The Girl in the Garden (32 page)

“It was the perfect plan, your grandfather thought, except that Dev found out about the baby,” she continued. “When Chitra went into seclusion he noticed she wasn’t out and about anymore, and he took to hanging around the house, waiting for her to come out. One day he saw her sitting on the verandah with her belly all swollen. When the baby was born, he was lurking outside. He saw the poor child with his own eyes. He agreed to keep the secret as long as your grandfather gave him what he wanted. Your mother ran away shortly after, and then the baby was cared for by Muthashi, Hema, and Sadhana. As Muthashi got older and Hema grew more deranged, Sadhana took over almost completely. And Sadhana is just like her father, proud and stubborn, maybe even more so.
She will give up everything before she betrays the secret. She feels that she owes it to him after she married against his wishes and broke his heart.”

“But what about Prem? Why didn’t he do anything? Amma didn’t care, but what about him? It was his baby, too.”

“Rakhee, it’s not that your mother didn’t care. She was young and scared. She was a child herself who didn’t know what she was doing. And Prem—he didn’t even know Tulasi was still alive until recently. It was Vijay who wrote to him finally, telling him everything. Vijay was getting desperate, so he went behind Sadhana’s back because he knew she would never agree to it. He hoped that by writing to Prem and revealing the truth about Tulasi, Prem would do the right thing and come back for her. He hoped Prem would take Tulasi away and that their financial problems would finally be over. But it wasn’t that easy. Sadhana doesn’t want to give her up. She’ll fight tooth and nail to keep that girl right where she is, even if it means forcing Gitanjali to marry Dev. You see, she has grown quite fond of Tulasi, perhaps even more so than her own children. She was the one who named her Tulasi, after the holy plant. I think she feels more like the girl’s mother than Chitra, and I don’t blame her. After all, she has been her main caretaker for all these years.”

So was that the big plan? Were Amma and Prem plotting to take Tulasi away in stealth, and me along with her?

“When Prem got the letter, he immediately contacted your mother. Until then, he wanted to let her move on with her life, but when he found out about Tulasi, all the memories came back. I think he had always planned to return to Malanad when he was finished with school to marry your mother. He wrote her letter after letter telling
her to wait for him and that his love for her had never wavered, but your grandfather intercepted and destroyed them. At least, that’s my only guess as to why they never made their way to Chitra. She thought he had forgotten about her or that he had lost interest because of the pregnancy. When Prem’s parents told him that Chitra had run away and that she eventually married someone else, he was devastated. He stayed away, barely even coming back to see his parents, because being here reminded him too much of her. It breaks my heart to remember all of this. Those two were so perfect for one another, they were so in love, even as children.”

Just then, Krishna came tripping down the stairs.

“There you are, Rakhee! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said before stopping in her tracks. “What is wrong?”

I wiped my face with the edge of my dress. I hadn’t realized that I was crying.

“I was just telling Rakhee a sad story,” said Veena Aunty.

“Can I hear it?” Krishna snuggled up next to Veena Aunty, who smiled.

“I’m just about done. Why don’t I tell you girls another story?”

“Okay, then,” said Krishna.

Veena Aunty began to spin some fairy tale or another, but I didn’t hear a word. My stomach ached and my mind was numb.

Finally Veena Aunty stopped talking and stood, telling us she had to get going because Valsala would have lunch waiting. She leaned down to hug each of us, and at my turn, she whispered in my ear: “You’re okay, right? I know this is a lot to digest, but I’m just asking you to leave it to me and not do anything rash, all right? We can
talk as much as you want when this is all over and done with.”

“I’m fine, Veena Aunty.”

After she had disappeared around the curve in the road, I told Krishna I was taking a nap. I waited in my room for a while, and when the coast was clear, I dashed around the side of the house, over the wall, and into the forest, my body propelled by a new delirium.

My sister.

I ran as fast as I could because I needed to see her and also because the wind waving through my hair and the twigs scraping my ankles distracted me from the tumult of emotions. Happiness that I had a sister, shock at Dev’s story, and, most of all, hurt at the thought that Amma had once had a child and abandoned it. She had not wanted it, not cared for it, not loved it. If she was capable of such an act, then how did I know that she had ever wanted me, that I wasn’t just a mistake, a regret, like everything else?

When I got to the wall, I dug my fingers and toes into the dry stone, heaved myself up, and jumped over, expecting to be greeted by the cushiony lawn. Instead, my knees fell hard upon rough grass that peeled away a thin layer of skin. But I could not dwell on the fast, sharp pain or the weak dribbles of blood that snaked down each knee. It was not just the grass. The entire garden had transformed into a crumbling shell of its former self. The tender, sculpted roses and wide, bright peonies sagged on their stems, shriveled up like the wasted fists of old women, and the pollen of the stooping gray hibiscus was ashed upon the crusted soil. The ground was strewn with crunchy leaves and dead fruit that sent sweet, rotten fumes swirling up into the air. I picked my way through the wreckage toward the cottage.

Inside it was cool and dim. Shades had been drawn down over the windows. I went over to one and tugged at the string, letting in a shock of golden light.

“Tulasi?” I called.

Everything was clean and in its place.

I walked toward the bed, suddenly feeling very drawn and tired, as if all my energy was being siphoned away. Even breathing was a chore. What was happening to me?

Raising a weak arm, I drew back the netting and saw the outline of Tulasi’s thin form coiled beneath a white cotton sheet. The top half of her face peeked out from the sheet and rested on a pillow. Her skin had a yellowish-gray tinge. I looked down at my own hand and saw that it had taken on a violet hue that was almost unearthly. My veins were clear as blue rivers.

Why was I so tired? What was wrong with me?

Puck was curled at the foot of the bed, his wings tucked beneath his body, like a nesting hen. He examined me with his round black eyes, but did not move or make a noise.

“Tulasi, are you awake?”

She stirred, moved her face from side to side, then opened her eyes and pulled the sheet down away from her bloodless mouth.

“Rakhee,” she whispered. “Is that really you?”

“It’s me,” I said, and felt the tears start in my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back, I’m sorry it has been so long—”

“It does not matter, you are here now. I wish I could make you some tea, but I am so terribly tired—”

“I don’t want tea,” I said, and climbed onto the bed. I bent down and hugged my sister with trembling arms.

“Come under the sheet, you are so cold.”

I lay down beside her, the sheet molding to me, and
held her close, with my cheek pressed against hers. Her breathing was slow and labored, and as I lay next to her I realized so was mine.

“What’s the matter? Are you sick?” I asked.

“I am not well. How about you? Are you sick?”

“Don’t worry about me. What’s happened to you? What’s wrong?”

“Rakhee, please just lie here with me. Let us not talk of sickness.”

There was so much I wanted to tell her, so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t have the energy.

“Tulasi—”

“Rakhee, just lie quietly here with me, please. Stay with me.”

“I’ll stay,” I said. No one could separate us now.

We lay together like that silently, and even after she fell asleep I continued to lie there, unable to let go, until I, too, fell. A heavy sleep swept over me and I succumbed without a fight, as if it were the first time that summer I could really rest.

My mind was undisturbed by dreams. I don’t think I have ever slept so well since.

When I finally opened my eyes, I realized with horror that night had come and gone, and the warm, rosy light that lapped in through the open window was the light of dawn.

I looked down at my hands. They still had a pale, mottled look, and my body felt hollow, as if someone had scooped out my insides. I could have easily closed my eyes and slept for another day, another night.

But I had work to do, so I gingerly disentangled myself from Tulasi’s arms.

“Tulasi?” I touched her shoulder and her eyelids fluttered, but did not open.

I said her name again, but still, she did not wake, so I kissed her cheek and took one last look at my sister.

I made it back to the house, stumbling, heartsick. The first thing I saw when I got to the doorway of my room was Amma kneeling on the floor, sobbing. She was holding something white in her hands.

Sadhana Aunty was standing near her and turned when she heard my footsteps.

She stared at me for a moment with her unreadable eyes, then slowly, deliberately began to move toward me.

“What’s going on?” I said.

Sadhana Aunty did not respond, just kept walking.

She was going to hug me. For some reason, Sadhana Aunty was going to hug me.

Was it Aba? Had something happened to Aba?

It was only when I felt my face stinging and my body falling that I realized she had slapped me.

M
y cheek burned and my ears rang from the force of Sadhana Aunty’s slap. I fell to my knees. Through the haze I heard Amma cry out: “Chechi, don’t!” But she made no move to help me.

I looked up. Sadhana Aunty’s fists were clenched and her elbows stood out at angles, like wings. She was a wild bird whose nest had been plundered.

“How dare you,” she said in a voice strangled with hate.

I tried to stand. At the same time, she yanked me up by the shoulders and gave me a shake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I gasped. Had Veena Aunty betrayed me? My teeth pierced my tongue and I tasted blood.

Sadhana Aunty glared at me, then released my shoulders and went over to Amma, who was still kneeling on the floor, weeping. She snatched the something white out of her hands and held it up for me to see. It was Tulasi’s portrait.

“You’ve been seeing her, I knew it. Who gave you the right? Were you intending on showing this to her? To lie and make her believe that she was beautiful?” Sadhana Aunty began to shred the portrait with the scruple of a
butcher, strip by strip. The portrait that I had poured so much of myself into creating, the portrait that had revealed so much to me, the portrait I had planned to keep with me forever should Tulasi and I ever be separated again. Each tear felt like another slap. She crumpled up the pieces, opened her fist, and let them fall like snowflakes.

“Do you understand the consequences of your actions?” She was quiet now. “For the first time in her sixteen years on this earth, I have seen sadness and distrust in her eyes, have seen her body weakened by sickness. You have broken down everything I have worked so hard to build up, destroyed the life and the world that I have given her.”

“She’s a prisoner!” I shouted. “And you’re a horrible person for lying to everyone and keeping her locked up like that for all these years!”

“You call her a prisoner? Foolish girl. What would she find out here that could be any better than she has in there? Pain, sickness, greed, evil. I was sparing her all of that. I made a beautiful world for her, I kept her safe. You say that I am the horrible one, but it’s you who have taken that all away from her, and for what? For some childish summer adventure, and then you’ll leave us here to pick up the pieces?”

“No, I’m not leaving her! She’s my sister!”

“Rakhee,” I heard Amma rasp, “how do you know that?”

Sadhana Aunty silenced her.

“Let me handle this, Chitra. It does not matter how she knows. What matters now is making sure this does not get out.”