Where the Secret Lies

by Gandhi, Malika

  ‘When we came back in 1959 to visit your auntie’s family, a lot had changed,’ said the man. ‘The haveli looked different. I was curious so I looked for past

  papers and found photographs of the haveli, taken in 1948. It made me sad to see it in ruins.’

  ‘Who lived here when you came back?’ asked Arianna.

  ‘A young family is all I remember,’ said the man. ‘They didn’t speak much to us and kept to themselves. A woman arrived with children but we did not have time to get acquainted for had to leave for Bombay. Later, we heard from auntie’s family that there were many disagreements between the new woman and the wife.’

  Questions formed in Arianna’s mind but before she could ask, the couple stood up.

  ‘It has been a long day. Please excuse us dikra.’

  Arianna stood up too. ‘Do you need anything before you go?’

  ‘No dikra. What a kind and thoughtful girl you are.’ The man touched her head and the couple walked away.

  Arianna subconsciously strolled along the balcony corridor thinking about the haveli and its history. She nearly did not see Rani, who was leaning against a pillar, in tears.

  ‘Oh Rani, what is wrong?’ she asked, rushing to her side.

  ‘Arianna, I can’t do it. I can’t.’

  ‘What can’t you do? Rani, why are you crying?’

  ‘I cannot get married. I have tried accepting my parent’s choice...’

  ‘I don’t understand...’

  ‘My marriage is not of my choice. My father made a deal with a businessman. If I marry his son, they will enter a partnership. My mother is in agreement and believes it is the perfect arranged marriage.

  ‘Akash, my fiancée doesn’t love me. He knows the wealth I will acquire one day and that is why he is marrying me,’ Rani let out a cynical laugh.

  ‘Ma is happy Akash is the same caste and the wealth his father holds is far greater than ours. His calibre matches our status in the social circle, if not more.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that, I really am,’ Arianna said. ‘Have you tried talking to your parents?’

  ‘Papa listens to Ma, she won’t see my way. I don’t know what to do.’ Tears began to trickle down Rani’s face again.

  Arianna took her hands. ‘It’s your wedding in two weeks. Before it’s too late, you must tell them.’

  ‘Arianna, there is one more thing.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m in love with someone else.’

  FIFTEEN

  Arianna paced, uneasy about Rani’s dilemma. She thought marriages based on business deals or caste and social status was outdated...poor Rani. Surely, love must conquer in the end.

  The person she loved was a college friend who she had been dating for two years. Her parents did not know. He wasn’t poor yet he wasn’t rich and worked as a graphic designer. Rani’s parents wanted her to marry someone with money and with high social standing amongst the family’s circle of close and professional friends. A graphic designer and a new one at that simply would not do. With the wedding day so near, Arianna figured only a miracle could stop it.

  Tianna poked her head around the door. Dressed in a pink chanya choli, she wore silver earrings, a silver necklace, and bangles to match. Arianna drew a sigh.

  ‘Aw Ti, you look stunning!’ she praised her little sister.

  ‘Don’t I look pretty? I asked Nikhil to take lots of pictures of me,’ she gave Arianna a twirl.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ said Arianna. ‘Wait, what did you just say?’

  ‘I said “don’t I look beau-’

  ‘No, after that.’

  ‘Oh I asked Nikhil – ’

  ‘Nikhil is here? Where? When did he come?’

  ‘About an hour ago, apparently –’ before Tianna could finish her sentence again, Arianna sprinted out of the door.

  ‘I can’t believe he is here, what is he doing?’ muttered Arianna as she began to look for him.

  She tried the top floor first and the rooms – he was not there. She looked in the courtyard but he was not there either. At last, she found him downstairs in the main room, entertaining guests with his casual banter. Unsure if she should go in, she tried to catch his attention by waving her hands from the door. It worked.

  ‘Follow me,’ she mouthed and began to walk towards the quieter side of the haveli.

  A few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. Good, she thought, he is following. When she turned to look back, she was confused to see a clear corridor. Where was Nikhil? What is going on? She was sure she heard someone behind her.

  Arianna felt anxious standing alone. It was too quiet and a little more than eerie. She breathed a sigh of relief when two aunties came in her direction. They nodded and said hello and enquired how she was and if she needed help – she seemed lost.

  ‘I am waiting for a friend,’ Arianna said – it was not a lie, not really.

  The aunties chatted with her for some time and when it was time for them to leave; they said goodbye-leaving Arianna very alone again. Nikhil still had not come.

  Arianna decided to go to her room and took another route. She did not notice the lights were switched off; too absorbed in her thoughts of Nikhil. The light of the moon took Arianna by surprise as it shone brightly in her wake. Then she heard footsteps again. Was that Nikhil?

  She turned back but again there was no sign of him. Arianna wiped her sweaty palms and put a hand to her thudding heart. She changed direction once again and as she did so, nearly tripped over a girl with a bucket of dirty water and a rag. The floor was wet.

  ‘Hey, where did you come from? What are you doing here?’ Arianna exclaimed. ‘I nearly tripped!’

  ‘I work here,’ replied the girl. ‘Do you need help? Are you lost?’

  ‘No I am not lost,’ Arianna snapped. ‘I know where I am going.’

  ‘Of course Memsahib,’ the girl said.

  Arianna walked away quickly and relaxed as she came to the lit section of the haveli. She leaned against the wall.

  ‘That was bizarre,’ she said to herself.

  Suddenly she was pulled into a dark room, and nearly screamed had he not put his lips to hers.

  ‘Nikhil!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Shhh, do not let anyone hear you,’ he chuckled.

  Arianna punched him in the stomach. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said fiercely.

  Nikhil mock doubled up and laughed. ‘Relax. I thought you would be pleased to see me.’

  ‘Nikhil, you are not invited to the wedding. You cannot just pop up from Mumbai!’

  ‘Ari, I am invited. I am the official photographer and I have brought my team.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you tell me before?’ Arianna flung herself into a chair and looked pointedly at him. She was hurt and annoyed.

  ‘I wanted to surprise you. I did not mean...look, I am sorry.’ The laugh went out of Nikhil. Crouching at her knees, he took her hands. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I do not like to see you upset Ari. Can you forgive this fool?’

  Arianna smiled. ‘No, I’m sorry. I am making a mountain out of a molehill.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘It’s a saying in England. Surely, you heard of it. It means making a big thing out of nothing.’

  ‘Ari, I’m sorry, I should have told you.’

  Arianna lowered her face to his and kissed him. ‘You’re forgiven.’

  The family put together a Bollywood showdown. Each member must perform a dance or act out a scene from a popular Bollywood movie. If they sung, they would receive double points. Some tried but were out of tune so bad that no one could stop laughing. Tears streamed down their faces.

  Arianna loved it that Nikhil was here, if only to take photographs. Just having him near made her feel good. Nikhil managed to look in her direction every so often, clicking the camera at her. Khushboo winked at Arianna who coloured in embarrassment. Tianna was oblivious or did not care. She gracefully took the centre stage when it was her turn to per
form. Arianna looked at her sister in a new light; an introvert back home, Tianna became alive with a personality she had never seen. She watched with pride as Tianna performed to a Bollywood song.

  ‘It’s your turn now,’ Tianna said after she finished bowing to thunderous applause.

  ‘What? No, I can’t,’ Arianna was taken off guard.

  ‘Nonsense. You are a great dancer of Kathak (Indian classical dance),’ said Tianna.

  Arianna smiled nervously as she stood in front of friends, family, and Nikhil. He leaned against a pillar and would not take his eyes off her. She wished he would, he was making her more nervous.

  Arianna began the graceful Indian dance, using her eyes to express emotion and her hands, fingers and feet to convey harmony and tranquillity.

  There was absolute silence when she finished, then everyone stood up and applauded. Some wiped their tears. Nikhil put his camera down; he clapped the loudest. Arianna blushed as she made her way to the back.

  Someone put on a music CD and everyone began to dance. Arianna saw Rani standing in a corner.

  ‘That was beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Arianna said. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I will be.’

  Arianna took her hand. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’

  She hoped Rani would be able to forget about her problems, at least for a while.

  Arianna had the strangest dream; Rani was crying helplessly as she walked around the sacred fire during her wedding ceremony. Her husband was not a twenty something young man but fifty. His grandchildren clapped behind him. The image changed rapidly to a girl her age. She was pretty and married a handsome man. They had two daughters. The image changed again to a murder on a rooftop although obscured...

  Arianna sat up in her bed, quite disturbed. The nightmare played on her mind for a few minutes until Tianna’s singing broke through.

  ‘Ti, will you stop your dreadful singing,’ Arianna shouted.

  ‘Ooh, aren’t we in a foul mood,’ Tianna came out of the bathroom.

  ‘What time is it?’ grumbled Arianna.

  ‘Only ten.’

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

  Tianna shrugged. ‘Do you want breakfast? The morning serving has finished but I am sure the chef will cook you something.’

  Arianna ate with the late risers, like herself. Rani and Khushboo watched her.

  ‘I am famished,’ she said.

  A maid walked in carrying more trays of food. She looked like the girl with the cleaning rag and bucket.

  ‘A new maid? I didn’t know Papa hired again,’ said Rani.

  ‘Maybe she was hired by the wedding planners,’ suggested Khushboo.

  ‘No, she was cleaning the floor Khush...and she wasn’t wearing the uniform. Her sari was old and faded and she seemed out of place,’ said Arianna.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ shrugged Khushboo.

  ‘I can ask Papa,’ said Rani.

  ‘Perhaps leave it,’ said Arianna. ‘It is not important.’

  Arianna watched the girl, who in turn smiled at her.

  ANJALI

  SIXTEEN

  Darkness settled when Mohan and Anjali reached Lucknow. The mood sombre, they stood outside the station. The tonga driver took their luggage and stowed it at the front and Anjali and Mohan took their seats. The driver shook the reigns and the horse began to trot at a steady pace.

  Anjali closed her eyes and leaned against Mohan as the tonga took them back to their haveli. The memories of her visit to Rajkot flooded back...

  Anjali walked around the empty space. Tears spilled and her throat tightened. Where was her home?

  A young boy stopped to stare with his friends.

  ‘Beta, can you tell us where Mrs Rajput lives?’ asked Mohan.

  ‘Everyone knows where she lives,’ said the boy. ‘Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before.’

  ‘We have come to visit,’ said Mohan.

  The boy pointed towards a bridge. ‘Their house is over that bridge, behind the temple and just a little way forward.’

  Mohan thanked the boy and gave him a rupee that widened the boy’s smile. Anjali and Mohan walked the rest of the way. It was not far. Anjali’s stomach churned as they walked over the bridge and along the path. Villagers stared and whispered to each other, coming out from their homes to see the visitors. Who were they and why were they here? Anjali wiped sweat from her forehead.

  Finally, they arrived at a house. It did not look as big as her old house. A sign confirmed this was her mother’s home but...there seemed no activity within, where was sweet Meera and Ma? Where was Neha and Sunil?

  It was the hour of lunch and wives and daughters would be busy in the kitchen, but the house seemed cold, no cooking smells greeted her.

  Mohan nodded his encouragement when Anjali hesitated at the door. She knocked tentatively, not sure whom she would see first. Anjali counted the seconds, then minutes until finally the door opened.

  A woman in her mid-fifties stood before her. She stared in disbelief. A second later, she let out a startling wail and embraced Anjali in a tight hold. Anjali blinked back tears.

  ‘Ma,’ she cried.

  ‘Why did it take you so long to come home? Why Anjali, why?’ her mother ushered her in, still holding her tightly. ‘Your disappearance tore us...come, come, my daughter.’

  Anjali’s mother did not see Mohan, who followed.

  There was basic furniture in the room; a girl cradled a baby in her lap.

  ‘Anjali didi? Anjali didi!’

  The girl put the baby in the cot and rushed to Anjali’s outstretched arms.

  ‘I missed you so much didi.’

  Anjali looked at her sister – she had grown; no longer a little girl but a young lady.

  ‘I missed you too.’

  ‘Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back with Bhai (Sunil) and Bhabhi (Neha)?’ Meera asked.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Anjali said sadly, stroking Meera’s hair. ‘But look, you have grown up; you are no longer my little Meera...’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Meera.

  Both mother and daughter looked at Mohan.

  ‘He is my husband,’ said Anjali.

  Anjali’s mother put her hands to her mouth.

  ‘Please forgive me,’ she said, her eyes large. ‘I am very rude. Welcome, welcome Jamai ji (son-in-law). Please, sit here. I will be back in a moment.’

  Her mother came back with a dish of sweetmeats and a divo (divine flame) and circled it around them. She fed each of them a sweet delicacy.

  ‘Thank you for looking after my daughter,’ she said, her eyes wet.

  ‘Ma, where is Neha and jijaji (Sunil)?’ asked Anjali.

  ‘Oh, Anjali,’ cried her mother.

  ‘Ma, what is it?’

  ‘Come with me, I have something to show you.’

  Anjali and Mohan exchanged glances but followed. She showed them into a room, which resembled a small shrine. Anjali found pictures of Sunil and Neha in place of idols. Flower garlands bestowed their picture frames and two candles burned brightly. Anjali let out a scream and fainted.

  She awakened to cold water splashed on her face. She was lying on a bed.

  ‘Anjali,’ Mohan said, worry etched in his eyes.

  Anjali cried into Mohan’s shirt until no more tears came. Ma gave Anjali water and sat beside her. Meera buried her face into her mother’s sari, tears running down her face.

  ‘Ma ji, can you tell us what happened...’ Mohan asked.

  ‘When Sunil and Neha came back without Anjali, Neha was inconsolable. She cried for days. Sunil spoke to the police but they could not do much. They alerted the army who was in charge in that area. What could we do but pray for her safe return.

  ‘Days, then weeks passed with no word of Anjali’s location or safety. Then the looting and killing began. They came into our village and destroyed everything - our homes and livelihood. They slaughtered the animals
and burned the fields.

  ‘A lit torch was thrown into our house and I remember waking to heat and smoke,’ Anjali’s mother wiped her tears. ‘My son, my brave Sunil managed to save us but he ran back into the house. He shouted he wanted his father’s picture.

  ‘I screamed for Sunil to come back but it was too late. The house fell on top of my boy; he was dead.’

  The silence that followed was too much for Anjali to bear and she ran outside, tears cascading down her cheeks rapidly. Mohan was by her side in an instant. He took her back inside when she was calm.

  ‘What happened to Neha ben (sister)?’ asked Mohan.

  ‘Neha, my sweet daughter in law...she was alive and well in front of us but inside she was dead already. The pain of losing Sunil was too much. With no house, we went to live with another family. They were kind people.

  I wanted to believe Neha would come back to us; her baby would be her life now. Her little girl would be our strength but Neha withdrew further from us and from her own daughter. Two weeks later, we found her cold and still. My daughter died from heart break.’

  Anjali walked to the cot and watched her sleeping niece. Tears splashed on Anjali’s face as she picked her up, rocking her whilst humming a lullaby.

  ‘Neha was pregnant when I lost her,’ Anjali told Mohan. She turned to her mother. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Her name is Anjali. Neha wanted to name her Anjali when you...’

  ‘When everyone thought I was dead,’ said Anjali. ‘Hello sweet, little Anjali. I am your maasi (aunt).’

  The baby opened her eyes and stared into Anjali’s face. She made a sound and her little palm clutched Anjali’s thumb. She began to cry.

  ‘I think she may be hungry; I will get the bottle. Do you want to feed her, Anjali beta?’ her mother asked.

  Anjali nodded through more tears.

  ‘Ma ji,’ a man called as he entered the house. His hair glistened with water droplets; no one noticed it had been raining. A woman came behind him carrying vegetables in a basket.