Chapter 15 - Diamonds are forever?

Shikha found herself thinking about Siddharth often. And she missed her father desperately. But when mama came or she spoke to her over the phone, she revealed nothing about her intense loneliness or the uneasy feeling she had about Philip. Soon after their marriage, Philip and Shikha did spend a lot of time together, but it was not spent talking to each other. They went out for movies. Only English movies because he couldn’t relate to Malayalam. They did a lot of eating out, and went to horserace which Shikha did not enjoy one bit. She did it to only to oblige him.

Eventually, he started coming home late. The late became very late and Shikha stopped waiting up for him. In the morning, he got up late and on many days, he had breakfast sent up to the suite. But Shikha always had breakfast with her in-laws. She found that she was more comfortable with them than with her husband.

“When did he come in last night?’ daddy would ask on the days Philip did not join them for breakfast.

One day, daddy told her she should go out with him in the evenings, and not send him alone. He’s not a baby, is he, Shikha thought, annoyed.

“He goes to the club to play bridge. I don’t like clubs”. She said.

“You should learn to like what he likes, Shikha”, daddy said. There was no admonition in his voice, so Shikha spoke to him gently. “I wouldn’t know what to do there till midnight”.

There was a growing fear gnawing at Shikha that she had taken a wrong, unfamiliar route and did not know what awaited her around the corner. The man she married was a stranger to her. She did not know what went on in his mind. She did not know what he did during daytime when he was away, though she tried several times to talk to him about the business that was entrusted to him by his father. He always avoided giving her an answer. He hardly ever spoke to her. With a sinking feeling, she realized that he was avoiding her. Initially she thought she’ll talk to him about it, but she refrained when she realized, to her own distress, that she was more comfortable with him away.

The only time he was assertive was when he insisted on her buying a diamond set for the reception that was to be hosted for them by one of his father’s friends.

“The page three crowd will be there. Get yourself a designer outfit and see to the accessories. Make sure it’s diamonds.”

“I have beautiful jewellery. When am I going to use them if not for such occasions?”

“Listen, diamonds are classy”.

Shikha remembered the displeasure he had shown when she told him before their marriage that for the wedding she was wearing a rich Kerala kasavu sari with traditional jewellery’

“What is it?” he had asked looking dubious.

“Adil and pathakkam with uncut ruby and a century old Kasi mala”

“For goodness sake, why don’t you wear something more elegant? Wear a gown and diamonds”

Shikha was furious. “It’s all decided. The sari has been ordered. The jewelry was bought from the royal house when they sold some family heirloom some fifty years back. No diamond can match them in class”, Shikha had said crossly.

Shikha decided not to argue this time, and allowed herself to be dolled up to suit the Kottayil family status. The saloon people came home to fit the lehenga and make up her face. Looking at the mirror after dressing up, she felt like someone else. A stranger whom she did not recognize looked back at her from the mirror. The first and the last time I do this to myself, she thought determinedly. But Philip seemed to be terribly pleased with her turnout and she hated him for it.

The guests looked as though they were straight out of a Hindi film. She went around greeting them, saying polite meaningless words as Philip introduced her to them. At the end of an hour or so, her face started aching around the lips. Smiling like a zany, she thought angrily.

“No more of these parties for me”, she told Philip later while undressing.

“I though you were enjoying it! You were a huge success, you know?” Philip said smiling.

“I hated it. Please spare me these in future.”

“We’ll cross the bridge when we come to it. Anyway, what did you think you were doing when you decided to get married into a business family?” Philip said curtly.

“I don’t know, but certainly not this”, she said rather sourly.

“What is this ‘This’, may I ask? And what’s wrong with this “This”? He flared.

Shikha said nothing. How do I explain to this man who had nothing in common with me, she thought miserably. Can’t he see that I’m not a party freak? Expertly made up face and sprayed or jelled hairdo, sequined halter necks or spheghetti sleeves sparkling and blinking in the brilliant party lights – No. That’s just not my cup of tea. If I’m obligated to go for these boring parties, I’ll go - but my way. And most certainly that’s not donning that plastic look, she thought resolutely.

Nothing in common with her husband! It was a scary thought. How long can she go on like this, living with a total stranger who avoids her and with whom she cannot not even carry on a casual conversation for long.

Without quite realizing it, Shikha began to withdraw more and more into herself. At home she was a polite and dutiful wife and daughter-in law. She helped mummy during parties with the Wedgwood crockery and silver cutlery. That seemed the only work she and her mother-in-law ever had to do in that house which employed a train of servants. Shikha often thought of how she enjoyed cooking along with her mama, and the dishes they tried out. She would look back at the happy days around the small round dining table in her Chennai house and was often overcome by an unbearable sense of longing and nostalgia. Immediately, in the wake of these memories would rush in a feeling of guilt at the way she had hurt her father. She could never think of the last dinner they had together without sobbing. Papa, forgive me, she would say.

And then one day, Philip asked her to close a few FDs worth twenty lakhs in all. Being the only daughter, she was the heiress to Michael’s huge wealth. At the time of her marriage, she was given a deposit of one crore with the unspoken understanding of the inheritance which would be hers someday. Within a month of marriage, Shikha had noticed that Philip never gave her any money or gifts. All her needs were taken care of. The bills were paid by his father. The petty cash she needed came from the rental income from the apartments that papa had bought for her.

The request for the money surprised her.

“Twenty Lakhs? What is it for? ‘

“Have to pay for the diamonds”. She knew he was lying. She had overheard some conversation between her in-laws regarding the payment for the diamonds.

She said nothing but withdrew the amount and gave him. As he’d asked her, she told nobody, but kept wondering why the scion of the business house should ask his wife to give him money from her dowry.

Chapter 14 - From the Frying Pan into the Fire

Shikha and Philip lived with the latter's parents in Bangalore. The house was a massive one, and Shikha and her husband had a suite to themselves complete with a furnished kitchenette. Sometimes, when Philip felt disinclined to go to the dining room of the house, food was sent to the room where it could be heated or refrigerated.

Shikha felt a little lost in the massive house. Her in-laws were cordial and affectionate to her, and did not deny the space she required, or so she thought in the early days of marriage. A couple of months after the marriage, Shikha started looking out for a job. She had tried to talk to Philip about her plans but he never seemed interested in what she wanted to do. She started sending out applications. When the call for interview came, she told Philip about it. He responded in a non-committal manner.

On the day of the interview, Shikha was sorting out her certificates when breakfast was announced. Not wanting to keep her in-laws waiting, she left the harmonium file on the writing desk in the little office room adjacent to their bedroom where the laptop was kept.

“Shikha is going for a job interview today”; Philip announced abruptly when they were having breakfast. There was something odd about the way Philip made the announcement. He seemed to want to get it out with.

“Why wasn’t I informed earlier?” asked her father-in-law. Shikha called him “daddy” like Philip did. “What job is it?”

“In ICRA. It’s a credit rating agency. They’ve called for an economist” Shikha replied.

“I know ICRA is a credit rating agency”. Daddy was rather rude, she thought. “I could have dropped in a word for you. But, why do you want to work anywhere else. If you want something to do, there’s plenty for you to do in our own concerns”

“No, daddy, I don’t want to do that, nor do I want you to recommend. I think I can manage”, said Shikha. She remembered that Lavanya had warned her about being intimidated by the position and importance of her father-in-law. “At the first opportunity, put your in-laws in their place or they’ll shit on your head”, she had said.

Philip seemed shocked at Shikha’s response to his father. He cast a quick furtive glance at his father who had sat back in his chair, and was looking at Shikha with narrowed eyes.

Shikha looked him straight in the eyes though she could feel butterflies in the stomach. “Shikha”, he said in a cold voice. “These firms drain you. It might be a nine to five job but you’ll end up working twelve hours a day. What’s the need for it? You are just married. You need to spend time for a family life”.

Shikha said nothing, but back in the room she asked Philip what she should do.

“You better listen to daddy. He’ll be offended if you don’t pay any respect to his views. Anyway, they’ll only pay you a pittance. Dad can give you a much better deal”.

“It’s not about money”.

“Then what is it about?” asked her husband impatiently. Shikha looked at him in utter dismay. They didn’t speak the same language, she realized. It was a frightening thought.

“Philip, I want to work. It has something to do with my sense of self worth. I’m going for the interview and am taking up the job if I get it. Please explain to daddy, in case he takes offence”.

“There is no ‘in case’”, said Philip, his voice rising. “He will be furious. He’s not used to people crossing him. And what the hell am I to explain to him? Self worth? You seem to have a lot of feminist ideas”.

Shikha saw red. She threw the file on the table and it knocked down a crystal table clock which broke to smithereens. Philip looked at it disgustedly. “Do what you damn well want to do, and face the music yourself,” he snarled. “Don’t ask me to mediate”, he said, and walked out of the room.

Shikha was dazed. What sort of a man had she married? She then faced the fact that they had not been comfortable with each other right from day one. Philip seemed to want to spend as little time as possible at home. And now this. He can’t even stand up to his father for his wife.

She had a sinking feeling – as though she was falling deeper and deeper into water with air supply being cut off gradually.

She shook herself out of the trance, took the file and put it back in the locker. Turning around at a sound behind her, she found Thimmamma sweeping up the broken pieces of the crystal clock.

Chapter 13 - What God Has Joined - - -

A year later, Shikha got married to Philip Kottayil. He was over six feet, handsome, well groomed, suave and chivalrous. He spoke English with a slight British accent. He was not comfortable speaking Malayalam, a fact which made Shikha feel a little uneasy. She remembered how comfortable she used to be with Siddharth, how they moved in and out of both the languages to communicate with each other. Shikha pushed these thoughts out of her mind while talking to Philip when he came to Chennai for the first time for the pennukanal. Nothing to grumble about, thought Shikha, looking at him and sizing him up, much to the consternation of Rani.

“He’s hardly stayed at home”, explained Theramma Varkey, his mother in reply to Shikha’s observation about the indifferent quality of his skills in his mother tongue. Shikha had ignored the warning that Rani was trying to send across to her by blinking her eyes rapidly, frowning and shaking her head ever so imperceptibly.

“If they think I am brash and unladylike, they can go to hell for all I care. It’s enough for me I try to fulfill papa’s wishes”, Shikha told her mother after they left.

“Did you like the boy?” asked Rani. Shikha shrugged and said nothing. Rani repeated the question. “How much can you know of a person at the first meeting, mama, that too when he is at his best behaviour”, retorted Shikha.

“A marriage is what the woman makes of it, my dear”, said Rani.

“Oh, and a man has no role in making a marriage a success?” Shkha bristled.

“Shikha, now that you have decided to put yourself through the formalities of a arranged marriage, stop rebelling”, said a worried Rani.

“Don’t worry, mama. All my rebellion died with papa. I agreed to this proposal only because papa wanted it so badly”,she said with a catch in her voice. Shikha and Rani were quiet for a moment and then the daughter continued, “You know how I hurt him before he left. I just can’t get that hurt look out of my mind”, she confessed to her mother for the first time, and felt better for doing it. “That’s the only reason I agreed to this proposal and go through this tamasha. The Kottayils and their massive wealth mean nothing to me. In fact, it makes me a little jittery. They seem to be so different from us”.

“Yes. They are a little different. That’s because Varkey’s mother is a non-catholic”.

Despite the sense of unreal that had encompassed her on that day when she put herself through that ‘sick’ practice of the boy and the family ‘coming to see’ her, appraise her in order to decide if she is good enough to be a wife, daughter-in-law and what else, she smiled hearing her mama talk about this catholic/non-catholic cultural divide in the Syrian community.

“Their women are street smart”, Kunjamma velliamma, mama’s maternal aunt had said during that Christmas dinner at Rani’s. Strangely enough, on this occasion, Shikha’s mind wandered to the occasion of that happy get together when her father was alive. Shikha had moved from the group comprising her mother’s generation to that of her grand mother’s generation. She felt much more at home in that company than with the previous one of her mother’s generation with its obsession with diamond and gold, textile shops and fashion, fairness creams – and the new found religious fanaticism.

“What do you mean?” Shikha had asked Kunjamma velliamma.

“Oh, these hotwater types - they can fool around with any number of boys, come out unscathed, and then settle for the most eligible bachelor – and lead a happy life , become excellent social butterflies, bake the best cakes’.

“How can you stereotype people like this?” asked Shikha, indignant.

“My child”, said the all knowing Kunjamma velliamma. “I”ve lived fifty plus years more than you. Allow me to complete. Our girls, the Catholic girls, they are quick to fall in love but don’t know how to get out of it, and end up messing up their lives”.

“Don’t generalize like this, velliamma. Anyway,what’s this hotwater business?’ Shikha wanted to know.

Velliammachi laughed and explained that during the baptism, the non-Catholics immersed the infant in water unlike the Catholics who only sprinkled water on its head. Because of the immersion, the water used was warmed so that the child wouldn’t fall sick. So people like Kunjamma who have something against the non-catholics call them “chooduvellam”.

“You know why I have this problem, nathuney”, explained Kunjamma velliamma “Where ever you meet these non Catholics – be it Jacobite or Mar Thoma – the first thing they ask is “which Church do you go to?’”

“That’s true”, agreed Shikha. “The Malayalee Syrian Christians in my school - that’s the first thing they ask me too when they realize that I am a Syrian Christian from Kerala. What is it supposed to mean?”

“They want to know if you are a Jacobite or Mar Thomite or a Catholic. When they realize you are a Catholic, just watch their facial expression. Oh, they are such a clannish group”

“Kunjamma, you are brainwashing my grandchild”, said velliammachi laughing.

“She had better know the world she lives in ”.

“They have their points too”, said velliammachi. “They are much more disciplined than us Catholics. Our men should take a leaf out of their book. They are excellent businessmen. If they make a thousand rupees, they look ahead and see a day when the thousand might get reduced to a hundred and they’ll spend only ten rupees. We Catholics make ten rupees, look forward to a day we’ll make a hundred and spend a thousand.”

The conversation was getting more and more interesting.

“And they train their sons so well’, put in another velliamma whom Shikha did not know. “Even these big industrialists among them, once the sons complete their education, they are made to look for a job and work like anybody else so that they know the value of money and learn to empathise with the employees.”

“That’s very true”, said velliammachy”. That’s why they are such excellent employers.”

This conversation had fascinated Shikha who since then tried to substantiate the knowledge she got from her elders whenever she interacted with her Syrian Christian non-Catholic friends.

***

Varkey Kottayil called within two hours after they left her home and said that the “boy liked the girl. We are ready to proceed”.

Rani looked happy when she passed on the approval message to Shikha. “Now we can move on to the next formality. The orappeeru will be in Bangalore”.

The engagement was fixed for the 30^th of November, and the wedding, for the 26^th December, after the Advent Lent.

During the four weeks after the engagement, Philip took her out to dinner twice. They went for a film and to watch horse race.

Philip’s perfect table manners, super refined social graces and the overkill of chivalry irritated Shikha slightly. She found herself thinking of Siddharth and his easy ways, how he licked the sauce or gravy off the tip of his fingers while he joked about the tamasha in the Tamil Nadu Assembly, or explained the latest Apple gadget in the market or got enthusiastic about a recent book he had read.

“A penny for your thoughts”, said Philip.

Shikha gave a start but said quickly “They are worth less than that”.

They were at Taj Coromandel. She looked at him sitting across her, impeccably dressed, eating noodles expertly with chopsticks which he had asked for, touching the edge of his lips with the immaculate white napkin.

“Don’t you know it’s bad manners to stare?” he asked with a smile that made her a little uneasy. It was not a friendly smile. It seemed to be a smile which reflected an absence of self-confidence, she thought.

“Sorry”, she said smiling apologetically. “I was thinking how perfect your table manners are”.

“Oh, Schooling with Gabriel brothers, and then University in UK”, he said shrugging. I think my remark has pleased him, thought Shikha amused. A childish guy, looks like. Siddharth oozed confidence. He seemed to have a perfect grip over himself. Too much grip, she thought ruefully.

The marriage function was not what it would have been had Michael been around. Shikha missed her father intensely, and could never think of him without a deep sense of guilt at having hurt him time and again. Wherever he is now, I’m sure he’d understand. He loved me and was a good man, my father, thought Shikha in those terrible moments when she felt overwhelmed by a terrible feeling of loss aggravated by that nagging sense of remorse.

Shikha made an effort to forgive appachan, because he was her papa’s father. But the easy relationship which she had once enjoyed with him went missing. She was reserved and politically correct. But the change that came over velliammachy after papa’s death was something Shikha found so difficult to accept. Her joie de vivre vanished. She spoke and laughed much less, though she had sat like a rock during the funeral. Appachan simply fell apart and had to be given medical help before the funeral. The crowd that attended the funeral was mind-boggling and Shikha tried to distract herself watching the wreaths piling on the glass case of the mobile mortuary, and being removed over and over again as they kept piling up. Who are all these people, she wondered. What do they know of her dear papa? She kept breaking down. Her mama looked as though she was too bewildered to understand what had happened.

For Rani, the reality of Michael’s death sank in only after she and Shikha returned to Chennai after two weeks. Roshini, Michael’s sister, who had come down from the USA to attend the funeral, accompanied them and stayed in Chennai for two weeks. After she left, Alice and Davy came down and stayed on for a week. Eventually, Rani and Shikha were left to themselves to deal with Michael's absence which was so oppressively tangible.The vacuum he left behind sometimes consumed them. Emotions ran haywire at the dining table where his empty chair seemed to deliberately shout out his absence. During the night prayers after dinner, Rani and Shikha would break down. The reality that he'd never be with them again would come crashing down on them, particularly when the Bible was read. Ever since Shikha remembered, it was her father who read the Bible when he was at home.

Maria cheduthy hovered around them during the meals, and during prayers she brought her low stool and sat with them in the living room. Shikha was grateful to her for her sensitivity.

Papa’s death gradually rectified the equations between Shikha and her mother.

The engagement was in Kochin at the Kuttiparambil House. It was a low key affair with 500 guests. The marriage was in Bangalore where Varkey Kottayil had a mansion in a prime location. The reception was in a five star hotel. More than 1500 people attended. Shikha missed her father terribly, and that dampened her mood throughout the Church ceremony and the reception, though she made an effort to put on a cheerful front. Besides, there was no great excitement about Philip.

“Love will follow, Shikha”, Lavanya had assured her when she came to visit Shikha before marriage.

A heavy silence had followed. Shikha was looking unseeingly at the wine red brocade sari –the Manthrakodi - which she had taken out of the wardrobe to show Lavanya. Then Shikha raised her eyes slowly to look at Lavanya who had been studying her friend’s face closely.

“Any news of Siddharth?” Shikha asked quietly.

“No. Just vanished from my list of friends. He must be completing his MBA”

“Yes” said Shikha looking into the distance. “He’ll go places”

Chapter 12- While the Storm Clouds Gather

Shikha topped the college in the final exams, and cleared the UGC examination too, with enough scores to fetch her UGC research fellowship. After her break up with Siddharth, she decided to take her life into her own hands. Enough of allowing the family to mess around with her, she thought bitterly. She thought of Siddharth often, but not without resentment. He hadn’t even given her a chance to talk. He had dropped her like hot potato, which hurt her deeply. Did she matter only that much to him? The path of true love did never run smooth, they say. Guess it was’nt true love. He didn’t care enough to brave the family differences and resistance. He took the easy way out. What a fool she had been to fall in love with such a calculating man who could fall in and out of love when he found it expedient!

Shikha heard from him only once after that shattering day in the college canteen. He sent her an email – a cold business like mail which sounded like a demi official letter. He felt it was foolish to think that a marriage in which the parents of the girl and the boy refused to accept each other and see each other as equals would be a success. There would be too many complications. His parents were also dead against this alliance after Shikha’s family humiliated their father. After all Shikha’s and his relationship was not so deep that it could be terminated. He was sure Shikha would come out of it unscathed, just as he too would, given time. One had to be sensible. Life had enough problems without complicating it further. After all a marriage was for life and it made sense not to build it on shaky foundations.

Love, she thought bitterly. She was a fool to think that Siddharth loved her. In weighing its worth against the advantages and disadvantages of relationship between families, Love was the loser. For Siddharth, love was certainly not blind. It wore lens which afforded detailed vision of future. ‘ Guess this is what is meant by falling in love intelligently.’, thought Shikha ruefully.

She decided to put him out of her mind though it was not easy. She debated throwing off his handkerchief, and the books he had given her, but then decided against it. I have to learn to face my loss, my disillusionment. But, from her ipod, she deleted Annie’s Song which Siddharth used to sing so soulfully. It brought tears to her eyes and filled her with a terrible longing for him who finally proved to have feet of clay.

She replied to his email in a line: Thank you. You make your position very clear.

She wondered why she had been a fool enough to believe that love can overcome all obstacles arising from external factors. She had begun to move on but was a changed person. Not that she was not focused before, but after the Siddharth fiasco, she seemed to have developed a horse vision which did not escape the notice of her friends. Only her friend Lavanya who was in IIT knew what had happened between Siddharth and her. She told her one day that if Siddharth did not have the mettle to face the ordeals of love, it was better he was out of her life, and there was no point in wasting her time brooding over such a calculating person who loved with his brain. Shikha nodded in agreement. Falling out of love is not so easy, she thought as she listened to Lavanya.

Michael wanted her to do research. Her fellowship made it possible for her to walk into any research institution in India. Shikha had actually started doing her home work on the economic research centers till her father expressed his desire that she go in for research.

“NO, papa. I’ve decided to take up a job”, she said. She was surprised to hear herself say that. A job had not crossed her mind. Guess I feel the need to make a statement now and here that I’ve been completely weaned, she thought.

“You are making a mistake, Shikha”, said Michael. “The fellowship - - “

“My mind is made up, papa”, cut in Shikha quietly. “Mistake or no mistake, a job it is going to be. And about mistakes”, she couldn’t help adding, “I’d rather learn from mistakes than from antiquated wisdom”.

She regretted what she said when she saw her father’s expression, but immediately her heart hardened when she thought of the nasty and high- handed manner in which he had dealt with the matters of her heart.

Though her decision to work was prompted by that desire to defy her parents, she soon found that she was excited about working. It gave her a sense of power – a feeling that she was in control. Of her life. She remembered what her cousin Meera had told her when they met during Christmas before last. She applied for jobs, and got selected where ever she applied and, within a month of the publication of results, she decided to take up a job as an economist in a Calcutta based bank. The appointment was due only after three months during which she went to her old college as a guest lecturer, a job she enjoyed so much that she was tempted to look for a teaching post. She hadn’t yet signed the contract with the bank.

And then one day – it was the Independence Day- her father told her. She couldn’t believe her ears. She couldn’t believe that a parent could be so ignorant of and insensitive and impervious to an offspring’s feelings.

“The boy is the only son of Varkey Kottayil. You know he is the biggest industrialist in our community”.

Michael’s face was expressionless. His voice too was devoid of intonation. But he looked her in the eye, which was a rare thing after their argument over Siddharth. It appeared as though he had been steeling himself for this moment.

Shikha said nothing. She was too shocked and angry to speak.

“The boy – his name is Philip- did his schooling in Yercaud, graduated from Warwickshire University and did his MBA from Kellogs. It’s only two month since he came down to take over his father’s business. He is the only child, the sole heir to the entire wealth of Varkey.”

Shikha continued to look at her father incredulously, saying nothing.

“Shikha, think about it and tell me by tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing to think”, said Shikha with finality. “I’m not interested”, and she turned to go.

“Wait a minute Shikha”, persisted Michael, “You are not interested in this case, or is it that you don’t want to get married now? What is it?”

She was amazed that her father thought it was a simple matter to switch off her feelings for a person and switch it on for another.

“Marriage is the last thing on my mind at the moment”.

She said nothing more, and quietly left the room.

Her mother spoke to her several times, tried emotional black mailing but Shikha was unrelenting. She would listen to her quietly, and then put a lid on the conversation with a firm “No”.

Her parents did not know how to handle her.

“Why don’t you go to Kochin this weekend?” asked Rani, at the dining table. “It’s a long time since you saw your grandparents.” Rani, apparently was hoping that velliammachi would talk her into agreeing to the proposal.

Shikha glared at her.

“Shikha, are you going to nurse that grudge for ever? Appachan is old, you know?”

“So he wants to do as much damage as he can before he is taken up to his heavenly abode?”

“Shikha”, shouted a shocked Rani.
”Yes, mama?” answered Shikha in a deadly quiet voice.

“Leave it, Rani”, said a nervous Michael.

“Don’t you want to see your heroine velliammachy?” Said Rani in a half sneer.

Shikha was not sure about velliammachy’s role in ‘handling’ Siddharth’s grandfather, and she didn’t want to know. She was afraid that if she discovered that Velliammachy too was a party to the shameful act, she would lose faith in mankind. So she didn’t ask. But velliammachy was a different person when she spoke to Shikha over the phone after that episode. She seemed to be probing and would become philosophical at times and would offer unsolicited advice – most unlike her, Shikha thought.

“No. I don’t want to see anyone”.

“How long can you live like an island?” Rani was in one of her rare moods that perplexed even Michael. It’s her genes that are resurfacing in Shikha, Michael thought.

“I don’t know”, said Shikha nonchalantly.

“You know, Shikha, papa and I were saying that you should go to a counselor?”

Shikhas head jerked up from her plate to look angrily at her parents.

“I will go”, she snapped,” if both of you go too. If the entire Kuttiparambil clan go. Then the shrink can say what is wrong with whom”.

“That’s enough Shikha”, said Michael. “People are listening”. He meant Maria cheduthy who was unusually quiet in the kitchen.

Switching over to English, Shikha spat out in a controlled voice. “Do you care for anything else other that appearances, papa? Have you ever been honest with yourself? Doesn’t anything else matter to you other than your image, your family prestige, your standing in the society and all that bullshit? Are you capable of feeling like an individual independent of the Kuttiparambil address? You just exist, papa. It’d be worthwhile finding out what it feels like to live, be alive and breathing and kicking, and not just exist as per some fossilised norms made by some weird forefathers”.

Michael looked stricken. Not angry, Shikha thought. That look is strange. He got up and walked away from the dining table without finishing his breakfast – something Shikha has never seen him do before.

That was the last meal they had together. Ever.

That evening he left for Brazil on an official visit. Before leaving for the airport, he called Shikha and told her that she should not just brush aside the proposal in order to teach him a lesson. He asked her to think about it while he was away. When he got back, he would accept her decision whatever it was. “But remember, this is an excellent case. The Kottayils have the same background as us. Whatever you might think, it is definitely more advantageous to marry a person with the same cultural and social background. We have only your welfare in mind Shikha, whatever else you might think. If you still feel strongly against it, we’ll respect your decision, like I said. But I honestly believe this is the best thing that can happen to you”.

Shikha said nothing. She did not want to counter what he said. He was leaving on a long journey and she didn’t want to upset him. She looked at him with a small smile.

A week later, as he was returning home, his flight crashed into the Atlantic Ocean. There were no survivors.

Chapter 11 - Back To Square One

“Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Michael Kuttiparambil. Magnificently manipulated.” She had walked into her parents’ room after her father came home from the office.

“What are you talking about, Shikha”, asked her mother.

“Don’t worry, my dear parents”, said Shikha in a deadly calm voice that scared Michael and Rani. “Siddharth has called it off. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with rotten people like you and your family”

Her parents said nothing.

“And you know something? I too don’t want to have anything to do with you or your God forsaken family. I’ll suffer you because you raised me. I’ll remember my duties as the only daughter of selfish parents who care more for their image than their daughter’s happiness. But don’t ever expect me to come with you visiting family and relatives. Don’t ever expect me to play the charming hostess when your snobbish relatives come here. It’s over. My honeymoon with Kuttiparambil family is over. I’ve had enough of this suriani and aristocracy bullshit”. Shikha was surprised at her own eloquence, but the words were spontaneous. She had to get them out.

She didn’t bring up the issue after that. She hardly spoke to her parents during the second year of her masters. Rani’s efforts to break the ice met with icy silence. Michael’s efforts at conversation were met with monosyllabic replies.

When Georgekutty, papa’s favourite nephew and Shikha’s cousin from both her parents’ sides, came to Chennai before he left for the USA to join the company which had recruited him for a fancy salary, she refused to speak with him or sit at the dining table during dinner. Rani pleaded with her. “No mama, I meant what I said. I want to have nothing to do with our aristocratic family”, she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “ I know that Georgekutty organized the intimidation drama. He and his noble, upper class cousins were all there when that poor man was summoned to appear before grand father Kuttiparambil. And I thought Georgekutty was a gentleman”, she said with a disgusted laugh. “I would have expected this twenty first century youngster to support me instead of behaving like an outlandish suriani aristocrat. Sick guy”.

Rani did not miss the sneer whenever Shikha uttered the word aristocrat. “Not all people think like you, Shikha”.

“Oh yes, I agree with you there”, said Shikha with vehemence.

The iron control under which Rani had been keeping herself snapped for a moment and she asked sharply, “Hey, young lady, who do you think you are? Remember we have lived several decades more than you. Credit us with the wisdom of that atleast”

“And what sort of existence is it that you had more than me? Cocooned in the suriani catholic sense of superiority and high moral grounds! You people feel that just because you give your ten percent to the church and charity, you have acquired 10 cents of land up there in heaven, which gives you the license to flout every other commandment.” Shikha got a malicious pleasure giving vent to her thoughts which she had been turning over and over in her mind ever since Siddharth dropped the bombshell that shattered her dreams and life. “There is no greater sin than arrogance, mama, and arrogance was what the Kuttiparambans showed when they summoned a man to the house and insulted him just because he was born poor. Tell me mama, what did you do or papa or that Kuttiparambil grand old man do to be born rich? Tell me! Get down on your knees and thank the almighty for the blessings he has given you instead of using them as muscles to beat up the less fortunate.”

Rani wished she had not started this argument. Shikha’s voice was rising and Rani was afraid Georgekutty would hear through the closed door. But Shikha was unstoppable.

“Break free from that suriani cocoon, you and papa, and find out for yourself that world outside is not what you think it is”.

Rani’s eyes filled with tears. Her daughter seemed to have transformed into someone she did not recognize anymore. Seeing her mother’s distress, Shikha flung the book she had in her hand across the room and slammed herself into the chair.

Georgekutty did not even try to say goodbye to her before he left.

Good, thought Shikha. The bloody blood bond. I can do without it.

Chapter 10 - The Sand Castle

Siddharth did not take her calls after that, though Shikha tried several times. On Monday, during the after noon session in college, he called to say he wanted to meet her.

He didn’t sound his usual self.

“What’s wrong, Siddharth?”

He hung up.

Shikha felt her heart bump against her ribs and then beat so loud that its drumming unnerved her.

He was waiting for her in the quiet corner of the canteen. His face was expressionless and his voice emotionless when he said. “Let’s call it off. It won’t work”

“”What?”, Shikha almost screamed.

“Quiet. People are listening”

She couldn’t care less, and told him so.

“But I care. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself”.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she started sobbing uncontrollably. Siddharth threw her his kerchief from across the table saying, “Get a grip on yourself, Shikha.”

When she quietened down, he said calmly. “Guess your father told you that my grandfather worked for yours?”

“How does it matter?”

“It matters”.

“Looks like you have a complex”, said Shikha recklessly.

Siddharth’s temper snapped.

“Complex? I just don’t want to have anything to do with you and your snooty people”, he said quietly and harshly between gritted teeth. “I just don’t have to put up with the goons in your family intimidating my grandfather”

“What happened”, asked Shikha, her heart sinking.

“Go ask your father’, said Siddharth getting up.

“Please, Siddharth, I know nothing about it. I have nothing to do with whatever happened”, she pleaded.

“Mebbe. But this marriage won’t work out. I want no complications in my life. So it’s bye. It was nice while it lasted”.

“You don’t care, Siddharth, you don’t care a shit for me”, said Shikha, broken and angry. “You wouldn’t walk out on me if you really cared”.

“Guess you are right”, said Siddharth. “Guess I don’t care enough”.

He waved briefly, turned around and walked away. Shikha looked miserably at his receding figure. She wished the earth would open up and swallow her, like it came to the rescue of Sita. She wanted to die. She sat in the canteen dazed.

“Something wrong Shikha?” It was Jayanthi ma’am, her Econometrics professor. Shikha looked at her with unseeing eyes.

“Shikha, what’s wrong?’

Shikha shook herself and stood up. “Got a piece of bad news, ma’am”, she said.

“Shall I arrange to have someone drive you home?”. The professor asked, sounding worried.

“No. it’s OK. I’ll be fine”, Shikha said, smiling weakly.

She looked down at her hand and found that she was clutching Siddharth’s handkerchief.

Chapter 9 - Cupid Strikes

Shikha was never one with a roving eye on the look out for someone to give her heart to. In her dealings with the opposite sex, she was very friendly, but reserved, as it became a girl of her upbringing. But the minute she set her eyes on Siddharth, she knew she had met her man. It was during the first day of practice for the Christmas Choir at the local Latin church that he caught her eye.

The choir practice was to begin at 4.30 in the evening. Shikha, as usual, was punctual, but she found the church empty. She sat on the bench in the front near the keyboard and waited. Ten minutes later, Siddharth walked in with a guitar. Seeing the church empty, he knelt in the pew behind hers for a minute or two and then sat down.

“Guess you’ve come for choir practice?” Turning around, Shikha asked pointing to the guitar.

“Quite obvious, eh?” he asked with a grin.

Shikha liked him instantly.

“I’ve come for the practice too”, volunteered Shikha.

“Guessed as much”, Siddharth replied.

“Am Shikha Michael”, said Shikha holding out her hand.

He shook her hand briefly and said “Mind stepping out of the Church? Father Dominic doesn’t particularly appreciate people talking in the Church”

So they went out and stood on the church verandah.

“What did you say your name was?” Shikha asked

“I didn’t say anything about my name”, he said and they burst out laughing.

“Siddharth”, he said.

She must have been looking at him with the query written all over her face, because he cut into her thoughts with “Yes, I’m a Christian. My father was rather unconventional about naming his children. My sister is Laxmi and my brother is Arjun and I am Siddharth Cherian”

For some strange reason, Shikha felt relieved that he was a Christian.

He was into the final semester in IIT, doing M. Tech in Computer Engineering. His basic Engineering Degree was from the Trivandrum Engineering College.

“I come to IIT once in a way. I have a friend –Lavanya’s her name- who was my senior in Rosary College. She is doing her research there. She lets me know when there is something interesting happening in economics”.

Shikha and Siddharth became thick friends during the choir practice, which lasted a week. They had a lot in common. They could talk intelligently on many subjects and time flew when they were together. Their tastes for books, movies and food coincided. In politics, both had that left leaning, though they disliked unionism without responsibility that was doing damage to Kerala. They were never at a loss for issues to talk about.

Shikha found herself very much at ease in his company. Her visits to the IIT became more regular. They went for movies or to restaurants, though Shikha took care not to mention to her parents that Siddharth was the “friends” with whom she went out. On her Birthday, Siddharth gave her Amitav Ghosh’s novel The Calcutta Chromosome, which she read and treasured, as it was his first gift. But she was careful not to let her parent’s eyes fall on it, because on the inside of the cover page, he had written “With love, now and forever” followed by his name. She had read it, at college or sitting late into the night after her parents went to sleep, which was nothing unusual as she never went to bed before 1 O’ clock in the morning. I love him, she thought, smiling at the inside cover of Ghosh’s book at midnight one day. She could think of no reason why papa and mama should object to accepting Siddharth as their son-in-law. He was brilliant, ambitious, charming, handsome, refined and an excellent human being. Besides, he never had his foot in the mouth and could easily carry on an intelligent conversation on any topic under the sun, qualities which Papa valued in a person. Besides, in Siddharth, papa would also be pleased to meet his match, thought Shikha happily. It was important to her that her parents approved of her choice, and that her parents enjoyed good rapport with the man she married.

She had decided that she’d tell them about Siddharth once he made his intentions clear to her. Till such day, I’d better keep quiet or papa and mama will start chaperoning me around. She remembered her parents’ anxiety before she left for London. “London is not Chennai, Shikha,” her mother had told her. “It’s a free society and unless a girl knows how to take care of herself, she’ll land up in trouble”.

“Just remember that you are there to study. Minimise socializing”. That was papa.

“Come on both of you, I can take care of myself. For goodness sake, stop worrying. Now that I’ve decided to go, why don’t you guys relax?” asked Shikha, a little annoyed at the never ending instructional sessions on how she should carry herself in London, what company she should keep, what people she should avoid - -

“Girls of your age think they are smart, Shikha, but remember the world is smarter”. Papa seemed genuinely anxious.

From the time she landed in Heathrow airport, her parents were tracking her movements. Text messages almost every hour from one of them. A ten minutes delay in replying to a text message would make them call her. Shikha was beginning to get thoroughly irritated with the remote control they were exercising from Chennai and intended to fix a schedule for keeping in touch with them that she hoped would obviate the need to track her movements by the minute. But before she could do that she had returned to Chennai.

No, she thought, it’s be stupid of me to tell them now that I’m in love with Siddharth. They’ll make it difficult for me to meet him. I’ll tell them the minute he proposes to me.

But there was a spring in her steps in those days when he was seeing her. She did not know that the world could suddenly look so different, so beautiful. She woke up in the mornings with a pleasant sensation, sometimes not quite locating the source of that feeling. Soon Siddharth would drift into her thoughts as though wafted in on the breeze that gently stirred the giant gulmohar tree with its golden flowers that she could see from where she lay. At home she was happy and chirpy, and the sessions at the dining table overflowed with lighthearted conversation and laughter. This is the shape of things to come when Siddharth becomes part of this family, she thought, delirious with joy. Shikha did not know that happiness could scale such dizzy heights!

By May that year, Siddharth got selection to the IIM and it was to be Ahmedabad.

“We’ll have to wait for a couple of years till I finish MBA and pick up a job”. That was how he proposed.

Shikha stared at him in sheer joy. “Is that supposed to be a proposal?” she asked incredulous.

“What do you want me to do? Go down on my knees and propose?”

“No. This is good enough”, said an ecstatic Shikha.

They were silent for sometime.

Then Siddharth asked, “Have you spoken to your parents?”

“Not yet. How could I till I knew you were serious?”

He raised his eyes to the sky as though in resignation. “Did you think I was fooling around with you?”

“I wasn’t sure”, she said, mischievously.

Shikha went into her parents’ room that evening. She didn’t want to discuss this at the dining table because Maria cheduthy would be listening.

Michael and Rani looked startled when Shikha told then about Siddharth.

“Not even a Christian?” was Rani’s instant reaction.

“He is a Christian”, said Shikha. “Siddharth Cherian is his name. He hails from Alleppey, but settled in Trivandrum. His father has a job in ISRO.”

“An engineer? Scientist?” That was Michael.

“No. Administrative”

“What’s his family name, do you know?”

“Padickalveedu”

“What?” exploded Michael, sitting bolt upright. “Cherian Padickalveedu, the son of Aviranchan? I know him.” Michael had turned red in the face. Shkha’s heart sank. He looked at Rani and said, “Avirachan was a peon in apppachan’s office in Kochin.’

A pregnant silence followed.

Then Shikha asked quietly, “So what?”

“So what? Are you crazy Shikha? Socially they are no match for us. Avirachan doesn’t sit down in appachan’s presence even now”.

“Siddharth is a perfect gentleman, very refined and intelligent. He just completed his masters from IIT and is going to IIM in Ahmedabad. I like him. That’s all that matters”.

“That’s all that matters? It doesn’t matter to you that your mother and I will not be able to face the world if you get married into that family with such an impoverished background?’

“It’s not on account of your merit that you are born into a rich family, papa and it is not Siddharth’s fault that his grand father was poor. They are respectable people and it’s ok with me. What else matters, papa?”

“Listen to her Rani. Why are you keeping quiet?” Shikha saw that Rani was crying.

“See! Your mother is crying. You’ve always been a source of misery to us, Shikha,” said Michael.

Shikha jumped up from the chair screaming, “How dare you!” and stormed towards the door. Before she opened the door, she paused a moment, deliberately got herself under control, turned around and told her parents calmly, quietly. “I am 21 years old, old enough to make my decision according to the law of the land. Don’t forget that”. She opened the door, went out and closed it gently behind her.

She then called Siddharth and told him “All hell has broken loose”.

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you”. Shikha told him. Siddharth had gone to Trivandrum to tell his people about Shikha. He also sounded subdued. “I know. Appa told me. Wait till I return”.