by Adithi Rao
‘Tessie …’ he said hoarsely, haltingly. ‘Michael Terence, my friend … Bombay … just sent a …’ Peter’s voice failed him, and so he simply held out the telegram which Tessie made no attempt to take from his hand.
She only continued to watch him quietly. Then Peter cleared his throat and said quickly, ‘Darling, the Fosters’s house was locked. The family moved out two months ago, the neighbours told him. They left no forwarding address.’
It was a moment of silence. The kind of silence that follows the final words of a beloved book that has been read and must now be put away. After a few minutes, the father went out, closing the door softly behind him.
The young man Anthony, Malcolm’s cousin, knew that he had had enough. Catering was something he would never come to love, not even if he worked with Uncle Tharsis for another hundred years. Not even if he could afford to start a food business of his own.
Far away in Rudrapura, his father Joachim perused his son’s letters closely week after week, searching for a change of heart which he didn’t find. Then a letter from his brother-in-law arrived, and what it said brought Joachim to a decision. He stayed up late that night, talking things over with his wife. He knew her disappointment, he felt it too, but his mind was made up. The next morning, he caught the 8.15 a.m. bus to Austinpet. He reached his sister’s home in time for a very late lunch before going with Tharsis to the office, where Malcolm and Anthony were supervising things. There were many orders that day and it was busy for everyone, especially the cooks.
Both the boys were out in the back getting a batch of food loaded into the delivery cart, when the watchman came to inform them of Joachim’s arrival. They hurried inside to greet him. They couldn’t stay with him long, however, because there was too much to be done. So Joe waited by himself in Tharsis’s cabin, reading the newspaper that his brother-in-law had left for him before going off to join his son and nephew. At six o’clock, the work finally came to an end, and the four men sat down to cups of tea. They spoke at length and many things were discussed until there was no doubt in anybody’s mind what the next course of action had to be.
‘Well,’ sighed Tharsis, getting to his feet, ‘I think it is best we catch Peter at the bakery rather than speak to him at home.’
‘That is good, yes,’ agreed Joachim. Anthony kept his eyes on the floor as he followed his father and uncle out of the room. He knew that his father was disappointed and hurt, although he had not shown it once in the conversation they had just had. Malcolm put his arm around Anthony’s shoulders, feeling bad for him.
Ten minutes later, they approached Peter’s bakery on Somaji Rao Street, and Anthony was consumed with another feeling – dread. There was little hope of success here. But he had to try. He had to. Not trying was not an option.
The four men climbed the front steps that led up to the bakery, and Tony and Malcolm hung back, letting the elders go ahead of them. Tessie’s father, Peter, looked up from his books and greeted Tharsis warmly. He looked tired and worn, but was gracious as always. This was the first time Tharsis was meeting Tessie’s father since he had come to the office several weeks ago and told him that the wedding had been called off. He had apologized for the inconvenience and Tharsis had not known what to say. He would never have believed Robert capable of such deception. The Fosters, maybe, but not their son. Tharsis had listened to Peter and, without a word, returned the advance Peter had paid to him towards the catering order for Tessie’s wedding reception. Peter had protested, begging him to keep it since that was only fair. But Tharsis had pressed the notes into his hand, conveying his sympathy with a hearty handshake and a single look.
Now, seeing his friend, Tharsis felt sad and embarrassed, particularly in light of the reason behind this visit.
‘Peter,’ he said, ‘this is my brother-in-law Joachim and his son Anthony. Anthony has recently joined us from Rudrapura to work in our catering business, and Joe arrived this morning for a visit.’
Peter smiled and shook hands. But the enquiring look in his eyes betrayed that he was wondering why they had come. There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Tharsis said, ‘Er, Peter … is there some place we can speak in private?’
‘Oh. Yes. Yes, of course,’ said Peter, quickly leading the way inside. ‘The store office at the back is tiny, but we’ll have some privacy there.’ He called out to the store boy over his shoulder to keep an eye on things for a few minutes. The boy eyed them curiously as they disappeared inside, then went back to slicing up loaves of bread.
As they were about to enter the office, Tharsis gestured to Tony and Malcolm to wait outside, then followed his brother-in-law and Peter into the room. Peter glanced at the boys expectantly, waiting for them to enter, but Tharsis indicated that it would be just the three of them for now. Tharsis glanced down at his hands for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, then looked up, deciding that it would be best to come straight to the point. ‘The thing is, Peter, my brother-in-law would like to approach you for Tessie’s hand in marriage to his son Anthony.’
The words hung in the air for a long time. In the ensuing silence, Joachim was struck by how inappropriate this was. How awkward and painful for Peter to be thus reminded of his recent disappointment, and how sad for himself, Joachim, to be seeking a daughter-in-law in a girl who loved another man. This went against his better judgment. And yet, it was what Anthony wanted.
Meanwhile, Tharsis was afraid that his friend would be offended by a proposal coming, as it did, at such an inopportune time. As for Peter, he was just so startled that he actually jerked in surprise.
‘But …’ he said helplessly, and left it at that.
Tharsis pulled himself together. This would need to be handled better, without bumbling and awkwardness, and with plain, simple honesty. ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘It is most unfortunate and must be terribly hard on Tessie and all of you, what happened with … well.’
‘If you know, then why are you asking me this?’ asked Peter. ‘Why would your brother-in-law want his son to marry my…’
‘It is not he but Anthony who asked us to approach you. He has seen Tessie and likes her. He is keen to marry her.’
Peter frowned and shook his head, feeling overwhelmed.
‘Peter,’ said Tharsis, ‘you have been my friend for forty years. I would not lie to you or do anything to hurt you or your family. Believe me when I tell you that Anthony is a good boy. He’s honest and sincere and hard working. He will do everything he can to keep Tessie happy. Besides, things can’t go on this way for her.’
The reserve that Peter had been holding on to since the morning Michael Terence’s telegram arrived, broke. He looked at Tharsis with tears in his eyes and said, ‘She is in a terrible state. Doesn’t cry, hardly eats or sleeps. We are desperately worried about her. She tries to act normal, but she can’t fool me or her mother.’
Suddenly Anthony’s father spoke up. ‘Sir,’ he said quietly, ‘as Anthony’s father, I think it is madness that my son is wanting to marry a girl who is loving another man. But as a father, I am understanding your sadness. My sister and brother-in-law are telling many good things about your daughter and your family. If you agree for this alliance, I promise she will be a daughter in our home.’
Peter looked at Joachim now, and something about the unsophisticated honesty, the simple appeal made in awkwardly worded, strangely accented English touched him. For a crazy second, he compared the man sitting before him to the arrogant John Foster, before shoving the memory aside.
‘It is not I who has to agree but Tessie,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t want to force her into anything. But I will ask her and see what she says.’ He made to stand up, but Joachim spoke again.
‘There is one thing more, sir. I don’t think my son is wanting to continue in catering business. His heart is telling no. He is wanting to open barbershop. I’m telling this now itself, because you should know he may not be earning so much money as in this catering line. Also, he will not be s
ettling in Austinpet, he will be returning to Rudrapura with me. I’m wanting you to know everything now itself before you are deciding.’
Peter sat by his daughter’s side out in the little back garden the next morning and held her hand as he told her about what had passed between himself and Anthony’s father.
‘Anthony is not as educated as you are. But he’s a good boy from what I could see, and they are honest people.’ After a moment’s silence, Peter continued in his gentle way. ‘I don’t want to force you. Don’t say yes because you think it’s a problem for us – your mama and I – to have you with us at home. We love you, Tess. We love having you here …’ His voice faltered, and sudden tears started in Tessie’s eyes, although he did not see it because she kept her face averted.
Peter cleared his throat. ‘They are not rich. They are just about comfortable, I think. Their home will not be as big as even this little one you’ve grown up in. There will be hardships, many hardships—’
‘I will marry him, Papa,’ said Tessie abruptly.
Peter turned to examine her profile. He felt uneasy, and suddenly wished that he had refused Anthony’s father then and there. This was ridiculous, pressing Tessie for a decision at a time like this and on such a matter. ‘Don’t you want to meet the boy first, talk to him?’ he asked anxiously, searching for some clue about what was going on in her mind. ‘Shouldn’t we go to Rudrapura to see for ourselves the kind of home you will be moving into if you marry him?’
Tessie shook her head. ‘I have only two conditions,’ she said.
‘What?’ enquired Peter, wanting to grab her and shake the tears and the truth out of her; tears she had buried under several feet of silence these many months. He wanted to beg her not to do this, to just refuse this alliance and forgive his stupidity for even bringing it to her notice. He wanted to pick her up as he used to when she was a child and run away from everything – the memories, the pain, the gossip and the pity – to a place where nothing existed, if indeed such a place existed.
‘Anthony must never bring up the topic of Robert or hold that against me,’ said Tessie. ‘And he must not stop me from becoming a teacher.’
‘I don’t think he will. I have already told him about it and he has agreed. He too is giving up a good, well-paying job here in Austinpet to open a little barbershop and follow his dream.’
A lump rose to her throat. ‘I have come,’ she said softly, ‘to understand the value of dreams…’
Then she broke down and wept for the first time since Robert went away. Her father cried too, putting his arms around her and holding her until both their grief was spent.
The sound of church bells echoed across the waters of the lake, ringing now as they had rung on Anthony and Tessie’s wedding day. That was a long time ago, and this was today. They stood together outside the Sacred Heart Chapel in Rudrapura, with the sky burning blue overhead and the egrets in the lake, while Anthony told Tessie about her hockey player and what had happened to him all those years ago, what had happened to him now.
‘At least you are knowing that he didn’t simply ditch you and go, Tessie. He is remembering you. Even in that bad state he is remembering and coming to look for you. At least you are knowing that,’ he finished.
She looked at him, trying to speak, but nothing came out. So she simply nodded and turned away. The strange, numb look on her face caused his heart to tighten in his chest. This had everything to do with him and nothing. He wanted to reach out and hold her, but there was no place for him in that other story. He remained standing where he was as she walked away from him.
‘The funeral …’ he called out softly, and she stopped, ‘is at three o’clock today afternoon. If you are wanting to go … or me to be going with you?’
She turned around then and gave him a small smile. ‘I must get back to school. Lunch break must be over and my students will be waiting for me. I’ll see you at home in the evening, Tony.’
The sun was at its hottest at this hour. Brother Abranches stood at the head of the freshly dug grave, prayer book in hand. To one side was a mound of red earth. To the other stood a longish coffin made from cheap wood. The dry, baking heat had turned the earth rock-hard, making the gravediggers’ task more arduous. James, the helper at the old age home and a few of the other residents had turned up for Robert Foster’s funeral. None of those present had really got to know him in those two days he had lived among them, but they had come because they believed in the old tradition of paying a dead man the courtesy of a decent send off. No matter whose soul it was, it was still bound for the Lord, and that was good enough reason to attend.
Brother Abranches was intoning the prayers now in his deep, sonorous voice. The words fell pleasantly on the ears of the listeners, to whom the death of the man lying in the box at their feet meant little more than a reminder of their own mortality. The ceremony was over quickly. From beyond the fence that enclosed the churchyard, unnoticed by the mourners, Tessie stood dry-eyed and erect, watching them lower the coffin into the ground. James, who could claim to be the closest to the deceased by virtue of the fact that he was the only one present who had actually touched him, stepped forward and scattered the first handful of earth over the coffin. The others followed, then slowly trooped out of the churchyard after Brother Abranches, leaving the gravediggers to finish their job. Soon, earth was filled into the grave and smoothed into a neat rectangular mound over it.
When the grave diggers had gone and all was quiet, Tessie picked up the small, engraved stone tablet that she had brought with her. She moved forward slowly, stumbling a little on the uneven path as she made her way inside to the freshly filled grave. She dropped to her knees in the dirt. Using her hands, she dug out a deep, narrow track along the head of the grave. Into it she embedded the stone tablet firmly, patting the soil around its base so that it would remain upright over the tomb and not topple forward. She dusted her hands, but the earth had gone under her fingernails and stained them a deep red. She looked down at them and knew that the colour of Robert’s grave on her hands would stay with her a long time. She placed a small bouquet of wild flowers on the place where, six feet below, Robert’s heart must be silent and still. Her hand rested there for a moment, lingering. Then she got to her feet and walked away.
On the headstone were inscribed the words:
For
Robert Foster
Hockey Player
(27 April 1912 – 6 May 1986)
from
Teresa Greene
9
Wife
The wedding was held in the marriage hall on Kashi Chetty Street. The place was beautiful, the red tiles on the roof interspersed with transparent glass bricks that let the sunlight inside in shafts. No expense had been spared. The hall was fragrant from the profusion of jasmines, the wedding lunch had six courses and five different types of sweets, and the stage had been lit with tall peacock-shaped brass lamps arranged in the four corners, and connected by rows of mud lamps, whose flames glittered and danced throughout the ceremony like tiny good omens.
The girl, Maithili, was not from these parts. Her family hailed from Channapatna, a dusty town on the Bangalore–Mysore Road. That, traditionally, would have been the choice of venue for this wedding. But the bridegroom had asked for no dowry, made no demands except that the wedding (the entire cost of which he would bear) be held in Rudrapura. This request had been worded politely but in a manner that brooked no argument. The girl’s father had agreed, knowing that the offer to pay for the wedding was more than generous, one that he could ill-afford to turn down.
When he returned home with his two brothers and reported the conversation to the rest of the family, they were dismayed and raised a general outcry. ‘How can the wedding be at the groom’s place?’ ‘How will we organize it sitting here, so far away?’ Only the wife saw the bewildered look in her husband’s eyes and said nothing. Later that night, alone in their room, she asked him what had happened.
‘I’m
not sure,’ he told her. ‘But our future son-in-law said that this is what he wanted, and it never struck any of us to protest. There’s something about that man, something that didn’t allow me to say no or even try to change his mind. I’m a little … well …’ he looked at his wife, who was watching him keenly, ‘… afraid of him, I suppose. There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on.’
‘Do you think we’re doing the right thing getting Maithili married to a man so much older than her?’ asked his wife anxiously.
‘It’s too late for doubts now. The engagement has been announced!’ cried her husband in alarm. Then he added cajolingly, ‘He is not a bad man, just a little eccentric, perhaps. And firm in his ways, as men of his age tend to be. Besides, Maithili is a good girl and will learn to adjust with her husband. You have raised her well. I know she will never do anything to bring shame on our family.’
What he was not saying, but she was hearing loud and clear, was that given their financial status, a match like this was an incredible piece of good luck, all expenses paid. Maithili’s father read the unspoken accusation in his wife’s eyes and quickly turned away. Some things just wouldn’t bear thinking of. What was meant to be would be, and marriages were fixed by fate, after all.
But the wife thought how unfair it was that Maithili should have to adjust because she had been raised well and was a good girl, and because she was expected to not bring shame to her family. What of the pain she would have to go through in the course of all that adjusting?
That night, after her husband had gone to sleep, tears slipped from the mother’s eyes and disappeared silently into the pillow – just as her daughter’s dreams would slip away unnoticed, unlamented, from the moment Shankarnarayana placed the marriage pendant around her neck and claimed her rights and her freedom for his own.
