Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel (49 page)

That was the nature of Meena’s visits in general. On her way to Tella Meda, she stayed in Visakhapatnam for a few days with Dr. Nageshwar Rao, who had truly now become Thatha Garu to Meena. Manikyam, who was addressed as Bamma, would shower her with gifts and express great gratitude that she was amounting to something.

Prasad’s health had deteriorated and he was coughing all the time, drinking himself to death, living mainly in his room. Manikyam looked at Meena and saw the future, leaving her only living son to his own devices.

And Meena knew her future was rosy. She had a job already lined up in Dr. Nageshwar Rao’s clinic, to begin right after postgraduate studies. Her only concern was her growing relationship with Asif. Even though Chetana might overlook the fact that Asif was a Muslim, her grandparents probably would not. Already Manikyam was suggesting this one’s son or that one’s brother as a potential husband for Meena. Meena was only interested in Asif and smartly decided not to tell anyone at home about him. For now it was enough that Chetana knew he was her friend.

Asif was her classmate and Meena had felt an immediate attraction to him. A very bright and intelligent boy, he felt the same for her and within the first month of college they became good friends. Before the first semester was over they were lovers. It had been four years since they started seeing each other, and they planned to marry right after they graduated, hoping to do their postgraduate studies in the same place. After that Meena wanted them to work together in Dr. Nageshwar Rao’s clinic.

Asif had warned Meena that she might have to change her religion to marry him because even though his parents weren’t conservative, his grandparents were and he didn’t want to upset his entire family if it was too important to them that his wife be a Muslim. Meena didn’t think much of it. She didn’t feel much like a Hindu and she didn’t think of Asif as a Muslim. How would it matter what her religion technically was? But she understood that this subject would have to be broached with caution in front of her mother and grandparents. And she could only imagine what Charvi would say about Asif and how she would react to Meena becoming and marrying a Muslim.

The matter was moot right now as Asif wasn’t entirely sure she would have to change her religion to appease his family and the wedding was still a whole year away.

But anti-Muslim sentiment was high in India. It hadn’t been easy for Asif and Meena to be a couple. Some of the Hindu students had threatened them, and some Muslim students who had strong ties with the conservative Muslim community had done the same. It was difficult to be a mixed-religion couple, even in a metropolitan city such as Hyderabad. Since the whole Babri Masjid incident in 1992 things had only gotten worse. And with the Bharatiya Janata Party in power in India, the Hindi-Muslim rift was only deepening.

Both Meena and Asif saw themselves as a symbol of peace between the Hindu and Muslim communities. If there were enough couples like them who had mixed-religion children, this war between the religions would disappear. And their close friends agreed with them. Growing up in Bheemunipatnam, Meena had never met a Muslim before and Asif had at first seemed like an alien creature. She used to believe the stories and the rumors about Muslims: they married four women, they didn’t take baths, they only ate beef, all Muslim men were lechers, all their women were subjugated and wore
burkhas
all the time. It was a revelation to meet Asif and find out that his family was actually quite normal, more normal than Meena’s.

Falling in love with Asif had been easy, but Meena knew that keeping that love alive through threats, gossip, and hatred would be the difficult part. At least she wasn’t in her mother’s position, she thought happily. If her grandfather refused to accept Asif as his grandson-in-law, both Asif and she had a solid education that they could fall back on. They wouldn’t have to live their lives in Tella Meda, wasting away.

Karthik couldn’t understand why everyone was making such a big fuss about satellite TV.
Everyone
had it these days, so what was the big deal? He was sick and tired of having to go to someone else’s house to watch television when they had a nice color one in Tella Meda. It was a little old and didn’t have a remote control, so what? It worked and could receive satellite TV.

This seemed like the most insurmountable thing he had ever faced in his life. Kokila was intractable and Charvi . . . well, she wouldn’t even listen. Usually Charvi heard him out and then told him why she thought he should listen to his mother, even if she disagreed with Kokila. This time, she had just put her hands to her ears and shook her head.

“No, Karthik. This is a religious house. We won’t have that kind of nonsense here,” Charvi said, and then smiled because she had a soft spot for the handsome Karthik. “Why don’t you buy yourself a tape recorder? Then you can hear whatever music you want. I’ll give you money for the tape recorder, okay?”

Karthik didn’t have the heart to explain to Charvi that tape recorders were passé and what he really wanted and couldn’t afford was a CD player. These were the times he wished he had a father just like his friends did. Fathers earned money and ensured that mothers and their sons didn’t live in
ashrams.

He was adopted. He knew his mother had died and Kokila had taken him in. He had no complaints, really, except that Amma could be so stubborn about certain things, such as satellite TV. If he had real parents, he was sure, they would have succumbed to his pleas by now. And they would have bought a new color TV with those fancy remote controls as well. He would also have gotten a CD player and loads of other stuff people seem to have. Not all his friends were fortunate enough to have well-earning fathers but they had homes, real homes, not a strange home with so many people in it and people who randomly came and went. Whenever Karthik thought of the guest rooms in the front, he had the image of faces rushing past him like faces framed in the windows of a fast train. He remembered no one and he didn’t care all that much for living in Tella Meda.

He was bored. Summer was here, there was no school, and Tella Meda was mind-numbing. In addition, everyone was so busy with Padma’s wedding. Like he cared. And the boy she was marrying looked like a total geek.

Karthik didn’t mind geeks. He himself could be called one because he was very good at math, but still, Padma’s future husband looked weird. And what a show-off, sending pictures of himself standing next to cars and whatnot.

Karthik didn’t admit it to anyone but he wanted to go to America as well. He followed Meena’s example and talked about nationality and staying in India because he wanted a good EAMCET rank like her. Besides, he also wanted to become a pilot. He was planning to take the National Defense Academy exam after his twelfth class so that he could join the Indian Defense Services as an officer. He wanted to be an air force pilot and wear those cool dark glasses along with the gray bomber jackets. He had watched
Top Gun
several times on video, as one of his friends had the tape, and he thought that flying was very cool. Even cooler was the motorbike in that movie. But it was such an old movie and a girlie movie at that, so he didn’t admit to anyone that he liked it.

When he thought about the movies he watched, the books he read, and the games he played, he knew Kokila would understand none of that. She didn’t even speak English and understood very little of the language. Why, she didn’t even speak Hindi, even though she understood it. His life was more than his mother’s had ever been, even in small-town Bheemunipatnam. And because Kokila didn’t understand the things he understood and took for granted, Karthik felt his mother didn’t really understand him or his needs. It wasn’t just satellite TV, it was everything. Kokila didn’t understand his need to spend more time with his friends or go to Visakhapatnam with them and eat pizza in the new pizza restaurant there. She didn’t understand that he knew what a McDonald’s was and all his friends had been to Visakhapatnam and had actually eaten a chicken burger, while he had only seen one and could only imagine how good it tasted.

At Tella Meda there was only vegetarian food and the only times Karthik had eaten meat and omelets had been at his friend Rajan’s house. Rajan’s father worked in the bank at Bheemunipatnam. They were not Brahmins but Kammas, and their caste permitted them to eat meat. Rajan’s mother made goat curry and she put omelets and bread in Rajan’s lunch box.

When Karthik once suggested to Kokila that maybe they should try to eat some nonvegetarian food, she had been appalled.

“Why? Why would you want to kill and eat some poor animal? Our food is not good enough? It’s good food. Why would you want to eat that disgusting meat? Tell me? Why?”

Kokila had been so upset that Karthik never brought up the subject again. He didn’t know why he liked meat, he just liked it and he wanted to eat it more often. Even Rajan’s mother didn’t cook meat that often because of how expensive it was, but whenever she did, Rajan would sneak away some juicy morsels for Karthik. Rajan was Karthik’s very best friend and they both made plans to become pilots and fly jet planes.

Rajan lived in the next street, where new houses had been built a few years ago. Earlier there was no street, just barren land behind Tella Meda, but now streets had developed and paved roads had emerged from the muddy and empty land. Houses were being built constantly, and more and more businesses were opening in Bheemunipatnam. It still wasn’t as nice as Visakhapatnam, but things were happening in the sleepy coastal town. There was a vacation resort being constructed on the beach some thirty kilometers away from Tella Meda where rich people were buying space in summer cottages. The resort promised to have tourists from all over the world. The plan was to make Bheemunipatnam the “Goa of the east.”

Even though so many things were happening in Bheemunipatnam, Karthik felt that everything was at a standstill in Tella Meda. People were going about their lives in the very same fashion as they had for decades. Everyone talked about how important caste was and they discussed religion all the time. They didn’t eat any meat and refused to have satellite TV. Sometimes, Karthik hated, hated, hated, hated Tella Meda and wished his real parents were alive so that he could go live with them. Of course, he’d take Kokila along because he loved her so much, but he wouldn’t live in Tella Meda. Not if he could help it.

The argument for satellite TV reached new heights when Sushila rented a VCR from the video store along with videotapes that Padma said would appeal to Manoj and his friends who were coming for the wedding from America.

“Why for them and never for me?” Karthik demanded as the VCR was placed on a small settee next to the television and the video store boy hooked it up.

“Because they are the bridegroom’s people and this is a temporary thing,” Sushila informed him. “When you’re old enough to get married, I’m sure your wife’s family will also get for you whatever you want.”

“Amma, why can’t we just get satellite TV? Star TV is great and I’m sure that Padma’s Manoj will like it,” Karthik suggested.

Kokila shook her head. “You have to sign a contract for one whole year and I don’t want to commit for that long. Now that the VCR is here, you can also get some tapes and watch, if you like. Can he, Sushila?”

Sushila cleared her throat and smiled uncomfortably. “I’d like to leave it free from tomorrow onward when Manoj and his family arrive. This is for them. Karthik can rent the VCR some other time.”

Karthik glared at Kokila and Sushila. “I live here,” he yelled at Kokila. “Do you even care about me?”

Kokila sighed. “Karthik,” she called, but he ran out of the TV room, into the temple room, and then straight out of Tella Meda.

“I’m sorry but this is for the bridegroom’s family and—” Sushila began, but Kokila shook her head.

“It’s okay. He’s just being so difficult these days. Nothing is good enough . . . It was so much easier when he was smaller,” Kokila said.

“It’s the age and he’s a boy. Boys have more tantrums than girls,” Sushila said. “He’ll come around, don’t worry.”

But Kokila worried and her worry increased when Karthik didn’t come home that night. She went to Rajan’s house to see if he was there, but Rajan was missing as well.

The boys, it seemed, had run away together.

“Oh, it’s my wedding in two days and he has to run away now?” Padma demanded angrily. “Does anyone care about me? Now I have to worry about him when I should be happy about getting married. How can he do this to me?”

Sushila agreed that Karthik’s timing could have been better. “We’ll just focus on what we have to do. The boys will come back, don’t worry about that. Where will they go?”

They could go anywhere, Kokila thought, anywhere at all. There were five hundred
rupees
missing from Rajan’s home. On that money, two boys could go anywhere.

She couldn’t sleep the night the boys went missing. No one had seen them and no one had heard anything. Other friends of Rajan and Karthik didn’t know where they were. Some thought they might have gone to Visakhapatnam because that was where they always wanted to go, while others were sure that they had drowned while playing in the water. Some others thought that UFOs were involved. Rajan’s mother confided in Kokila that she feared the boys might indeed be in Visakhapatnam to watch the India-versus-Australia one-day international cricket match being played there. The police had been informed but they had no leads. Kokila felt like she was in the past again, running around as she had done so many years ago when Vidura ran away.

“Remember Vidura?” Kokila asked as she and Chetana sat on the terrace, Kokila standing where Ramanandam Sastri had years ago, waiting for his son to come home.

Chetana smiled and nodded. “Ramanandam had beaten him a few days before he ran away,” she said as if remembering an old, old story.

“Really?” Kokila was surprised. “You never told.”