Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel (15 page)

Chetana was immediately compassionate. She understood parental disapproval in the face of an intercaste marriage. If she had been a Brahmin, Ravi’s parents would have been less against their marriage, but her being a Devdasi was unacceptable to them.

“You can come and stay at Tella Meda if you like,” Chetana blurted out without thinking.

Kokila nodded as well. “There are a lot of people there and you won’t have to be alone and there will be no college boys to bother you.”

Radhika seemed to think about it and then shook her head. “I don’t know, the landlady is very nice and she has promised to get the midwife and take me to the hospital when I’m ready to deliver. If something happens, I will definitely consider it. Thank you for making the offer.”

They talked for a while longer and then Kokila and Chetana walked back to Tella Meda.

“Do you think she didn’t want to stay at Tella Meda because she’s heard stories about it?” Chetana asked.

Kokila made a noncommittal sound. “It isn’t the best place for a woman to live in, Chetana.”

Chetana sighed. “I don’t blame her. If she comes and lives in Tella Meda, people will be absolutely sure that she’s carrying an illegitimate baby.”

“Poor thing,” Kokila said. “It’s so sad that she should be alone when she’s eight months pregnant.”

“What is wrong with parents? Why can’t they just love their children?” Chetana demanded angrily. “If I have a child, I would never push that child away, no matter what he did.”

A child? Kokila wondered if she would ever have a child, if it would be even possible for Ramanandam to give her a child. She had talked to Ramanandam about pregnancy; after all, it was a practical matter to discuss. Ramanandam told her that he was too old to make more children. Also, he’d had some disease when Vidura was a boy that killed his seed. Kokila didn’t ask him if there had been others since his wife died and if that was how he knew that he couldn’t father any more children. What he had done with other women was his business, and she couldn’t stand to hear about them anyway.

Both Chetana and Kokila were hired to make more
papads
by Kanka Lakshmi after they returned with the finished
papads
the next week. Their quota was increased and since Chetana and Kokila worked in tandem, they easily made forty packets a week, but it took up all their free time. Every week they’d go to the temple with the finished
papads
and come back with more raw ingredients. On the way home they would drop by Radhika’s room as she grew larger and larger, waiting to deliver anytime now.

One night Chetana and Kokila made
papads
by candlelight in the kitchen. A storm was raging and rain was crashing around and on the house with fury. Lightning and thunder had cut off the electricity.

“Isn’t this fun?” Chetana giggled. After dinner they had played cards and talked and then when everyone went to sleep they decided to make
papads.

Chetana kneaded the dough while Kokila rolled out the
papads.

“It will take a long time to dry these if it’s going to rain like this tomorrow as well,” Kokila said.

“We can dry them in one of the guest rooms under the fan,” Chetana suggested. “No one is here anyway. And probably no one will come until the monsoon is over.”

“I hope someone comes before that,” Kokila said wearily. “We’re short of money. No one is paying their rent on time and people who come and stay are so stingy. Some of them pay well, like that professor from Guntur. He is very nice. And that doctor from Madras, she always leaves something good behind. But then there is that family who comes from Kurnool, that man with the limp and his ugly wife . . .”

“And those ugly children,” Chetana said, and made a face. “I hope Ravi and I have nice-looking children . . . fair, yes, I want them to be fair. And since Ravi and I are both fair . . .”

Not really paying attention to what Chetana was saying, Kokila went on. “Well, the ugly family stays for two weeks and leaves
twenty
rupees behind, as if that should help in any way. Why bother to leave anything? And—”

“I think I’m pregnant, Kokila,” Chetana interrupted her suddenly. “No, I know I’m pregnant.”

“That’s wonderful,” Kokila immediately said with a smile. “That’s just wonderful. When will the baby be born?”

“I’ve missed two monthlies now, so sometime in May or June next year,” Chetana said, but there was no happiness in her voice. “I’ve known for a while now but I didn’t want to say anything. I hoped . . . I thought that the baby would go down my legs and—”

“Chetana,” Kokila cried out. “How can you say something like that?”

“I can because my husband is a wayward fool who is right now at some whore’s house or lying on his face in some toddy shop. And because I’m still here, living in Tella Meda. Is this where my children will also end up? What of this child? Will he get to go out or will he also live off Tella Meda?” Chetana asked in a strangled tone.

Kokila was about to put an arm around her when they heard the pounding on the door. They waited to hear if maybe it was thunder but the pounding noise came again and they both ran through the verandah to the front door.

“Chetana, bring the lantern from the kitchen,” Kokila said, not sure if she should open the door in the middle of the night. “Who is it?” she asked, and opened the door as soon as she heard Radhika’s voice.

The poor woman was clutching her belly; she was soaked to the skin and in pain.

“Come in,” Kokila said as she ushered her into the temple room. “Chetana, let’s get her to my room.”

They helped Radhika into Kokila’s room. They were all wet from going through the courtyard.

“We have to get you out of these wet clothes,” Kokila said, and started to remove Radhika’s
sari.
“What happened? Why did you come all the way here in your condition?”

Chetana held up the lantern closer to Radhika and Kokila saw that mingled with the rainwater on the floor of her room was blood. Her legs went lax with fear. They had to get Radhika to a hospital . . . but on such a night, how could they?

“Get Subhadra, now,” she ordered Chetana. “And get some towels from the closet in the temple room.”

Chetana had seen the blood as well in the dim light of the lantern and didn’t ask questions. She ran out into the courtyard, in the dark, to wake up Subhadra and get towels.

“My baby,” Radhika moaned. “What about my baby? I have to go to a hospital . . . I need a midwife.”

“The baby will be fine and you’ll be fine,” Kokila lied as she briskly got Radhika out of her wet clothes and put a blue nightie over her. She didn’t know what to do next so she asked her to lie down.

Radhika screamed suddenly but the noise was drowned out by the raging thunder outside. “I think something is wrong. Something is wrong with my baby,” Radhika cried out. As the pain subsided sobs racked her body. “And he’s dead, Kokila, what am I going to do?”

Kokila knelt beside Radhika and took her hand in hers. “Who’s dead? The baby? The father?”

Radhika nodded. “I got a telegram today. They said he died and . . .” Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks as pain wrapped itself around her abdomen again.

Subhadra and Chetana came back then with towels and a lantern. “Oh my God,” Subhadra said, and sat down beside Radhika on the bed. “Amma Radhika, what are you doing here in your condition? Come, come, tell me how you feel.”

Radhika shook her head and then clutched her stomach. More blood poured out of her along with some fluid, soiling Kokila’s bed.

“I’m going to go get Doctor Garu,” Kokila said. “Chetana, you get Charvi out here.”

“Charvi? What can she do?” Chetana asked.

“Keep her calm,” Kokila replied.

“Take the lantern with you. I’ll get a new one for here,” Chetana said, and held the lantern up to her. “Oh, you stupid girl, why did you come here in all this rain?” she admonished Radhika gently as she used her
sari
to wipe the sweat building on the young woman’s forehead.

“Those college boys were getting rowdy and . . .” Radhika started crying again, in pain and in agony. “And that telegram. My Raja is dead, they said, in the war. What am I going to do, Subhadra Amma?”

“Have the baby,” Subhadra said sternly. “And Lord Venkateshwara Swami will take care of the rest. You are a smart girl and if nowhere else, you can come and live here in Tella Meda.”

Chetana felt panic rise within her. Would her childbirth also be this traumatic? And what if Ravi died or left her? Would her children’s fate also be sealed within the beautiful walls of Tella Meda?

It took longer than Kokila expected to reach Dr. Vishnu Mohan’s house. It was just three houses away but the lantern’s dim wavering light was little help in navigating puddles and stones on the way.

Dr. Vishnu Mohan didn’t delay when Kokila said that there was a nine-months-pregnant woman at Tella Meda who was bleeding. He quickly brought along his black doctor’s bag and an umbrella, which was a futile gesture against the torrent of rain and wind. They walked as quickly as they could, as quickly as the howling wind would allow them, to Tella Meda.

“A big pot of hot water,” Dr. Vishnu Mohan instructed. “We will need to wash her and the baby. Good, you already have towels. You might want to get some more pieces of cloth that you use when you have menses. She’s going to bleed a lot more after the baby comes out.”

Charvi was holding Radhika’s hand, sitting next to her and talking to her in a soothing voice. Ramanandam was standing by the door asking how he could help. Even Renuka was helping by finding clothes for the baby. She had brought her son’s baby clothes with her to Tella Meda as memories of the past and now was offering them for use.

Narayan Garu could sleep through an earthquake and was continuing to sleep through the storm. No one saw the point in waking him up as there was nothing he could do.

“You can’t push right away,” Dr. Vishnu Mohan was telling Radhika while Subhadra rubbed Radhika’s feet to keep them warm.

Ramanandam came along with Kokila into the kitchen while she got water heated on the gas stove. “Damn this war,” Kokila said furiously. “That poor woman has lost her husband. Now she has to take care of a baby all by herself. Her parents and his parents don’t want anything to do with them because they’re not of the same caste.”

“She’ll be all right,” Ramanandam said softly. “She can stay at Tella Meda.”

“And what kind of a life would that be? Living off someone else all the time, not having your own home?” Kokila demanded.

“Is that how you feel?” Ramanandam asked, and Kokila softened.

“No, but that’s how Chetana feels and I understand that. I chose to stay here—I can’t now start regretting my decision.” She smiled the smile she saved for him and his thoughts. “And there is you.”

“I would be lost without you,” Ramanandam confessed. “Here, let me help you carry that.”

They carried the big pot of hot water into Kokila’s room in the rain. Radhika was starting to push now and each time she did, she cried out, so loud that you could hear it over the thunder and the rain.

Vishnu Mohan Raasi, named after the doctor who birthed him, was born at six o’clock in the morning after ten hours of labor. He was a big baby, weighing four kilograms (Subhadra guessed by holding a sack of rice in one hand and the baby in another), and had black hair covering his entire head.

“You have to nurse immediately,” Subhadra told Radhika. “This helps get all the blood out of your womb.”

As Radhika nursed sitting on a cushion on the floor, Kokila changed the sheets on her bed and Chetana brought in some incense to burn to get the smell of birth and blood out of the room. Charvi watched mother and daughter intently, pleased that she had played a part in this miracle.

“You must go to the hospital tomorrow and have the baby checked properly,” Dr. Vishnu Mohan told Radhika. “I’ll come along with you. If your husband is in the military, you should have been close to a military hospital, Amma. It was foolish of you to walk all the way to Tella Meda in a storm.”

“I know, but I wasn’t thinking,” Radhika said, looking at the wonderful boy in her arms. “Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.”

Dr. Vishnu Mohan smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

The storm cleared out the next day as suddenly as it had set in.

“Even Lord Krishna was born on a stormy night,” Subhadra said to the baby as she massaged his entire body with mustard oil. She had hiked up her
sari
and put the baby on her thighs as she rubbed oil on him and told him the story of the birth of Lord Krishna.

Still frail after having lost so much blood during childbirth, Radhika slept most of the day with Dr. Vishnu Mohan checking in on her and giving her medication to help restore her strength. Once she was better, he insisted that she go to the military hospital in Visakhapatnam to make sure everything was all right with her and the baby.

“Let me, let me,” Chetana insisted when Subhadra was done washing and oiling little Vishnu Mohan. “It’s my turn.”

“No, no, it’s Charvi’s turn now,” Subhadra said. “She already said she wanted him after I was done.”

“Why don’t I take him to her?” Chetana offered slyly.

Everyone at Tella Meda was fighting to hold the baby, cuddle him, change him, and take care of him. Radhika felt blessed.

“Thank you so much for your help,” she told Kokila when she brought food for her. “I had no family and now my son is being held by so many people with so much love and care.”

“You can stay here,” Kokila offered yet again. “It won’t be the life you would’ve had with your husband, but it will be a good life. We will be your family and . . . But it won’t be the same.”

Tears sparkled in Radhika’s eyes. “I know,” she said as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I have to let his parents know and my parents know.”

“He’s a son’s son, his parents might come around,” Kokila suggested, and Radhika shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. I am terrified of the future and sad that Raja is dead but mostly I’m angry that he left me to deal with all of this on my own,” Radhika said. “And I am so happy that my son is here. Each time I hold Vishnu Mohan, I feel the world has opened to me. And I’m so sad that my Raja will never be able to hold his son, that I won’t be able to see him hold our son.”