“Done with Tiger Hills? Don’t be a fathead. You know that you of all people will never be done with the place. And where are you going to go anyway?”
“Bangalore. Bombay. The university there … it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re upset. We all are.” Appu stopped, trying to find the right words, still hurt by Nanju’s actions at the funeral. “Just come home.”
Nanju said nothing, a lump in his throat as he looked away.
Appu shook his head. “Have it your own way, then. I know you’ll return soon enough.” He forced a grin. “As you embark on this momentous journey to unknown shores, I shall impart sage advice.” Wagging a solemn finger at Nanju, he began to recite:
Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch.
Nanju tried to smile. “Yes. The Bandersnatch. I hear Bombay is full of them.”
They stood looking at one another. Appu punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, man. This is all—”
Nanju turned away. “You should leave.”
Appu was getting into the car when Nanju called out behind him, “You take care of her, you hear? Baby. You take care of her.”
Appu’s eyes narrowed. He started the engine without a word and turned back for Tiger Hills.
It was almost a month later before they received any news of Nanju. He wrote to Devanna, a short, formal letter. He had applied for a teaching position at the agricultural college in Bombay; it would be some weeks before he heard, but he was hopeful. It was obvious to all of them that Nanju had no immediate plans to return.
Devi did the only thing she knew how to—she lifted her head high, put one foot in front of the other, and marched on. She went ahead with the preparations for Appu and Baby’s nuptials; although it was tradition to wait a year after a death in the family before hosting a celebration of any kind, Tayi had made them all promise that they would not postpone the wedding.
Devi brought home the jewelry from the safe deposit box in Mercara. She laid the velvet boxes on the bedspread, their bijou contents winking in the sun. Two of each gemmed bauble, one for Baby, and one for Nanju’s future bride. She unhappily stroked a gold sovereign. Was this any way to behave with one’s mother? What did the boy expect, an apology? So she had said some things in the heat of the moment, had she not tried to tell him that she had not meant those things? A lump rose in her throat as she shut away the gold.
The day of the wedding dawned crystal clear, the arrangements so opulent that they set an altogether new standard against which weddings in Coorg would be judged for at least the next decade. There was talk about Nanju’s absence, of course there was, but for once, the rumor mill ran in Devi’s favor. Poor woman. Look what he had done, that older boy of hers, just upped and ran away to the city. The quiet ones were always the ones who got up to mischief. He was in Bombay, so they had heard. The boy had got some teaching job, or was he studying? They weren’t sure …
Devi remained stoic through all the commiserations. Masking the unhappiness in her eyes, she deflected the questions with talk of the weather and the quality of the coffee crop expected that year. Nobody noticed how tightly she held herself, or the way her gaze flickered time and again to the driveway, as if trying hopelessly to conjure up her missing son.
The gossips at last shifted their attention to the wedding at hand. The bride was ethereal, they exclaimed. She had the look of her aunt, those same cheekbones, the same delicate skin that looked as if it might bruise at the slightest touch. And what a welcome she had from the groom’s family! There were two sets each of every gemstone imaginable—diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds—ropes of pearls, chokers, and chandelier earrings, silks, linens, and gold sovereigns aplenty for all the days of her life.
Baby demurely kept her eyes downcast as women lifted her veil to ooh and aah at her beauty. She was so completely, sublimely happy, she could have sworn her feet were floating a few inches off the ground. You have a long night ahead of you, her friends whispered mischievously, as they seated her in the car that would take the newlyweds to Tiger Hills, adding, The bridegroom looks as strong as a bull—he will not allow you much sleep tonight.
“Good-bye then,” Appu called from the window, and the car began to pull away from the courtyard. A pang shot through Baby and she turned her head, squinting through the windows as her family grew small and doll-like then finally faded into the distance. Her eyes moist, she searched delicately for the handkerchief that her mother had folded into her blouse.
“Are you all right?”
Glancing shyly at the uncle seated in the front seat of the car who was designated as chaperone to the newlyweds, she nodded.
“That’s my girl,” Appu said, and leaned back against the seat.
Baby cast about desperately for something to say, but the words felt sticky, all jumbled together. Filled with a sudden impulse, she shifted her veil. Just a discreet fluttering of spangled silk, but when the fabric settled it rested lightly over his fingers. Her hand moved unseen beneath the silk, and, shocked at her own daring, Baby reached out and placed her fingers on her husband’s.
She knew, even without looking at him, that Appu was smiling. They rode that way for the remainder of the journey, saying no more to one another but with their hands tightly entwined beneath the folds of her veil.
Devanna had taken charge of the decorations at Tiger Hills in anticipation of his new daughter-in-law, gilding its walls with dozens of oil lamps. Hurricane lanterns swayed from the boughs of the banyan tree, and the flames of a thousand candles danced along the walkways of the garden and from the walls until the house and its grounds were molten with light.
Baby watched spellbound from the window of the Austin as they drove through the grounds. The estate workers had gathered for a glimpse of the bride, and she smiled beneath her veil when they erupted in a loud cheer as the car swept past them up the drive. The portico and verandah were swarming with guests. The driver drew to a halt and Appu stepped from the car, extending a gallant hand to his bride. Baby stepped out shyly and touched a beaming Devi’s feet.
“Swami kapad, kunyi.” She kissed Baby’s forehead. “May you live long, may you die a married woman.”
The bride was taken to the well to draw the first pail of water and then, right foot extended once, twice, a third time over the threshold, Baby entered her new home. Devi smiled. “There will be time enough tomorrow to show you through the house, but for now, come, the prayer room first, and then let us take you to your room.”
They seated Baby on a vast four-poster bed draped in silk and brocade. More innuendoes and giggling, and then the women left her alone to await her groom. Baby sat patiently on the bed for what seemed like hours, while the merriment below showed no signs of abating. Now and again, someone checked in on her. Patience, patience, they told her, grinning, your groom is busy hosting his guests, you may as well get some rest while you can.
Devanna stopped by to see her, then, shortly after he had left, Devi knocked and entered. “Kunyi?” She smiled as she rearranged the veil about Baby’s face. “You looked so beautiful today. I cannot count the number of people who congratulated me on my exquisite daughter-in-law.”
“Everyone says I look like you,” Baby said shyly.
Devi laughed with pleasure. “Maybe so, maybe so, but I lost the flush of youth some time ago.” Seating herself on the bed next to Baby, she cocked her head to a side, listening to the raucous sounds of merrymaking below. “Appu and his friends. Such a boisterous lot … ” She patted Baby’s cheek. “Still, now that you are in the house, he will improve his ways. You give me a grandchild soon, you hear?”
Baby blushed and Devi smiled. “God bless you, kunyi,” she said again. “God bless the both of you with all happiness.” Her eyes grew clouded. “I only wish … I wish all of the family had been here.” How she had hoped that Nanju
would return for the wedding. “Your great-grandmother,” Devi said. “If only Tayi had lived to bless the wedding.”
“Don’t be sad, maavi,” Baby said softly. “Tayi is here with us.”
“Yes, kunyi, I know.” Devi straightened her shoulders and tried to smile. “They all are. Tayi, my parents, Appu’s father—our ancestors, watching over us.”
Baby nodded, anxious to ease the other’s hurt. “Yes, they are, Tayi especially. I saw her today, maavi.” She looked earnestly at Devi. “Right at the back of the guests when we were leaving for Tiger Hills. Tayi. Standing there and waving at me, bidding me farewell.”
Devi looked startled. The girl was gazing wide-eyed at her, her eyes clear and limpid. A faint misgiving began to uncurl in Devi’s chest. “It is very late,” she said abruptly, rising to her feet. She patted Baby on the cheek again. “Try to get some rest. From the sound of it, it will be a good many hours before your husband comes to you.”
Baby bit her lip as Devi left the room. Her mother had warned her not to talk of spirits and the dead; people did not understand, she said. But Baby had only been trying to help. She knew how sad Devi was over Nanju anna’s sudden departure … besides, Tayi had been there.
Troubled, Baby rose from the bed in a rustle of silk and went to the window. Light spilled from the drawing room, casting patches of gold onto the lawn. She could hear the sound of glasses clinking. Laughter, much laughter, the high pitch of a woman’s voice. Baby frowned. When would Appu come upstairs? She was filled with a sudden, fierce longing. She turned her palms upward, holding them toward the light. The dabs of bridal henna had stained her skin a deep, vibrant maroon. She turned her palms this way and that, examining them, and her lips curved in a smile. The richer the stain, it was said, the stronger the love a husband would have for his wife.
It was almost four in the morning when Appu finally entered. “Baby?” he said softly. “Where … there you are, my lovely bride. What are you doing by the window?”
She looked at him, reproach in her kohl-rimmed eyes.
“Come. What is this? You saw my friends, they have come from Madras, from Bangalore, a few even from Bombay. I couldn’t very well leave them and disappear, could I?” He smiled and lifted the veil from her head. “Ayy, wife. You were all I could think of downstairs.”
She looked at him again, with those sooty black eyes. “Wife,” he said softly again, savoring the roll of it against his tongue.
The first light of day was filtering wispily in through the lace curtains when Baby laughed out loud. Appu cupped her mouth with his hand. “Hush.” He grinned, the dimple flashing in his cheek. “Do you want the entire household to hear?”
She shook her head, her eyes dancing beneath his palm, but as soon as he removed his hand, she laughed again.
She ran a hand down his back, the damp warmth of it. The two of them, entwined like this, limbs and trunks and skin, hard to tell where she ended, where he began. The smell of him, like moss in the rain. She turned her head, tucking her face into his neck, breathing him in. Her friends had been entirely right, she thought happily, she would get very little sleep.
“Again,” she whispered, moving slowly under him, “again.”
Chapter 39
1930
Baby gazed enchanted at the toe rings that she had first slipped on as a bride. They flashed silver in the sun, their intricate whorls broadcasting to all the world that she was now somebody’s wife.
“Admiring them again, kunyi?” Devanna asked, amused.
Baby blushed and sheepishly shook her head. Devanna chuckled as he turned back to the flower beds. She glanced surreptitiously at him and then touched a finger to the black beads about her neck. Married.
Devanna and she were picking flowers for the house in what had become their weekly ritual. The garden was fully in bloom; a riot of color in every direction, an artist’s palette upended on the soil. Baby sighed, a soft, contented sound.
The leaves of the sampigé trees rustled in the breeze and she frowned, reminded suddenly of Nanju. It had been his birthday three days ago. Devi had picked a perfect sampigé blossom to place in the prayer corner. “Thirty-one,” she had said at the breakfast table, staring at her plate. “Nanju is thirty-one today.” Neither Appu nor Devanna had said anything in response.
It hung over them, the pall of Nanju’s leaving. “Why don’t you just go to Bombay and bring him back?” Baby had once asked Appu.
“Because my mother can be as stubborn as a mule,” Appu had replied, “and it seems that in this regard at least, Nanju has taken after her. He’ll return, but only when he is ready.”
Baby looked at Devanna again. She had grown very fond of her quiet, gentle-mannered father-in-law, and it distressed her to see the sadness that sometimes seemed to envelop him like a shroud. Nanju would return; she knew in her heart that he would soon be home for good. And then they would all be happy.
“Baby!” Appu’s voice carried over the lawn, startling her from her reverie. “Baby, look at the time, we have to leave!”
“Here,” Devanna said affectionately, “hand me the flower basket. You had better hurry—you know how he gets with his hunts.”
Calling out to Appu, promising to be ready in two minutes, no more, Baby hurried toward the house, toe rings twinkling all the way.
When they returned later that morning, dusty and grimy, a deer and two pheasants lying in the trunk of the car, Appu was brimming with laughter. “You should have seen her, how I wish you’d seen her,” he recounted to Devi and Devanna. “Barely had I downed the deer than our lady here was off and running. ‘I am bal battékara,’ she yelled, scaring the living daylights out of the other women as she raced toward the kill. Were it not for my bullet, her screams alone might have put paid to the poor animal!”
“It wasn’t like that at all,” Baby protested. “I—”
“You streaked like a flash of lightning before anyone else stood a chance!”
“Oh hush now, stop troubling her,” Devi said as she sprinkled teli-neer on them both to ward off the evil spirits. “It’s in Baby’s blood,” she stated proudly. “When I was a child, I was always named the bal battékara at my father’s hunts.”
The beautiful girl is finally here, come to visit her near and dear.
Rubies glittering about her neck…anklets shimmering like the sun…
The beautiful one has come, drenched in a rainstorm she has come.
“What?” Devi asked Devanna, surprised. “What are you muttering there in the corner?”
“Baby,” Devanna said softly to his daughter-in-law, patting her cheek, “at times you remind me very much of someone I used to know.”
“Devanna!” Devi called urgently some days later, as she hurried through the house. “A letter, there’s a letter!” In the seven months that Nanju had been gone, now and again there was a letter from him, bearing some little news from Bombay. Devi had pounced on the letter as soon as she saw it in that morning’s post. “A letter,” she said, when she found him. “Here, quick, read it to me.”
She stood there rapt as Devanna read the brief letter aloud, disappointment clouding her face when he had finished. Once again, there was no mention of a visit, no hint of a reconciliation.
“Is that all?” she demanded. “Are you sure there isn’t any more?” Without waiting for his response, she took the letter from Devanna, holding it to the light, turning it backward and forward, this way and that, as if searching for some indication, some hint of Nanju’s return that Devanna might have overlooked.
“No matter,” she said then, a lump in her throat. “No matter. He never was much of a one for words.”
She walked slowly down the foyer. She had hoped that in this letter at last … A burst of laughter drifted in from the dining room. Baby was arranging a vast armful of flowers as Appu watched, leaning against the wall, his hands shoved in his pockets.
At least Baby, Devi thought wanly, has brought laughter with her to Tiger Hills.
Baby murmured something and Appu laughed out loud again; Devi turned, suddenly desperate for a pocket of quiet. She made her way to Nanju’s bedroom. It was the old nursery; Appu had long appropriated one of the larger rooms on the first floor, while Nanju had chosen to remain here, in this room of his childhood. She stared unhappily at the mural of the tiger that still sprawled across one wall. When Appu had left for Biddies, she had braced herself for the pain of his absence. A mother’s pain at being separated from a child—it had felt like a missing limb, a phantom pain that cut deep.
It was different with Nanju. A slower ache, but unexpectedly insidious. Like a leg turned stunted, just a little shorter than the other, dragging perpetually behind. The letter today … how she had hoped that at least now, after all these months, there would be a sign that Nanju was coming home.
Devi sat there, on the perfectly made bed, brooding over her son.
Appu got Baby pregnant. Or at least Baby thought she was, twice in quick succession, over a span of five months. Each time, her face had crumpled when the monthly blood arrived, cruelly delayed by a few days, just late enough to have gotten her hopes up.
“Don’t worry,” Devi comforted her, when Baby wept. “Do not fret, kunyi, you are both so young, there is so much time ahead of you.”
Appu sat beside Baby on the bed, and took her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head. “Ayy, my lovely. Stop now, hush. How about I recite you a poem? There was a young girl,” he began, tone solemn,
“Who begat three brats named Nat, Pat, and Tat.
It was fun in the breeding,
But hell in the feeding,
When she found there was no tit for tat!”
Baby was silent, puzzling through the words, and then despite herself, she giggled. She pummeled Appu’s chest with her fists, and they both started to laugh.
Nanju’s letters continued sporadically, growing ever more erratic in frequency as well as content. Once there was only a paragraph, devoted entirely to the sound of the sea, the way it crashed and tugged against Bombay’s shoreline. Another time, he fretted over the lack of the night. “There are always lights here,” he wrote to Devanna. “It is impossible to rest.” Not once did he talk of returning.
Tiger Hills Page 42
