Tell A Thousand Lies (9 page)

Ammamma opened her mouth, then closed it.

Lakshmi
garu
’s eyes almost popped out.

Nagabhushan
garu
got up, grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her to the cowshed. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but could tell it was a heated discussion.

Savitri
garu
turned to us and said, “We’ll have the wedding in our village, as previously discussed. In addition, we will bear all the wedding expenses.”

Ammamma’s eyes glazed over.

Lakshmi
garu
gave Ammamma a triumphant glance.

Nagabhushan
garu
sat on the cot heavily, expression unhappy.

“If you really believe I’m a Goddess,” I said to
Savitri
garu
, “why is your husband sitting in my presence? Why isn’t he falling at my feet,
hanh
?”

“Pullamma,” Lakshmi
garu
said in warning.

Nagabhushan
garu
looked up, face devoid of expression. “Pullamma
Devi
will preside over the wedding,” he intoned. “And Kondal Rao
garu
will be our honoured guest.”

><

I sank to the floor, watching in a daze as Malli’s in-laws to-be finalized all the details. Then it was time for them to leave.
Savitri
garu
fell at my feet. “Bless this union, Oh Goddess!”

“Come, come,”
Nagabhushan
garu
said from the courtyard gate. I watched the back of the woman’s head. She got up and said something to me, palms of her hands joined together. Her lips moved, but I heard no sound. She touched my feet once more and left.

Ammamma tried to get me to move, but my limbs were frozen. She hadn’t committed to having me preside over the wedding, but I was devastated by her betrayal all the same. This Goddess thing wasn’t as funny as I’d thought. People were either afraid of me, or in awe. My best friend wouldn’t talk to me. How would I ever get a husband now?

Visions of oracle Ranga
Nayakamma
haunted me. Her children were alternately tormented and ostracized in school. Who wanted to be friends with someone so scandalous? The villagers were split between Ranga
Nayakamma
being a joke, or Goddess-incarnate. I didn’t want to end up the village joke. Or its Goddess, for that matter.

><

Ammamma unrolled her sleeping mat and lay down across from me.

“How could you?” I said. “How could you finalize the wedding after they put me in such a position?”

“See it from my side.” Ammamma’s eyes begged forgiveness. “They aren’t asking for dowry, they are even paying for the wedding. Think of the money we’ll save. We’ll be able to use all of that for your wedding, and Lata’s.”

“And how will you marry me off? By finding me a God?”

Ammamma had no answer.

“So you’re going to sacrifice the life of one granddaughter for the benefit of the other two?”

Ammamma covered my mouth with her hand. “Say good things, Child,” she begged. “The Goddess issue is out of the hands of even Malli’s in-laws. People are beginning to think of you as a Goddess. Nothing I do, or say, will change this.”

“So you might as well take advantage of it, and get two granddaughters married off. If the life of the third one is ruined, well... too bad.”

Ammamma broke down.
“Yedukondalavada
! Oh, Lord of the Seven Hills! The sins of my previous births must have been of immense magnitude that such great misfortune has befallen my grandchild! I don’t know whether to be happy at my Malli’s good fortune, or be terrified at my Pullamma’s horrifying one.”

I started to cry, too. Ammamma stopped her crying and looked at me. Her helplessness scared me as nothing else could have.

Chapter 11

What Next?

T
wo more days went by. Each time I stepped out of the house – to the village shop, to the temple, or for some other errand – people fell at my feet. I waved my hand over their heads, not sure what I was supposed to be doing. A few thrust money in my hands. Parents of my friends no longer welcomed me in their homes. They sought my blessings, or looked at me fearfully. Elders no longer scolded me. They gave me gifts, instead.

Lata continued with her nasty comments.

All Ammamma did was weep. I wish she’d let Malli come home from our relatives’ house so I’d have someone sensible to talk to. But Ammamma didn’t want the scandal touching my older sister, didn’t want to give her prospective in-laws any reason to back out of the alliance.

Unable to take any more of this, I stormed out of the house.

I saw my schoolteacher out for his stroll. “Master
garu
.” I waved desperately, trying to catch his attention.

His eyes darted from side to side, like a trapped squirrel’s, before he acknowledged me. “Yes?” But he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Please, Master
garu
. Everyone is behaving so strangely with me. You’ve always said we shouldn’t be superstitious. You, of all people, should know I am just an ordinary girl, no special powers, no nothing. The very people who caught me by the ear and dragged me home to Ammamma, complaining about a stolen guava, or a plucked flower, are now avoiding me.” My voice broke. “They don’t know if I am really a Goddess-incarnate, or possessed by the devil.”

“I have to go,” my teacher said.

I watched him hurry away. Could it be true? Was I really a Goddess? I shook my head at the stupidity. I walked around the village. Everywhere, people rushed at me, fell at my feet. So many people, so many of them strangers.

><

“Seetamma!” Lakshmi
garu
called out from the courtyard.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Ammamma squatted by the earthen stove on the floor.

I sat by her, waiting for the pot of rice to bubble over. I wasn’t particularly hungry, but eating lunch would give me something to do.

Lakshmi
garu
burst into the kitchen. “People are gathered outside your compound wall.” Her voice sounded odd.

“Whatever for?” Ammamma swiped a hand across her forehead, leaving behind a swathe of coal-soot.

“For Pullamma’s
darsanam
.” Lakshmi
garu
’s eyes feverish were with excitement. “They want an audience with the Goddess.”

Ammamma fell back against the steel bin of water.

Lakshmi
garu
’s husband, Murty
garu
, followed his wife in. “I have to be honest, it isn’t looking good out there,” he said.

><

Later that afternoon Lata and I climbed the staircase that ran the length of the courtyard, trying to get a count of how many people waited for an audience with me, their ‘Goddess.’

The line of devotees went through the village square, snaked past the post office, and disappeared in the direction of the
Durga
temple. I walked down the stairs on rubbery legs, across the courtyard, to the veranda. I sank onto the mat next to my grandmother.

Lakshmi
garu
and Murty
garu
sat on another mat. Murty
garu
leaned against the wall behind, eyes scanning the courtyard. Thank God, the walls were too high for people to see inside.

“How many people?” Ammamma said.

“I don’t know,” Lata said. “The line is going back past the temple, maybe beyond the school.” For once, she had a frightened look on her face.

The voices outside grew louder.

Ammamma joined her palms together and raised them above her head to the pantheon of Gods on the wall of the front room, visible through the window. “
Yedukondalavada,
Venkata
Ramana
,
Govinda
!
What did we do to incur your wrath? Why are you testing us like this?”

Chanting of some kind had started up beyond the walls of the courtyard. We strained to hear what was being said. “Open up. Open up,” the devotees chanted in rhythm from the other side of the gate, their combined voices drifting up over the courtyard walls. “Give us
darsanam
of the Goddess.”

Ammamma looked at Lakshmi
garu.
“What do we do?”

“Let them in,” Lakshmi
garu
said. Her eyes shone.

“What are you saying, Lakshmi?” her husband said. “Think of that the poor child.”

I slumped against the wall across from Ammamma, struggling to blank out my thoughts. The chants increased in volume.

“Think about it. They’ve been queuing up all day,” Lakshmi
garu
said. “Patiently waiting their turn. You think they’ll go away without receiving an audience?”

“What do we do? What do we do?” Ammamma twisted the free end of her sari between her hands.

Another roar went up. “Pullamma Devi!”

I broke down. “Ammamma, please don’t make me do this. I promise to be good. I’ll milk the cow and wash her, cook and clean. I’ll get up in the middle of the night to fill water, no need for help. I’ll practice to be more ladylike. I don’t care if I never get married, I will take care of you in your old age. Just don’t make me do this.”

Ammamma closed her eyes, but the tears leaked through.

“Pullamma Devi!” The roar was louder now, scarier than the time the dam up the river had breached, hurtling a wall of water towards the village, ravaging everything in its path.
God, I’d rather be in the path of raging waters, than in front of raging devotees.

“Give us your
darsanam
! Pullamma Devi! Pullamma Devi!”

The gate to the courtyard began to rattle.

Ammamma jerked her head to the gate, her mouth a wrinkly ‘O’.

The five of us watched in horror as the gate was pushed more and more. It gave way. Hordes of frenzied devotees ploughed across the fifty feet to the veranda – the village sweeper, the parents of my classmate
Vanita
, the flower seller. “Where are you, Pullamma Devi?” they cried. “Bestow your mercy upon us. Give us your
darsanam
.”

I cowered on the mat, cheek pressed against the wall, trying to make myself smaller.

Lakshmi
garu
grabbed me by the shoulders and swung me sideways. “Gods should sit facing the East.” She settled next to me and raised an arm. “Seek relief from your deepest pain here. Come with a clean heart. Be blessed by the Goddess.”

Dozens of hands reached for me – the temple priest, the village shop keeper, and the one that shocked me the most – my former teacher.

I rested my chin on upraised knees, trying to hide my face in my half-sari.

They came at me from all sides, heads bent, touching my feet, while the others continued the chant, “Bless us, bless us.” The rich, and not-so-rich. Young men, and elderly women. All manner of people. They jostled each other as they brought out their incenses and their bells, their sweets and their money. As each person passed by me, Lakshmi
garu
guided my hand to the tops of their heads in blessing. She accepted the offerings on my behalf, placing the money and the jewellery in neat piles. The rest, she shoved aside.

I watched from the corner of my eye as the piles at my feet – coconuts, and saris, and flowers, and everything else – grew. A few, frenzied worshippers produced scissors, snipping off their hair to place the locks directly on my feet. My toes twitched from the itchy hair. The scent of burning incense, crushed flowers and overripe bananas mingled with sweat from the people to make me feel sick.

The news of my ‘miracle’ seemed to have spread, because strangers, perhaps from neighbouring villages, poured into our courtyard. I had always thought of our courtyard as huge. Now I felt suffocated.

They thronged for my audience.

“Cure my daughter’s cancer,” the doctor from three villages over sobbed at my feet. I stared down at him in shock. He was the doctor. Why was he asking me for help?