House of Cards

Sudha Murty

HOUSE OF CARDS

Contents

About the Author

Also by the Same Author

Dedication

1. The Village

2. Young Dreams

3. The Beautiful Thief

4. Destiny

5. Reflections

6. A Second Chance

7. Generation Gap

8. The Strings of Love

9. Partners

10. The In-Laws

11. Changes

12. Different Values

13. The Fall of Idealism

14. Family Visits

15. Disillusionment

16. The Decision

17. The Beginning of the End

18. Money Brings Changes

19. A Silver Spoon

20. The Ways of the World

21. Shades of Grey

22. Sweet Revenge

23. A House of Cards

24. The Silent Cry

25. Connections

26. Learning to Survive

27. Things Fall Apart

28. Growing Pains

29. Hope

Acknowledgements

Follow Penguin

Copyright Page

PENGUIN BOOKS

HOUSE OF CARDS

Sudha Murty was born in 1950 in Shiggaon in north Karnataka. She did her MTech in computer science, and is now the chairperson of the Infosys Foundation. A prolific writer in English and Kannada, she has written novels, technical books, travelogues, collections of short stories and non-fiction pieces, and four books for children. Her books have been translated into all the major Indian languages.

Sudha Murty was the recipient of the R.K. Narayan Award for Literature and the Padma Shri in 2006, and the Attimabbe Award from the government of Karnataka for excellence in Kannada literature in 2011.

ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR

FICTION

Dollar Bahu

Mahashweta

Gently Falls the Bakula

NON-FICTION

Wise and Otherwise

The Old Man and His God

The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk

CHILDREN’S

How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and Other Stories

The Magic Drum and Other Favourite Stories

The Bird with Golden Wings: Stories of Wit and Magic

Grandma’s Bag of Stories

To all the Mridulas who suffer silently

1

The Village

There was a small village in north Karnataka with a population of five to eight thousand. It boasted of a beautiful lake with a temple of Lord Hanuman on its shore. The area was dotted with banyan trees. In Kannada, a banyan tree is called ‘aladamara’ and ‘halli’ means village, so the village was named Aladahalli.

Aladahalli had only one main road, with houses on either side, and a bus stand right in the middle of the village. Most people who were from here preferred to stay on and commute for work to the cities nearby: Hubli and Dharwad. The advantages of staying in Aladahalli were a laid-back life, less noise and almost no pollution. The greatest attraction though was the school, which was on a par with any city school, and where the medium of instruction was both English and Kannada. Just like in city schools, the students got a rank based on their merit. Bheemanna’s daughter, Mridula, was among the top students in her class and was known for her intelligence.

Bheemanna’s family was rich and owned a lot of fertile land. His ancestral house was very old and large. The green backyard was filled with varieties of plants and vegetables. There were jasmine creepers in the backyard; Mridula had long, dark hair and would not step out of the house without a string of flowers in it.

Bheemanna’s wife, Rukuma Bai or Rukmini, was from a neighbouring village. She was quite different from Bheemanna and talked less than her husband. They had two children, Krishna and Mridula.

When Krishna was born, Bheemanna had wanted to name his son Hanuman but Rukuma Bai had insisted on calling him Krishna. After a while, Bheemanna had lost to his wife’s iron will and started calling him Krishna too. But when Mridula came along three years later, he put his foot down. He had once read a novel in which the name of the main character was Mridula. He liked the name since it was uncommon in this part of Karnataka. So, Bheemanna insisted that his daughter be called by that name.

Little Mridula was a bright student. Rukuma Bai frequently told people that Mridula had inherited the smart genes from her side of the family. At such times, talkative Bheemanna usually stayed silent.

Young Mridula was sitting on the swing under the big banyan tree opposite the Hanuman temple. It was Ugadi time—the New Year festival for the Kannada people, celebrated in the month of February or March. Summer had just arrived. The mango trees sported soft reddish-green leaves and the cuckoos were making lovely coo-coo sounds. Everyone in the village was busy preparing for the festival. Yet, there was a pin-drop silence near the temple.

But for Mridula, nothing mattered. She was swinging without any bondage and with a free mind. From the swing, she could see her house. She was happy.

Mridula was not like everybody, she was different. She had enormous enthusiasm for life and unlimited energy for reading, cooking and sketching. She wanted to spend every minute of the day fruitfully. It seemed that the sun rose for her and the rainbow colours were meant only for her. Every day was to be lived to its fullest and every beautiful minute to be enjoyed.

Years passed. The family was content and happy. Bheemanna had added some basic modern amenities to his home.

Meanwhile, little Mridula had grown up and was excelling in school. She scored a rank in the tenth class. Her teachers insisted that she must study either medicine or engineering. But Mridula did not agree. Bheemanna did not take any decision just for the sake of status in society. He left the decision to Mridula and she insisted on becoming a teacher. But Rukuma Bai was hesitant. Her brother Satyabodha was a bank officer in Hubli. His daughter, Sarla, was six months older than Mridula and not as intelligent. But even Sarla preferred to study engineering in Hubli. Bheemanna advised Rukuma, ‘Times have changed. We can’t tell children that you should become a lawyer or a doctor or marry a person of our choice. Education and marriage should be according to our children’s wishes because these are for ever. After all, it is their life and they have the right to follow their heart and make decisions by themselves.’

Bheemanna always bent the rules when it came to Mridula. She was his life. When people asked Mridula whether she was her mother’s or father’s favourite, she said, ‘I am Amma’s girl—and Appa’s world.’

Mridula remembered a conversation she had had with her father when she was a child. When an animal in the village fell sick, her father immediately took medicine made from the plants in his garden and treated the animal, without waiting for the animal’s owner to call him. After the treatment, Bheemanna was given a bowl of rice and jaggery and five one-rupee coins as his fee. He never kept the fee from treating animals for himself. He would offer the coins to Lord Hanuman and say, ‘Mridula, grind all the rice, jaggery and coconut together. Then, add some ghee and give it to the cows. It is good for them.’

As she went about her task, her father would ask her, ‘Do you know why God has given the power of speech to humans and not to animals?’

Mridula would childishly reply, ‘To talk.’

‘No, child. Not just to talk. It is also to share. So, whenever you face difficulty or you receive joy, you must share it with others. But think of all the animals—those poor things can’t even share their difficulty with anyone. They have to bear it alone. Mridula, remember—you must always be open. Don’t hide. Hiding is a sin.’