The Dowry Bride (17 page)

Well, no more! Chandramma was going to make sure that Megha would be banished from their lives. The worthless chit could take her fancy English words and stuff them in her throat. Just because she had attended some upper-class convent school and had a college degree she liked to pretend that her English skills were superior to everybody else’s and that she could write well. Hah, little Shanti had attended the same school, and she could read and write just as well, maybe better!

Megha and her deceitful parents would be taught a lesson very soon. Chandramma would find a rich young lady for her son—someone with a respectable dowry—someone who would show her mother-in-law the respect due to her.

But first Chandramma had to find out where that good-for-nothing Megha was. How had she managed to slip out of their fingers? Had she overheard something and made her own escape plans while Chandramma was cooking up hers? Or, worse, had she seen and heard Suresh and Chandramma in the shed that night? Oh God, that spelled trouble.

Well, Megha might be clever, but not clever enough to hide forever and certainly not clever enough to outwit her mother-in-law. Chandramma would hunt the girl down, sooner or later.

She had a few theories about Megha’s disappearance, and an idea had been forming in her mind for the past day or two. To put it in motion she needed to find someone reliable but inexpensive to keep an eye on a certain house.

That was the big problem. Whom could she recruit for the job? The police would never cooperate, and hiring someone was likely to be expensive. Was there a way to find anything like private detectives in a small town like Palgaum? And if yes, how did one approach them? What exactly did they do as detectives? She had seen them in movies and on television, but she knew nothing about them in real life.

As the driver maneuvered the rickshaw through a busy intersection not far from the house Chandramma had been speculating about, her eyes accidentally fell on someone standing on the footpath.

A slow smile lit up her face. Haridas’s so-called spells were already beginning to work or what? The ugly dwarf was good. Damn good! She grunted in satisfaction.

She had found the perfect spy!

T
he dark automobile rolled to a stop at the end of the residential street, Devi Galli. A few shops and small restaurants flanked the commercial street which intersected with it, Hanuman Galli. The late evening light had faded a while back, but the street lamps, fitted with yellow vapor bulbs, provided dull illumination for the footpaths. The mosquitoes and moths were out, buzzing around the lamps.

It was just before dinnertime and people were returning home from work, most walking briskly, some on bicycles. Aromas of curry, frying oil, and fresh fruit mingled with the smell of automobile exhaust on the streets. Palgaum’s nightly fog was already making its way from the river to settle over the town, its dampness apparent in the way the car’s windows were slowly misting up.

In the passenger seat of the car Megha sat stiffly, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. Kiran turned off the ignition and glanced at her. “We’re here.”

She continued to stare at her hands. “I’m not sure I want to go.”

“After coming all this way?” He sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. He should have known she’d panic at the last minute. In fact, he was having one or two second thoughts himself. “Shall we go back home then?”

“No…yes…no. Wait.” She shook her head and frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Make up your mind, will you please? The longer we sit here the more suspicious it looks. We’re in a no-parking zone.”

“All right, I—I’ll go.” Megha glanced about her, carefully searching for familiar faces amongst the men and women walking and talking on the street corner. “I don’t see anyone I know.” She turned a dubious face to Kiran. “Do you think it’s safe?”

He wasn’t sure but he nodded. “If you keep to the shadowed side of the street you should be all right.” Kiran had decided that this rather dark and unobtrusive corner, about a block from Megha’s best friend, Harini’s house, and the busy shopping area, would be the best place for him to drop Megha off and later pick her up. One or two of Harini’s neighbors knew Megha by sight, and if they saw her arriving in a car at Harini’s doorstep, they were sure to get curious.

“I’m not so sure now, Kiran.” Megha gave him another skeptical look. “I’m beginning to think this was a foolish idea.”

Kiran tried to keep his tone casual. “It’s a bit risky, but you’ve been cooped up in the flat for days, Megha. You needed to get out and see your friend.”

“But I might be putting her in danger,” Megha murmured, her eyes looking troubled.

“Just make sure she understands how important it is to keep your visit a secret.” Kiran sent Megha an encouraging nod. “Now go. Keep the
chunni
over your head until you’re safely inside her house.”

“Okay. You will pick me up later?”

“Of course, Megha!” Kiran nearly laughed at the absurdity of her question. How could he not be there to take her home? “You know I won’t leave you stranded here.”

Apparently satisfied with his assurance, Megha pulled the long, silky
chunni
over her head and part of her face, took one deep breath and gingerly stepped out of the car. After another quick reconnoitering glance she jogged across the street to the mostly unlit side of the intersection and melted into the shadows. The pedestrian traffic quickly swallowed her up.

Kiran watched her, trying to keep his eyes glued to the slim, disappearing figure. It was disquieting, watching her go off on her own, outside his protection. This was the first time she was venturing out since their shopping spree a couple of weeks ago. Back then he had been beside her all the time, keeping a vigilant eye on everyone around, making sure they stuck to areas where nobody was likely to know them.

But this was different. This was their town, where folks knew each other, if not by name, then at least by sight. His parents were well-known in Palgaum society. But the good thing was that Megha was relatively unknown. With any luck, nobody on the street would recognize her, even if they managed to see beyond the veil.

And it was a good thing his car had tinted windows—they had proved to be a blessing since Megha had entered his life. She’d arrived like an unexpected rainstorm on a hot summer day, drenching yet delightfully refreshing. His quiet and drab bachelor life was suddenly full and bursting with color. It even smelled wonderful, like old-fashioned cooking and Megha’s sandalwood scent—an enticing combination. At first he wasn’t sure how he felt about the intrusion, but he’d begun to like coming home to her each evening. In fact, it was so pleasant he never wanted it to end. He could easily picture her in his home, as his wife, as the mother of his children.

Shaking off the fantasy, he turned on the ignition and slowly drove away. He was still uneasy about Megha’s visit to Harini, but he had only himself to blame. Watching Megha pace the floor each evening like a caged animal, fretting about keeping her whereabouts a secret from her pregnant friend as well as her parents was beginning to bother Kiran. It was difficult to see that look of guilt and anguish on her face. Finally, he was the one who’d encouraged Megha to pay Harini a secret visit.

It would be good for Megha to get out and socialize for a while, he’d figured. Even now, despite his misgivings, he was convinced it was the right thing to do. Besides, according to his mother’s update on the Ramnaths, Amma had finally calmed down and resigned herself to Megha’s disappearance. The police had apparently given up their search, too, at Amma’s request. That was good news, the main reason Kiran had assumed it was relatively safe for Megha to step outside. Maybe soon she would be able to move around more freely.

Kiran assured himself that he was only a phone call away. When Megha was ready to come home, she would call him. He’d pick her up at the same street corner and whisk her home.

Everything would be all right.

Neither Kiran nor Megha noticed the little beggar boy skulking on the corner. His bare torso showed every rib through his dark chocolate-colored skin. His threadbare shorts hung down to his calves. A permanent fixture at this particular intersection, he harassed every pedestrian, bicyclist and motorist for alms and refused to relent until he got what he pleaded for. If his amiable, two-missing-teeth grin didn’t do the trick, he resorted to tears to melt the hearts of the passersby.

Today, he observed with watchful eyes the tall young lady hurry past him. Instead of chasing after her for money, he merely followed her at a safe distance, making sure to keep to the dark shadows. He noted that she knocked on a certain door. When the door opened, she walked inside and the door was shut quickly behind her. The curtains on the windows in that house were tightly drawn, so even if he stood on his toes he couldn’t see inside.

He had been waiting for her—for the last three days.

He had a twenty-rupee note in his pocket. He had kept it close to himself, hidden from his father’s drunken eyes. For him, it was about ten days’ worth of alms. It felt good to wind his tiny, rough hand around the note. It was crisp and warm and it promised good things. Tonight he would treat himself to real food, not just someone’s leftovers. The thought of dinner made his hollow, concave stomach growl in loud anticipation. The smell of fried onions and potatoes from the tea shop down the street was calling him.

Soon he would make another twenty rupees. The ugly old woman who had given it to him had promised more if he brought her good news. And this looked like good news. The young woman was someone he knew well. Although she wore different clothes and hid most of her face, he knew who she was. He saw people passing by all day and he was good at recognizing the way people walked and talked and moved. This was the pretty lady who gave him a coin whenever she saw him here. He didn’t really know why she was trying to hide herself behind a veil, or why she was walking so fast, or why the fat old woman wanted him to keep an eye out for her.

But he didn’t care, because the old woman had shown him a photo of the young lady and asked him to watch out for her and report everything he saw. He would get another twenty rupees soon, maybe more if he could think of a way to make it worth it for the fat old cow. A smile touched his gaunt face at the thought—his own money, and lots of it.

Megha let her eyes wander over the familiar drawing room in Harini’s home. She had missed it so much—the hominess and the warmth of it. The black vinyl couch with the hand-embroidered cushion covers—made lovingly by Harini’s mother. The picture of Harini’s late mother-in-law framed and hung on the wall above the couch, the small TV set that sat on a scarred table. The two wooden chairs with the faded pink and gray floral pillows looked just like they always had, dented in the middle where someone’s bottom had sunk in deep. Although a humble room, whatever little it contained was neat and spotless.

Even the scents were the same—the day’s cooking mixed with the smoky odor of the jasmine incense that Harini burned all the time to chase away mosquitoes. The old teakwood coffee table still held a week’s stack of
Times of India
and the latest copy of
Femina
magazine.

It felt like coming home.

The wave of nostalgia that came over Megha was so overpowering that she turned around and hugged Harini one more time. What she’d never noticed before was now so precious. She’d visited her friend at least once a week in the past—a hurried detour before she went to the
kirana,
grocery shop, while Amma took her long afternoon nap. Harini and Megha had always shared a hot cup of tea, a homemade snack and lots of news and gossip during those visits. With Harini’s husband and father-in-law at work, and her young brother-in-law at college, the house was all theirs.

It had been that way for the past year—Megha visiting Harini, and never the other way around, because Amma had made Harini feel unwelcome in the Ramnath home.

“What have you got yourself into, Megha?” Harini’s forehead gathered in a troubled line as she grasped Megha’s hand, pulled her into the drawing room and examined her from head to foot. Then apparently satisfied that Megha was still in one piece, she let go of her hand. “I still can’t believe you ran away and never told me!”

“But I—”

“Do you know how worried I was?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be!” Harini’s lips trembled. “I thought you had been kidnapped or killed or something.”

“I couldn’t tell you where I was. Even now, I shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m so relieved to see you, you stupid girl. I was ready to have a breakdown when I heard you had disappeared. I had all kinds of nightmares.”

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get in touch.”

“Never do that to me again, no matter where you are!” Harini’s eyes filled up and she used her knuckles to brush the tears away.

“Okay,” Megha said regretfully. She should have known Harini would be affected badly by her unexplained disappearance. Harini was always like that with her—so concerned, so maternal. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just too confused and scared to do anything but hide and protect myself.”

“All right then. Let’s have some tea.” Obviously recovering from her fit of wounded indignation, Harini ushered Megha into the kitchen and poured her a cup from the deep stainless steel pot reserved for tea.

To see the familiar green ceramic cup again tugged at Megha’s heart. She nearly cried as she smelled the tea, piping hot, sweet and fragrant—just the way she liked it. Simple things could bring back such poignant memories.

Gratefully accepting the cup, Megha started to pace the kitchen floor, drinking the tea in small sips. Restless pacing had become a habit with her lately. Her face felt warm from the fear and excitement of being here and the steam rising from the scalding liquid in her cup. Going to the small window, she made sure it was tightly shut. Warned ahead of time, Harini had done a good job of closing off the house from potential Peeping Toms.

Harini silently watched her pace for several seconds. “Sit down, Megha. Tell me what’s happening.”

“When I ran from Suresh and Amma, all I had in mind was to run and save myself. Nothing else mattered.”

“Of course not!”

“Now I’m not so sure.” She took a thoughtful sip. “I feel…oh…sort of homeless.”

“Why didn’t you go to your parents? Or one of your sisters? They’re family.”

“How could I? The first place Amma would look for me would be there.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Harini settled back in a chair, looking sufficiently convinced for now. “But couldn’t you have worked it out with Suresh? Maybe see if he and you could move out of Amma’s house and stay somewhere else?”

A bitter laugh erupted from Megha’s throat. “Move out of Amma’s house? Are you dreaming? But then, you don’t have a mother-in-law.”

“I have a father-in-law.”

Waving away what she considered Harini’s weak argument, Megha said, “Your father-in-law is a pleasant, quiet person, and he’s hardly ever home. Besides, your husband is a nice man. I envy you.” She stopped to put her cup on the table and placed a hand on Harini’s shoulder.

Harini Nayak was so very lucky. Megha studied her friend’s rounded figure, well into its fifth month of pregnancy. Harini’s ordinary face looked almost pretty with the soft glow of approaching motherhood and the happiness that put a shine in her eyes. Her dark, stubborn curls seemed glossy—perhaps because of the hormonal changes associated with pregnancy. She looked plump and sweet and wholesome—like a ripe, juicy mango in May. Lucky, lucky girl.

Megha and Harini had been best friends since they were seven years old. They had been classmates, played together, shared their deepest secrets, argued fiercely, and even fought aggressively at times. But they had stuck together like twins all these years. Despite having two older sisters, Megha had turned to Harini for moral support whenever she’d needed it.

Harini had three brothers and no sisters, so she too had looked upon Megha as more of a sibling. Even now, they looked to each other for advice. Harini, older than Megha by a few months, was fiercely protective of Megha. And so damned loyal! In spite of all the nasty things Megha had done to her in their youth, including putting her up to silly pranks that got her punished, Harini had not wavered in her devotion to Megha—a true friend indeed. Fortunately, Megha had discovered Harini’s true worth in time and improved her ways, started to give back some of the friendship she had received for years, or she would have lost Harini forever.