The Many Conditions of Love

by Farahad Zama

  Aruna wiped her eyes with the edge of the long dupatta that covered her chest and went over her shoulders. “That’s exactly the problem,” she said. “I cannot explain exactly what has gone wrong.”

  “Did you have a fight with Ramanujam?” said Mrs Ali.

  “Yes…No…I don’t know,” said Aruna. She stared with great interest at the pattern on the granite floor and twisted the strings of her dupatta round and round her fingers.

  “Hmm…” said Mrs Ali, scratching her head. “Don’t explain. Just tell me what happened on the day you left the house.”

  “Well, things have been a bit cold for a while and I think it is because my sister-in-law complained to Ramanujam that I had been rude to her mother-in-law. But it all came to a head when Vani came to our house and said that she needed some money urgently. My sister-in-law heard her and started shouting at Vani.”

  “What did Ramanujam do?” said Mrs Ali.

  “He didn’t do anything. That’s exactly the point. He didn’t support me. And this is not the only time. He always believes the worst about me. Whatever accusations his sister hurls at me, he takes them as if they are mantras from the holy Vedas.”

  “Why don’t you just ignore it and go back home?” said Mrs Ali.

  “How can I do that, madam? I won’t go back unless he comes and takes me.”

  “It’s your house, Aruna. You don’t need anybody’s invitation to go home. How are you going to resolve these differences if you hide your face away?”

  Aruna shook her head. “Sorry, madam. I cannot go back in defeat.”

  “Nobody is talking about victory or defeat,” said Mrs Ali. “There is a Brahmin family in the second-floor flat there.” Mrs Ali pointed out of the window at the building next to their house. “The husband is a clerk in the university. Do you know them?”

  Aruna said, “No, madam. I don’t believe I do.” Although she was a Brahmin, her community was a large one and she didn’t know every member. She was also puzzled by Madam’s change of topic.

  “They know you,” said Mrs Ali. “The lady came over yesterday and was asking about you.”

  “Yesterday was my day off. I wasn’t in,” said Aruna.

  “That’s what I told her. But she didn’t come to talk to you. She actually came over for gossip. She said that you had been thrown out of your house by your husband and your in-laws.”

  “What?” said Aruna, aghast. “I left on my own – nobody threw me out.”

  “I asked her how she knew,” said Mrs Ali. “She said that Ramanujam’s maternal cousin’s sister-in-law was her husband’s sister. She said they had been considering giving her sister’s hand in marriage to Ramanujam but now she was really glad that the match had not been proposed. She said that your in-laws had always been dead against your marriage because your parents are poor and because of that they have been ill-treating you.” Mrs Ali looked at Aruna and continued, “She leaned forward on this very sofa and told me: they look like such respectable people. Who would have thought that they are capable of hurting their daughter-in-law?”

  Aruna’s eyes widened in shock.

  Mrs Ali went on, “She said that they made you work in the kitchen every day and even burned you a few times. She said that they finally lost their patience and one day when your whole family came to visit, Ramanujam beat you and threw you all out of the house.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Aruna. “They’ve taken isolated incidents and twisted them…But none of it is true. My in-laws were initially opposed to our wedding – which rich family wouldn’t be? But there is nobody more kind to me than them. And while I am angry with my husband for not supporting me, how dare they talk about him behind my back? He is the best husband any woman could wish for. They are all jealous. I feel like going to her flat and telling her to stop talking nonsense about me and my family.”

  “Who else will you silence, Aruna?” said Mrs Ali. “When a husband and wife split up, people talk – that’s only natural. And what this woman was saying wasn’t too bad. Who knows what others are saying about your character or your husband’s morality and the reasons for your break-up?”

  Aruna’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. “Do people really think like that?” she said.

  Mrs Ali shrugged. “What do you care about others? You’ve made your decision. Let them say what they want.”

  “But I do care,” said Aruna. “I wish there was some way to stop them all from gossiping about me and my family.”

  “There is,” said Mrs Ali.

  “How?”

  “Simple,” said Mrs Ali. “Go back home.”

  “But – ”

  “This is bigger than your hurt feelings, Aruna. Your family’s reputation is at stake. Whatever issues you have are not going to be resolved by running away from them. Go home and fight for your rights. Solve your problems from within.”

  ♦

  “Oh, look what’s come crawling back,” said Mani to her brother Ramanujam. This was exactly what Aruna had dreaded. It was the evening of her conversation with Mrs Ali and Aruna had taken an auto-rickshaw back to her husband’s house from work. In the past, Aruna would have kept silent and slunk past her sister-in-law to her room, preferring to avoid a confrontation.

  “Nobody here is creeping around,” said Aruna, throwing her head up, making an escaped lock of hair bounce. “I went of my own accord and have come back on my own. This is my house even more than it is yours. Just because I have been silent so far, don’t think I cannot talk. Give me respect and you will get respect back.”

  Mani’s jaw dropped. She looked at Ramanujam. Aruna discreetly squeezed her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

  Ramanujam said, “That’s true – it’s her house and she has every right to be here.”

  Before Mani could reply, they heard a crash and a boy’s scream. Aruna and Ramanujam rushed to their room, where the sound had come from. Mani followed much more slowly, her hand pressing against her stomach. Mani’s son, Sanjay, was standing by the table. All around his feet were broken pieces of glass; blue ink had splashed across the papers on the table and spread out in random patterns on the milky-white marble floor. They all stood frozen for a moment until Mani came into the room.

  “Amma,” cried Sanjay and started to move towards her.

  “Stop!” shouted Aruna. “You’ll cut your feet.” They were all barefoot. She moved forward, stepping carefully around the ink and the glass, and lifted up the surprisingly heavy boy. She came back and handed him to his mother.

  “What have you done?” said Ramanujam to the boy, trying to blot the ink with a handkerchief. “All my papers…I won’t have time to prepare another draft.”

  Aruna waved to Mani to take her son away. Once they left, she closed the door and leaned against it. “It’s OK. Take a day off from work. I can help you. We can do it.”

  Ramanujam looked at her strangely. “You are amazing,” he said, finally. “I love you.”

  Her head shot up and she stared into his eyes; a smile came to her lips. Each took a step towards the other and they were in each other’s arms. Ramanujam hugged her tightly and bent his head to nuzzle her cheek and ear. His rough chin abraded her soft skin; his musky aftershave invaded her nostrils. Oh, how she had missed him.

  “You are never going to leave me again,” he said in a whisper, his lips moving against the lobe of her ear.

  She jerked her head back and looked into his eyes, the smile on her face replaced by a frown. He put a long finger against her lips before a word came out of them.

  “It’s my fault, I should have given you a chance to explain. I found out why you spoke like that to Mani’s mother-in-law. I didn’t know that they had taken you to see a gynaecologist. I thought she had said something during a routine social visit and you had responded to that. I think Mani’s mother-in-law deserved it. In fact, if I had been there, I would have been even stronger. I have also told my mother that what she did was wrong.”

 
“Oh!” said Aruna. “I didn’t know that you knew nothing about the doctor’s visit. I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed about it but I thought you…Anyway, that’s why I couldn’t understand why you were being so angry.”

  They held each other for a few more minutes while Ramanujam nibbled her ears. Then he said, “And I shouldn’t have let Mani’s tongue run away like the Rajdhani Express speeding to Delhi, especially with your sister. But Mani had pre-eclampsia when she was pregnant with Sanjay and we are all worried that she might develop it again. So…”

  “What is pre-eclampsia?”

  “High blood pressure during pregnancy. It is very dangerous for the mother and baby. That’s why we are just going along with whatever she’s saying. We don’t want to give her any cause for tension.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about her problem? I would have made sure that I didn’t provoke her in any way either.”

  Ramanujam sighed. “She almost lost Sanjay and she didn’t want anybody to know.”

  Aruna freed herself from his arms. “That’s wrong. It doesn’t matter what anybody says, you have to tell me these things. We cannot have any secrets between us. If you had told me to keep it hush-hush, I would have. Look at what problems were conjured up because we both kept things from each other.”

  “You are right, of course. I am sorry I should have trusted you. And you should have told me about the visit to the gynaecologist before I went charging off like a bull that had seen a red rag.”

  “You are right – we were both wrong,” she said with a small laugh.

  His hands slipped around her slim waist again and she reached up to circle his neck. She didn’t know how many minutes they stayed like that, but at some point he looked meaningfully at the bed. She laughed lightly and pecked him quickly on the cheek before disentangling herself from him.

  “Let me get the mop,” she said.

  ♦

  It has been a long time since all five chairs were in use, thought Rehman, as he looked across the dining table. The table was usually set against a wall and only three sides and four chairs were in use. Today, he and Vasu had pulled the table forward. It meant that they could not open the fridge but his mother had taken out everything she needed and Vasu had taken out the bottles of cold water. It was Sunday and there was meat on the table; Pari had come over to help his mother prepare the meal. Vasu, as the youngest and thinnest, sat in the chair against the wall while everyone else sat on the other three sides.

  Vasu was still not going to school because it had been difficult to organise all the certificates needed, but Mrs Ali had arranged with Aruna for her father to teach him. Aruna’s father, a retired teacher, taught the boy Telugu and maths for two or three hours a day. Rehman had asked Aruna whether her father would accept any fees. Aruna had shaken her head.

  “Oh, no. He will not take any money. To be honest, I should be paying you. It’s doing him a world of good to teach again. He is looking a lot healthier and more interested in the world than he has been for a long time. Both my mother and sister also say that he is less grumpy and easier to get along with nowadays.”

  Pari served herself a second helping and got a bone. “Do you want to suck the marrow?” she asked Vasu.

  Vasu nodded, his eyes shining. His body was filling out, but meat was still a rare treat for him. Pari placed the bone on his plate. Vasu gnawed off the meat clinging to the outer bone, then put the end of the bone in his mouth like a straw and sucked it. His cheeks went concave and his eyes bulged but the marrow did not come out.

  Pari laughed and said, “Bang the end on the plate.” The stainless-steel plate rang like a damped bell as he hit it with the bone.

  After several strikes, Vasu shouted, “It’s coming out.” He sucked again with renewed strength as the marrow slipped into his mouth.

  After lunch had been cleared up, they all went into the living room. Pari joined them with glasses of buttermilk on a tray. The adults started sipping but Vasu polished off his drink in a moment, wiped away the white moustache it left on his lips with the back of his hand and ran off to the front yard to climb the guava tree. Mrs Ali turned to Rehman.

  “Why are you so glum, son?” she said. “I’ve been noticing it for several days now. Is it work? I know you are working long hours.”

  “It’s not that,” said Rehman. “I don’t know what to do about Vasu.”

  “You mean about his school? These things take time. I am sure you will able to sort it out soon.”

  “It’s not so easy,” said Rehman. “The schools are asking for a birth certificate and they want the signature of the father or mother.”

  “I have been thinking about it for some time now,” said his mother. “I think you should adopt Vasu.”

  “What?” said Rehman.

  His father lowered the paper and looked at her seriously. “What are you saying?” he said to his wife. “He is a bachelor. Who will marry him if he is lumbered with a son?”

  Mrs Ali said, “The adoption is only a legal nicety. The fact that there isn’t anything on paper doesn’t change…”

  Rehman tuned his parents out. Vasu was Lalitha’s son. He had promised her father that he would look after the boy. So why was he so reluctant to do what his mother was saying? His father was telling the truth, though, wasn’t he? Would Usha marry him if he adopted Vasu? Even if she was willing to overlook it, what would her family say? They were already unhappy about the match, so adopting Vasu would only pour kerosene on the fire. What should he do?

  “Can I say something?” said Pari, after the silence had stretched for almost a minute. They all turned to face her. “After my husband died, I had many regrets. With time, I am making my compromises with them and, thanks to you all, I have started to live a little again. But the one gaping hole that I thought I could never fill is being childless. The feeling that, while I am a woman, I will never be a mother is very sad.”

  “What are you saying, Pari?” said Mrs Ali.

  “If Vasu wants me, I would like to adopt him,” she said.

  Rehman was thunderstruck. “Are you sure?” he said. “It’s a big responsibility.”

  Pari nodded mutely.

  Rehman looked at his parents but they were dumb too. “What about your work?” he said.

  “He will be at school most of the time while I am at work. I will make some arrangements – I can book an auto-rickshaw to pick him up and drop him off.”

  “Yes,” said Mrs Ali. “The auto can drop him off here. We don’t mind looking after him for a few hours a day. That would be great.”

  Mr Ali nodded. “Yes,” he said.

  Rehman stood up and went outside. He came back with the boy, sat him down on the sofa and kneeled on the floor in front of him. Vasu’s legs barely reached the ground and he swung them like pendulums.

  “This is very important, Vasu, so listen carefully. Pari Aunty wants to adopt you. Would you like to live with her?”

  The boy frowned and ceased moving his legs. “Will I still see you?” he asked.

  “Of course,” said Rehman. “You will spend at least a couple of hours here every day and we will meet whenever I am home. I will come to your place too and I will take you to the beach, to play games, everything.”

  Vasu nodded slowly. “If Pari Aunty adopts me, will I have to call her amma?”

  Rehman glanced over at Pari and turned back to Vasu. “You will have to,” he said.

  The boy thought for a few seconds, then jumped up and rushed over to Pari. “Yes,” he said, throwing himself on to her. “I would love to have you as my mother.”

  Pari hugged him back tightly and swung him round, his legs flying in mid-air. They all started laughing, but Pari was crying too.

  ♦

  On Monday, Aruna’s day off, she got up as usual in the morning, said her prayers and switched on devotional music in the early-morning Suprabhaatam Raaga. Her father-in-law left early to talk to a builder who wanted to show him a new site. Ramanujam had
already gone to the hospital for half an hour before Sanjay came down for breakfast on his own.

  “Where is your mother?” asked Aruna’s mother-in-law.

  “She doesn’t want to come out of the room. She says her tummy is hurting. I am hungry,” he said.

  Aruna and her mother-in-law looked at each other for a split second before they both broke into a run.

  “I am hungry,” said the boy’s piping voice.

  “Ka-aka-a-a,” shouted Aruna, without breaking her step. “Serve breakfast for babu.”

  They found Mani lying in bed with her knees bent and her feet flat on the mattress. She had her hands on her stomach and she was groaning. Her forehead was beaded in sweat, even though the air-conditioner was on full blast and the room felt chilly.

  “Are you OK?” said her mother, sitting on the mattress. “Has the labour started?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Mani. “It doesn’t feel like the last time. It must be gastric trouble.” After a moment, she groaned as another spasm gripped her. “Ohh, ohh!”

  “Get a soda,” the older lady said to Aruna.

  As Aruna turned to go, Mani gave a scream that ended in a sigh of relief. Mani’s mother jumped up.

  “It’s wet,” she said. “Her waters have broken. Oh! What do we do? Mani’s father has taken Peter and the car and gone to see the builder, and Ramanujam’s at the hospital. Quick, call them back.”

  Aruna called Ramanujam but a nurse answered his mobile phone and said that he had already started scrubbing up for an operation and could not come for a few hours. Her father-in-law did not answer his phone, so Aruna left a message asking him to come home immediately. She was able to contact Mani’s husband but he had visited them all day on Sunday and then left for an overnight out-station visit. He said that it would take him three or four hours to get back to town.

  “Oh, what are we going to do without the men and the vehicles?” said Aruna’s mother-in-law.

  Hearing this, Mani began wailing. Aruna said to her mother-in-law, “You are not helping Mani. Calm down, please. It is OK, we’ll get her to the hospital. We’ve already arranged everything, remember?”