Monsoon Memories

by Renita D'Silva

  ‘I hardly knew you, Vinod. How could I, a stranger, complain about your brother to you?’

  ‘Oh, Shonu,’ His voice aching. ‘If only...’

  She’d stayed in her room while Vinod and his family ate. After breakfast, as they were leaving, Shirin had peeped out the window and caught Vinod looking up discreetly, searching for her as he walked past.

  ‘You were looking for me,’ Shirin teased.

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘Liar.’

  His brother had looked up too, and even though she was standing back, even though she was sure he couldn’t see her, it felt like his empty eyes were looking right at her. She had a sudden urge to tell her mother to stop the engagement, cancel the wedding. In all her worries until this moment, she had imagined Vinod calling the wedding off, not the other way round. Never the other way round. But now Prem...

  ‘Really? You considered doing that?’ Vinod asked.

  She nodded.

  ‘It would have been best in the circumstances, perhaps.’ Vinod sounded crushed.

  She stood on tiptoes and, forcing herself to swallow the fear that inhibited her from touching him, lightly brushed his lips with hers. ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘If you had a chance to do it all again, to go back to that point in time, would you stop the engagement?’

  All that she’d lost. All that she ached for. All she had now: this man. Who had stood by her through it all. ‘Don’t ask me that. It’s not fair,’ she whispered.

  It was the thought of Jacinta that had stopped her, the thought of the effort her ma had put into organising her engagement, the relief her ma had felt at finally finding Shirin a groom, the crushing disappointment if she reneged. She’d thought of all the people waiting at the church. She’d thought of Vinod, his smile, his kind eyes. She’d thought then that it was too late. To stop the engagement. To retreat. And for what? Just because Vinod’s brother gave her the creeps?

  She had shrugged off her doubts and kept her mouth shut as her mother and Madhu dressed her in the rose-petal-pink sari, as they did her hair and looped flowers through it, as they piled jewellery on her. The face staring back at her from the mirror was pale, eyes huge, dark. Madhu had leant close, whispered, ‘Look at you. My baby. All grown-up. Beautiful.’ Tears had sparkled in her eyes. Jacinta had met Shirin’s gaze in the mirror and flashed a small, satisfied smile.

  At the church, as her mother helped her out of Uncle Ron’s Ambassador car (specially hired for the short distance that Shirin would normally have walked—‘You can’t walk! Not on your engagement day!’), Vinod, who was talking to someone, his back to her, turned. Their eyes met. His face lit up. He reached her in two long strides, took her hand in his and squeezed gently. That was enough to quell her doubts. She wanted to marry this man.

  `Madhu’s food was a huge success. After lunch, Jacinta led Vinod away to introduce him to all the Diaz relatives and well-wishers. Shirin was leaning back in her chair, fingering her ring—I am engaged—her eyes following Vinod as he mingled with her people, when she felt hot breath on her shoulder, making the hairs on her neck stand up, raising goosebumps. She turned, and found herself looking into soulless eyes—his face too close, his breath hot on her face. His grin a leer. He held out his hand for her to shake. ‘Congratulations, Voniye.’ She recoiled, fear spearing her stomach, wanting to yell for help, suddenly all alone in this crowded room, not finding her voice. ‘Prem,’ her future father-in-law—his arm a clamp on Prem’s shoulder—led him away.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Vinod said, leaning against the cupboard and closing his eyes. ‘Da never told me. We talked to Prem before. He promised not to drink, make a scene.’ He paused. Then, ‘He could be quite charming when he was sober. Although by the time of our wedding, he hardly ever was. Oh, Shonu, I should never have married you, put you in danger like that.’

  ‘Vinod…’

  ‘But I thought, we all did, that he would never… and I had had enough of having my life held back because of my brother…’ He rubbed a hand wearily across his face, looked at her, ‘And I wanted you, ever since I saw your huge eyes peeking out from between those bars that first time, I wanted you…’

  And me, when you put your hand in mine, I wanted you, too. Why couldn’t she say it, make him feel better, remove that haunted look from his eyes? ‘Vinod, it happened.’

  ‘Yes.’ Vinod sounded defeated. ‘It did.’ And then, ‘Shonu, you’re right. No point giving all this up.’ He waved his hands around to indicate the house.

  ‘It’s just… Here we are both liked, respected… If we went back, and were treated like outcasts… If we were shunned…Especially you, for no fault of yours… I couldn’t bear it, Vinod…’

  He came up to her then and, with his finger, traced her features. She willed herself not to flinch, to move away, as was her instinct. ‘Yes. I know,’ he said.

  She took a deep breath, looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. All these years, I’ve been so absorbed in my own pain. I had no idea... Have you been very unhappy?’

  ‘I am happy with you.’

  Not really an answer. She persisted. ‘Your parents...What you said…’

  ‘Oh, Shonu, if they had needed me, really needed me, I would have stayed with them, no matter what. But it wasn’t me they wanted...’

  She took another deep breath. ‘Vinod, about what you asked. I...’

  ‘Shh... You were right. I wasn’t being fair, asking you to choose...’

  But he was hurt. She could tell.

  All that night, Vinod’s question played in her head. If you had known then, what you know now, would you have stopped the engagement? Would you?

  Her infatuation with Tariq, her dream of finding love like Anita had with Uttam, her doubts of whether she would learn to love Vinod… They had all dissipated when Vinod’s hand had found hers, when his face had lit up in a smile at the sight of her. After the engagement, after what happened with Prem, she had had nightmares. Every night she woke up screaming, and Madhu held her, like she had when she was little, soothed her, joked with her, ‘Soon, you’ll be doing this to your own child.’ Her own child. She wanted to create one. With Vinod. And the words that were building up in her head, that were threatening to spill out of her mouth, ‘I can’t. I can’t marry him. I am afraid of his brother,’ stilled. She wanted Vinod. After all, she was marrying him, not his brother. And perhaps she had imagined it all; perhaps because of her dislike of Prem she had imbibed his actions with menace. After all, what had he done really? Just held his hand out to congratulate her. So he had come a bit too close. So what? She was making too much of what had happened. And so she assuaged herself, calmed her fears and did nothing.

  If you had known then, what you know now, would you have stopped the engagement? Would you?

  I should have, by rights, Vinod. Even back then, I had an inkling, a premonition. But there was Ma, running around organising last-minute details, that rare smile now a permanent fixture, her voice proud as she declared to all and sundry, ‘They have two cars. A big house right in the centre of the city. And their own business. What more could I ask for?’ and the words died in my mouth.

  If you had known then, what you know now, would you have stopped the engagement? Would you?

  Perhaps… Vinod washing her ever so gently that horrible evening, his tears falling like rain… Reena… I don’t know, Vinod. The thing is, I don’t know.

  Vinod moved onto his back, jostling her arm. She looked down at him, at the impossibly long eyelashes curling on his cheeks; his face less lined in repose, the mole peeking from under his left nostril. And she saw herself as the naïve young girl she had been, counting down the hours the night before her wedding, worrying about spending the rest of her nights with a man she barely knew, worrying about the brother-in-law who scared her…

  Shirin spent
her last night as a virgin in a cramped bed in a little room in a convent in Bangalore. Her da snored in the next room, lost to the world. Jacinta, Madhu, Anita, Deepak and the rest of the wedding party, which comprised practically the entire village of Taipur, would arrive the next morning. The church ceremony was at four o’clock and the reception would go on late into the night.

  She couldn’t sleep for worrying: How would she look in her gown? Would Vinod hold her hand like he had at the engagement? Would his face light up on seeing her? And Prem. He would be the best man, surely. How would that go? All the apprehensions about him came flooding back. Those strange empty eyes. Her heart thudded loud against her chest. To calm herself, she pictured Vinod: his kind eyes, his smile. Her husband tomorrow! This time tomorrow, she would be in bed with him beside her. A tingle, a shiver of anticipation. Would she be able to please Vinod? Or would he be disappointed? Her fleshy body. What would he think? Would it hurt? She felt an ache deep inside as she imagined him holding her in his arms, kissing her, taking off her clothes...

  She alternated between hope and despair, fear and a strange fevered excitement. She worried about so many things, but she did not worry about the actual wedding itself, whether it would go smoothly. She just assumed it would.

  And on her wedding morning, she woke to a downpour the likes of which Bangalore had not seen in years.

  Vinod stirred beside her, ‘The wedding. All those premonitions. Did you want to call it off then?’

  She looked into his eyes, deep black flecked with brown, like the night sky just before dawn. Both of them lying side by side pretending to be asleep, thinking of the same thing. How many times over the past decade had they done this?

  Their wedding. The sky midnight blue and weeping on what was predicted to be a sunny day; an incessant, unseasonal assault dousing Bangalore. The bus full of relatives stuck in the ghats due to flooding. The clap of thunder like the voice of God intervening when the priest asked, ‘Do you, Shirin, take Vinod as your lawfully wedded husband?’ Shirin’s ‘I do,’ encored by a flash of lightning that lit up the church and stole the power, smothering them in darkness. A hush settling in the church heaving with people in their wedding finery. No rustle of silk, no clink of gold. The only sound that of rain whipping the sloping roof. And then, old Richa Uncle’s voice booming, ‘Stop this wedding. It is a sham. God has spoken.’

  Voices, all at once, whispering, shouting to be heard, building to a crescendo, inhabiting the darkness, drowning out the rain. The priest’s voice trying for control, ‘A mass is on. Please stop.’ A candle flickering, the face of a nun hovering above it. Then, the sweet voices of the nuns rising in song, overriding the rabble. ‘Heavenly Father, send thy blessing.’ The congregation joining in; song reaching up to the rafters of the church, sending the crows sheltering there a squawking: fluttering shadows silhouetted in dazzling light as the power came on. Eyes blinking in the sudden harsh brightness, mouths open in refrain. Shirin’s gaze resting on her mother’s face—worried, drawn, on this, her wedding day. Her mother’s face.

  Vinod’s eyes searching hers in the dark: Did you want to call it off?

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Did you?’

  The rain had reduced to a mere drizzle when they stepped out of church, a married couple. Traffic was moving outside the church grounds again, not as many horns blaring. Vinod had put his hand in hers and squeezed. His head bent close, his lips just brushing her ear, raising goosebumps, arousing desire, ‘Congratulations, Mrs. Vaz.’

  ‘Not then, not now. Not once in all these years.’ He pulled her close and after a bit, she settled into his embrace.

  ‘What about your parents?’ she asked. ‘Were they worried about what happened, what Uncle Richa said?’

  She could feel his heart beating under his night shirt. She snuggled in closer, breathing in the musky scent of him. ‘I think they were relieved that it was the rain and Uncle Richa who misbehaved and not Prem.’

  Prem had appeared from nowhere, clasped Vinod’s hand. ‘Congrats, brother,’ he had smirked. Vinod’s smile froze. ‘You’ve been drinking,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me something new,’ Prem laughed. He came and stood next to Shirin, tucked her hand in his arm, motioned to the photographer, ‘A picture with my Voni.’ She tried not to recoil from his touch, the alcoholic fumes on his breath. Vinod’s dad came up then, led Prem away. Shirin relaxed. ‘Sorry,’ Vinod whispered. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered back, even though it wasn’t. And they both switched on smiles for the next lot of well-wishers coming forward to congratulate them.

  ‘I cannot imagine how it must have been for you, Shirin, saying goodbye to your family, coming home with us,’ Vinod said softly.

  She was glad they were finally talking about all this, even though it had been eleven years in coming. ‘It was nerve-wracking,’ she said, remembering…

  When the car stopped in a cloud of dust, outside the gates of Vinod’s home, her new home, Shirin felt claustrophobic. She was missing her parents, brother, sister and Madhu, to whom she had bid goodbye, and was worrying about the night to come. She had travelled with Vinod, his father and mother. Prem was nowhere to be seen, and for this, Shirin was glad.

  Cows, stray dogs and people milled around even at this time of night, some of them fast asleep on rags which passed for mattresses beside the gutter by the side of the street, snoring without a care in the world, one hand busy, even in sleep, squatting flies. The ones who were awake looked curiously at her, decked in her bridal sado and dripping with jewellery, and as she got out of the car, approached, begging for alms. ‘Amma, Amma, I haven’t eaten all day. Give me a few paise, Amma. God will bless you always.’

  ‘Go away. Shoo!’ Vinod’s father muttered, closing the gates.

  Vinod’s mother was already opening the front door. ‘Wait,’ she said as Vinod made to lead Shirin inside. She retrieved a stainless-steel thali filled with rice grains from where she must have left it, behind the front door, before she left for her son’s wedding. ‘You have to step on this as you come into our house. It’s supposed to bring good luck.’

  Afterwards, Shirin and Vinod had to kneel in front of the altar, which took pride of place in the living room, and pray for a long and happy married life. When it was over, Vinod led Shirin into their bedroom.

  Shirin was shaking with nerves. Vinod must have sensed this. Once inside, he locked the door behind him and turning to her, smiled shyly, ‘I am new to this too. And, like you, I am extremely nervous.’

  Shirin laughed, slightly hysterically.

  Gently, Vinod walked up to where she was standing, backed up against the wall. He led her to the bed. She looked at him, not knowing what to do, what was expected of her. She knew what was coming of course. She just didn’t know how to get from now to then. Should she take off her clothes? Wouldn’t it look wanton? She was not comfortable with her body, with its excess flesh in the wrong places. And with Vinod watching...

  He smiled softly. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘How do you wear your hair when you sleep?’

  ‘Loose,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then let me help you get rid of these.’ He touched the flowers in her hair.

  ‘Oh...’ She had forgotten about them. ‘Thank you.’ She was overcome with shyness and something else: a thrill of excitement; a sliver of desire, as he tenderly touched her hair, gently removing all the pins and flowers. With great care, so as not to hurt her, he worked her plait loose. His touch was so soft, so deliciously alien.

  ‘You’ve got beautiful hair. It’s so thick,’ he said, running his fingers down her hair, his voice a caress.

  Desire intensified, became want and longing. She closed her eyes. ‘It feels so light. I had forgotten how heavy the flowers were,’ she whispered.

  ‘Do you want to go to the bathroom and change from that sari?’ Vinod asked.

  Trembling, she nodded.


  She was very shy to come out in her nightdress, and hesitated for a long time behind the door of the bathroom.

  When she did step out, Vinod smiled at her. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said softly.

  Nobody had ever called her beautiful before, not the way he did, like he meant it.

  ‘Really?’ she wanted to ask, but couldn’t form the words. By the time she was able to speak, he was in the bathroom.

  Shirin waited for him, perched on the edge of the bed. Her tiredness had fled, to be replaced by a tingly anticipation. She had read all about what would happen next in one of the forbidden books from the library, but worried that she would be found wanting in some way. She had dieted before the wedding but she was still overweight. Vinod had said she was beautiful but would he still find her so with no clothes on? What about that ugly scar on her left thigh, the scabs on her knees?

  Her stomach dipped as the bathroom latch turned and Vinod came out in his pyjamas. She couldn’t look at him. She felt the springs sag as he sat beside her on the bed. He smelled fresh; of Liril soap and something else, something musky. Shirin’s heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Gently he placed his hand on top of Shirin’s, sending shivers down her spine. She had read about this feeling too. She closed her eyes.

  ‘I know, Shirin. I am exhausted too.’

  Shirin’s eyes flew open. Did he think she was tired? No.

  ‘Shall we lie down, maybe just hold each other and get used to each other tonight? I have waited this long for you. I don’t mind waiting a little longer.’

  No. No. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, thought Shirin. But how could she say it out loud without appearing loose, like one of those women?

  She lay still in Vinod’s unfamiliar arms until his breathing steadied and she was sure he had fallen asleep. Then she turned and looked at him: this stranger who was now her husband. His mouth was slightly open and soft little sighs escaped it. How could he sleep? Didn’t he desire her? She desired him. Her whole body was tingling, aching. Lying in his arms was torture. ‘You are beautiful,’ he had said. ‘I have waited this long for you.’ Then why hadn’t he pulled off her nightie and devoured her, like the heroes did in books and movies?