Chapter 10
As soon as the hot water touched the coffee powder, the coffee-tinged vapor started rising up. I took a deep breath of the coffee flavor before I covered the lid of the filter. My grandma gave her coffee filter to me a long time back. My morning routine consists of adding coffee in the top container and pouring hot water and taking a deep breath so that the smell of the coffee will help me last until I actually drink the coffee.
Before getting married, I used to drink coffee as soon as I got up. Even before brushing my teeth. Occasionally, my mother used to yell at me for being so un-lady like.
“A decent family girl should always have a bath before she eats anything” my mom used to say.
After marriage, circumstances have forced me to become a ‘decent family’ girl. In our family custom, the married lady or the eldest women of the house has to clean up the pooja room, take bath and then light the lamp. My husband is very god fearing, just like me, but his prayers are very short and simple. It fell on my shoulders to clean up the pooja room everyday and then do the pooja. The morning’s deep breath of coffee aroma sustains me through this morning ritual!
After pooja, I sat down at the table to drink my coffee. Preethy walked out of the bed room and sat in the opposite chair.
“Good Morning Bhaabhi. Sorry. I didn’t realize that I fell asleep”. She said in a very sorry voice.
“Don’t worry, everyone was very tired. All the screaming during the cricket match makes one tired. Drink this, I just poured the coffee” I placed my cup in front of her.
“I will get another one for myself”.
“Mmmm, wonderful coffee Bhaabhi” she said as she followed me into the kitchen with her cup.
She sat on the counter and watched me while I made another cup for myself. I separated the container of the coffee filter and poured the decoction into the cup.
“My grandma gave this coffee filter to me when I got married. I don’t like instant coffee” I said.
“No wonder it tastes so good” she replied.
I added “Wait till you taste Maami’s coffee. She makes the best filter coffee in the world”.
“Who is Maami?” Preethy asked, by now completely settled on the kitchen counter.
“She is one of the earliest residents of this complex. She must be in her 50’s. Lives in the ground floor in the opposite block”.
“You mean the lady that looks like M.S. Subbulakshmi?”
I laughed.
“Yes. And she will be very happy to hear that. And will make you one of her best coffees”.
We were back at the table.
“Does she sing like MS?”.
“That is the only drawback. But don’t ever mention that to her. She doesn’t like it” I giggled.
“I will try to keep that in mind” Preethy replied.
She asked about various people in the complex and I told about some more.
“I was starting to worry when you didn’t show up after two weeks” I told her.
“Sorry Bhaabhi. I didn’t even realize that you would be expecting my return” she reached out and placed her hand on my hand.
There again that look in her eyes. Is she sad? In an apologetic tone she continued.
“I took a new assignment and had to make a quick visit to Saudi. I had to make some special wedding-wear for a friend. She was the one who introduced me to designing clothes. I couldn’t refuse. Actually, I don’t design any other type other than cocktail saris. My customers say that I have an eye for colors, embroidery and sequins” Preethy said.
Suddenly, she jumped from her chair and rushed to her suitcase which was still in the living room. She opened it and took out a gift box and gave it to me.
“It is for you Bhaabhi. For being so nice”.
“You don’t have to give me gifts. Besides I am only being a good neighbor”. I said refusing to take the gift.
I was kind of overwhelmed. I didn’t expect anything in return from her. In fact, I was enjoying her presence amongst us.
“Please bhaabhi take it. I designed it”. She pouted like a little girl and forced it into my hands.
I opened the box and kept on staring at the contents of the box with awe. It was an off-white chiffon sari with red roses and next to the red roses were black outlined roses. Small shiny beads were stitched in and around the roses. I had never seen anything this beautiful. I was speechless. Preethy took the sari from the box and placed in on my shoulder across my chest.
And she took the matching blouse piece and placed on the other shoulder “Excellent! I guessed it right. This warm red color suits your complexion very well”.
With great difficulty, I suppressed the squeal that was about to come out of my mouth after seeing the blouse piece. The whole cloth was covered with tiny bead sequins of small black and red roses.
Suddenly, the tags I saw on the saris in her house caught my attention. I immediately removed the sari and while folding it I told her: “It is very expensive. I didn’t do anything to deserve this”.
I put the folded sari in the box.
“Oh bhaabhi, the sari is not expensive” she said with a hurt voice.
“Some people are willing to pay me extra so that I will not design another piece just like the one they bought from me. It is very important in some circles that they wear a unique sari. So I keep my prices high. Besides, when I started working on this sari, I kept thinking about you. I don’t know why. It felt like you are more suitable for this sari. Please don’t reject it. Wear it today. Pleeeease!” she said in a pleading voice.
One of the most exquisite saris I have ever seen just landed in my lap, and I am not able to say no, but unable to accept it either. I pondered. Technically, I should reject this expensive sari. Our friendship started few months back. My head told me that it is not prudent to accept such expensive gifts. But my heart told me to take it. Well, just like many people of my sex, I let my heart rule. I thought maybe in the future I can make it up for this gift.
“Thank you so much. I never seen anything so beautiful”.
She just shrugged.
“It is simple and elegant. You can wear it for any occasion. Wear it today”.
“No, No, Not today! I need to get the blouse stitched. I will wear it for some important day”.
“Ok, your wish. I am sure bhaiyya will not be able to take his eyes of you” she giggled.
“Here is the skirt” Preethy handed over the underskirt to me.
I was so engrossed admiring the sari, I didn’t notice the white satin underskirt. The skirt had embroidery done with white thread. It looked so beautiful. No one will believe that it is an underskirt. It looked more like a fancy skirt.
“Chiffon saris should be worn with this type of satin material” she said.
“I am not sure how should I thank you for all these wonderful gifts” I said overwhelmed.
“These are all trivial things bhaabi. We think they are important- that’s all” Preethy replied.
“Good Morning Tendulkar” she said, looking past me.
In a second my younger one jumped into my lap. Even though he is eleven, he acts as if he were two. The first few minutes of every morning, he would sit in my lap and bury his head in my chest, and later in my neck, and place my sari over his face and cuddle up. It has been a ritual since he was a baby. I got used to it. In fact, I enjoy it.
I find it difficult to accept that they are not little kids any more. They were growing up into adulthood so fast. My older one hardly sits next to me. He is not rude, but he became ‘independent’. While my younger one goes through the ritual of rubbing himself to me, I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his back and arms.
It was such a routine that, for a few minutes, I forgot about Preethy. When I realized that she was watching us, I felt shy. I opened my mouth to say something, but noticed that she was fully absorbed in my son’s ritual, and looked at us longingly. May be she remembered her parents, I thought.
“Why don’t you use the bathroom before the boys get in? They splash water everywhere” I said.
And I turned to my son “you and anna use the same bathroom as your father. Leave one for Preethy”.
I removed him from my lap and went into the kitchen to make breakfast.
After breakfast, my sons escorted Preethy and her luggage to her apartment.
Chapter 11
Human beings are big show pots. Somehow or the other they always try to show others that they are different than the rest, and hence superior. Irrespective of country and religion, race or sex, we all have this disease. Some call it ego. I think all the problems of the world arise out of this ego. This superiority complex, wanting to put down others, gets the better of us. And we ourselves end up believing this lie that we are superior, leading us to tell others how to live their lives. You hear it everywhere: People telling others which religion to follow, what clothes to wear, what not to eat…
Money has now become the deciding factor in social hierarchy. Nobody directly says that they have more money than others. We just display it with expensive cars, expensive houses with live in cooks, maids and drivers. The rich feel superior, and rest of us pay homage to them. Nothing is directly said, but subconsciously we follow this.
Our complex consists of 3 penthouses. The biggest one belongs to Mr. Sivam Gopinathan and Gayathriamma, almost 6000 sq ft. And in the opposite block, where we live, there are 2 penthouses. The one belonging to Mr. Ranganathan, in which Preethy now stays, is around 2000 sq ft. The other penthouse, owned by Mr. Gupta, is 4000 sq ft. None of the penthouse residents claimed that they were superior. It was us who treated them as if they were superior.
Maami and I were chatting, sitting on the bench near the playground. I saw Gayathriamma walking towards the gate. Everyone that I knew addressed her as Gayathriamma but her actual name is Gayathri.
Mr. Sivam was a big industrialist. He has a lot of clubs and other businesses. We see him once or twice in a year. Over 6 feet tall, a very handsome guy. He always wore khadi veshti and jubba, with a long kumkum on his forehead. His whole appearance looked respectable and very fatherly. I have never spoken to him. I hadn’t seen anyone talking to him. Even though he looked friendly, there was a majestic way he carried himself. Nobody dared to talk to him except smile and watch him.
Gayathriamma had the same majesty as her husband, even in her 50’s. She still looks radiant. She always wears Kanchivaram starched cotton saris irrespective of the occasion. One bracelet, two watches (for two different time-zones!) and a simple gold chain. She never talks to anyone, always has a smile on her face, but never makes eye contact. The only person I had seen her talk to was Maami.
“How are you Subhadra?” Gayatriamma said addressing Maami as she passed us, but didn’t make any attempts to come close to us.
“I am fine, Gayathriamma. Hope your kids are doing well.” Gayathriamma smiled with a nod. It was the exact conversation they had every time they meet.
I gave her a smile. She gave a nod and proceeded towards the gate. The watchman was very alert and upright. The white Benz was already waiting at the gate and the driver next to it- with an open door. Gayathriamma sat inside, driver closed the door and the car moved away. She goes to a club every Sunday.
“Look at her style” Maami commented sarcastically. I always felt that Maami was jealous of Gayathriamma.
Gayathriamma has 2 sons, both settled in the USA. That was why Gayatriamma always wore two watches, one showed Indian time and another American. Both sons married girls of different countries. One American and another Japanese. They have 2 kids each. They came only once to India and the year they came I wasn’t here. I cannot say much about them. But Gayathriamma goes to America for 2 months every year. Her husband is always in Mumbai. If he spends most of his time there and she here, why doesn’t she move to Mumbai? I heard they have a very big house in Mumbai and they were rich enough to buy a bungalow anywhere they want. Why were they living in this apartment complex, I wonder sometimes.
Lavanya entered the complex with a box of roses. I gave her a nice smile but she ignored me. I felt bad. Yesterday, when I smiled at Neeraja I got the same reaction. Neeraja was a little bit crazy person, one never knows how she reacts. But Lavanya is a nice girl.
“Nice flowers” I commented as she walked past us.
She gave a half smile and walked away. I sensed something was wrong, but what was it?
Maami said “They don’t have much experience about the ways of the world”.
The whole week I was getting this cold shoulder from some of the women in our complex. I wondered why. Initially, I thought they were jealous about my closeness to Preethy. But it did not seem right. I turned towards Maami. I started having a feeling that somehow she had something to do with their behavior.
Maami continued “They wanted to remove Raghavan from his job. They influenced many to vote against Raghavan. But during the meeting they didn’t get enough votes so they are upset with us. Don’t worry they cannot dictate terms to us”.
Everything became very clear. I remembered the ‘movement’ to get rid of Raghavan. He must have approached Maami to rescue him or she might have been offended for not being given the leadership of the ‘movement’. What could it be? How am I involved? I remember having told Lavanya that I was eager to get rid of Raghavan.
Then I recollected Maami talking to my husband. Many people use my husband as their consular. They talk to him about their problems, gripes they have with their family and other residents of the complex. It is quite normal to find my husband with a complex member during weekends. It is always a one-way conversation. The person will be talking to my husband in hushed tones and my husband shakes his head without expression. My husband never comments or repeats the information to anyone including me. So he was very famous with everyone. When I saw Maami talking to my husband last week, I didn’t bother at that time. Now I realize she was silently campaigning for Raghavan.
I didn’t say anything to Maami.
She didn’t like my silence so she continued “There will always be fights and arguments between married couples. Others shouldn’t interfere. No one is right or wrong. They need to come to an understanding and find their place in their relationship. Outside interference will only break the marriage”.
Look who is talking! The lady who thinks she needs to interfere in everyones’ business, I thought to myself.
I was very upset. I was not worried about Raghavan or his problems. Because of Maami, my husband had voted against the feminist group, and we had become the bad guys. All because of Maami. I was not at all happy.
My relationship with Maami was much deeper than just as neighbors. We knew a lot about each other, went to each others’ support many times. But at that moment, I was not happy with my closeness to her. I cannot say anything or fix the problem, but I need to mend my relationship with the feminist group. I decided to maintain a distance with Maami for sometime. May be talking to Sailaja might help. She is sensible, at least she can clear my name with the group. I wanted them to know that my husband was manipulated. I got up suddenly and said bye to Maami and went to my apartment.
My mind was fully occupied with the cold shoulder I was getting from others. I like to be a neutral person or with the majority group. It was my comfort zone. I am not chicken, but at the same time I don’t like to openly fight or stick out. More than anything, I like to be with the group that is winning. I wanted desperately to be accepted by the feminist group. On the one hand, I wanted to go to Sailaja and explain the issue, but on the other hand, my ego would not allow me. I came to this apartment complex earlier than her and I have more contacts.
I showed all my frustration on my husband that evening. I told him to take the kids out for dinner because I was sick and cannot cook. My husband came home very tired, he doesn’t like to go out or eat out. Especially alone with the kids- with me not being there to supervise them. This is a good punishment for him. He didn’t say anything. He took the kids out and came back very late. I was still upset. I knew he had sensed that something was not right with me. But he didn’t make an inquiry. I was itching for a fight. After the kids were asleep, I didn’t have much work in the kitchen so I had decided to sleep. When I saw my husband reading a book I got very irritated. I needed to let my troubled thoughts out. So I snatched his book from his hands.
“I spend more time in the complex than you. You go away to work most of the day and needn’t face any issues or cold shoulders. Why do you have to listen to others every time? Is Maami your perfect master? Do you ever think of me? Why am I so unimportant to you” I went on rapidly for 10 minutes.
I could have gone on for another hour. I was really upset, mostly with my husband’s willingness to be used by others. But the surprised and “Is she going mad?” look on my husband’s face calmed me down. Also the uninterrupted letting-out of my feelings helped.
He didn’t say a word. May be this is the reason we had very few fights in our marriage. Almost all the time when I yell and scream he just listens. Once the steam is out, I would find a solution on my own. There was no positive or negative input from my husband.
I realized that my husband was still looking at me with surprise.
I turned to him and said “Why didn’t you vote for Raghvan to be fired? Now everyone is upset with me. All the women wanted him out because of his second marriage. Now you went against others’ wishes and I am being snubbed by the other women” I said with a great sad sigh. Especially a really loud sad one to make my husband feel guilty.
“Raghavan is good at his work. His personal problems are none of our business. If people snub you for such trivial issues, they are not worth being friends with. Besides, only two out of 10 people voted against Raghavan. So even if I voted the way your friends wanted, it wouldn’t have changed anything” my husband replied with a calm tone. There was no compassion nor anger in his voice. He turned off the light and went to sleep.
I was still sitting on the side of the bed and my thoughts went over what he said. The last sentence kind of removed the heat from my thoughts. So we were not alone. Who are all the ones who did not vote against Raghavan? I wanted more answers. But I dare not ask my husband. He hardly yells at me but I fear him. Under his calmness there was a volcano and I don’t want to set it off. If it comes out, I cannot face it.
As I lay down, I looked at the outline of my husband shoulders. He was already fast asleep. I felt guilty for making his evening bad. I wanted to hold him and sleep close to him. But I am still angry and upset with him for not consoling me when I was yelling at him. He just turned over and slept. He was cold and distant. While my thoughts debated about whether I should hold my husband or not, my tired body and soul slipped into a slumber.
The next morning, I went to the grocery store. As I was reading out the list of items, Kumaran the owner was writing it down.
“Hi Vijaya” called Mrs. Saxena.
“Hi Mrs. Saxena” I smiled back.
“Bread Chahiyee” Mrs Saxena curtly ordered the shop boy in Hindi.
Shanti Groceries is our local grocery shop. Almost all of us buy from that shop.
“Bread” Kumaran put it on the counter with an irritated tone.
“Is it good? The one you gave last week was not good” she said in a huffed tone in English.
“Good, Good” Kumaran said, still irritated.
“Achha! I have no money. Coming from walk. I will take it and send the boy to collect the money” she told Kumaran.
Immediately Kumaran took the bread away from the counter.
“Boy bring bread” Kumaran said in broken English.
Mrs. Saxena turned to me and said “I hope these fellows learn to speak in Hindi. It would make things more easy” and left the shop.
Mrs. Saxena was a nice lady and a very open person. We had exchanged many cooking recipes. She gave all the details of cooking without hiding anything. I always gave her Rasam whenever I prepared it- her son likes it very much. And she always gave us Rajma curry which my husband loves. She had been living in Chennai for almost 4 years. Unfortunately she didn’t pick up any Tamil and relied on neighbors like me to help her out with interpretation.
In the past I used to ask her “Why don’t you learn some Tamil? Your life would be easy.”
Instead of answering the question, she took offense “Hindi is our national language. You South Indians are the actual trouble makers. If you all learn Hindi as you are supposed to, all of us wouldn’t have to suffer”.
So I just said “See you later”.
I didn’t want to say anything against or pro Kumaran with whom I never had any problem in past several years.
Also I don’t want to hear her the “South Indians are anti-Hindi” accusation again.
“A person in Tamil Nadu will speak in Tamil. May be she should live in North India” said a voice near my ear.
I turned around.
It was Mr. Krishnan, Barbie’s dad. I smiled at him and said.
“Please don’t say it aloud. It always ends in ‘Tamilians are anti-Hindi’ bashing. And I am not in the mood for that”.
He nodded and said “You Tamils are gentle and nice people”.
I felt good and so did Kumaran.
“Dada, Please, can I have a chocolate?” Barbie tugged at her dad’s shirt.
“Sure, my butterball. Take whatever you want” he said with all affection.
I was amazed at how parents of a single child spoil their kids. Take what ever you want!
To my utmost surprise she took only 2 bars of chocolate. I blinked. My god! She took only 2. If I had told that to my kids, they would have taken the whole shop home!
Kumaran noticed my surprise and said “They raised her very well. I never saw a kid so well behaved” looking admiringly at Barbie.
I took my groceries and walked out. We knew Kumaran for many years. For each of his customer he had a book. Every time we bought something, he wrote the contents in the book. Once or twice a week, he collected money from all of us. That way, he need not keep a lot of money in his shop or home. The books also gave him a rough idea as to what people usually buy and he stocks the shop accordingly. Also, people would become loyal to him.
Mr. Krishnan started walking with me along with his daughter. “He could have given a book to Mrs. Saxena. He is very selective. That is why some people are rude to him” I told Mr. Krishanan as I recollected the encounter between Kumaran and Mrs. Saxena.
“Well, it is his shop and he reserves the right to give a book to whomever he pleases. In the past, some people left town without telling him or clearing their debt. He is a businessman. He is nice only to clients who help his business. He is very cautious of people who have transferable jobs” replied Mr. Krishnan.
Mr. Krishnan always had sensible explanations. After a few minutes of silence, a thought came to my mind. I could ask him about the Raghavan issue.
“Did you vote for or against Raghavan?” I asked.
“For Raghavan. You see Vijaya, life is more complicated than it seems. Not everything is black and white. There are a lot of shades of gray in between black and white. We hired him to take care of our complex and he is very good at it. We are called to judge his work, not his marriage. Who are we to judge another person’s marriage? Besides, we don’t know what his wife did in the first place for Raghavan to marry a second one? Also, upon inquiring I found out from other people that Ragahvan’s first wife left him because he was not able to give her children” he replied.
“Some women are not happy that we retained Raghavan. Well, don’t worry about them. They are too young. Things will settle down and soon something else will come up and Raghavan‘s issue will be forgotten” sometimes Mr. Krishnan could be downright direct.
By then, we reached our complex.
Raghavan got up from his stool as a sign of respect for his employers. But he gave a very grateful look to Mr. Krishnan, and in return Mr. Krishnan nodded his head. I felt sorry for Raghavan. His whole private life became a public issue.
Personally, I have decided to follow Mr. Krishnan’s advice. I didn’t think much about Ragahvan or others after that. I reduced my visits to Maami, and at the same time didn’t seek out the feminist group either.
Chapter 12
Sometimes the things we don’t like turnout to be a blessing for us; like my MIL’s visit. Every year she comes to visit us. And during that time she gets a complete health check. She was covered under my husband’s insurance. And it was my job to take her to all the hospitals and labs. She came a little bit earlier than usual, but it was a blessing for me. I was so busy taking her around and got a break from encountering others in my complex. I was so very busy that I didn’t pay any attention to my younger son’s complaints that his playtime downstairs was always ending in arguments among friends. Kids were arguing more than playing. I never paid much attention to kids’ fights. Today they fight, tomorrow they become friends.
My MIL left after 5 weeks. She had been much nicer to me than usual. I started not to dislike her that much. But her constant comments on how nice it would be if my elder son marries my SIL’s daughter irritated me. For goodness sake! I tried to tell her that they are very young for this and times have changed. People are not marrying their cousin’s anymore. But she kept on repeating it. She always had a special liking towards my elder son- he was named after my FIL. My MIL’s plan was to get my son married to her daughter’s daughter and make us give our share of the ancestral property to my elder son, which would provide a home for her and her daughter. Most of her plans were too complicated for anyone to follow. And I was learning to ignore her comments.
I didn’t go with the rest of my family to the station to drop my MIL. My husband and kids took her to the train station in the car. I waved goodbye at the gate and walked inside. I saw Maami sitting near the playground and walked towards her. I realized that I didn’t see any of my neighbors in the past 5 weeks.
“Is your MIL fine?” Maami asked.
“Yeah! The usual. She came for a general checkup and took some money from her son” I replied.
“Looks like she is in some need of money. Of course, she will never tell anything to us. The amazing part is, she is awfully quite this time. She didn’t criticize me at all. My MIL cannot spend an hour without passing a sarcastic comment. She must be really in need of money” I said sitting next to her.
“Come, come, she is not that bad. After all she is your husband’s mother. Also some daughter-in-laws are very bad” Maami said.
This is one topic Maami cannot stop taking sides openly. Maybe it was because she is a mother-in-law too and doesn’t get along with her daughter-in-law. No matter who criticizes their mother-in-law, Maami always jumps to the defense of the mother-in-law.
“Maami as usual defending mother-in-laws” commented a voice, and we both turned towards Sailaja. We smiled at her.
“Come on girls. I was a daughter-in-law once and now a mother-in-law. I have seen both sides of the coin. So don’t dismiss me that easily. Besides, in a couple of decades, you will become mother-in-laws too. So try to look at things from both sides” said Maami.
“The day my son gets married, I will ask him to go to his wife’s house directly from the marriage hall and never come back” said Sailaja.
We all laughed.
“It is easy to say. Mother-Child relation cannot be terminated so easily” said Maami with a mixture of smile and sadness.
Mr. Raman, our complex president, stopped and joined us along with his wife. They were on their way to some function.
“How is the Diwali party planning coming along?” Mr. Raman asked Maami.
She replied “we have to talk to people”.
Usually, we had South Indian dishes for the Diwali party, but now some North Indian’s want North Indian dishes to be included in the menu. So there were some clashes.
Mrs. Raman said “We can order some of each so everyone can be happy”.
“Listen to this” Sailaja joined “Mr. Anand wants chicken to be served”.
Everyone laughed.
“What is happening to us?” said Maami, who was a vegetarian, in a frustrated voice. “Why serve meat on an auspicious day like Diwali”.
Every year we celebrated 2 festivals in our complex with everyone. One was Diwali and the other was New Years Eve. Everyone paid money for the dinners, and Maami arranged everything including the food, chairs, and tables etc for Diwali. The younger couples of the complex took care of the New Year function.
Sailaja and I were Maami’s assistants. Sailaja had very good organizing skills. So she and Maami did most of it. I just helped a little bit. Mrs. Raman collected the money from everyone. She and Maami decide the menu. So far, they selected the best and we always enjoyed their selection. But of late, some North Indians started living with us and they expressed their opinion that the menu should be North Indian style because ‘Diwali was a North Indian festival’. That comment sparked a big argument in the last complex meeting.
Mr. Raman switched the conversation to another one and in the meeting no one concluded the details of the Diwali function. Maami was very upset with all the interference. She wanted things to go the way it always did, and Mr. Raman wanted to satisfy everyone. It would be a tough task this time. I know Maami would have her way in the end.
Mr. Krishnan joined us. After quick hellos, he turned directly to Sailaja and said “Would Rachana like to play with my daughter?” referring to Sailaja’s daughter. “Because Barbie misses playing with Rachana”.
Sailaja said “Of course” she said with a big smile. “Of late they have been fighting and didn’t play for sometime”.
“They didn’t fight. Someone’s playing tricks with them” said Mr. Krishnan.
“One of the older girls from our complex, who is also studying in my daughter’s school, told my daughter not to play with your daughter. I also found out that she told some other boys in the complex not to play with my daughter. She is putting fights amongst kids, but she is always friendly with everyone” concluded Mr. Krishnan with an upset face.
By now we all knew who was the girl Mr. Krishnan mentioned. Anandhi’s daughter. The mother is also like that. She can’t resist putting fights between people. She bad mouths people behind their backs.
Sailaja added “ Rachana too misses playing with your daughter. As a matter of fact, she has no one to play with. For sometime, she played with Anandhi’s younger daughter. But she is too busy playing with others, she has no time for Rachana. It makes sense now. I don’t see any kids in the play ground of late. They are all playing separately”.
“ In the end, Anandhi’s kids are playing with everyone and our kids are playing with only Anandhi’s kids. We need to talk to our kids on a regular basis and also with each other, otherwise this type of people can make our complex rotten” said Mr. Krishnan with an angry face.
This man might take it easy if some one told him that they lost 10 lakh Rupees of his money, but would get very upset if someone gave was rude to his daughter. Anandhi picked up the wrong kid to harass, I thought.
Everyone knows how unscrupulous Anandhi was, but after the conversation we started realizing that her daughters had become miniatures of their mom. I felt sorry for Mr. Krishnan and Sailaja. I liked them both.
“I will talk to my kids. They might have a better idea. Let us fix things up. There is no point in staying in a complex when kids don’t play together” I added.
“Oh! Please talk to them” said Mr. Krishnan with a relieved voice.
“Kids are kids. They fight some times, adults should not interfere. Let them sort things over” Mr. Raman said.
Oops wrong comment Mr. Raman. Mr. Krishnan turned towards Mr. Raman fully and walked so close to him that they were almost touching.
“Kids are kids. I agree. I don’t want to interfere if my daughter fights with kids of her age. How can she handle kids 4 or 5 times older than her? Besides ‘kids are kids’ is an excuse used by lazy parents to escape responsibility. One needn’t supervise every move of their kid, but at the same time one needs to guide their children. Instead of watching their kids, most of the parents are inside watching TV or movies. Do you know how many times the video stop guy comes to our complex everyday? Parents should invest time in their kids when they are young. Instead of that, they are busy watching TV and pass the responsibilities to maids and grand parents. Once the kids grow up, get married and go away, the parents follow their kids, and mess up their kids’ life” pat came the reply from Mr. Krishnan.
We all nodded our heads in agreement with Mr. Krishnan. One could clearly see the anger in his face.
Maami added quickly “I never liked those girls anyway. They look too cunning. Did you ever notice how they stop near us to eavesdrop on our conversations, pretending as if they were waiting for a friend. All the while they are eavesdropping”.
“Yeah” Sailaja and I shook our heads in agreement.
“At this small age they are so cunning. Imagine what they will turn out to be?” I said.
Mr. Raman said “This is bad, something needs to be done”.
He was a real politician. He saw the odds were against him and he changed sides. He was a good friend of Anandhi. He entertains her in his house frequently and gets all sorts of gossip from her. But he doesn’t want to get on the wrong side of Mr. Krishnan. Everyone in the complex knows how much he adored his daughter.
“Where were you?” I asked my kids when they came home that evening.
“We were playing in the next complex” my younger one replied.
I don’t like my kids playing in the next complex. There are many big kids, and some of them were college-going. I was always worried about my kids playing with college-going kids. Many of them smoke, and some of them drink too. I was worried that this kind of friendships end up badly. Little kids pick up bad habits from such association.
“Why are you not playing in our complex”? I asked.
“Well, all the kids were fighting with each other” my younger one said sulkingly. “All of them only want to play with Anandhi aunty’s daughters, but not with each other”.
My elder one- always the quietest- said “I think they are putting fights between all the kids. Divide and rule, just like the British” lifting his head from the book he was reading.
His words struck me and my younger son. We stared at each other for a few seconds.
“Remember how badly she talked about Barbie. She told us not to talk to Barbie because she always shows off her new toys. And now she excluded Rachana from our hide and seeks games saying that she was too young” my younger one kept on rambling to my older one.
I was shocked and also got hurt that my sons joined the bad kids.
“What happened to your brains?” I said with anger and disappointment.
My sensitive younger one said “I didn’t like it. I tried to fight. In the end we started playing in the next door complex”.
I needed to think- I was very upset. Two little girls have fooled so many families and their kids. And it went on for weeks. I decided to talk to Sailaja before I took a decision.
“Let’s eat, your father will come home late today” I tried to diffuse the sad atmosphere.
By the look on Sailaja’s face, I could clearly understand what she went through. I had invited her to my house the previous day. Sailaja came to our apartment as arranged.
“Where is Bunty?” I asked.
Sailaja said “He is sleeping. Vanaja is washing vessels. I told her to keep an eye”.
Vanaja is Sailaja’s maid. I liked the arrangement. I didn’t want any distractions.
Sailaja said “I talked to Rachana last night. She said Anadhi’s younger daughter told her that Rachana should only be her friend and not play with Barbie because Barbie doesn’t share her expensive remote control car. Can you believe that?”. There was a short pause, and then she continued “Others may say things like that, but how can my daughter believe such things?”
“Kids, they can be easily influenced. When big kids like mine can be fooled, why not Rachana. Please don’t scold her” I replied feeling sorry for all of us.
“Oh! I gave her a ear full. One for listening to Anandhi’s daughter, and another for not telling me. Last night, after you invited me, Mr. Krishnan called too, and we arranged a play date for Barbie and Rachana. I need to keep a closer eye on Rachana. It is not sufficient if our child is good, it is equally important that their friends are not messed up” said Sailaja.
“I agree. How could such little ones do so much damage?” I added.
“What do they do? How do they teach so much cunningness at such a small age? Is there a cunningness medicine that they give to their kids?” Sailaja vented. We both laughed.
“One day, I caught her eavesdropping at Neeraja’s house” Sailaja continued.
“Anandhi ?” I asked with a surprise.
“No, one of the daughters. The girl was shocked initially but recovered very fast. She said that she dropped her ring. She acted as if she was looking for it. I joined her in her search. We didn’t find anything. After sometime, she told me not to worry as it was not very expensive, and walked away”.
“My goodness! These people are dangerous” I said.
“It is not the act that is shocking, it is the age of the girl that is disturbing to me” Sailaja added.
We chatted for sometime more and discussed how to cut off our kids from Anandhi’s kids’ influence. Later, Sailaja left.
“You cannot go and play in other complexes” I told my sons that evening with a determined voice.
They looked at me attentively.
“Play what ever games you like but stay away from Anandhi’s kids. I don’t want any trouble. Those kids are bad, and also if you see them bothering others, let me know”. My younger son ran out immediately, as if a solider on a mission.
My older one followed slowly. My older was too old to play with 8 year olds. I felt sorry for him. I never liked to interfere with their play. I never told them how to play and with whom to play in the past. They need to select friends on their own, I thought. Even when they fought with their friends, I never interfered. But now I am changing my own stance.
After 10 minutes, I went to the playground to check on my kids. I saw Mr. Krishnan already in the playground with his daughter. With him around I don’t have to worry about anything. So I went over to Maami’s house to talk about the Diwali dinner.
Chapter 13
Every Diwali, I do a lot of shopping: clothes for my family, my SIL’s family, my maid Sita’s sari etc. My husband already gave money to everyone, right from the watchmen, postman, his office boys etc. But for my maid we need to give a sari.
Diwali is very important for us. The Diwali gift is called the 13th month salary. I always buy a sari for Sita. One year, I gave her the money and she was not happy about it. She thinks that I buy clothes from the big stores of T.Nagar, hence they are of better quality and higher priced. Which is true, but at the same time she doesn’t realize I don’t pay the exact amount mentioned on the tag? I buy it at a discount. She didn’t seem to get the point. Anyway I better get her a sari I thought.
When it comes to shopping, Maami is an asset. She is very patient and always makes sure that I get the best for my money. Of late, shopping in T.Nagar was becoming a nightmare. When I first came to Madras, I used to love walking in Pondy bazaar. I got everything I needed in one place. I liked haggling with the payment shops. When ever I got tired, I could eat at small eateries. If it got too hot, I used to go to Nalli or Kumaran to check the latest saris.
Times have changed. Shops are always crowded and it takes forever to buy anything. We have to get the receipt in one place, walk over and pay in another place, and then finally collect the goods at another. All those queues and waiting drives me crazy. But shopping was a must for Diwali.
Every time we go for shopping, I pay for the auto. Maami never makes an attempt to pay. Even though she does her share of shopping, she always makes it look like she came for me. I don’t mind paying, but some times I wonder if she ever thought of offering to pay at least once. As planned, we started early and we picked Monday for shopping, hoping that there would be less crowd. I requested one of my son’s friend’s parent to take the kids directly to the tuition class from school. I also packed extra snacks along with their lunch that morning.
We finished most of our shopping earlier than we thought. I don’t hide much from Maami about my shopping budget or what I buy and for whom.
“You didn’t buy anything for the kids yet?” Maami inquired.
“We are going to take them to Spencers Plaza this weekend. They want to select their own clothes. They think I have no taste and buy old fashioned clothes” I replied.
Maami shook her head “Times have changed Vijaya. Times have changed. Now-a-days children are deciding everything on their own.”
I agreed with her and added “I think we are the only ones who are shopping in Pondy bazaar still. Everyone in our complex shops at Spencers or Citi Center”
“I don’t think so” Maami said. “They buy some from there and some from here, and pretend as if they buy everything at Spencers”.
“Do you think this is good?” I picked up a purple sari and showed it to Maami.
“For your mother in law?” she asked.
“Yeah, she likes your selection.” I replied.
Maami pulled the sari towards her and slipped her hand through the material to examine it. In the process she also saw the price tag.
“Over the years, you increased your budget for everyone including your maid. How come you always buy only Rs.500 sari for your Mil?” Maami questioned me.
“I give her a sari every year even though she never gave me anything. The way she treats me, I still remember to give her a gift, that itself is a lot” I said, getting angry with my MIL.
“It is true that she is not nice to you. But after all she gave you the best gift anyone can ever give. She gave you her SON “ Maami said.
I looked at Maami. She was still looking at the sari. There was a sadness in her voice. She was not preaching to me. She might be thinking about her son. As far as I remember, Maami’s son never visited her for Diwali. Maami made some excuse or the other initially. After some time, she stopped giving explanations. We all understood that there was a problem between her and her DIL. I never broached the topic, and I knew very well unless Maami volunteers to tell me, I would not get a single bit of information out of her.
The words Maami uttered were still ringing in my mind. Was what she said true? My husband is a good man, husband and father. And his mother raised him. She might not be nice to me but she loved and cared for her son since he was in her womb. I always viewed her based on how she treated me, but not from my husband’s point of view. Suddenly I felt very foolish and ashamed. I was giving gifts to everyone bought with the money earned by my husband. As a mother, she had more right over her son’s earnings than others. I watched Maami and thought of my MIL. How would she be feeling when she gets an ordinary sari every year from her son. Of course, my husband would send a special Diwali cheque to her. But still she would feel bad when she sees the sari. I felt I was not doing the right thing.
Maami didn’t say anything, may be she was giving time for me to go over my thoughts or she was absorbed in her own thoughts. For sometime there was silence between us.
Just then, a big fat lady came and snatched the sari from Maami’s hand and that action shook us from our thoughts.
Maami reacted immediately. She snatched the sari back from the women and told her that “We are still looking at it. There are many saris here. If you want more, the salesmen will help you. You cannot go around snatching things from other people’s hand. If you really want something, which is in others’ hands, wait for your turn or ask politely if they are done with it. Don’t snatch like that, it is not a nice thing to do” Maami gave a lecture to the lady sternly and in a loud voice so that everyone around us could hear!
As expected, many faces turned towards us, and all of them were looking at the fat lady. The lady was humiliated and walked away, and Maami and I exchanged glances. Nice to get zappy Maami back, I smiled to myself.
We talked about the lady’s action a little bit loudly so that others could hear, and we pretended as if we were examining the sari. In fact, I had lost interest in the sari, so did Maami.
We lingered for some more time, and then Maami said “I think this sari is a little bit transparent for your MIL. Let us try some Gadhval saris. They will suit her better”.
“I am thinking the same” I answered.
The sales person gave us a nasty look. We didn’t buy and we didn’t let the other lady buy the sari. But he had no guts to say anything because he had witnessed the zaps Maami gave to the other lady. We walked away with smug faces, happy to teach that lady a lesson!
Later, we went to the gold shop to pay our monthly installments. Every month, Maami and I made little deposits in the gold shop, and at the end of the year we would buy some gold ornament. For a long time, I wanted to buy diamond earrings, but after Maami mentioned that I should consult an astrologer before wearing diamonds, I changed my mind. After paying the installments, we always lingered in the shop and looked at various new designs.
At that time, it occurred to me that I had some old gold rings that my sons used to wear. I asked Maami to select some nice but simple earrings for my MIL. Maami was surprised but she didn’t say anything. Finally, we selected some nice ear-studs in exchange for the old rings and some money. The shop keeper placed them near the god’s photo and gave the jewelery box to me and we left.
“You are a good girl, Vijaya” Maami said. I felt happy.
It was not normal for Maami to genuinely praise others. I could guess what my MIL would do with the ear rings- she would give them to her daughter. So what was the point in giving gifts to her? But then, I did my job. What she did with the earrings was her business- not mine, I thought philosophically. I imagined myself as an ever righteous heroine of Indian movies, always being nice to her in-laws even if they were mean to her. Loving them and making sacrifices, and all that.
“One minute Vijaya”. I snapped out of my heroine imagination and looked at Maami.
Maami entered a imitation jewelery shop and I followed her.
“My daughter has been asking me to send some imitation jewelery. One of her friend’s daughter is learning Bharathanatyam in Singapore” Maami said.
When we were looking at the jewelery, we heard a small commotion. A man was literally pleading with the shop people.
“Please, there must be one bathroom some where. I will pay to use it” the man said.
“Sorry sir. There is none. Just use the road.” one shop fellow replied.
Then I noticed a seven year old standing near the counter with her legs crossed trying to control her urge to use toilet and next to her was a lady.
The lady said. “I cannot believe there is no toilet in this entire street”.
The man continued “She is not used to using the road. There must a restaurant with a toilet”.
“You can go to Saravana Bhavan. It is a 10-minute walk from here. It is ok Sir, tell her to use the road” the shop keeper urged.
If he let the customer out of his eyesight, he might loss the business. That is why the shop keeper is not disclosing the toilet location I thought.
Maami told the old man “Look there are two cars parked there. Ask her to relieve in between the parked cars. You stand on one end and the lady on the other end. So that the girl will have some privacy. I don’t think she will be able to walk for 10 minutes”.
The man looked at the little girl and explained to her and the girl nodded. After 10 minutes they re-entered the shop and the girl’s face was lit now.
“Now do you feel better” I asked her.
She nodded her head with a smile and buried her face in the lady’s stomach.
“Thank you very much” said the old man.
“I am Kandasamy Pillai, this is my wife and my grand daughter. We are from South Africa” the man introduced himself and his family.
We chatted for some time and we became friends. So Maami helped them with their purchase. She showed them how to select. More importantly, she was able to bargain a good price for them. They were very pleased and followed us everywhere after that. We did some small shopping and we helped them every where with their bargaining.
“Thank god we met you, other wise we would have gotten ripped off” the lady said.
“They rip me off too and I have been living here for almost 15 years” I told her.
We all laughed. Just when we were about to part they insisted that we have some tea with them.
“You helped us- complete strangers. That is why l like India. Indians are very nice and friendly people with beautiful smiles. Please don’t say no.”
Anyway, we too were tired, so we went to Saravana Bhavan. We ordered Dosai and filter coffee. And they started telling us about themselves.
They were 3rd generation Indians from South Africa, whose ancestors left India a long time back. The British took many Indians as bonded laborers to work in their farms in South Africa. Many people from Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Kerala left their families and moved to South Africa. Many of them didn’t know how to read or write and so couldn’t keep in touch with their relatives in India. They were treated very poorly by the British in South Africa. When the Indians entered South Africa, their names were recorded and the British, who were not used to Indian names, misspelled their names and completely avoided recording their family names. So, even today many of them misspell their names like Naidoo for Naidu, Govender for Goundar, and they use their caste name as their family name. It is quite common to find lot of pillais, naidoos and govendars among South African Indians.
When the British left South Africa, they handed over the government to the Whites. Basically, the white people of South Africa are a mixture of all the white people who came from Europe and settled in South Africa for many generations. It was called Apathe at that time. The life of non-white people went from bad to worse. They were completely segregated. South Africa was divided into many zones: white area, black area, and Indian area. One couldn’t go into another area. Some areas were open to everyone at certain time of the day. But by 6 PM, all of them had to go back to their respective areas. They were not allowed to marry anyone other their color. Some Indians were a little bit darker, and the way a white man distinguished the difference between an Indian and black person was by placing a comb in the hair. If the comb slips, the person was Indian, other wise he/she was black.
The education system was very bad. Housing was bad too- an entire family would stay in the same house because even if they had money they were not allowed to buy houses. They were not allowed to try shoes in the shop. They had to draw an outline of their feet and use that as a measurement to buy shoes. Only white people were allowed to try shoes. Even clothes! They were not allowed to try clothes before buying. The old man told us that he was an advocate and when all of his white colleagues went to the tea room to drink tea, he was not allowed to join them because he was non-white. He was not allowed to go into a restaurant. When his white colleagues went into a restaurant to have something he had to wait outside or he could buy something and eat outside. When this part came, the old man became emotional. Tears started coming down his eyes. We genuinely felt sorry for him.
He cheered up and said “Now things are better. Now I have four houses. My children are all settled and well off”.
Maami suddenly recalled that one of her friends went to Durban for a music concert. And one day he visited a Durga temple and was asked to leave the temple by South African Indians.
“Oh That! You see. Delhi, Tamil and Telugu South African’s are not allowed into Gujarati South African temples, and Gujarati and Delhi South African’s are not allowed into Tamil and Telugu South African temples. We don’t go to each others temples, and even if we did, we would be asked to leave” the old man said.
I couldn’t control my amusement.
“You must be joking” I said.
“No, it is true”. All this time he was talking about segregation by the white man, but they are still doing the same thing to each other…
“What can we do? The segregation created such deep divisions within us. We are not able to come out of it” said the old man sadly.
I didn’t know what to say. I was still amazed. They insisted on paying for the food and Maami didn’t object. We said long good byes and parted.