Blood Feud

by Brenda Donelan

  Raj left after twenty minutes which included a tour of the cramped apartment, a review of her schedule for the following morning, and a reiteration of his profound happiness at having her at Delhi University. She was grateful for his thoroughness but exhausted from the trip. Finally, she was by herself. No people, no loud noises, and no intrusive smells. Bottles of water were lined up on the bureau next to the small television. Marlee was grateful that she wouldn’t have to go looking for drinkable water right away but realized she would have to provide her own water after tonight. The small bed was covered with a white embroidered quilt and one pillow. After a quick shower, she changed into her pajamas, took a Motrin PM, and dove into her bed. She reflected upon the abject poverty she had witnessed at the airport and on the way to the university, causing her to sob into her pillow when she thought of the plight of those she had seen. When the sleep aid kicked in, she drifted into to a deep sleep that lasted until the next morning.

  A light dashed across the foot of the bed as the bedside alarm sounded. She hit the snooze button through half-closed eyes. Marlee rolled over and lazily slid her hand over to the other side of the bed to pet her cat, Pippa, who always slept with her. There was no cat. There was no other side of the bed. As she fully opened her eyes, it hit her. She was in India!

  By this time, she was excited for the day’s adventure that lay ahead of her and had forgotten all about calling the dean with a self-diagnosis of typhoid fever. She had a breakfast meeting in one hour with one of the deans and other officials. Raj said he would stop by to escort her to the Lotus Building since she was unfamiliar with the campus. Marlee dressed in a gray sweater, black slacks, and black shoes with a two-inch stacked heel. She adorned herself with a modest silver ring and small silver hoop earrings. She had just finished putting herself together when there was a knock on the door.

  “A very good morning,” Raj chirped. “I hope you slept well. Did you find everything to your liking? Do you require anything? If you need something, you talk to me. I will get it for you right away.” He handed her a tea cup and saucer. “I thought you might like a cup of chai before your meeting.” Marlee raised her eyebrow, and he went on to explain. “Chai is black tea made with cardamom, cloves, peppercorns, and other spices, and then milk and sugar are added. It is delicious. Please try it.” He rested the insulated carafe on the desk.

  Marlee loved tea but wasn’t a big fan of milk unless it was made into cheese or ice cream. She took a reluctant sip in an effort not to seem rude. If it was awful, she would find a way to avoid drinking the rest. To her surprise, it really wasn’t bad, but she still preferred regular plain tea. “This is very good, Raj. Thank you. I hear jasmine tea is very popular here. That is my favorite of all teas,” she said with a smile, hoping he would take note just in case he ever brought her tea again.

  Raj took Marlee’s key from the table and locked the door behind them, handing the two-pound key to her. She slid it into her purse and noted the heft right away. He pointed out some of the buildings as they walked but said he would save the majority of the information for their tour later. Now, his main mission was to get Marlee to her breakfast meeting on time.

  Twelve other visiting professors from across the world gathered in a tiny, rectangular room with one smudged window. Each professor wore a stick-on name tag and was flanked by a graduate student from Delhi University, no doubt to ensure the professors didn’t get lost or run away.

  The dean introduced himself and invited the group of professors, graduate students, and the other deans to be seated at the long, wooden table. Dean Reddy was a tall, slender man, with next to no hair except for his pencil-thin mustache. The black, three-piece suit was finely tailored and of good quality.

  Following the dean’s introductory remarks, the professors all introduced themselves, identified their home institutions, and named their respective disciplines. Four professors, including Marlee, were from the United States, five hailed from Germany, and those remaining were from other areas of India.

  “I’m so pleased to be here,” gushed a rotund woman with a heavy German accent. The remainder of the visiting professors looked less enthused.

  The group descended on the breakfast buffet, each professor’s assigned graduate student explained each of the food and drink items. The buffet consisted of fresh fruits, a multitude of fried and baked breads, boiled and scrambled eggs, rice dishes, and an assortment of chutneys, dips, and other condiments.

  Marlee settled back in at the table with a plate of potato-stuffed pancakes, paneer with spinach, fresh melon, and a mango lassi. Raj, now knowing her drink preference, fetched a cup of jasmine tea and placed it by her plate with a smile.

  “Thanks, Raj,” she mumbled between bites. “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “The graduate students never eat at these functions. The food is only for the visiting professors and members of the administration,” Raj said with a woeful glance at her full plate.

  Marlee glanced around the room, noticing none of the grad students eating or drinking. A few looked longingly toward the buffet. “That’s ridiculous,” Marlee said to Raj. “There’s plenty of food. I’m going to talk to Dean Reddy.”

  Raj looked at her pleadingly. “Please, Miss. Do not say anything, or else Dean Reddy will think the complaint came from me. This is just how things are done at these meetings.”

  Although not in agreement, Marlee followed Raj’s wishes. After they finished eating, the professors followed Dean Reddy and the other administrators to an adjoining room to learn more about their duties at Delhi University.

  Dean Reddy rambled on, discussing a host of topics akin to those covered at in-service each fall at Midwestern State University. Jet lag, boredom, and the filling breakfast caused Marlee to enter a semi-sleep state. It wasn’t long before her chin hit her chest, and she snapped to attention. It was at that point she heard one of the male professors from the United States ask, “Can you repeat that, Dean Reddy?”

  “I said, in addition to your teaching, you will each serve as cultural advisors for DU students interested in studying for a semester at your home institutions.” Dean Reddy’s thin lips formed a smarmy smile as he saw the surprise on the faces of the thirteen professors. “Perhaps your home institutions did not make you aware of this requirement before coming to Delhi University?”

  The new professors looked at each other, shaking their heads from side to side. “Well, then I will elaborate on those expectations,” Dean Reddy stated. He went on to outline a series of presentations to students and faculty meetings which would consume no less than twenty hours each week.

  Marlee and the other professors filed out of the room, muttering to themselves and each other about the unfairness of this new expectation. She peeked inside the room where they dined earlier and observed the graduate students all eating breakfast. She caught Raj’s eye, and he left his half-empty plate to join her.

  “Since there was so much food left over, they made an exception and let the graduate students eat,” he explained hurriedly, anticipating Marlee’s question. “There is usually nothing left, especially when we have so many professors from America and Germany.”

  Seeing Marlee’s astonishment, Raj quickly added, “I mean no offense. We Indians tend to be light eaters and consume much less than people from the United States and some parts of Europe.”

  Marlee knew Raj’s comment wasn’t meant to offend her. He was stating an obvious fact. Nonetheless, she bristled at his remark as they left the Lotus Building.

  Following the meeting, Marlee felt like she’d been gut-punched. It was the same feeling she had when the dean told her she would be going to India on sabbatical. When are these surprises going to end? While still in Elmwood, she’d been led to believe she’d have all kinds of free time for her research. Now she had found out that she would be a glorified recruiter when she was not teaching. I’ll never make it to full professor if I don’t have a major research project and publications. Then I’ll have to
look for another teaching position somewhere else. Maybe the Delhi University will be hiring.

  Raj, walking beside her, intuited her concerns. “It will be okay, Miss. You can still do your research, and I will help you in any way I can.” Marlee gave him a wan smile. So far, he was the only one who gave two shits about her career and what she wanted to accomplish. The MSU president and her dean were both happy to ship her off to India, and Dean Reddy at Delhi University was anxious to take advantage of her visit to their campus.

  “I think I’m being used by your university and mine,” Marlee blurted before she realized Raj most likely reported everything he saw and heard to Dean Reddy. She slapped her hand across her mouth wishing she had said nothing. Now she’d be on bad terms with the administration there and word would get sent back to MSU.

  “It is okay, Miss. I will not say anything you tell me. I am here to help you, and I would be honored if you were to consider me your confidant.”

  “I thought you worked for Dean Reddy and reported to him.” Marlee was confused. Maybe the chain of command and communication worked differently in India than in South Dakota.

  Raj took a deep breath before speaking. “Dean Reddy is my supervisor, and I do report to him. I do not report everything to him, however.” He smiled and looked at the sidewalk. “I would like you to do me the honor of coming to dinner at my home tonight and meeting my family.”

  Marlee was taken aback. She and Raj had barely known each other twelve hours, and he was keeping secrets from his boss on her behalf, and now he wanted to introduce her to his wife and children. With over nineteen million people in Delhi alone, Marlee did not understand why Raj would be so willing to befriend her. Unless he wanted something that only an outsider could provide.

  “Raj, I would love to meet your family. And thank you so much for keeping my secrets. I’m sure I will love it here at your university. It’s just that I was told my duties here would be very different from what was disclosed in the meeting this morning.” Marlee sighed. Maybe she would still contact her dean about coming home right away.

  “Miss, I think you have jet lag and are very tired from your long journey. Let us postpone the campus tour until tomorrow. You take the rest of the day to relax in your apartment. I will have lunch delivered to your room. At 6:00 p.m., I will pick you up to take you to my family’s home. And rest assured, I keep the confidences of many, many people at the university.” Raj looked down again, too shy to make eye contact with her for very long.

  A single tear trickled down Marlee’s cheek, and she nodded at Raj’s suggestion. Right now, he seemed to be the only person who cared how she felt. Most likely it was jet lag, as Raj suggested, but she hated the feeling of being tricked and used by her home university and now her new university. Politics at universities seem to be the same the world over.

  Garlic is as good as ten mothers.

  Indian proverb

  Chapter 5

  After a long rest, a bowl of soup, a couple hours of Indian television, reading a few chapters of the most recent mystery novel by one of her favorite authors, and phone calls to her family and friends back home, Marlee felt ready to tackle India once again. She wasn’t sure of the customs of visiting an Indian home, so she plugged in her laptop and did a quick Internet search.

  In quest of flowers, she set off for the nearest shop. Marlee walked for what seemed miles before finding a small shop carrying a host of fruits, vegetables, and flowers. She asked one of the store employees the best flowers to take to a family dinner and walked away with a bundle of yellow roses, signifying friendship. With barely an hour before Raj was due to return to pick her up, Marlee took a quick shower and dressed in a navy pant suit with a baby blue tank top. She adorned herself with more jewelry than she wore earlier in the day, noticing that the women of India, even the professional women, wore a multitude of rings and earrings. She wore silver dangly beaded earrings and colorful silver rings she purchased on trips to Santa Fe and London. Doing a quick turn in the small mirror in the bathroom, Marlee gave herself an approving glance. Even though she outweighed the average Indian woman by well over fifty pounds, she still thought she looked pretty good. By Midwestern standards, that is.

  Right on the dot, Raj knocked on her door at 6:00 p.m. He was wearing a tan tunic, matching trousers, and a colorful turban. If she didn’t know better, Marlee would have thought he stepped out of a Bollywood film. “Hello, Raj. You look very nice this evening.”

  Either Raj was exceptionally shy or complimenting men on their physical appearance was not acceptable in India. His brown skin took on a reddish hue as he dropped his eyes to the floor. Feeling bad that she’d embarrassed him, Marlee called his attention to a small problem she had in her apartment. “Raj, there’s a strange noise in my bathroom. I hear it when I’m out here, but when I go in the bathroom it’s gone. Do you have any idea what it is?”

  Raj raised his eyes to meet hers. “I think that I do, Miss. One moment, please.” He strode confidently through her small apartment and moments later came out of the bathroom with a cicada in a wad of toilet tissue. “These insects can be very noisy and intrusive. I believe they have all been found, so you will have a restful night’s sleep. They most likely came in through the open window. If the problem continues, please let me know so I can deal with the situation further.” He walked to the front door and released the cicada, unharmed.

  After expressing her gratitude, the two left the apartment, again with Raj locking the door behind them and handing the key to Marlee. They walked for five minutes in silence before Raj began to speak. “I hope that you will like my family. We have a humble home and are most honored that you agreed to dine with us tonight. I know that Americans have a sensitive palate, but my mother is a very good cook.”

  Marlee was surprised that Raj’s mother would be in attendance. Then she remembered it was not uncommon in many cultures for multiple generations to live in one household. I wonder how Raj’s mother and wife get along if they live under the same roof, Marlee thought as she recalled the frequent head-butting between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law in the United States. She began to wonder if the gift of flowers should be given to the wife or the mother.

  The bus they took the remainder of the way was so crowded that neither of them were able to sit. They were packed in tightly, and no one had any expectation of personal space. Marlee closed her eyes and tried to pretend that the hand on her butt was purely accidental. Raj stood facing her and couldn’t see that she was being groped. At the first opportunity, Marlee gave the owner of the roaming hand a sharp jab to the ribs with her elbow. The good news was that the overcrowded condition prevented Marlee from tipping over when the bus lurched around corners or came to an immediate halt to allow a cow to cross the road.

  After arriving at their designated stop, Raj escorted her a mere two blocks to his home. The home was palatial, with two levels shaped into an L formation. It was located near a maze of residential and commercial properties. There was a door to another dwelling fifty feet away from his home, and he could also buy a butchered chicken, fresh produce, or hand-crafted clothing within a stone’s throw.

  Raj opened the door, and they were greeted with a cacophony of noise and an explosion of color. The aroma of onions, curry, garlic, and chili peppers wafted through the home, making Marlee realize just how hungry she was for something other than the stash of protein bars she brought with her. A short, rotund woman in a hot pink beaded sari approached them first, and Raj introduced his mother as Mommy-ji. He had earlier told her that ji added to the end of a name was a sign of respect, and that he typically addressed his parents as Mommy-ji and Daddy-ji. His father, two brothers and their wives, and multiple nieces and nephews were introduced. Before Marlee could inquire about Raj’s wife and children, she was introduced to a man easily in his late eighties named Swami.

  Marlee soon learned that Swami was a fortune teller. No one seemed surprised when Swami pulled her to the side of the room and said
he would tell her about her future. “Tell me your birthdate,” he said with a smile, adjusting his turban to his small head. He motioned for her to sit in a chair, and he sat on the floor in the lotus position.

  “No, please. You take the chair. I’ll sit on the floor.” Marlee recalled one of the early lessons her mother taught her: always offer your chair to someone older than yourself.

  “No. I will sit on the floor as I always do when I tell fortunes. It is how I keep my body flexible.” Swami jotted down her numerical date of birth and her age and then questioned her about her marital status, dating, and the amount of time she would be in India. Then he wrote down the ages of her parents and did some type of mathematical calculation with all of the numbers he collected from their conversation. Marlee had been to a fortune teller before at a fair, and, although she didn’t believe they had any special skills, she thought it was fun to have someone guess about her past, present, and future. It was worth a laugh, nothing more.

  Swami took Marlee’s hand in his own and studied her palm, pointing out her long life-line. “You will have a long, healthy life. You will live to be ninety-one.” He then traced his index finger across her relationship line and announced, “You will be getting married soon.”

  Marlee broke into laughter. “Oh, Swami, I doubt that. I’m not looking to get married.”

  “Ah, a career woman, as they say. You will think much differently within the next few months. You will begin to focus more on marriage and children and become less involved with career pursuits. It will be an exciting time in your life.” Swami smiled, the creases around his eyes deepening.