Tell A Thousand Lies (23 page)

Jerking her head at me, Lata asked Ammamma, “Doesn’t she have devoted followers for this sort of thing?”

Ammamma gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Stop fidgeting, will you?” Lata said to me. “You are driving me crazy.”

“When Srikar comes, you will greet him, then leave,” Ammamma said.

Part of me wished I could leave, too. Srikar’s abrupt response last night had been as wounding as it had been unexpected. I didn’t know what to make of his reaction.

“Why can’t I stay back?” Lata asked with a pout. “This is the first time I will be meeting my brother-in-law formally. I want to see his reaction, too.” She said to Ammamma, “You will be there.”

“I wish I could have stayed out. This is, after all, a private matter between husband and wife. But we can’t afford to give people the chance to talk.”

Ammamma had ordered the ashram closed to the public on the pretext that
Ammavaru
– that would be me – was going into a state of meditation. Only the priest was permitted to come in for the twice-daily prayers. Even he wasn’t allowed access into my sanctuary, though.

There was a knock on the door. We stiffened. “It’s only me,” Lakshmi
garu
said. Ammamma opened the door. Srikar stood behind Lakshmi
garu
.

I smiled at him tremulously; how much I’d missed him.

He smiled back.

Ammamma cleared her throat.

Suddenly conscious of our audience, I jerked my attention from him. I introduced my sister to my husband.

“This is the grand passion of your life,
hanh
?” Lata looked him over. “The one that keeps you awake at nights?”

There was shocked silence. Lakshmi
garu
clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Lata!” Ammamma looked mortified.

“Not bad,” Lata said. “Better than what you saddled me with.”

I felt terrible embarrassment on my sister’s behalf. She seemed to think being married entitled her to speak her mind.

“Leave.” Ammamma grabbed Lata by the arm. “Don’t come back before tomorrow.”

After Ammamma had shut the door, Srikar bent to touch Ammamma’s feet. Ammamma touched his head gently and said, “I wish I could give you more than blessings, Son.”

“Right now that’s what I need the most.”

“You youngsters go and talk in the bedroom.” Ammamma settled in the front room.

As we stood hesitating, Ammamma urged, “Go, Children. And shut the door.”

Slightly embarrassed, I followed Srikar into the bedroom, and closed the door behind me.

As we reached for each other, I said, “I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much.”

“Me, too.”

I held him, not wanting to let go. But the longer he stayed, the riskier it was. Taking a deep breath, I said, “You haven’t said anything about the baby.”

“I want this baby, too,” Srikar said. “I can’t tell you how much.”

But he didn’t seem nearly as excited as I was. I felt a little let down. Was he upset that we had deviated from the map of our lives – college first, then kids? Or perhaps his first reaction was an unguarded honest reaction, and he did not want kids at all? The last thought jarred me enough that I found myself unable to ask what he really felt about the baby. Some things were better left unsaid.

“Do we have a date for the trip?” I asked, conscious that Ammamma sat guard on the other side of the door. Once our decision to escape to Dubai was made, I’d lost my ability to be patient. I was getting increasingly desperate.

“They turned me down.” Srikar’s voice was flat.

“What?” My heart began to hit hard against my ribs. “But why?”

“My grandfather is a politician, remember?”

“What has that got to do with us leaving the country?”

“Passports are never issued without police verification. They rejected my application.”

“How would your grandfather know what you’re up to? He isn’t keeping track of you, is he?”

“Apparently, it’s not uncommon for corrupt politicians to give the police a list of names to put on a watch list. As long as you’re in the country, you’re okay. The moment you apply for a passport, you get on their radar.”

Why was I not surprised? Politicians and the police went together like food-poisoning and stomach cramps – where one was, the other couldn’t fail to follow.

“I still want the baby,” I said.

As we lay on the bed together, he said, “I don’t see how. How will you get away from here? Where will you have the baby? Or, if you decided to get an abortion, how will you do it? There are always too many people around you.”

“Two days ago Lakshmi
garu
found a woman who makes herbal concoctions that can cause a miscarriage.”

“Do you want to do it?” Srikar said. “Get an abortion, I mean?”

“No.”

“I don’t, either.”

The fact that he also wanted this baby gave me courage. I felt strong, ready to take on the world for my child. I would protect it with everything I had. With my life, if I had to. “We’ll manage.”

“How?” Srikar said, despair in his voice.

“Ammamma tells me my mother didn’t get very big, even in the later months. Hopefully, I won’t either. Anyway, by the time the baby is ready to come, we’ll be in Hyderabad.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Didn’t you say you’d come up with a plan?”

“What if I can’t?”

“I’ll be trying, too.”

“What if the baby comes early? What then?”

“I’m trying not to think that far ahead.” My voice caught.

“You should. We’ll need a few different options on hand.”

Despite what he’d said to Ammamma about me being free to leave, Srikar’s grandfather had me watched now. I couldn’t scrunch up my nose without it being reported back to him. Getting Srikar in without their notice had been easy, because the job of his henchmen was to prevent me from sneaking out. It hadn’t occurred to them that someone might want to sneak in, though I was surprised his grandfather had overlooked that possibility.

“I have a few months, yet. Hopefully his goons will get bored and slack off. I’ll bide my time. I
am
going to get away,” I said. “Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know yet. But I promise you, I will.”

Chapter 30

Temple or Not?

F
ollowing Srikar’s return to the city, I struggled with the need to maintain a façade of calm in public. I had the urge to burst into tears all the time – whether it was due to the pregnancy, or the thwarted escape plan to Dubai, or because I missed Srikar, I couldn’t tell. But I was breaking down more and more. I spent inordinate amounts of time watching Srikar’s mirrored globe twirl from the ceiling, tracking it as it cast its myriad of hexagonal reflections about the room. This tangible evidence of Srikar’s existence was the only thing that gave me some measure of comfort. And the baby, of course. So far I had managed to retain control in public, but I knew Ammamma was concerned.

After gaining ascendancy to a Minister’s post in the State Cabinet, Kondal Rao came to see me. At a packed
bhajan
one evening, he waddled up to my chair and bowed his head. “
Ammavaru
,
a thousand
namaskarams
!
May I have permission to speak in your benevolent presence?”

I nodded, almost choking with the effort.

“With your permission, I would like to build a temple big enough, and grand enough to befit you.”

Rage flooded my being. He’d lied! He’d never had any intention of letting me go.

“Please accept this insignificant offering from your most humble devotee.” Since he was facing me, his back to the devotees, he stared directly in to my eyes, warning me not to refuse.

Blood rushed to my face. The audacity of the infernal man! The sheer gall! He had me in his grip, slowly crushing me like he might an insect, and he wanted bloody acknowledgement? My face hurt from the effort of controlling my fury. I shut my eyes, not wanting anyone to witness my rage. When I opened them, I saw Kondal Rao’s face had darkened even as he struggled to remain calm. I found myself unable to give him the acknowledgement he sought, recognizing at one level that it was dangerous to make an enemy of this man.

Later that night, after the devotees had gone home for the night, Ammamma and I sat on the swing, looking up at the night sky. A chill invaded my bones. If he went ahead with the temple, I was doomed.

“You didn’t do a wise thing by crossing Kondal Rao,” Ammamma said. The ‘
garu
’ honorific for him had long been dispensed with, even by my grandmother.

“Ammamma,” I exclaimed. “If he builds me that temple –”

“I know, Child. I know. But you can’t afford to cross him, not in public. He is too powerful a man.”

“What would you have me do?” I asked, feeling fresh outrage. “Feed his colossal ego?”

 
“Hate him if you will, and God knows you have enough reasons, but don’t give him leeway to bury you alive.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Having made his grand announcement, he won’t be able to back out. The key is to give him just enough to keep him happy, but not enough that it harms you.”

“How?”

“Let him build something, anything, just not a temple.”

“Like what?”

“A small ashram, perhaps.”

“How will that help?”

“In the ashram you have the option of starting up vocational training courses for youngsters, teaching
bhajans
to children, discussing spiritual texts with older people. That puts the donations to good use, he doesn’t lose face, and you aren’t bound by a temple.”

“He makes me so angry, Ammamma, I can’t get myself to accept anything from him. It is not like he is doing any of it out of the goodness of his heart. He just wants to make a show for his voting public. Besides, you and I both know that no matter what I do, he is never going to let me go.”

“Then it is even more important that we not let him build that temple. We can always hope things will change. But, till then, it would be foolish to antagonize him further.”

I recognized the wisdom in Ammamma’s words, but it burned me up that the wretched man was using me to further his own interests. At the expense of my happiness, my life with my husband. “The land he wants to build the temple on is not even his, you know,” I said. “He has intimidated villagers into ‘donating’ it.”

“When someone controls the police, ordinary people end up getting crushed.”

“He’s leeched onto our family like a bad omen. Poor Lata, to be forced into that wedding.”

Ammamma sighed. “Once she got pregnant without the benefit of a wedding, even God couldn’t have saved her.”

I nodded slowly. There were some things in life you couldn’t expect forgiveness for.

“That man is lower than the belly of a snake,” Ammamma said, “husband of my dear friend, though he is. But still, you cannot afford to refuse him publicly. Men like him don’t get to where they are by taking ‘no’ for an answer.” She had worry in her eyes. “And there is that other thing.”

“Ammamma, he is such a powerful man. Do you honestly believe he won’t find out I am carrying his great-grandchild?”

Ammamma looked around fearfully, though she and I were in the empty courtyard and the gate was locked. She leaned forward and whispered, “Forget this fact. Don’t even
think
about it again. If Kondal Rao finds out, you won’t live long enough to hold your child in your arms.”

How could I forget my baby? I never referred to it again for Ammamma’s sake, but plans of escape consumed almost all of my waking thoughts, and most of my sleeping ones.

Chapter 31

Ashram, Perhaps?