House of Cards: A Novel

by Sudha Murty

  ‘No, she is from Mangalore, which is in your state, Karnataka.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  It was getting dark outside the window of the moving train. Alex was thinking about Anita. ‘She is unlike the girls in Goa. She is different.’

  For the last two years, she had been in Panaji, the capital city of Goa, working with her maternal uncle Freddy Roderick. After she had completed her Bachelor of Arts degree, Anita’s uncle had asked her, ‘What will you do sitting at home? I am a dealer for Alembic Pharmaceuticals. Why don’t you come and help me?’

  Her aunt had also insisted. So, Anita had started working in her uncle’s office in Goa.

  The real reason for bringing her there was that her uncle and aunt wanted to introduce her to the young and suitable grooms in Goa. Anita was a good singer and always sang for the church choir. She was not interested in studies. She had completed her degree but her main interest was interior decoration. Even though she worked hard in her uncle’s office, she worked harder at home-decorating her aunt’s house. Anita never made the first move when it came to boys. At Marx’s wedding, Alex noticed that she was more beautiful than the bride herself and immediately set his eyes on her. She was fair and had lustrous hair. Many young bachelors wanted to date her.

  Alex smiled. Though he had just told Sanjay that she was his girlfriend, he knew that Anita was more than that—he would marry her. He remembered how he had gone out of his way to get her phone number and check her travel itinerary. He would go to Uncle Freddy’s house without reason and sit there for hours. He had been worried that some young man would move faster than him and make away with Anita, but Uncle Freddy was smart and had suggested, ‘Young boy, don’t worry. Take her to parties, picnics and get to know her. But don’t talk of marriage right now.’

  Uncle Freddy was older, wiser and more experienced. He liked Alex. Sometimes, Alex felt uncomfortable when he visited Uncle Freddy’s house. Financially, they were much better off than Alex and his family. They had a nice house and a car. If he wanted to marry Anita, he must maintain her lifestyle. Otherwise, people in the church would laugh at him. After going out with Anita, he realized that she was shy and had been raised differently. She did not care about money. But things were not easy when he met her father.

  Anita’s father, Mr Pinto, was a strict man. He believed that women must work. He was a senior and honest officer with Mangalore Fertilizers. Apart from Anita, he had two sons—one in the merchant navy and the other based in Delhi. Pinto’s family was religious and they never missed Sunday Mass. They regularly contributed to the church and were good Christians.

  When Mr Pinto came to visit Anita from Mangalore, Alex met him—but Mr Pinto did not even bother to talk to him. He passed a comment: ‘Oh, our Anita is so beautiful. She is getting marriage proposals from places like the merchant navy.’

  Alex himself felt that he was only an MBBS doctor and could not compete with any of these proposals, unless he owned a nursing home. The only way to get engaged to Anita was to go to the Middle East, make money, come back and marry her.

  But how could he share all this with Sanjay?

  While Alex was lost in these thoughts, Sanjay started talking about some professor’s post that was vacant in a college in Goa. Alex said, ‘Tell me, Sanjay, do you want to remain Dr Jog’s assistant forever, or do you want to make money at some point?’

  Sanjay did not reply. For now, his aim was to get as much experience as he could and then get a postgraduate degree. Money was not a priority, even though he was not from a rich family.

  A short while later, dinner arrived. Sanjay asked, ‘Alex, what time does this train reach Hubli?’

  ‘You talk as if you don’t know your own state. Ask me anything about Goa. I can tell you whatever you want to know.’

  ‘Goa is small and you have lots of relatives there. But I don’t have any relatives in Hubli. I have never even been there. I only know that it is near Dharwad which is famous for its pedas.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Sometimes, Professor Jog brings pedas from Dharwad and gives them to the staff.’

  ‘Where are your relatives then?’

  ‘Oh, I have a small family—a mother and a sister. I don’t have a father. My sister is married to a bank clerk and they live in Belur. My mother stays in T. Narasipura.’

  ‘You know, Sanjay, Dharwad is also famous for Hindustani music, good colleges, great musicians and she-buffaloes!’

  ‘It sounds like you know more about Dharwad than I do.’

  ‘Yes, Panaji is around three hours by car from Belgaum. I have a few cousins who study in Hubli and Dharwad. But Hubli is also notorious for theft. The maximum thefts take place at the Hubli junction. People say that it is as bad as Bombay.’

  Another passenger joined the conversation: ‘That’s really true. Once, I lost all my luggage at that junction.’

  The passenger continued, ‘My name is Keshav Rao. I work in the government Secretariat in Bangalore. During one of my journeys, I was travelling from Kolhapur via Hubli and all my bags disappeared at night. The next morning, I had to get down at Bangalore in the baniyan and lungi that I was wearing the night before.’

  Alex added, ‘There will always be thefts in Hubli because of the crowd. Once, I also lost my bags at Londa junction!’

  Sanjay was not a seasoned traveller. So he was shocked listening to Keshav Rao. He was scared that if he lost the small bag with his clothes, he would have to attend the wedding in his baniyan and lungi too. He picked his small bag up from the floor and kept it under his head so that it would be safe and he could use it as a pillow for the rest of the trip too. Soon, he nodded off to sleep.

  3

  The Beautiful Thief

  After completing an intricate mehendi design on Surekha’s hand, Mridula got up and wiped her hands on her old sari. She was content and happy with her accomplishment. No one in the village could design mehendi as well as her. So she was invited to all her classmates’ weddings. She was helpful and even assisted with miscellaneous jobs at the marriage locations. Surekha was Mridula’s classmate and a close friend. All the unmarried girls from their class were invited that evening for the mehendi ceremony in Hubli.

  On the eve of the wedding, the clouds were dark and looked ready to pour down. It was the end of Shravan—the rainy season. Though it was only 7 p.m., it was as dark as midnight. Surekha, the bride, was in her room in the wedding hall. She was feeling low. She had lived in the secure arms of her loving family till today but now, she had to step into the outside world with an unknown man. Her eyes were moist just like the clouds—ready to burst into tears at any moment.

  In the wedding hall, the atmosphere was joyous. The rustle of the silk saris, the sweet smell of the incense sticks, the aroma of fresh jasmine flowers and the mouth-watering sweets made the entire atmosphere very festive.

  Surekha’s father had worked in many towns and cities and, therefore, he had many acquaintances and friends. Most of them had come for the wedding. However, the groom’s family was from Bangalore and only a few could come. Arrangements for their stay had been made in the same building on the first floor.

  Mridula was washing her hands in the bathroom to get rid of the sticky mehendi when she heard the sound of raindrops. The rain started slowly and its intensity gradually increased. Water started entering the wedding hall through the open windows.

  Rain brings different emotions to different people. For Mridula, the rain was synonymous with joy—it was nature’s gift. She thought, ‘The earth is full of dust and is dry in the summer. Rain settles the dust, washes away the dirt and makes the world green. It inspires creativity in poets and artists, but during a wedding, it only brings tension.’

  Suddenly, the lights went off because of the heavy rain. Surekha’s mother, Leela, became jittery. ‘Oh my God! The groom’s family and friends are here from Bangalore and they have high expectations.’

  Then she saw Mridula and told her, ‘Hey
, hurry up. Take some candles and matchboxes and light them in all the rooms on the first floor. Unfortunately, the generator will take some time. But I will find Surekha’s father and get the petro-lamps organized.’

  Mridula could not say ‘no’ to anyone. That was her nature. She smiled and said, ‘Aunty, don’t worry. I’ll ensure that every room gets a candle.’

  First, she lit a candle in Surekha’s room. Surekha was holding her hands out waiting for the wet mehendi to dry and her friends were flocking around, chatting and teasing her.

  Pandit Thippa Bhatta was sitting in front of them. Meghana, Surekha’s naughty friend, wanted to trouble him. ‘Panditji, please tell us about the marriage rite called panigrahan.’

  ‘The first time that a groom takes the bride’s right hand in his is known as panigrahan.’

  ‘Can any boy hold a bride’s hand at any time?’

  ‘No. Both the boy and the girl must be unmarried and they must hold each other’s hand at the auspicious time.’

  ‘What if a boy holds a girl’s hand at a bus stop?’ someone asked.

  Meghana interrupted, ‘Panditji, what’s the auspicious time?’

  Thippa Bhatta was a seasoned man and not scared of any questions. ‘Oh, it depends on many factors,’ he said. ‘For example, some times are always auspicious. Right now, the time is known as godhuli and it is very favourable. If you say yes, I will get a boy for you right now and perform your wedding between six-thirty and seven.’

  Meghana blushed and kept quiet.

  Mridula was still going from room to room lighting candles but she was able to hear the conversation downstairs.

  Meanwhile, the groom’s mother was unhappy because of the rain and the power failure. Her sister said, ‘You should have insisted the wedding take place in a good Bangalore wedding hall. The generator would have been running by this time. Now, look at this mess. If the rainwater seeps in, where will we sleep?’

  They heard footsteps. Mridula entered the groom’s mother’s room and said, ‘Aunty apologizes for the inconvenience. Petro-lamps will be here at any moment. Aunty has also called the electricity board. May I light a candle for you?’

  Both the sisters looked at her and stared. Who was this girl? She was better than the bride! Then, Santosh’s mother said, ‘Okay, but don’t worry. We’ll manage.’

  Mridula went to the next room. The groom, Santosh, had a Mysore peta on his head and was looking excited. There were many men in the room. Mridula did not stay long. She quickly went from room to room and reached the last one.

  There was nobody there. The window was open and it was still pouring. She saw a small bag on the window sill. It was getting wet. Mridula thought, ‘If I don’t close the window, the floor will become wet and it’ll be difficult to sleep at night.’

  She kept a candle near the door, went to the window and reached out her hand into the pouring rain. As she grabbed the bag, a warm and strong hand gently took hers. Almost immediately, the clock in the hall downstairs started chiming. It was 6.30 p.m. Meghana shouted, ‘Oh, the auspicious time has come.’

  Everyone cheered along with her.

  It was dark and, for a minute, Mridula was scared. The person did not budge or let go of her hand. Then came a harsh male voice: ‘I caught you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mridula resisted, trying to get her hand free.

  ‘I know that a lot of thefts take place in wedding halls and at railway junctions.’

  ‘I am not responsible for any theft. Go and lodge a complaint with the police.’

  ‘When I have caught the thief red-handed, why should I go to the police? It is dark and there is no electricity. Hmmm. So you thought you could make away with my bag.’

  Now, Mridula understood that the man, whom she couldn’t see clearly, had mistaken her for a thief. She got angry and said, ‘I’m not a thief.’

  ‘All thieves say that. But I learnt about the activities of this town on the train itself.’

  ‘Learnt what?’

  ‘That Hubli is a thief’s paradise. I am unwell and had gone downstairs to get some warm water. If I hadn’t come back in time, you would have escaped.’

  ‘Let go of my hand. I’m not a thief. I came here to light a candle and saw water coming in through the window. I just wanted to close it, to save the bag from getting wet.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ the man said.

  Suddenly, the electricity came back. In the bright light, Sanjay and Mridula saw each other for the first time. Her sari was crumpled, her hair was untied and her face was tired. Her cheeks were red and flushed with anger. And yet, she was beautiful, with thick, long hair, clear skin and large twinkling eyes. Sanjay gazed at her without shame—like a thirsty man drinking water to his content.

  He had touched many young women’s hands but the relationship between them was strictly defined—that of doctor and patient. As far as he could remember, this was the first time he had caught an unknown girl’s hand. He hardly knew any girls and since he was shy, he was not very friendly with his female colleagues.

  Mridula also stared at Sanjay. She noticed that he was tall and not as fair as she was, but he was not dark either. He had curly hair and was built like an athlete. His face was beaming with pleasant surprise. He had well-defined and sharp features. Even though he was wearing an ordinary pair of black trousers and a white shirt, he could easily pass for a model.

  By now, Meghana was shouting from below, ‘Mridula, where are you? The lights are back. Come fast.’

  Mridula threw the bag on the floor, removed Sanjay’s hand from hers and ran downstairs. Somehow, she was not upset. She wondered who the man was. Though his hand was strong, it was unusually warm and she knew that he was unwell. She felt a strange attraction to this young man. But she also felt awful knowing that she was probably looking wet and miserable in her soggy sari.

  Sanjay looked at his bag. It was not open and the rain was still coming in through the window. He felt sorry for the girl. ‘Poor girl, she must have come to help in the wedding. She really did come upstairs to light the candles.’

  He felt guilty about accusing her of stealing. Poverty could be hard and he knew it. He chastised himself, ‘I should’ve been more cautious with my words. Mridula is such a beautiful name.’

  Sanjay looked towards where Mridula had stood and saw a floral hairband lying on the floor. He picked it up and hoped that he could use the excuse of returning it to apologize to her.

  Soon, the pre-wedding celebrations began. Sanjay was meeting Santosh after three years. But despite that, what they had to say to each other was over within a few minutes. Santosh’s current friends were also there at the function but Sanjay did not know them. He thought that he had unnecessarily wasted two days of his vacation over this wedding. Then he remembered that he still had to deliver Professor Jog’s package somewhere near Hubli. He had to find a way to his destination. He decided to ask someone at dinner.

  He glanced around and saw Mridula again. She was dressed in a yellow silk sari and had a string of champak flowers in her long plait. She was wearing jewellery and looked like a golden statue. He was enchanted by her beauty, but felt horrible about the way he had treated her.

  At dinner, he found himself sitting next to an old man and thought that he would be the best person to talk to because old people usually talk a lot. Before he could say anything, the old man asked, ‘Are you from the bride’s side or the groom’s?’

  ‘The groom’s.’

  ‘Well, I’m from the bride’s side.’

  Sanjay asked, ‘Do you know where Aladahalli is?’

  ‘Of course. It is thirty kilometres from here. Whom do you want to meet there?’

  ‘Champa Bai Kamitkar.’

  ‘How do you know her?’

  ‘I don’t really know her. She is related to my professor.’

  ‘What’s your professor’s name?’

  Sanjay didn’t like the man asking so many questions but he had no choice. He said, ‘
Dr Jog.’

  ‘Oh, Chandrakant. I know him well. But Champa Bai travels a lot. Well, if you don’t find her at home, you can still meet Bheemanna and go.’

  ‘Who’s Bheemanna?’

  ‘An important person in Aladahalli.’

  ‘How do I find his house?’

  ‘That’s easy. His house is next to the Hanuman temple and Champa Bai’s house is opposite his.’

  ‘How do I go to Aladahalli?’

  ‘That’s not a problem. There is a non-stop bus tomorrow at 2 p.m. Otherwise, there is a regular bus every hour.’

  Sanjay ate his dinner quickly. When he reached for the water, he found it was warm. Sanjay asked the serving boy, ‘Who told you to give me warm water?’

  The boy pointed his finger towards Mridula and said, ‘She did.’ Mridula was smiling at him, but Sanjay felt ashamed. So he just nodded at her.

  The wedding took place the next day—and without any rains. The atmosphere was full of glee. Sanjay gave his gift to the couple and decided to catch the two o’clock bus and leave for Aladahalli. At the bus stand, he saw Mridula standing there. He was astonished to see her in simple clothes—like an ordinary girl. This was the best time to apologize to her. He went near her and said softly, ‘Miss Mridula, I’m sorry.’

  She turned back to look at him. Surprised, she said, ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I’m sorry for my harsh words.’

  ‘Yes, you mistook me for a thief. Maybe because of my wet clothes. You were so impatient that you wouldn’t even listen to me, Mr—’

  ‘I am Sanjay, a doctor from Bombay.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you for details,’ Mridula answered.

  ‘I apologize once again.’

  ‘No, it isn’t your fault. The way a person dresses is important.’

  The bus arrived and both of them climbed aboard. This worried Mridula. Sanjay looked handsome and said he was a doctor, but why was he following her? As far as she knew, nobody knew him in Aladahalli. If he followed her to the house, then old-fashioned Rukuma would not keep quiet. She would kill her with her questions and his arrival would be immediately broadcast in the small village. The best way out of this was to send him back right now. Mridula asked Sanjay, ‘Whose house are you visiting in Aladahalli?’