why don’t you just leave?” Kokila asked angrily. “All you have done is speak ill of Tella Meda and all of us who live here. You don’t seem to like it around here that much. I think you should leave.”
“How you talk,” Renuka said as tears filled her eyes. “Insulting a poor widow like this. Shame on you.”
“Oh, the tears might work on Subhadra, but they won’t work on me,” Kokila said, still angry that this woman had slapped Chetana, twice, and now was talking about the devil living in Tella Meda. “You talk nonsense like that again, I will tell Charvi that you hit me.”
“You will lie? You rotten girl! No one will believe you!”
“Everyone in Tella Meda will believe me and trust me. They will all be happy to see your bony back,” Kokila said, and left the old widow alone.
Kokila checked on Ramanandam for the next few days regularly. She was the one who took him his food, fed it to him, and even brought warm water into his room so that he could wash up. She cut fresh flowers from the garden to bring some of the outside world into his room.
It frustrated her that no one seemed interested in helping Ramanandam get through his grief. It had been five years since Vidura had run away, and Ramanandam was still mired in the loss. Perhaps if others had helped Ramanandam more, he would be better. Kokila resolved on that day that she would be the one to help Ramanandam.
“Chetana, you look fine,” Kokila snapped when for the fifth time that afternoon Chetana put on a different sari, even trying on some of Kokila’s. “You’re just going to the cinema; no one cares how you look.”
Chetana arranged the pleats of the white sari with a blue border on her shoulder. It was fake silk but looked almost like the real thing. Chetana had recently had two blouses made, one white with a blue and gold border around the sleeves and the neckline and the second black with red flowers and mirrors embroidered on it. She had begged and borrowed money from Subhadra, and Kokila couldn’t understand the fuss. It wasn’t like anyone saw what she wore because she was at Tella Meda all day long.
“It’s not just the cinema,” Chetana told Kokila with barely suppressed excitement.
“Then what?”
“You can’t tell anyone,” Chetana said as she went and sat next to Kokila on her bed. They were in their room and Chetana had been admiring herself in the old steel cupboard mirror. Her blouses, petticoats, saris, and half- saris were scattered everywhere on the floor.
“Tell what?”
“I’m getting married,” Chetana said, and then a laugh spilled out of her. “I’m going to get out of here.”
Kokila stared at her, not able to think of anything to say for a very long moment. “To whom?” she finally asked.
“Uh-uh.” Chetana shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you. Come with me to the temple tonight. We’re getting married there.”
Kokila sighed and put a hand against her forehead. “Why can’t you tell anyone? You could get married here, in Tella Meda. Ramanandam would be happy to do that for you.”
“Ramanandam? You are calling him Ramanandam now? What happened to Sastri Garu?”
Kokila shrugged. “Who is the boy, Chetana?”
Chetana gave her a sly smile. “You promise you won’t tell anyone.”
“Yes, ottu, I won’t tell anyone,” Kokila said.
“I’m getting married to Ravi,” Chetana said.
“No!” Kokila cried. “Are you mad? He’s one year younger than you. He’s my age, Chetana, and he’s spoiled. I hear that he already drinks and smokes. And Manikyam will kill you if you marry her son without her permission.”
“And what about your precious Ramanandam? You think he’ll care that his grandson is marrying the daughter of a prostitute?” Chetana demanded.
“Wise men like him see beyond the tragedy of birth. But I think if you marry like this, in stealth, you’ll hurt his feelings, Subhadra’s feelings, and Charvi’s as well,” Kokila said
“How you talk,” Renuka said as tears filled her eyes. “Insulting a poor widow like this. Shame on you.”
“Oh, the tears might work on Subhadra, but they won’t work on me,” Kokila said, still angry that this woman had slapped Chetana, twice, and now was talking about the devil living in Tella Meda. “You talk nonsense like that again, I will tell Charvi that you hit me.”
“You will lie? You rotten girl! No one will believe you!”
“Everyone in Tella Meda will believe me and trust me. They will all be happy to see your bony back,” Kokila said, and left the old widow alone.
Kokila checked on Ramanandam for the next few days regularly. She was the one who took him his food, fed it to him, and even brought warm water into his room so that he could wash up. She cut fresh flowers from the garden to bring some of the outside world into his room.
It frustrated her that no one seemed interested in helping Ramanandam get through his grief. It had been five years since Vidura had run away, and Ramanandam was still mired in the loss. Perhaps if others had helped Ramanandam more, he would be better. Kokila resolved on that day that she would be the one to help Ramanandam.
“Chetana, you look fine,” Kokila snapped when for the fifth time that afternoon Chetana put on a different sari, even trying on some of Kokila’s. “You’re just going to the cinema; no one cares how you look.”
Chetana arranged the pleats of the white sari with a blue border on her shoulder. It was fake silk but looked almost like the real thing. Chetana had recently had two blouses made, one white with a blue and gold border around the sleeves and the neckline and the second black with red flowers and mirrors embroidered on it. She had begged and borrowed money from Subhadra, and Kokila couldn’t understand the fuss. It wasn’t like anyone saw what she wore because she was at Tella Meda all day long.
“It’s not just the cinema,” Chetana told Kokila with barely suppressed excitement.
“Then what?”
“You can’t tell anyone,” Chetana said as she went and sat next to Kokila on her bed. They were in their room and Chetana had been admiring herself in the old steel cupboard mirror. Her blouses, petticoats, saris, and half- saris were scattered everywhere on the floor.
“Tell what?”
“I’m getting married,” Chetana said, and then a laugh spilled out of her. “I’m going to get out of here.”
Kokila stared at her, not able to think of anything to say for a very long moment. “To whom?” she finally asked.
“Uh-uh.” Chetana shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you. Come with me to the temple tonight. We’re getting married there.”
Kokila sighed and put a hand against her forehead. “Why can’t you tell anyone? You could get married here, in Tella Meda. Ramanandam would be happy to do that for you.”
“Ramanandam? You are calling him Ramanandam now? What happened to Sastri Garu?”
Kokila shrugged. “Who is the boy, Chetana?”
Chetana gave her a sly smile. “You promise you won’t tell anyone.”
“Yes, ottu, I won’t tell anyone,” Kokila said.
“I’m getting married to Ravi,” Chetana said.
“No!” Kokila cried. “Are you mad? He’s one year younger than you. He’s my age, Chetana, and he’s spoiled. I hear that he already drinks and smokes. And Manikyam will kill you if you marry her son without her permission.”
“And what about your precious Ramanandam? You think he’ll care that his grandson is marrying the daughter of a prostitute?” Chetana demanded.
“Wise men like him see beyond the tragedy of birth. But I think if you marry like this, in stealth, you’ll hurt his feelings, Subhadra’s feelings, and Charvi’s as well,” Kokila said
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