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Contents

About the Author

By the Same Author

Dedication

Preface

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

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Copyright

By the Same Author

Other books by Sudha Murty

Fiction The Magic Drum and Other Stories (Puffin) Mahashweta Gently Falls the Bakula

Non-fiction Wise and Otherwise The Old Man and His God How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and Other Stories (Puffin)

TO MY SISTER JAISHREE

O N E

With growing impatience, Chandra Shekhar stood on the platform, waiting for the Rani Kittur Chennamma Express. The train left Bangalore in the night, went via Hubli and Dharwad, and terminated at Kolhapur in Maharashtra. The rake had not yet arrived on the platform. He had come to the station too early. His younger brother Girish, who had come to see him off, had gone off with a hurried, ‘I’ll get you some magazines, be back in a couple of minutes’, half an hour ago, and was nowhere to be seen. That was Girish, easily distracted, fickle, almost irresponsible. He had probably met some friends and lost track of time. Chandru on his part was a sharp contrast to Girish—punctual, organized, thorough, systematic and ahead of time in everything. Chandru kept glancing at his watch. Finally he saw the train approaching the platform. He relaxed a bit, but something was bothering him. Born and bred in Bangalore, he had hardly even been to nearby Mandya or Mysore, and certainly never to this place, Dharwad. To him it was only a spot on the map of Karnataka. Had he been a computer engineer, he would not have had to leave Bangalore. In fact people from all over India came to Bangalore for software jobs. But he was a civil engineer with a very reputed company in Bangalore and now, because of his efficiency at work, he had been specially selected to supervise a project in north Karnataka. He had accepted this transfer rather reluctantly. On his way to take up his duties in an unknown place, among unknown people, he felt like a newly-wed bride leaving her beloved parental home with mixed feelings of joy and apprehension. Just as the train pulled in, Girish appeared from nowhere. He picked up the luggage and said, ‘Don’t worry, Chandru, I’ll put the luggage inside. You take your time.’ Deep in thought, Chandru followed his brother into the compartment. ‘Okay, Chandru, goodbye. Telephone us when you reach,’ said Girish, and jumped off. Chandru looked around at his co-passengers cursorily, and then turned his attention to the magazine Girish had bought for him. Soon the train began to move. Chandru looked out of the window at waving hands and people shouting goodbye and final pieces of advice. He had no one to wave out to. Girish was long gone. With a sigh, Chandru stared out of the window. He was travelling by train after a long time, and was not familiar with the sights along the railway track. It was quite interesting to identify the areas the train was passing through. He realized that his co-passengers were busy in their own conversations. Chandru did not understand some of the expressions they used because, though the same language, the Kannada spoken in Dharwad has a very different accent and intonation. Perhaps because Dharwad is five hundred kilometres to the north of Bangalore and had been, for ages, part of the erstwhile Bombay Presidency. But Chandru understood the gist of their conversation. They were talking about

cheered Chandru up somewhat. ‘Excuse me, this is my berth. Can you please vacate it? I want to sleep.’ Chandru recognized the voice instantly. Vinu. He turned to look at her. She was fair with bold and beautiful black eyes, a straight, sharp nose, and long, thick hair braided into a plait. She seemed slightly flustered to find someone occupying her seat. Chandru stared at her shamelessly. She was wearing a simple cotton Ilkal sari and no jewellery. He had not expected the girl with the golden voice to also be such a beauty. ‘Could you please get up? This is my berth.’ She sounded a little impatient. This brought him back to reality. ‘No, no, it is my seat. You are making a mistake.’ He showed her his ticket which said G-28. ‘But see, my ticket is also G-28,’ Vinu countered. Chandru read the ticket: Vinuta Desai, F, 19, G-28. Obviously both of them had been allotted the same berth. From the name on the ticket Chandru learnt that Vinu stood for Vinuta. The clerk who was responsible for this confusion was probably sleeping soundly in Bangalore, leaving these two young people to sort it out. Chandru went to the ticket examiner, who dismissed it as an oversight and promised them that he would arrange for another berth at the next station. He requested them to manage till then. Quite courteously Chandru told Vinu, ‘You take this berth. I will wait till the next station.’ ‘Thank you. I am sorry for the trouble,’ Vinu said softly. ‘No trouble at all.’ Vinu settled down in her berth while Chandru went and stood near the door, waiting for the next station. The cold breeze sweeping his face heightened the unexpected pleasure he had experienced when he had encountered the golden-voiced beauty.

orange marigold, delicate white jasmine and roses in all shades of red and pink. It was quite romantic, the atmosphere. ‘Our Dharwad is like heaven,’ said Kitty. Chandru agreed with him, but in his mind he was thinking, Dharwad is a sweet enchanting girl while Bangalore is a ravishing woman. And while he could appreciate innocence, he was definitely more attracted to glamour.

After a couple of days, Kitty told Chandru, ‘There is a place available for a paying guest. If you are interested, we can go and see it.’ Chandru went with Kitty to see the place. It was located in Malamaddi, one of the seven hills that Kitty had talked about earlier. After they came up a rough and rather steep road, they saw a house. In the middle of a spacious plot, enclosed by a fence, sprawled an old red-tile-roofed bungalow, surrounded by a vast lush garden. Chandru noticed mango, jackfruit and banana trees growing on one side. Closer to the house were beds of multicoloured flowers, and bushes of fragrant jasmine. He was surprised to see a tall parijata tree and the rare bakula with its dainty brown flowers next to it. Several varieties of champak dotted the rest of the garden. It was a charming spot, without a doubt. Chandru had not seen such a pretty house in Bangalore, especially in his locality, where most of the houses were three-storeyed buildings occupying the entire plot. Home gardens in such areas meant little plants grown in small pots. Kitty knocked on the door and waited. Chandru couldn’t believe his eyes. The person who opened the door was Vinu! Oblivious to Chandru’s open-mouthed look, Kitty asked her, ‘Is this Bheemanna’s house?’ Vinu was equally surprised. But she quickly gathered her wits about her and replied, ‘Yes. Please come in. I will call my uncle.’ Chandru looked around the drawing room. The furniture was old and shabby, the walls unpainted. Obviously the family had seen better days. Bheemanna, a man with a loud voice and a jolly manner, came out to meet them. Kitty introduced Chandru and explained the purpose of their visit. Enthusiastically, Bheemanna showed them an upstairs room. Chandru had already made up his mind. Whatever the rent, he would agree to it. On the way home, Kitty remarked in a slightly impatient voice, ‘You should have seen a couple of more places. The rent is a little steep. You should have at least said you will think it over.’ Chandru replied with a smile, ‘Pehla pyar, pehla nasha. ’ And walked away, leaving Kitty completely puzzled.

Without realizing it, Chandru compared Vinuta with his sister Surabhi. Though she could sing reasonably well, Surabhi had neither the interest nor the dedication for music and though Chandru had often tried to persuade her to take music seriously, she would refuse under some pretext or the other. Whereas, Vinuta had a golden voice and deep dedication, but no opportunity to pursue it! Despite all the scolding and the heavy housework, she would hum happily to herself, and carry on. It upset Chandru much more than it did Vinuta. It was not long before the talkative Bheemanna passed on most of the family’s history and background to Chandru. Seetakka, the elderly lady, was Bheemanna’s mother. Bheemanna himself had four children. Vinuta was his niece. Bheemanna had only a modest income and had to try hard to make both ends meet, but he was a generous man and always a good host to the stream of guests who walked in throughout the day. Bheemanna was very fond of Vinuta and wanted her to complete her degree, work for two years in order to become financially independent and then marry. At present she was in the second year of the BA degree course in Karnatak College, majoring in Hindustani music. A bright and talented girl, she had won almost every prize in every event in the college. Every night, after dinner, Bheemanna would sit on the bamboo cot underneath the mango tree and relax for some time. That was the time when he also talked to Vinuta. ‘Vinu, come here. You have done enough work for the day. Let the others also do something. What did you learn in the college today? Come on. Sing me a nice song now.’ When Chandru heard that, he would immediately come to the window and listen.

The sun was shining brightly on that day when Vinuta walked on to the terrace with a big cane basket full of ripe tamarind pods which she was going to spread out to dry. Knocking on Chandru’s room door she asked timidly, ‘Do you mind if I spread the tamarind in front of your room?’ She was speaking to him for the first time since he had moved in. Chandru smiled. ‘Of course you can. The tamarind and the terrace are both yours,’ he said. He knew she would go away soon after her work was done, but he hoped she would linger on. ‘You sing so beautifully,’ he complimented her, eager to strike a conversation. ‘Thank you,’ Vinuta responded shyly. ‘Why don’t you sing on the radio?’ ‘I do, I have been, for the last four years.’ Chandru felt rather stupid. ‘Sorry, I did not know that. Please tell me when your next programme is going to be aired, I will definitely listen.’ ‘I will. But now, will you please step aside so that I can go?’ Chandru drew back, abashed, and Vinuta left with a smile.

As the days passed, Chandru became more familiar with Dharwad city and its surroundings, as also with the Desai family.

Sometimes, Bheemanna would invite him to join them for dinner. Vinuta rarely spoke much but her friendly smile warmed his heart. Chandru went to play a friendly cricket match with his team... and returned with a dislocated elbow. The doctor put him in a plaster for three weeks and advised him rest for a week. Before he could think of going to Bangalore to recover, Bheemanna came to him and made an offer. ‘Don’t go to Bangalore. We will take care of you. Vinuta is here and she will serve you all your meals in your room.’ Without waiting for Chandru’s response, he called out to Vinuta and said, ‘Vinu, now you are in charge of Chandra Shekhar, until he is up and about. Don’t give him the hard rotis that we eat. Prepare rice for him. Serve him coffee, not tea.. .’ Bheemanna wasn’t just being formal; his warm heart genuinely wanted to be of help. Chandru felt this was an additional responsibility for Vinuta. He felt sorry for the poor girl. Of course, he had never seen her unhappy, tearful or angry. Perhaps, he thought, she shed her tears while watering the garden and no one in the house knew of her sadness. Only when she got married and went away would they realize the value of her presence, thought Chandru bitterly. Just then Vinuta came with a cup of piping hot coffee. And her beautiful shy smile. Chandru could find nothing to say.

One afternoon Chandru heard the excited chatter and uninhibited giggles of the young girls of the family sitting under the jackfruit tree and discussing saris for Diwali. ‘Good thing Kaka has gone to Bangalore for some work, we could give him our specific requests for saris. I have asked for an aquamarine sari with a pink border,’ said Vinuta, excitedly. Chandru was pleased to hear Vinu sounding so happy. The following night, after dinner, he heard Bheemanna telling Vinu, ‘Vinu, I could not get the exact colour you had asked for. Instead I have got this for you.’ ‘Oh, that’s all right. This is also very pretty. I like this blue colour,’ said Vinu brightly. Vinuta’s answer came as a surprise to Chandru. So unlike his sister Surabhi’s reaction, he thought. Surabhi was the same age as Vinuta. The last time he had gone to Bangalore, he had had to trudge after her through all the shops in Chickpet just because she had wanted a particular ‘shocking pink’ sari. When she had been unable to find it, had she settled for the next best? Not a chance. She had dragged him to the market again the next day and finally bought a sari at twice the price he had budgeted for. Chandru had wanted to tell her that it looked awful on her dusky skin, but the thought of the possible consequences had made him keep his counsel. Vinuta, by contrast, seemed to be well aware of circumstances and adjusted to every situation. Of course, Surabhi’s case was different. She had doting brothers and parents who were ready to spend time and money on her. She could afford to be choosy and insistent. Chandru thought he was the only one who sensed and understood the hidden pain and helplessness behind Vinuta’s captivating smile. The next day he asked Vinuta, ‘How would you describe the colour aquamarine? Is it closer to blue?’ ‘It is blue mixed with a little green. But why do you ask?’