HERE I AM and other stories-14. Vasundhara’s Story

HERE I AM and other stories

14. Vasundhara’s Story

Telugu Original: P.Sathyavathi

English Translation: A. Suneetha

          Lalita woke up and looked for the milk sachet in the plastic bag hung over the outer door. Not finding it, she took out the sachet kept in the refrigerator the previous day, put it to boil, and went to brush her teeth. The doorbell rang. An annoyed Ramesh opened the door. A small girl’s voice could be heard on the other side. ‘Sir, my grandfather passed away last night. My mother told me to inform you that we cannot supply milk for the next ten days.’

          ‘Get lost!’ Ramesh said with a snap,

          Lalita was perplexed: The old man was fine last evening. How did he die so suddenly? Also, what is it with Ramesh that he takes the news of a death so lightly? He gets annoyed very easily these days.

          Ramesh passed on the news to her. ‘I believe Rangayya passed away. You won’t get milk for the next ten days. Look for some other old man with a heart problem to get your milk. By the way, your old housemaid also seems to be absent. Find out if she also kicked the bucket,’ he said, and went off to the bathroom in a huff.

          Rangayya had come home last evening, along with his granddaughter, to collect his monthly dues from Lalita. He was finding it difficult to walk even with a stick and was panting.

          He must have had a heart problem, thought Lalita. He couldn’t do without earning and was entirely dependent on his work to live. He supplied milk to fifteen families in the neighbouring apartments and five other houses in the locality. If they also thought that he was too old to supply milk, he wouldn’t have been able to earn even those few hundred rupees. The watchman of that apartment building always insisted that he use the stairs and not the lift, without any consideration for his age. Rangayya was not in a position to get an ECG done, let alone an angiogram or a bypass surgery. He believed that suicide was a sin; he wanted to live on his own earnings as long as he was alive. He would give his monthly earnings of a few hundred rupees to his daughter and ate whatever she gave him. His son-in-law was a nice man, who never questioned his wife, saying things like, ‘Why should you take care of your father when your brother does not?’ It was good for Rangayya that he died. Perhaps it was good for his daughter too. If Rangayya had lost his ability to earn, would his daughter have fed him? Lalita wondered.

          Ramulamma was absent too. Her story was a similar one.

          If Lalita did not give her work, no one else would employ her. Lalita could not even give her additional work because she was too old. Ramulamma got breakfast, tea and enough food for half a day. Her daughter-in-law gave her her evening meal reluctantly. It was not her fault. The son did not give her all his earnings. She had her own problems.

          Ramesh often got annoyed when she defended them, ‘You take on the burdens of the world.’ But Lalita could sense a tinge of respect for her in that annoyance.

          ‘Let me fetch milk till you find someone else. Shall I get it now?’ asked her father-in-law, Ramarao, entering the kitchen.

          ‘Why don’t you drink coffee and then go? It is not so urgent,’ replied Lalita.

          It’s strange that this man, who had felt ashamed to enter the kitchen till recently, was now offering to fetch milk. Perhaps men feel strong when their wives are around, just like one feels strong in one’s own locality. They feel on top of the world because they have the wife to order around. When she is absent, they come down to earth. Last evening, Ramarao had spread the mats in the veranda for the kids who came for tuition, even before Lalita had returned from school.

          Ramulamma arrived just then.

          After Lalita’s mother-in-law, Vasundhara, had left, a pall of gloom had descended on the house. No one was able to hide it. Ramesh had converted his grief into annoyance. Ramarao did not let it show. Lalita was confused: Is she alive or dead? Why did she find it so difficult to live? Didn’t I make her stay comfortable during the last six months? Didn’t I take care of her like she was my own mother? She didn’t even have to ask for anything. Wasn’t it love that I saw in her eyes when she served me ginger tea after I returned from school? Surely, it wasn’t dutiful behaviour. Sometimes I feel she is dead, but Ramesh strongly denies the possibility. He is right. Why would a woman who is determined to die need her fifty-year-old SSLC register, a picture of her favourite deity, prayer books and two good zari saris? But how will she live with these few things? And who will give her work at this age? Muthyam is the only one who can unravel the mystery. She did oppose the idea of filing a missing person report with the police. She wanted them to wait for ten days. She said, ‘Vasundhara would not run away.’

          Lalita firmly believed that Muthyam was hiding something and knew for certain where Vasundhara was. It was ten days since Vasundhara had left. Lalita decided to go in the evening to make enquiries. Earlier, Muthyam had once taken Vasundhara along with her for a few days with Ramarao’s permission. When Vasundhara had returned, he had abused her roundly. Lalita had got very angry with him because her mother-in-law was of great help when she was around. Lalita’s life was hectic. The children had to be sent off to school with packed lunches by eight-thirty in the morning. She and Ramesh had to leave the house by nine and the veranda was full of kids who came for tuition by the time she returned from school.

          Perhaps Ramesh too felt his mother’s absence. Three days after she left, he had remarked to Lalita, ‘It’s a mistake on my part to have this arrangement of sharing my parents with my siblings. When mother returns this time, I will not send her anywhere. Caring does not mean sharing parents. I did it in a fit of anger, my anger aimed at father. But mother wasn’t at fault, so why should she suffer? I’ve committed a terrible mistake.’

          Lalita agreed, ‘You’re right, Ramesh. I also made the mistake of writing to Kalpana that she should look after them for two more months.’ Both of them had tears in their eyes.

          Ramesh and Lalita had been staying in this house for ten years. It had three rooms, a veranda, a small front yard for muggu and a backyard for drying clothes. It was sufficient for the two of them and their two children. Now that the children were in the Intermediate stage – a big step, followed by the life-changing EAMCET – Lalita allotted one of the three rooms to the children.

          Ramarao and Vasundhara had stayed in Vizag till he retired two years ago. He was not in a job that gave him a pension after retirement. Nor had he saved much from his earnings while still working. He spent a lot on himself. He also had to borrow money for his children’s education and daughter’s marriage. At the time of retirement, he was left with three lakh rupees after paying off these debts with retirement benefits.

          At that time, the house next to that of Lalita and Ramesh was being readied for development into an apartment block. The builder promised to arrange for a bank loan if they paid two lakh rupees in advance. Ramesh requested his father for money to book an apartment with but Ramarao was reluctant. He consulted everyone, except his wife. Everyone told him not to give his son the money and instead, to invest in a bank deposit that would yield monthly interest. Vasundhara tried to tell him to give it to Ramesh. Ramarao dismissed her advice. He deposited one lakh rupees in a state-run bank and the rest in another private bank. He sold off some furniture, gave the rest to his two sons and came to stay with Ramesh. Ramarao thought that since he had educated and brought up the children, it was their responsibility to take care of him. Ramesh, on the contrary, was angry with his father for not having given him the money he had asked for.

          Lalita had said, ‘Let us not think of an apartment now. We need money for children’s admission in a private college and then, if they do not get a good rank, we need to pay hefty fees for a seat in an engineering college too. We won’t be able to repay the loan if we take it now.’

          ‘The patient and the doctor desire the same thing. My father has already put his money in fixed deposits,’ Ramesh was caustic.

          Now he didn’t feel that he alone should take care of his parents. Since his younger brother had a better job and earned more, he proposed that they share the responsibility, with the parents staying in each son’s house for six months a year.

          Initially, everything went well. The private bank deposit yielded regular monthly interest. Even though Vasundhara suggested that it should be saved, Ramarao spent it on the families of the children he stayed with. After a year, the bank stopped giving interest and in two months, it closed down. Two lakh rupees were gone and he was left with high blood pressure.

          Soon after his money evaporated, his daughter-in-law, Kalpana, stopped liking her mother-in-law’s cooking. She felt that unlike her mother, Vasundhara’s cooking did not have variety. Vasundhara’s cleanliness also became suspect. Mother-in-law, Kalpana began to feel, wasn’t as neat as she herself was. She waited eagerly for the end of the six months, when they would leave.

          Ramarao now had only seven hundred and fifty rupees each month. He and his wife had to buy medicines and numerous small things to spend on. He felt ashamed and humiliated asking his children to bear these expenses. Who else could hear him express his feelings except his wife? Vasundhara absorbed everything like a sponge. At that point, Lalita wrote to Kalpana, asking her to look after them for two more months as the children’s exams were approaching. ‘I will look after them for two more months when my turn comes,’ she wrote. But Kalpana promptly booked their train tickets and sent them away.

          Lalita did not get annoyed. She handed over the children’s room to the in-laws and arranged for the children to study at their friends’ house. Ramarao was a little upset with his son for not renting a bigger house. But Lalita felt that given the increased house rents and expenditure in general, it was not reasonable to take a bigger house for the next six months.

          Ramarao was irritated that he could not sit in the veranda in the evening as it was full of students who came for tuition. So he went for a walk.

          Someone called out to Vasundhara when she was putting out her saris to dry in the backyard. When she looked up, she found her classmate, Sujatha, who had studied till SSLC in Kolakaluru. It had been twenty-five years since they had met.

          ‘Come home in the afternoon,’ shouted Sujatha,

          Vasundhara told Lalita about this. Lalita confided in her that she called Sujatha ‘Muthyam’ as she could always be seen in an ironed sari, with her face powdered and hair tied with a band that matched the sari she was wearing, going for a walk with her husband every evening. She had also named her light-skinned, bald husband ‘pumpkin’. Since then, Sujatha was called ‘Muthyam’ at home. Lalita also told Vasundhara that Sujatha’s husband had retired from a well-paying job and received a handsome pension. Their children had settled abroad, but the parents did not want to go there for ever. They had settled down here after buying an apartment.

          Ramarao said, ‘Only such people have a right to live after retirement.’

          Lalita replied, ‘But there are so very few such people in our country. There are numerous others, like Rangayya. Let’s not forget the proverb “count your blessings”.’

          ‘Yes, you are right,’ said Ramarao. ‘It’s indeed a blessing that even though sons share us for six months each, they at least feed us,’ he added and walked away. Lalita neither had the time, nor the energy to feel bad or retort appropriately. One can respond to queries, but how does one respond to comments? It was the pain of losing money and depending on others that was forcing him to talk in this manner, she reasoned.

          One Sunday afternoon, Lalita found Ramarao and Vasundhara arguing agitatedly. That evening, he did not return from his walk. Vasundhara waited for him all through the night. She recalled the news that Lalita had read out in the morning. An old couple in Vijayawada had gone to Prakasam barrage to commit suicide. He had pushed his wife down and just when he was ready to jump, a constable who was passing by had pulled him back. The old man was taken to the police station and then charged with murdering his wife. Someone who took pity on the old man got him out on bail.

          Vasundhara had commented, ‘The police shouldn’t have rescued him. Now he has to suffer the guilt of having killed his wife and also bear abuse from his children.’

          ‘Don’t worry. After getting bail, he will surely go and jump into the river, this time ensuring that no one sees him,’ Ramarao said calmly.

          Vasundhara recalled his comment and shuddered. She remembered every item that she had read in the newspaper about old people committing suicide and worried even more.

          Vasundhara refused to have dinner and sat on the doorstep, waiting for him to return. Ramesh, Lalita and the children stayed up the whole night along with her. That night, Ramarao stayed with a friend in a home for the aged on the outskirts of the city and returned home the next morning.

          ‘The old age home is good. But one has to pay two thousand rupees per month. One has to make a deposit as well. Only those who have earned well, those with pensions and the parents of NRIs seem to get all the good things,’ sighed Ramarao.

          ‘You should not have gone without informing us. We were worried about you. Mother did not even eat,’ said Ramesh.

          Ramarao cut him short rudely, ‘Did you think I had died?’

          ‘I’m going to school now. Please eat the food that I have kept on the table,’ Lalita told Ramarao.

          ‘You should go to Muthyam’s house in the evening and ask her where Vasundhara is. If she does not know, we will file a complaint with the police tomorrow,’ said Ramarao.

          ‘I will definitely go,’ replied Lalita.

          Even Kalpana, who wasn’t very fond of her motherin-law, now called up every two days to enquire about her. Poor Ramarao! When Vasundhara was around, he made her dance to his tune. Now that she was gone, he was sulking. Vasundhara was not merely his ‘servant’, but his shadow and support too. He always treated her simply as his shadow, but now her absence made him realize that she was his support too.

          ‘I wanted to drink tea and made some for you too. If you don’t like it, you can make it again,’ said Ramarao, handing a cup to Lalita. The tea was bad, but unable to tell him so, Lalita gulped it down. Ever since Vasundhara had left, Lalita had stopped drinking tea in the evening. She did not feel like it any more.

          ‘I will attend to the kids’ tuition for a while. Will you go to Muthyam’s house and find out?’ asked Ramarao. When Lalita was about to step out, he handed over a letter to her, saying, ‘I forgot to give this to you. You have got a letter from somewhere. Looks like it is from the USA.’

          ‘I don’t know anyone in the US,’ thought Lalita and opened the envelope.

Dear Lalita,

          I hope you will forgive me for disappearing without informing anyone and causing inconvenience to all of you. I am sure you will understand if I explain to you why and how

          I left.

          Do you remember the day he left after fighting with me? He had spent the whole night at some place. Do you know what he said that afternoon? He said that I was solely responsible for all his suffering, difficulties, lack of shelter and the fact that he had no money in hand. Not only did I not earn a single paisa, I had spent all his earnings, he charged. My father did not let me continue my studies after SSLC despite my protests. I wanted to train as a teacher, a nurse or at least learn typewriting or shorthand. But he refused and got me married. Since then, I started swimming in this ocean called family. My husband never hesitated to spend money on himself and never thought of savings. I struggled as much as I could. I worked like a slave. He said that he did everything by himself – the children’s education and their weddings. I reasoned that his ranting was an outcome of his losing money. When I told Sujatha about this, she offered a spare bedroom for the children to study. You and he were pleased.

          Since then, I started going to her house to help her with small things. She has all kinds of health problems – knee pains, blood pressure, diabetes . . . Even though she has a cook and a maid, she was happy when I helped her. She told me that any working woman would be happy to get a carer like me. She said that she could not go to the US for her daughter’s delivery due to her arthritis. Her daughter had employed an Indian woman and paid her eight hundred dollars per month, making her earn ten thousand dollars in the process.

          I told her that I would happily go if I got such an opportunity; that I had not earned a single paisa in my life and had not got any remuneration for forty years of hard work.

          ‘Will you really go?’ she asked. I said I would.

          Then she told me that her daughter still needed a helper. Her husband’s brother was in the Indian embassy, and she could easily get a visa and a passport for me. He would be coming to Hyderabad in ten days and we could meet him, she said. She took permission from your father-in-law and on the pretext of accompanying her, I went to Hyderabad. After the ten-day trip, all my papers came to her address. I got my passport, but had to go to Chennai for my visa. I lied again and went with her. Then I got the ticket too. She made sure that I would be paid six hundred dollars per month. I have to take care of her daughter’s baby and cook for her family till she finishes her studies in six months. You don’t know how happy I felt at the prospect of returning home with a few thousand dollars in hand. I understood the power of earning.

          Sujatha came to Chennai to put me on the flight to the US. She bought me all the saris that I would need there. I was born in a village and have lived in a small town. I have never travelled to any place in India. But now I have come to Los Angeles. A lot of women from our state go to the Gulf as maids to earn money. You told me the story of ‘Kuwait Savitramma’. This is not a difficult job. I stayed with Kalpana, who treated me a little better than a maid. I don’t mind being obedient when I get paid. I believe I can stay anywhere. I will continue to work even after I return. Sujatha assured me that she would find work for me. Till I return, I have requested Sujatha to give your father-in-law two thousand rupees of my earnings every month. He may refuse. But will you please take it? I know I can trust you. Please take the money and look after his needs. Do not send him to stay with Kalpana till I return. I will pray to the goddess that my grandchildren get good marks and ranks. Explain the situation to Ramesh. Sujatha’s daughter speaks every Sunday morning with her mother over the phone. If you want to speak to me, let Sujatha know and she will organize that. I hope you will respond to my letter soon.

With love,

Vasundhara

*****

(to be continued..)