Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel (19 page)

Ananta Devi had been to fertility doctors, saints,
sadhus,
Babas, anyone she could think of to make her pregnant again. She prayed at the temple once every day and kept a fast once a week and sometimes twice a week to convince the gods to bless her with another child, a male child.

The first time, she had gotten pregnant easily. She had been married less than three months when her monthlies stopped and the nausea began. Now if only Manasa had been a boy, she wouldn’t have been this frantic. But Manasa was a girl and everyone knew girls were the property of others. She and her husband needed a male child, an heir. Her womb refused to make another baby. It was wrecking her marriage. Her young daughter was also starting to notice that her father wasn’t interested in her and her mother was always depressed, always praying at the temple or performing elaborate
pujas
at home. Ananta Devi’s faith in God was unshakable and she was sure that if she prayed enough, Lord Shiva or Lord Vishnu or Goddess Parvati would grant her the boon of a male child.

Growing up suffocated by her father’s disinterest and her mother’s obsession for a male child, Manasa had already become an introvert. She kept to herself. She didn’t play much, just followed her mother like a little dog and did as she was told.

Kokila’s heart went out to Manasa when mother and daughter arrived at Tella Meda. She was a beautiful little girl who realized that she was unwanted by both her parents. But all was not lost, Kokila discovered; there was still a spark inside the girl.

Despite saying that all people are equal, Charvi usually gave special attention to celebrities and the wealthy when they came to Tella Meda to pay her their respects. She probably didn’t even realize that she discriminated but those around her did. Kokila didn’t complain. Happy rich people meant fatter envelopes at the end of their stay and more money and gifts in future months if their wishes came true.

Charvi sat in the temple room with Ananta Devi and Manasa while Kokila stood at the doorway watching. Charvi put her hand on Ananta Devi’s belly and chanted prayers. In the past years the demure Charvi who had shied away from anyone calling her a
guru
had changed. She still told everyone, politely, that she wasn’t a
guru
but she had also started playacting. She would put her hand on barren bellies, aching heads, and hearts. She believed she had the power to heal. Not everyone who left Tella Meda wrote back letters thanking Charvi—in fact, most did not—but those who did were remembered and created an illusion of Charvi’s godliness and successful healing powers.

“Ananta, your womb is rich, I see no reason why you shouldn’t have another child,” Charvi said, and Kokila had to hold back a snort. How would Charvi know whose womb was rich or not?

“But it has been six years now,” Ananta Devi said, biting her lip as tears fell down her cheeks. “My husband is losing patience and I’m afraid he’ll discard me and find a second wife to bear him a son.”

Oh, to say such things in front of a child,
Kokila thought as she looked at Manasa, who didn’t respond to what her mother said. But even if she heard it a hundred times it probably didn’t make it easy for her to live with the knowledge that if her mother didn’t produce a brother, Manasa would be cast away along with her.

“We’ll do the Maha Devi
puja.
You must keep your eyes closed and focus on Goddess Parvati. She is a benevolent goddess and will listen to your prayers,” Charvi said, and then continued to chant Sanskrit
slokas.

“Manasa, did you hear?” Ananta Devi demanded in a loud whisper, and her daughter nodded. “Pray to Maha Devi and ask for a brother. Okay?”

Manasa also folded her hands like her mother, but opened her eyes in the middle of the
puja
and looked around with pure glee. Her eyes fell on Kokila and she shut them tightly, afraid that she’d been caught.
Ah, there is the spark,
Kokila thought with a smile. She was being naughty, and Kokila was pleased that Manasa’s selfish parents had not destroyed the child in her completely.

Looking at Manasa, Kokila wondered about Chetana’s six-month-old daughter. Chetana had named her Bhanumati at Charvi’s insistence.

“Manikyam will be pleased if you name your daughter after our mother,” Charvi had coaxed. Charvi didn’t speak much of her pious mother, though she kept an old black-and-white photograph of her in her room. It was obvious that she deeply respected and loved the mother she hadn’t known very well.

Chetana had been too depressed to argue. Manikyam wrote a letter to Charvi explaining the situation. A lawyer had been hired to nullify Ravi and Chetana’s marriage and a new match was being arranged for Ravi. Nageshwar Rao’s sister had a daughter of marriageable age and she was still willing to marry her off to Ravi, despite his recent es capade with a prostitute’s daughter.

Dear Charvi,

I am deeply wounded by what happened. But with Ravi also
claiming that maybe the child is not his, I’m recovering from the
incident. As my husband said, the marriage is not really valid,
therefore how can the child be? And we have to consider Chetana’s
background. If her own husband is casting doubt on her fidelity,
who are we to think otherwise? I hope Chetana will find refuge along
with her daughter at Tella Meda as so many others have. Please tell
Chetana that she can keep the gold bangles. When I gave them to her
I thought she was my daughter-in-law and even though now I don’t,
I would like her to have them.

Ravi has started college and is getting ready for his wedding. We
hope that you and Nanna will come and bless the couple. Anuradha
is a very nice girl and we are very happy that she will be our
daughter-in-law. Please give my regards to Nanna, Subhadra, and
everyone else. I hope to visit Tella Meda soon.

Your ever-loving sister,
Manikyam

Charvi wrote back a scathing response.

Dear Manikyam Akka,

It pains me to read your letter. Its contents are jarring. Ravi and
Chetana were married and set up household in Tella Meda, under
my roof. Ravi’s claim that Bhanu is not his daughter is false and I
can’t believe you are perpetuating this lie. I expected Ravi to say and
do many things, even leave his wife and child, but to accuse Chetana
of infidelity makes him, in my eyes, subhuman.

You and your husband have your
karma
to contend with. As you
know, Venkateshwara Swami watches everyone and we all pay for
our sins and receive rewards for our good deeds. Happiness will not
be at your doorstep, I can assure you, no matter whom you marry
Ravi off to. What you’re doing to Chetana is morally wrong and I
will not associate with you or your husband anymore. Please do not
come to Tella Meda again, as you are not welcome.

Nanna does not send you his regards and we’re all insulted and
humiliated at your and your husband’s behavior. Goodness must
indeed be dead in this world if you will cast away a grandchild
because of her mother’s caste and family background. You and I
grew up in the same house, yet I find that I don’t know you at all
and don’t care to know you anymore either.

Charvi

Manikyam wrote many more letters pleading for Charvi to forgive her but staunchly maintained that Bhanu was not her granddaughter. Charvi never spoke to her again.

Chetana just lay in her bed all day, staring at the ceiling. She had moved back in with Kokila and Bhanu slept with Chetana on some occasions. Usually, it was Renuka who took care of Bhanu.

It all started when Chetana didn’t respond to a crying Bhanu, who was then just three months old, for almost an hour. Unable to stand the cries of the baby any longer, Renuka went inside Chetana’s room, where she lay next to the baby, not picking her up or comforting her.

Renuka picked up Bhanu, who wailed some more. “The poor girl is hungry,” Renuka said acidly. “Come on, Chetana, feed her.”

“I don’t want to,” Chetana said calmly. “You can feed her if you want or leave her here. She will shut up when she falls asleep.”

Horrified that a mother could be so cold, Renuka took Bhanu to the kitchen and angrily told Subhadra what Chetana was doing.

“Thin milk for now,” Subhadra suggested nervously, and quickly mixed some milk with water.

“How do we feed her?” Renuka asked, speaking loudly to be heard over Bhanu’s hungry cries.

“A spoon . . . a small spoon,” Subhadra said, and picked up the brass one used to give everyone holy water.

Both women sat down on the floor and tried to feed Bhanu with the spoon. The first few attempts were futile, as the milk flowed down Bhanu’s chin, but slowly Bhanu started to slurp the milk with her small rosebud mouth and stopped crying.

After Bhanu was fed, Kokila was immediately sent to the market to buy formula and a bottle with a nipple. The formula was expensive but for once no one at Tella Meda seemed to care about the cost. The baby’s health was of paramount importance. Two bottles with nipples were bought and Subhadra sterilized them every night by putting them in boiling water. Everyone who wanted to pick up Bhanu had to wash their hands. Bhanu’s clothes were washed separately from other clothes with a soft detergent.

Not willing to leave Bhanu with the disinterested Chetana, Renuka started to put Bhanu to sleep in the kitchen in one of the wicker baskets used to carry fruit during the day. She made a bed with white towels and muslin for the baby. Soon all the baby supplies that were in Chetana’s room were moved to Renuka’s as Bhanu started sleeping there at night.

Having a child to take care of altered Renuka’s personality. The bitter widow who had come to Tella Meda became a loving though strict guardian to Bhanu.

Kokila was disappointed. She had expected Chetana to be a wonderful, caring mother, everything Ambika was not, but Chetana was just as callous. Kokila had tried to reason with Chetana but a severe depression claimed her and she was beyond reason. Chetana rarely ate or took a bath. She just lay in the bed staring at the wall or out of the window with blind eyes.

Kokila wanted to talk about the problem with Ramanandam, but he wasn’t interested in hearing about the Tella Meda “gossip,” as he put it.

Their age difference struck Kokila the most when he wouldn’t listen to her problems and would instead talk about the larger issues regarding how the nation was dealing with one matter or other. He talked about politics and government and the enemies at the borders of India. Kokila didn’t care about any of that. She had lived in the closed world of Tella Meda for so long that the larger issues of the world weren’t relevant to her. She needed to talk to someone about waiting in the ration line for over two hours only to find that there was no sugar left. She needed to talk to someone about paying double to Puttamma’s new husband (the fourth or fifth, she wasn’t sure) for sugar, which he sold on the black market along with other essentials such as rice and oil.

She needed Ramanandam to listen to her talk about Chetana and how Bhanu was growing up without any attention from her mother. She needed him to listen to her and not just talk all the time. At times when he would drone on about the Congress Party or, worse, about his days in jail during the British Raj, Kokila had to resist the impulse to ask him to shut up.

Running Tella Meda, keeping track of guests both expected and unexpected, and helping with the cooking and cleaning was a full-time job for Kokila. Between that and making
papads
for Kanka Lakshmi, Kokila could not spend an appropriate amount of time worrying about Ramanandam’s detachment from the real world or Chetana’s detachment from her own flesh and blood.

Bhanu was growing up well, learning how to sit and trying to crawl. She was a lovely little girl, one who would never grow up to be as pretty as her mother, but she would be pleasant-looking. Kokila couldn’t understand how anyone could think that Bhanu was not Ravi’s daughter. She had Ravi’s mouth and Manikyam’s eyes and she smiled just like Ramanandam. She was a vocal child and made loud noises as she played by herself in the kitchen and the temple room while Renuka and Subhadra worked.

Charvi also spent a lot of time with Bhanu, talking to her, singing to her, letting her bang on the
tabla
and harmonium in the music room. Charvi had an abundance of patience with Bhanu. But Charvi’s main concern was how Chetana was disappearing into herself with every passing day. She tried to help Chetana but besides getting a polite smile and nod, Charvi didn’t get very far.

Kokila worried about Bhanu more than she did about Chetana. Would Bhanu grow up wondering why her mother couldn’t love her? How could Chetana not be interested? If Bhanu were hers, Kokila knew, she would never let anyone take her girl away from her. As such, she contented herself with fighting to hold Bhanu and give her a bath. Renuka was a possessive surrogate mother. Bhanu wasn’t getting her mother’s love but she had enough mothers in Tella Meda to be happy and content, at least for now, until she grew old enough to see what was happening with her real mother.

Manasa didn’t have Bhanu’s luck. Her mother barely noticed her. She was too busy trying to have a son and there were no surrogates to take the role of mother with Manasa.

“Maybe if she stayed with her husband and kept household with him, she would get pregnant,” Subhadra commented angrily when Manasa was shushed for speaking while Charvi imparted words of wisdom to Ananta Devi. The girl barely spoke and even when she did she was silenced. “Going to saints and
sadhus
is not going to get her pregnant.”

“Manasa, come here,” Kokila called out to the girl, who was sitting at the dining table in the verandah, listening to Charvi talk with her mother. “Do you want some
ladoo
?”