Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel (46 page)

The dark evening was cold and people huddled together, now truly frightened of what lay ahead.

“Amma, are bad things going to happen?” Karthik asked, looking around him with his big black eyes.

“No,” Kokila said firmly. “While I’m here with you, nothing bad is ever going to happen.”

“Are you sure?” Karthik asked, and huddled into Kokila’s lap as lightning scarred the skies and was then followed by the rumble of thunder.

Charvi was filling people with more fear, warning them that the thunder and lightning were Lord Venkateshwara Swami’s message to everyone that he was unhappy. The pace of the prayers increased and the volume of the people who were singing rose a few notches each time there was lightning and thunder.

The prayers continued through the night and people fell asleep on top of each other, leaning against walls, sagging on the floor. It was a long night and even Charvi fell asleep, sitting on the podium, leaning against soft cushions.

The storm ran out of steam sometime in the middle of the night and dawn broke at five in the morning, showing a wet landscape but not one marred by the washout of a large tsunami.

“We have been saved,” someone cried out. “Charvi Amma saved us with prayer.”

Kokila and Chetana’s fears that if Charvi was wrong it would prove calamitous were unfounded. People were pleased that the storm had passed without leaving behind any damage. And Charvi was bright and alive, looking years younger than she had just a few days ago. She had turned fifty, people said, and she had acquired a new power, the power to look into the future.

The local TV news in Visakhapatnam had a clip about Charvi and her prediction. All of a sudden, Charvi’s fame spread beyond the bounds of Bheemunipatnam.

Kedarnath Somayajula’s wife, a devout and pious woman, read about Charvi and her
ashram
in Tella Meda in the
Deccan Chronicle,
where there was a small news item with a photograph of Charvi and Tella Meda. She put two and two together and convinced her husband to let the holy woman stay on with her flock. Her husband and his brothers reluctantly agreed, especially after hearing how Charvi had stopped a tidal wave from engulfing all of Bheemunipatnam with just prayer. It was obvious that the woman was powerful and not to be trifled with.

“I just got a letter from Kedarnath Somayajula,” Kokila told Charvi excitedly.

“He’s letting us stay, isn’t he?” she asked, and when Kokila nodded, Charvi took a deep breath. “I predicted it. I knew we would not be turned out of Tella Meda,” she said. “We could find another place, certainly, but I like it here. Now I have to go for my walk.”

As Kokila turned to leave Charvi’s sitting room, she saw a letter on her desk with a familiar postmark. She picked it up after ensuring that Charvi had indeed left. The contents of the letter made Kokila smile. It was a letter from Kedarnath Somayajula’s wife sent a day earlier than the letter her husband had mailed to Kokila. It told Charvi that her husband would let them stay in Tella Meda, with no rent, just as her father-in-law had, and she also said that she would like to come and visit Charvi and stay in the beautiful house.

So much for Charvi’s prediction,
Kokila thought with a smile as she put the letter back on the desk.

1995
12 May 1995
. India refused to sign the nuclear nonproliferation treaty because of what it called its discriminatory form.

24 October 1995.
A total solar eclipse was seen over Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and West Bengal, while a partial eclipse was seen in the rest of the country.

The
Whore’s
Granddaughters

S
ushila didn’t sleep at all the night she waited for the Engineering and Medical College Entrance Test (EAMCET) results to be announced. Both Padma and Meena had taken the test after studying almost every waking hour for the past two years.

They, like other sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds all over Andhra Pradesh, were waiting to find out what rank they had received and if the rank would qualify them to enter a medical and/or engineering college. Sushila knew Padma had to get a rank under six hundred because that was the only way she could get into Andhra University in Visakhapatnam, a good medical college. But even then it would be a financial stretch.

“I hope Meena’s rank is not too high,” Chetana confessed to Kokila while the girls waited to get the newspaper where their ranks would be displayed next to their examination roll numbers.

“Why would you hope that?” Kokila said, surprised.

“How will I pay for medical college? How will I pay dormitory fees? Sushila is planning to take a bank loan. As if anyone will give her one. But she at least has some pension. I have nothing,” Chetana said. “And since Srinivas got married to that cousin of his, I don’t even get free balcony tickets at the cinema anymore. How will I pay for her education?”

Kokila tilted her head and made a sound.

“I’m not going to ask Manikyam,” Chetana said, interpreting Kokila’s sound accurately.

“It’s her future and if her rank is good, why not? And Manikyam has already offered to help,” Kokila reminded her.

“No,” Chetana said emphatically. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”

“Okay,” Kokila said just as the newspaper arrived and the commotion on the front verandah began.

“Eighty-three,” Meena screamed as she came running into the courtyard where Kokila and Chetana were drinking their morning tea. “My rank is under one hundred. Can you believe it, Amma? Can you?”

Chetana set her tea aside and hugged Meena tight. “I’m so proud of you. Under one hundred . . . oh my God . . . oh my God. You are a genius, aren’t you?”

Meena started to cry then. “I can’t believe it. Maybe I should look again, maybe I read it wrong.”

Chetana cast an eye at a somber Sushila and a weeping Padma coming into the courtyard and thought that if Meena had read her number wrong, Sushila would let them know.

“Congratulations, Meena,” Sushila said with a tight smile.

“What’s your rank?” Meena asked Padma, wiping her tears.

Padma sobbed even more loudly then and ran to the room she shared with Sushila.

“Two thousand and three,” Sushila said quietly. “No medical college; she’ll have to do her degree somewhere . . . I don’t know.”

“She can take the EAMCET again next year,” Kokila said. “Many students try again and get a good rank.”

“But how can that be?” Meena asked, genuinely shocked. “We studied together and I know everything she knows. Are you sure? Give me the paper, let me look.”

But it was quite clear that Meena had gotten a much better rank and Padma was not going to get into any medical college in Andhra Pradesh. It was an honor and a matter of great pride, Meena knew, to be ranked so high. Over forty thousand students took EAMCET in 1995 and she was in the top one hundred. She wished Padma had done well because now she couldn’t shout with joy as she wanted to; she had to be careful so as to not hurt Padma’s feelings. But inside she was so excited she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Now what am I going to do?” Chetana said to Kokila that night. “I’m so glad. I mean, a rank of less than one hundred . . . oh my God, not even in my wildest dreams did I think she would get such a good rank. And I’m so happy her rank is good because I look at Padma and I don’t know if I could stand it if Meena was that sad. But now she can go to medical college, any one she wants. What am I going to do? How am I going to pay for this?”

“I have something to tell you. Don’t start screaming right away,” Kokila warned. She went into her room and came back. “Here,” she said, and handed over the bank passbook Dr. Nageshwar Rao had given her after Ravi passed away.

Chetana went through the passbook and her expression didn’t change as she scanned through the pages. “How long have you had this?” she demanded, her anger just below the calm surface of her question.

“Since Ravi died. I gave Bhanu hers after she got married,” Kokila said, waiting for the storm to break. Chetana would not forgive her for this.

“This will be enough for medical college,” Chetana said, vibrating now with a silent anger. “How dare you take money for my children? Why did you take it?”

“Because we all need money and this wasn’t money for you but for Meena and Bhanu’s future,” Kokila said. “I know how you feel about Ravi’s parents and I understand if you’re angry with me but I couldn’t let you sacrifice Bhanu and Meena’s future because of your anger.”

“I
am
angry,” Chetana said as tears filled her eyes and a half-hysterical laugh escaped her. “But I can’t even throw this passbook back at that bastard, can I? This is Meena’s future. She worked so hard to get that rank.”

“Sometimes how you feel is not important. You have to kill your pride and do what is right,” Kokila said.

“I’m surprised Bhanu hasn’t told me,” Chetana said.

“She didn’t want Babu to know. She’s saving the money for a rainy day,” Kokila said. “Do you hate me for this?”

Chetana slowly shook her head. “I’d do the same for Karthik.”

Meena’s stellar performance in the EAMCET made her a celebrity in the small town for a few days. The local Bheemunipatnam newspaper did an article about where Meena had gone for EAMCET tutoring and how she had made the town proud. Chetana cut the article out of the paper and had it framed along with the newspaper clipping where Meena’s rank was highlighted next to her roll number.

Since the
pralayam
incident the traffic to and from Tella Meda had increased immensely. Earlier Kokila had had to work hard at managing the Tella Meda finances, but now there was always some money left in the safe at the end of the month. Charvi was proud that she was being treated like a
guru
again and offered to help Meena financially if she needed it. After all, Meena was her grandniece, almost like her own granddaughter, since she’d known her from the day she was born.

Padma refused even to come out of her room. It was a betrayal of immense proportions that Meena should have gotten such a good rank. Padma’s twelfth-class marks were quite good and she knew she could get into a good college in Visakhapatnam, where she could pursue a bachelor’s degree in science, specializing in genetics. It was a three-year course and after that, Padma thought, she would do a master’s in genetics as well. She would be able to get a job with a master’s degree, she was sure, or she could go to America. She would make something out of her life, she promised herself, even though she didn’t get a good rank in EAMCET.

But Sushila was so disappointed that she said Padma would just have to go to the local college in Bheemunipatnam. How did it matter where she did her degree now? She would never be a doctor and that was all Sushila had ever wanted for Padma.

Sushila went about her business at Tella Meda rigidly, ignoring talk about Meena’s rank and how she could choose the medical college she wanted to go to. Sushila’s heart was broken and she knew it wasn’t Meena’s fault but she couldn’t keep jealousy out of her voice when she spoke with Meena and Chetana. It was devastating that Padma, who was the one who had inspired Meena to study hard, would not become a doctor, while Meena, daughter of a woman like Chetana, would be donning the white coat and wearing a stethoscope around her neck.

Manikyam heard the news of Meena’s EAMCET rank and arrived at Tella Meda with her checkbook, immensely proud of her granddaughter.

“If Ravi hadn’t fallen into bad ways, he would’ve been just like his daughter,” she said to anyone who would listen.

“Old lady, if your son hadn’t fallen into bad ways, he wouldn’t have died young, that’s all,” Chetana said angrily. “You still think he was worth something? I was his wife and I’m telling you he was a useless human being, good for nothing. Meena is the way she is
because
she got nothing from that loser son of yours.”

Manikyam didn’t listen, she was too euphoric. Even Dr. Nageshwar Rao, who had spent a lifetime denying that Chetana was a real wife to his son and therefore denying that her children were legitimate, came to Tella Meda to make amends. Both his sons had amounted to nothing. Now that he was growing old and his clinic had grown in size and stature, he needed an heir. He didn’t want to give away his hard-earned clinic to his partner’s son, the only other doctor available. He wanted his blood to enjoy the fruits of his labor and continue his work into yet another generation.

“Meena has proven she is my granddaughter,” he said to Chetana, who raised her eyebrows and laughed in his face as if he were telling a joke.

“Chetana, please, you have to look at the practical side of things,” Manikyam said.

“Where is she going to college? Not Gandhi in Hyderabad. It’s popular but she should go to Andhra University,” Dr. Nageshwar Rao said, choosing to ignore Chetana’s sarcastic laugh.

“Yes, yes,” Manikyam agreed with her husband. “And she can stay in our house while she goes to college. She’ll get homemade food and someone to take care of her.”