Chapter 19 - And having written, moves on - -

Shikha felt a strange calm after she reached her Chennai home. And she had this bizarre feeling that her father was in the house. She thought more about him in those days immediately following the seventh day function. She found herself carrying on silent conversations with him when alone in her room, which was a rare occurrence. Mama and Maria cheduthy were always around, talking to her about inconsequential things. Strangely enough, she welcomed their company. It was better than having to deal with that emptiness within. No. Not just emptiness. There was that nagging feeling of guilt too. Guilt that she had failed Philip as a wife. Worse still, a guilt at the vague feeling of relief that fate had intervened in her life to set her free from a life of emotional claustrophobia.

She kept away from the TV for fear that she might see either Philip’s handsome face smiling down at her, or his gory body from various angles. The media, obviously, didn’t believe in sanitizing!

She refrained from updating herself about the investigation. She did not want to know anything about Philip’s activities that led to his violent death. I can’t run away from it all, she told herself, but right now I can’t handle it. I have all the time in the world to deal with it, she thought wryly. Thankfully, when she was alone or when she lay awake waiting for sleep to descend upon her with that blissful oblivion, papa’s face would appear before her mind’s eye. She would talk to him and he would reply. Before the conversation progressed very far, she would drift off to sleep, and on waking up wonder if it was a dream or for real.

“I’m sorry Shikha. I should have done my homework better. My poor girl, you had to go through so much”, he seemed to say during one such dialogue with her.

“It’s ok, papa”, she replied.

She couldn’t recall the rest of the conversation as she slipped into the lethean world of slumber.

On another occasion, he said, “Whatever happened had to happen, Shikha. Nothing is an accident. God has his plans for you”. Shikha had fallen asleep and she jumped up with a start. No living person had so far dared to tell her this though her family, as a rule, always brought the divine will and plan into everything that happened. Perhaps they thought what happened to Shikha was too gruesome to explain away as the will of God.

Shikha sat up, switched on the bedside lamp and her eyes fell on the Bible. It opened on a page she had never read before. She was regular with the New Testament and the Psalms, and those books with narrative interest. That day the Holy Book opened at Sirrach 2. As Skikha read through the chapter, she was stunned at the message in it.

Accept whatever befalls you, in crushing misfortune be patient;

For in fire gold is tested, and worthy men in the crucible of humiliation.

Trust God and he will help you

It appeared as though the lines were written for her. The agnipareeksha! The crucible of humiliation! Is she the gold being put through the process of supercritical extraction? The thought brought a smile to her face. It took her mind a scene in the IIT canteen where she and Siddharth were sharing a table with a group of chemistry students who were discussing some supercritical fluid extraction. Shikha had liked the expression ‘supercritical extraction’.

“Don’t use it till you understand it properly”, Siddharth had warned her when she told him of her fascination for the expression.

“It can be used loosely when not in a chemistry context”, she had replied.

“You are incorrigible”, Siddharth had said, shaking his head indulgently. “You’d lose the world for a word”.

She closed the Bible, switched off table lamp and lay there thinking. Was it really papa talking to her from wherever he is? Or is it God’s way of reaching out to her? Where is her father now? Is he somewhere where he can feel? “We have only your welfare in mind, Shikha, whatever else you might think”. Those were almost his last words to her before he took that fateful journey to South America. I know papa, I realize that now, she told him. Besides, marrying Philip was my choice. I did it despite my gut feeling that he was not my type and that he had a sense of discomfort with himself, which was dangerous in any relationship. The decision to marry him was mine, not yours, she told him emphatically. She suddenly felt a cold wetness on the cheek and realized that tears were streaming down her face and had wet the pillow. She let them flow. Mama was not here to see it. She need not be brave before God and her papa who was with Him. The thought gave her some comfort, though she cried heartbrokenly, burying her face in the pillow.

The next day was a Wednesday. “Mama, I’m going for the novena to Our Lady Of Perpetual Succour. Coming along?”

“Just a minute. Will be ready in a jiffy”, replied Rani. “Shall I take the wheel, Shikha?” asked Rani as they walked to the garage.

“No, ma. It’s OK. I’ll drive”.

After getting home from the novena, she called Lavanya. She had cut off all communications with her two or three month before Philip’s death. Her emails had gone unanswered and Shikha would not take her calls. After Philips death, she had called but Shikha did not speak to her. It was mama who handled all the telephone calls those days and would tell her the list of those who called when she thought Shikha’s was in the right frame of mind to listen.

Lavanya was happy to hear her voice. ”Time you got back to normal life”, she said. No one else had the courage to tell her such things, not even her mama. Shikha had withdrawn into a shell after Philips death and Rani was not sure how to handle her. Her siblings and relatives advised her to take Shikha to a counselor, but Rani thought Shikha should be given time to recover before she sought professional help. Rani was happy when Shikha decided to resume her weekly novena, and more so that she asked Rani to accompany her. Hearing her talk to Lavanya, Rani felt relieved. Time is doing its work, she thought. No great healer than Time.

Ruminating over sharp exchanges she had with her father, Shikha remembered papa’s suggestion that she do research, instead of picking up a job. It now appeared to be an excellent idea. She knew her own inclination to lose herself into the world of books and of her sense of belonging in the academia.

“I’m going to register for PhD”, she announced to her mother the next day at the dining table. Rani looked at her for a moment and her eyes filled with tears. Startled, Shikha asked, “What’s wrong mama?”

“Nothing”, she said wiping her eyes with a tissue. “It’s just that I’m so happy, relieved.”

Lavanya suggested that she join CDS in Trivandrum. “It’s a good center. Besides, you want to be away from Chennai, no?”

Rani too thought it was a good idea. Trivandrum was a quiet and sane place, with a good academic atmosphere. Shikha would be happy there.

Then one day, Lavanya called her and asked her in an excited voice to switch on the TV quickly and watch the Asianet News channel.

“What is it?” asked Shikha alarmed.

“Nothing to get scared about. Quick, switch it on”.

Shikha switched on the TV in her room. And she saw Siddharth! His face filled the screen and he was smiling at the reporter who had put a question to him. “I think India is a gold mine now.” He was saying. “That’s what made me decide to return and join the software company here”.

Siddharth, apparently, had become a celebrity! After being scooped up by a giant Multi national company in the USA and having worked for them for the contractual one year period, he returned to India to join as a partner in a software company which was in financial doldrums after the recession hit the US. In a matter of months, he turned things around, causing its ratings and the share value to skyrocket.

He appeared to be the same, judging from what she saw of him in the interview. Confident without being over confident, and no airs or pretensions. A low profile, confident young man who knows what he is talking about, and who knows what he wants from life and goes after it with a single minded energy, was how she would describe him, Shikha thought. Yes, a man driven by his cerebrum, she thought ruefully.

After that day when she saw him first on the TV, his became a very visible face in Malayalam channels. The Malayalam media went berserk over him and vied with each other to give coverage to his under thirty story of success. The national English channels too did stories on him and he was the guest in several primetime talk shows in those channels.

One day, Rani sprang a surprise question on her. “Are you in touch with Siddharth?” she asked.

Startled Shikha looked at her saying “No, most certainly not! What a question!” She was indignant. What does she expect me to do, she thought. Go after this man after he became a celebrity, this man who discarded her unceremoniously after his family was spurned like a dog by hers. And why should he take any interest in her, a widow, when he has a whole world of eligible and attractive young women out there to choose from? Mama is shameless if she wants me to reestablish contact with him with the hope that we can pick up from where we left off! . Besides, I’ve had enough of relationships in my life. First Siddharth, then her husband – both turned sour, she thought bitterly.

“Am better off on my own,” she told herself emphatically.

Chapter 18 - Till Death Do Us Apart

Mama was back in Chennai the same evening and they started immediately for Bangalore. Lucy and her husband Eapen also accompanied them. Papa’s and mama’s siblings were coming directly to Bangalore.

Shikha felt numb. After the initial hysterical reaction, she was quiet – deadly quiet. She did not utter a single word, nor did she doze off during the journey. An eerie silence hung heavily in the Inova car which sped as though with desperation to escape from the oppressive sound of silence.

They reached the Kottayil house in the small hours of the morning. As she alighted from the car, Shikha noticed that lights were switched on in all the rooms in the massive house. Many cars were parked outside the gate and inside the compound. People moved in and out of the house in silence. “The sound of death”, thought Shikha. From somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, this expression seemed to edge its way into Shikha’s vacant mind.

With reluctant steps and a sinking feeling, Shikha walked slowly in the direction of the main door that stood wide open. When she reached the foot of the steps leading to the door, she stopped. Suddenly, her heart went haywire and pounded mercilessly against her ribs. Her legs felt like lead and panic gripped her.

“Let’s go back, mama!” pleaded Shikha with fear in her eyes and voice. Rani gripped her gently but firmly by the arm and helped her into the house.

Seeing Shikha, mummy burst out crying. Daddy threw his head back against the sofa and lay there immobile looking at the ceiling. Shikha walked slowly to the sofa and sat down, a glazed look in her eyes. Nothing seemed to make sense to her. She looked around the room at the rather large crowd there. She didn’t know who these people were.

And then she fainted.

When she woke up it was almost noon. She felt groggy from the sedative that was administered to her by Philip’s cousin who was a doctor. The happenings of the previous day rushed to her mind and she sat up. She felt a restraining hand. It was Ittichen uncle’s wife Sarammaunty.

“I want to go to the bathroom ”, said Shikha.

"Don't bolt the door', said Sarammaunty as Shikha entered the bathroom.

Like one in a trance, Shikha took a shower because she didn’t know what else to do and came back into the room.

“You better remain here”, Sarammaunty said. “The house is full of relatives. Also, the media is prowling around.”

Shikha shrank at the thought of meeting people, but the idea of meeting the media was terrifying.

“Less than a year since marriage and I’m already a widow”, Shikha said and burst out crying. The reality was only beginning to sink in. She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed her heart out. “Why is this happening to me, aunty?’ she asked. Sarammaunty did not know what to say, and kept stroking her hair. Shikha soon drifted off to sleep. When she woke up, she didn’t know what time of the day it was. What does it matter, she thought. She remained in bed. Who would have killed him, she wondered. It must have been painful, all those stabs. Poor Philip, she thought, suddenly conscious of a heavy weight on her chest. She felt her nose get clogged and breathing became difficult.

“Poor Philip, how terrified he must have been”, burst out Shika in a broken voice, and buried her face in the pillow, her body racked by uncontrolled sobs.

“Shikha please”, said Rani, shaking her by the shoulder. Hearing her mother’s voice, Shikha sat up and turned her tear-streaked face towards Rani. “Poor Philip, oh God, poor chap”, she sobbed broken-heartedly. “It must have hurt like hell, no mama, no mama?”

“Shikha please”, pleaded Rani holding her close. “Don’t cry child, please - -“

“Let her”, cut in Sarammaunty gently.” Let her be. Let her cry her fill. You stay here with her. I’ll get her something to eat”. Sarammaunty returned with coffee and sandwich. Shikha meekly accepted the cup from Sarammaunty and took a few sips. Rani held the sandwich to her mouth. Shikha took a bite and then pushed it away.

“You better eat that Shikha’, pleaded Sarammaunty.

“Later”, said Shikha listlessly. Her tears were spent and she felt drained. She lay down again and soon drifted off into a drugged slumber.

Philip’s body was released after postmortem just before noon. It was brought home in a mobile mortuary. What followed was a nightmare for Shikha. Dressed in a light coloured salwar suit, she sat beside his body. Looking at him lying inert was a traumatic and agonising experience. He looked peaceful, and even had a small smile on his face. Her husband of eleven months, who was a total mystery to her. With a sense of guilt, she regretted that she’d never made an effort to reach out to him or win his confidence. Could she have done anything to save him? Is that why Daddy asked her not to take up a job? Maybe they thought a marriage would set him right. But why didn’t they tell her that? Why didn’t they take her into confidence? She looked at them, sitting beside their only son, too shattered even to shed tears.

After the funeral, Shikha remained in Kottayil house till the seventh day function. Rani also stayed back with her. Shikha deliberately kept away from discussions of the police investigations and the theories flying about. She refused to watch the Malayalam and Tamil channels. After the seventh day function, they left for Chennai. Mummy hugged her before she left, and looked into her eyes and said quietly, for her ears alone, “I’m sorry, child. Forgive us”.

Shikha was taken aback. It then dawned on her that both daddy and mummy were aware that Philip had a problem with drugs and gambling. For some strange reason, she did not feel angry with them.

“What was mummy telling you when you said goodbye to her?” asked Rani. “You had a funny look on your face.” asked Rani.

“She asked me to take care”, replied Shikha in a flat voice. Rani looked at her face searchingly, and then fell silent.

Chapter 17 - A Tale told by an Idiot

“I called up Ittichen as soon as you called me. He asked around and was shocked to hear that Philip was the talk of the town. It seems he had developed the drug problem after his MBA. He had no job and was living alone in an apartment in New York.” Rani explained the next day.

“Did his parents know that?” asked Shikha.

“They say they didn’t but they knew he was betting on horses”.

Shikha understood why Philip’s father did not give him free access to money.

“Didn’t you make enquiries about him mama?’ Shikha asked between sobs.

“We did, but no one told us. I guess no one knew. He was hardly in India. He left soon after school, so nobody seemed to know anything about him. Mebbe we didn’t ask the right people”, said mama sadly.

“Guess this is what one calls fate”, said Shikha.

Shikha appeared to have calmed down a little after sleeping it out but she still seemed to be in a state of daze. She had a bewildered look on her face which made Rani uncomfortable.

“What happens now?” asked Shikha. They were having breakfast. Rani noticed that Shikha hardly ate anything but was playing around listlessly with the Puttu in her plate.

“We’ll have to talk to papa’s and my siblings’, replied Rani. “I’m thinking of asking them to come over”

“Please don’t, mama”, exploded Shkiha hysterically. “You go to Kuttiparambil house. I don’t want to see anyone.”

“OK, OK, Shikha, as you say. But I can’t leave you alone here”, said Rani.

“Don’t worry mama. I’ll not kill myself”, said Shikha bitterly.

“Please Shikha, don’t talk like this”, said Rani and began to weep helplessly.

Sobbing like a child, Shikha got up and went to her mother and hugged her. It was Maria cheduthy who came in and pacified them. “What good is all this crying going to do? Ranimole, you go to Kochin and decide what is to be done. I’ll take care of Shikhakutty”.

“Yes, mama. You go. I’ll ask Lavanya to come and stay here till you come”.

Mama left for Kochin the next morning. Shikha lay on her bed, her mind wandering. She tried to see if she could, in hindsight, recognise any signs of Philip’s drug addiction. She couldn’t, probably because she was not familiar with the symptoms. He was never violent, she thought. Maybe all addicts don’t get aggressive. She hadn’t ever seen that telltale glassy expression in his eyes. Maybe that too happens only in films and novels. But she had noticed, after the early days of their marriage, that nothing she told him ever registered. He seemed to be abstracted all the time, avoided looking at her or being alone with her. All on a sudden, she got an eerie feeling, thinking of how, for eleven months, she had lain in the same bed with a man whose mind was fogged up by the fumes of narcotics. What if he got some hallucination and strangled me, she thought, a shiver running through her.

Mama ’ll call any minute now. Would have reached Kochin by now, she thought, distracting herself, and she switched on the TV to take her mind off gruesome thoughts.

She scrolled down the channel list listlessly and selected Asianetnews.

And what came on the screen jerked her out of her slovenly posture into a bolt upright position, and with terror written all over her face, she stared at the TV screen from where Philip’s handsome face smiled down at her. And even as she watched, his face was minimized to fit into the right hand corner at the bottom of the TV screen, while visuals of gory images of her disfigured husband filled the screen.

And the newsreader continued with the story which hit her like a thunderbolt!

The news reader’s voice repeated, in different words, the horrifying news that Philip Kottayil, the only son of the industrialist Varkey Kottayil, was murdered and his body was found with multiple stab wounds in the Country Club he frequented.

Shikha let out a piercing scream.

Maria cheduthy came running into her room to see Shikha staring at the TV. She jerked her head around to look at the TV screen.

‘Oh my God’, screamed Maria cheduthy and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Just then the doorbell rang. It was Rani’s cousin Lucy who lived in Chennai. Veliiammachi had made an SOS call, asking her to rush to Shikha’s house and convey the news before Shikha heard it from the TV.

Chapter 16 - And Jill came tumbling after

In the early days of marriage, Philip, though away from home most of the day, used to call her on the phone several times. Eventually, the calls became few and far between and finally stopped. She called him, and he her if there was a need to do it. With this chilling distance growing between her and her husband, Shikha soon found that she was shying away from keeping in touch with her friends, or even her mother. She seemed dazed and was aware that something was happening to her. She was becoming a recluse, who dreaded the company of even her husband. It was with a terrible shock that she discovered that thought of her husband coming home early made her panic, and she was immensely distressed to find that it was a matter of great relief to her that he came home after she fell asleep and left soon after breakfast.

And then, after a month, he asked her for money again. Shikha felt a queer sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to know what the money was for this time.

“You know daddy gives me a salary which is wholly inadequate. I haven’t the powers to take money from the company”.

His explanation sounded strange. She told him she had to think about it before she gave him the money.

There was a plea in his eyes when he looked at her but he didn’t push the matter.

Shikha called her mother after he went out and confided in her. A couple of hours later, mama called up her mother-in law and said that she was visiting them the next day.

“Did you tell your mom about the money?” Philip sounded anxious when he heard that his mother in law was coming.

“No” she lied.

“Please don’t tell her. You can give me the money after she leaves”.

Rani came with her cousin Ittichen who lived in Bangalore. After lunch, she was in private conversation with Philip’s parents behind closed doors.

“What’s happening?” Philip asked her.

“No idea’, Shikha replied, counting the silver cutlery and stacking the crockery.

Rani and Philip’s parents emerged from the room, and daddy called Philip into the room. His mother told Shikha to go with Rani to Chennai to spend a few days with her.

“What’s wrong?” Shikha asked.

“Pack up, my dear. I’ll tell you once we reach home.” said Rani. Shikha stood her ground, looking back and forth from her mother to her mother in law. Both said nothing, but they both looked drained but wore wooden expressions on their faces. Something told Shikha that if she insisted on explanations, she would be creating a situation that might get out of hand.

She went to her room and packed up most of her clothes and other belongings, moving like a zombie. She had a feeling she would not come back to this house again.

“Don’t forget your certificates” told mama just as Shikha was reminding herself about them.

Before Shikha left she asked for Philip. He was nowhere to be seen. “It’s ok, my dear”, said daddy. He looked infinitely sad, she thought.

“Will someone tell me what’s happening?” she burst out, looking in turn at her mama and her in-laws and Ittichen uncle. The silence that greeted her outburst was deafening. And then her father-in –law looked her in the eyes and said, “Philip has got into wrong company. He has been betting and having a small drug problem too”.

Shikha felt as though someone had kicked her in the pit of her stomach. The room spun around her. She put her hand on her forehead and felt someone holding her and leading her to a chair. Somebody gave her water, which she drank and then threw up.

“Relax, Shikha”, said her mother. Rani’s voice was unsteady. “You’ve got to get a grip on yourself”.

Shikha looked at her mother with unseeing eyes. All on a sudden, she felt an intense fatigue gripping her, and began to slowly fall sideways out of the chair. Ittichan stretched out his hand and gripped her above the elbow and then, without wasting time, helped her into the car. They left soon after.

Shikha slept through the journey. Tension always put her to sleep. It was her defence mechanism. It was dark when they reached Chennai. She went straight to bed in her old room and went back to sleep.

Thank God papa is not here to see this day, she thought before drifting off to sleep.

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”