laughed. “Such a greedy little fellow, my grandson is.” The boy grabbed the whole sweet and stuffed it in his mouth.

Murty
garu
smiled indulgently.

I grinned, thinking how much fun it would be to tease Malli; she had no idea what her husband to-be looked like. I would have sneaked a peek, but sadly for Malli, she wasn’t quite that brazen. He was a decent-looking fellow, my brother-in-law to-be, but I planned to terrorize my sister with stories of his defects.

A man hurtled into the courtyard, a bundle clutched close to his chest.

Startled, I looked at Ammamma. She frowned in puzzlement.

The man looked around wildly. Spotting Kondal Rao
garu
, he rushed to the politician and threw himself at his feet, shuddering sobs wracking his body. “
Aiyya
, after twelve years we were blessed with a male child. Now he is dead.”

Kondal Rao
garu
jumped to his feet. “Why are you at my feet, you stupid man? Go to the doctor or something.”

“No, no, no.” The man breathed in jerks of air. “Ranga
Nayakamma
sent me here.”

“What is he babbling about?” Kondal Rao
garu
looked at a henchman in irritation.

“Ranga
Nayakamma
is the local oracle,” the henchman said. “She often foretells events of great significance.”

Ammamma snorted. “Rush the child to a hospital, you foolish man.” She jerked her head at Lakshmi
garu
’s younger son. “The tractor. Right now.”

Lakshmi
garu’
s son jumped to his feet. “Let’s go.”

The infant’s father continued to look up at Kondal Rao
garu
, face blotchy, palms of his hands joined together. “I placed my child at the feet of Ranga
Nayakamma
, and she went into a trance.” Tears dripped down. He struggled to his feet, the bundle clutched to his chest. “Ranga
Nayakamma
said the only way to bring the child back to life was to place him at the feet of the Goddess.”

“Go to the temple, then,” Kondal Rao
garu
snapped. “I look like Goddess
Durga
, or what?”

 
“Goddess
Durga
is of no use to me,” the man said.

Kondal Rao
garu
looked at the man questioningly.

“Goddess Pullamma.”

The birds stilled. The breeze stilled. Even the leaves on the trees stilled. The only sound in our courtyard was the harsh breathing of the man.