Tell A Thousand Lies (13 page)

I reminded myself that now that I was his wife, I must address Srikar only as “
Yemandi
” – that oblique reference married women had used to address their husbands since the beginning of time.

Chapter 15

I Set Up Home

January 1987, Hyderabad

M
y new husband and I entered our new home together, right foot first for good luck. I felt a pang. Someone from Srikar’s family should have been at the doorway, tray in hand, lighted lamp and sweets welcoming us. Someone from mine should have been a few steps behind, supporting me as I stepped into my new life.

I entered our tiny one-bedroom flat, not sure what to expect. A front room, a miniscule kitchen to the side, a tiny bedroom. No bathroom.

In the bedroom, cobwebs swayed gently in the breeze, in rhythm with the dust motes. I walked over to the window. Branches of a mango tree pushed against the rusted mosquito netting nailed to the window frame. Dust sat on the built-in shelves in the wall, a layer so thick it was a wonder the shelves hadn’t crumbled under its weight. A piercing sound startled me. The building shuddered in its wake. I pushed my head against the mud-encrusted mosquito netting, which gave way, raising a wave of dust. I leaned out. Railway tracks ran parallel to the apartment building, on which a train was groaning past.

Then it hit me. Here I was in my own house, married, ready to start life with my husband, when I had never expected to marry. A frisson of pleasure fought its way through my apprehension. I promised myself I would be the very best wife possible. I would cook for Srikar, clean for him, make sure there was never a speck of dust anywhere. His clothes would be spotless, his lunch box filled with the tastiest food I could prepare. I would tightly shut my eyes, do my wifely duty. I would somehow make up to him for my dark skin.

“Pullamma,” Srikar said. “I need to go down and talk to the landlord. After that I’ll go buy milk, and a few other things. I will be back in an hour. Do you need anything from the market?”

I shook my head with a combination of embarrassment and pleasure. From now on, even in the minutiae of daily living, our lives would be entwined.

After Srikar left, I pulled out a small hand towel from my bag and started to clean the cement shelves. Another wave of dust rose up, only to fall heavily to the floor.

Just like that, I collapsed.

What am I doing here?

I sank to the floor, struggling to contain my tears. How would I manage? What did I know about being married, anyway? Where were Ammamma and Chinni when I needed them? I dropped my head on my knees, breaking into sobs. Though every person I knew, other than Ammamma, had given up on my marital prospects, I’d harboured secret hopes of getting married. The wedding I’d imagined hadn’t been anything like the rushed affair of this morning. In my dreams Ammamma and Chinni would be by my side, supporting me; they’d accompany me to my new marital home, helping to ease the transition. And here I was, in a new place, trying to start off life with a man I hadn’t known twenty-four hours ago.

It took some time before I was able to drag myself off the floor. I didn’t want Srikar to find me like this. I didn’t want him to regret marrying me. Using the edge of my sari, I wiped the dampness from my face, then went back to dusting. A few sneezes later, I could almost tell the colour of the shelves. I dug into my handbag for the idol of Lord
Vinayaka
that Murty
garu
had given me. I bowed my head, closing my eyes in prayer.

“Hello!”

I turned.

A young woman stood at the door to the flat, a friendly smile on her face. Though she wasn’t tall, she was shapely, with braided hair that came down to her waist.

I felt gawky next to her effortless grace. I forced myself to smile back.

“My name is Geeta. Are you going to be living here?”

When I nodded, the other woman clapped her hands childishly. “I’m so glad. It will be so nice to have another young woman in the building.” She leaned forward. “You are not from the city?”

I shook my head.

“From the village?”

I nodded.

Geeta frowned. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

I laughed. No one had ever said that of me. “Now that I have a new friend, I will have to, won’t I?” I felt good, positive even. The stresses of the past few days drained away. I promised myself I would make a good life here with Srikar.

“Where is your husband?” Geeta asked.

I felt warmth flood me when Geeta said
husband
. “He’s gone out on some work.”

Geeta leaned forward, a curious look on her face. “When did you get married?” The sacred thread around my neck, freshly coated with auspicious turmeric, gave me away. If I had been married longer, the cotton thread would have dulled in colour, or been replaced by gold if we could afford it.

“This morning.”

“
Aiyyo
!” Geeta squealed. “Newlyweds! I knew it. You
have
to come to dinner at my house.”

“Are you sure?” I was hesitant. “You don’t even know us.”

“Oh nonsense,” Geeta said with a flick of her hand. “We’re going to be neighbours, aren’t we? Good time to come. My in-laws are away, visiting their other son.” She took my hand.
 
“Come, I’ll show you where I live.”

We walked out into the narrow, grimy corridor overlooking the weed-choked front yard below. Our flat was one of eighteen in
Madhuban
Apartments – a fancy name for a building of three-room tenements. There were doors on either side of our apartment. “I live on your left,” Geeta said. “So you’ll come?”

“I will have to check with my husband,” I said, trying hard not to grin foolishly.

Chapter 16

We Make Friends

O
n the way to the city, Headmaster
garu
had decided it would be too dangerous for Srikar to return to his old job. Before he left to go back to the village, Headmaster
garu
cautioned us against retaining old ties. He said to Srikar, “Stay away from your old flat. I’ll arrange for someone to pack your belongings and bring them to you.”

Someone had already packed his belongings and left them outside our door by the time Srikar returned. As Srikar carried the suitcases over the threshold of our new home, he said, “I only bought what we’ll need right away. Tomorrow we can buy the rest. Then I will have to start searching for a new job.”

“
Yemandi
?” I said hesitantly, feeling a little strange to be joining the ranks of married women, and addressing my husband thus. “Uh… I made a new friend. She has invited us to dinner.”

“It’s good you’re already making friends,” he said, placing the suitcases by the wall. “But don’t say anything about our circumstances. She’s going to want to know why we’re here on the day of our wedding, when we should have been with our families. Just smile and evade the question.”

I nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

Srikar nodded.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather up the courage. “Why did you marry me? That, too, without a dowry?” The primary reason was to protect me from his grandfather; that much I understood. But I wanted to know if he felt pity for me – the dark, dowry-less girl.

“I found out my grandfather was up to something in your village,” Srikar said. “I was scared this might be another
Renuka
garu
-like situation, so I came to see for myself. I was part of your audience.”

“I didn’t know.”

“How could you? There were hundreds of people clamouring for your attention. I didn’t come up to you. I just watched from the side.” He paused. “Despite your obvious terror – or perhaps it was only obvious to me because of what I knew – there was a quiet dignity about you that drew me. Marrying you was no hardship.” Smiling gently, he put an arm around me.

I smiled back shyly, feeling warmth spread in my chest.

><

We knocked on Geeta’s door at 9:00 that night. “Come in, come in,” she said, smiling widely.

Her husband, the stocky
Murali
, wore a collared, button-down shirt with a lungi wrapped around his waist, in lieu of trousers. You make quite a pair,” he said to Srikar. “Like day and night.”

“Good, isn’t it?” Srikar said with a smile. “Every household should have such a balance.”

“Of course, of course,”
Murali
said. “Please come in.”

Murali
wasn’t being rude, I knew. More than a few people would have commented on the contrast in our complexions. Still, it rankled. With a determined smile, I walked in.

Geeta leaned over and whispered, “How did you manage to snag such a cute husband? Good dowry?”

I shook my head, smiling. It would be many years before I learned to be offended by such intrusive questions. For now, it was just the way things were.

Over a noisy dinner, with Geeta’s two children shouting to make themselves heard, Geeta regaled Srikar and me with the happenings in our new locality – which milk-diluting milkman to avoid, where to get our clothes ironed without having holes burned in them, who sold the best rice, and so on.
Murali
seemed friendly, though not nearly as talkative as his wife. I sent up a silent prayer for both Srikar, and my new friends. I thought of my old friend, Chinni. I hoped she was happy, too.

I hope Kondal Rao isn’t harassing Ammamma! Don’t think about it, don’t, don’t.

Headmaster
garu
’s last piece of advice, before returning to the village, had been to not look back, so I forced my thoughts away from the village. God had been kind to me. I couldn’t let my blessings go to waste.

><

Dinner was over, and we were back in our flat. I huddled by the window, watching as my new husband unrolled the mat and spread out a bed-sheet on top. My face felt hot and numb.

He smoothed out the creases, sat on it and held out a hand.

“What are you going to do to me?” I bit my inner cheek, trying not to show my terror.

Srikar smiled. “Nothing you don’t want me to do.”

“That isn’t what Ammamma said. She said, if you beat me, I have to put up with it. If you … you … whatever you do, I have to close my eyes tight, grind down my teeth, and bear it.”

Srikar laughed. “I won’t beat you, I promise. And you won’t have to do any teeth grinding, either.”

I didn’t move.

He held out an arm. “Come and sit next to me, at least.”

“You won’t beat me?”

He shook his head, his lips twitching.

I sat as far away from him as I could, my chin on upraised knees, hands clenched.

“Relax.” He fluffed his pillow, and lay down. “Beating you isn’t what I had in mind.”

I pulled my pillow away from him, and lay down at the very edge of the mat, feeling terrible embarrassment.

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Do I have to?”

“No, you don’t have to,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Be a dutiful wife,’ Ammamma’s voice in my head commanded. I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I whispered.

He pulled me closer.

I let him. My face flushed.

He touched me slowly, looking into my face. His breath felt uncomfortably close.

I shut my eyes tightly, feeling funny. This wasn’t anything like Ammamma had warned. This was a good funny.

><

I opened my eyes. Through the rusted mosquito netting I could see pink streaks across the sky. I scrambled up. Grabbing fresh clothes, I pulled the door to our flat closed and hurried to the bathroom at one end of the corridor. A quick bath and I was back. I pushed the door open. Srikar looked up. He’d freshened up, too. Probably in the bathroom at the other end of the corridor. Unable to meet his eyes, I closed the door. Wordlessly, he pulled me into his arms. I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling a smile tremble on my lips.