The Toss Of A Lemon Part 16

Vairum: "My... well, the children's parents, their grandparents..."

Uncles: "No, there must be some need, you understand, to convince the court. The grandparents have very little money, the father must maintain a household of his own. Your mother must need the money for the children."

Vairum: "No. My sister's children are not orphans. My mother is pursuing this because she promised her mother, a deathbed promise, that she would. Her dying mother. That's enough, isn't it?"

Uncles: "It is useful. It will give a good sentiment. But our argument is stronger. Your mother promised she would pursue this in case her daughter ever needed it. Now there is a need."

Vairum: "But, but... I can't, be seen not to-not support my sister..."

Uncles: "Would your mother permit you to spend your fortune, your father's fortune, on your sister's children? That money belongs to your children. To Vani's children. Think about it. We will meet again, in a few weeks, in Pandiyoor."

Vairum is quiet. Sivakami sends the Brahmin woman she has hired for the festival shuttling forth with banana leaves to serve the mid-morning meal.

After the uncles have left to go visiting, Vairum is pensive. He steps moodily around the garden, pulling at leaves and flowers, holding them to his nose and then dropping them, staring up at the sky, until Sivakami is afraid he will get sunstroke, if he isn't already sun-stricken.

He is not; he is guilt-stricken. He re-enters the main hall and squats with his back against the wall, his forehead against the heels of his palms, until Sivakami cries, "What, child? Tell me."

She bends and peeps through his arms. He is muttering, "I am married. My sister is married." He flings his bony arms out from the elbows. Sivakami jumps back, stumbling, narrowly avoiding his touch.

He looks like a marionette, waiting for a puppeteer to work his strings. "It won't look good, will it, if Akka's children are paid for with my money?"

He drags himself up the wall by the shoulders, arms rising, head finding its equilibrium. He holds his arms out to her in supplication, a rare open moment.

"I will cause resentment in my in-laws, won't I? If I spend the money that should go to my children, Vani's children, on Thangam's."

"I could never permit you to spend your own money on your sister's children," Sivakami agrees.

The defensiveness reappears. "You cannot forbid me to use my money for any purpose."

"Correct, you are correct." She is careful now. "I should have said it would trouble me."

His generous nature is perturbed, but adulthood is compromise. "There is a high probability that my brother-in-law will not provide for the children," he explains to his mother. A sense of outrage begins to flood him, curiously like relief. "There is every possibility of this. I will make sure my sister gets that property from my uncles. They, who arranged my sister's marriage to that... that... stingy deadbeat, they had better make sure she is provided for."

"They have been purchasing land from her in-laws and managing it," Sivakami reminds him.

"Yes, yes, I have seen how they 'manage.' It is good that they know enough not to put it in my brother-in-law's feeble hands, but it will never improve in their own. They won't lose it, that's the best one can say about that." He is a fury of indignation now. "I will win the manjakkani, and I will manage it, and it will grow, so my sister's children will never want."

Emotional now, he runs up the stairs into the refuge of the attic. It is the result Sivakami wished for, though she wishes it weren't balanced on Vairum's hard feelings.

ALTHOUGH THE SUIT TAKES NEARLY TWO YEARS to work its way up a backlogged roster, it takes barely an hour to fight. If this were covered by The Hindu or another newspaper-which it won't be, but if it were-it would be headlined "Battle of the Uncles," Vairum thinks, as he emerges from the courtroom, flushed with victory, amid the barristers and other concerned parties. His maternal uncles trail behind, looking grey, stricken, disapproving and shrunken, especially in contrast with Vani's hale and corpulent ones.

Vairum has never thought of becoming a lawyer and still would never consider it, unsuited as he is to semantic niggling and logical stratagems. But he wouldn't mind being embroiled in a few more legal battles. Ayoh, it was fun! For him, the extended lead-up only added to the excitement. Then the bureaucratic elegance of the courthouse, the stuffiness of suppressed desire filling the courtroom, the judge's wig, like a kudumi out of control-each beat drama's drum in his young heart, athrum with blood and power.

It wasn't only the victory, though he wouldn't have enjoyed losing. It was the sense that he was on the side of fairness, of modernity. He had read much of the controversies of women's rights in the papers, and feels he has entered the fray on the progressive side. He knows his mother would have a horror of any such characterization of her case. Manjakkani is a long tradition and she was fulfilling a promise to her mother-there is nothing whatsoever modern or progressive in what she is doing, she would protest when he bragged to her of his pleasure in her win. But he will insist, to her and others, on his version. He is finding his philosophical alignments, and they are far, far different from hers.

No Harm Done 1923-1926.

IN 1923, ANOTHER GIRL IS BORN TO THANGAM. She is named Sita, at Sivakami's request, for Rama's wife-that most virtuous of women, who, in Sivakami's opinion, is as much the guardian of their home as her husband. Sivakami admits Sita would be nothing without her husband, but Sivakami's greatest challenge now is to protect the virtue and reputation of her granddaughters. In this, the G.o.ddess alone can guide her.

At her daughter Sita's birth, Thangam's second daughter, Visalam, comes to stay with Sivakami. The first one, Saradha, incorporates her younger sister into her schedule. She appears equally pleased with the company and with having someone to boss, demonstrating an officious side that she has not previously had the chance to express.

In this time, Vairum finishes college with high honours. He takes a job in Thiruchi as an accounting supervisor in a paper plant but decides, when Vani comes of age, to quit and live with her in Cholapatti. Sivakami is distressed: she had sent him to school and college precisely so that he would be more than a village Brahmin. Vairum brusquely a.s.sures her that his plans encompa.s.s much more than she could understand.

"It has been an informative year, Amma, but I'm destined to be more than a wage slave."

Sivakami has no idea what this means. She asks Muchami, "Where is the slavery in a dependable salary?"

Muchami has no idea either, but Vairum will listen to nothing more from her, so she waits and observes.

The biggest change in the household, though, owes to Vani's arrival. Her music practice transforms their home. She plays for several hours each morning and afternoon, and sometimes deep into the night. When the moon is full, she rises before the sun, fresh and energetic. If the moon is dark, she drags herself sleepily downstairs after the sun has fully risen. In either case, she bathes immediately, does a brief puja to her veena, and does namaskaram for Sivakami. Sivakami was very pleased to see that a girl raised in so modern a household would perform a daily prostration for her mother-in-law. Perhaps Vani understands that almost no other mother-in-law would be so indulgent: Sivakami expects nothing from her in the way of household a.s.sistance. For her part, Vani seems to thrive in the piety and order of the house her mother-in-law runs, and shows her respect and affection, albeit in her own, oddly detached way.

Pervasive as Thangam's dust, Vani's music is everywhere there is air, in the house and spilling out onto the street: between two people in a conversation, in all the cooking pots, travelling in through nostrils and out in snores. Sivakami has become accustomed to it, and now, when Vani is not playing, there is silence in all those places where before there was nothing.

One morning, Muchami finishes his milking just as Vani starts her playing, and stands in the courtyard shifting from foot to foot as Sivakami mixes yogourt rice for the little girls' breakfast. They attend the village school together and need a substantial meal before they go, though the rest of the household adheres to traditional timings: rice meals at 10:30 and 8:00, tiffin at 3:00.

Sivakami takes the milk, the third pot he has given her, and starts skimming it. "Do you need a cup of kanji kanji or milk before you go?" or milk before you go?"

"Oh, no. Well, all right, yes, but... I need to talk to you." He squats against a post.

"What is it? Kanji or milk?"

"A mix?

She puts sugar in a cup, pours him some of the water strained from cooked rice, adds milk from the pot already boiling on the stove and puts the third pot on to boil. The second is cooling and almost ready for her to add the yogourt culture.

"Well?"

"It's good news," he says, pouring his drink from tumbler to bowl, either to mix in the sugar and cool the milk, or to avoid Sivakami's eye. "The son-in-law's next posting will be in Kulithalai. He arrived yesterday to inspect the quarters and meet with his supervisor. I saw him last night in the bazaar."

"They're coming here?"

"It seems so."

Sivakami is not sure what to feel. "That's wonderful," she says. Why had Thangam not written to let her know? "Isn't it?"

"Yes. Certainly. Wonderful," Muchami echoes.

Despite her gladness at the news, Sivakami feels annoyance with Thangam for the first time she can remember. Wasn't she raised to have better manners than this?

"I wonder how much he tells Thangam about where they are moving to, each time," Muchami says.

"You knew what I was thinking."

"I suspect she doesn't get much warning or information."

"You're probably right."

"And we can't count on him to let us know."

"No," she agrees.

"You have her most recent address, right? I was thinking. Could you spare me for a week or two? Vairum is more than capable of handling the tenants now, and I could get a couple of my nephews to cover the milking, driving, whatever, heavy ch.o.r.es. I'd like you to write to Thangam-kutti and ask if she needs help with moving here. The baby is only one, and the boy is rowdy, I'm sure, a boy."

Sivakami feels moved at his use of the diminutive in reference to Thangam-Muchami doesn't have children of his own. He should, she thinks with sudden fervour.

"Yes, yes. You must go. I won't ask, I will tell her you are coming. Good?"

IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN INEVITABLE that Goli would eventually get a posting in Kulithalai; Sivakami has no way of telling what the likelihood was. Thangam and Goli, put up so nearby, with the youngest grandchildren! For two years. And with Vairum and Vani home-what a luxury, in these modern times, to have her family gathered about her. These years will be happy ones. Who knows: they might even see another grandchild born to this household, a son of her son.

Goli eventually manages to visit his mother-in-law and drink a cup of coffee, at which time Sivakami lets him know that they will have Muchami's a.s.sistance with the move. Goli receives the news as though it is a confirmation of something they had already arranged.

Now Muchami brings Thangam and the babies from the train station to Sivakami's house. Thangam greets her mother, as well as Vairum and Vani and her elder daughters, who act shy for a moment then grab their little brother by his hands and drag him into the courtyard, promising to show him a couple of crickets they have trapped with Muchami's help. Thangam looks wan and worn, and Vairum asks his mother for a gla.s.s of water as he tells Thangam to sit.

"I hope the journey was not too taxing, Akka," he says, and takes the water from Sivakami to give to Thangam himself.

"No, no," his sister a.s.sures him, drinking the water and smiling as though to show she's drinking only because he told her to.

He has been squatting and looking at her. Rising, he says, "I'll go with Muchami to unload your things. Where's your husband? Leaving his work to others as always?" He exits the front door.

The littlest girl, Sita, lying in her lap, yanks violently on her mother's thirumangalyam. It has to hurt, but Thangam, mortified, sits as though frozen, the water a lump in her throat.

Vairum and Muchami ride in silence on the front seat of the cart, while Mari and one of Muchami's nephews ride in back with the trunks. During Vairum's years at college, his relationship with Muchami has changed in ways now cemented by his return. As a child, he took Muchami almost as much for granted as he would a parent, and Muchami filled a number of parental functions, including those of play-mate, protector and-when Vairum acquired some responsibilities for the family lands-educator. With the latter shift, Vairum began to act wary around the servant: he needed Muchami, but he, after all, was the owner of the lands they were discussing. Still, it was evident to Muchami (who never made this explicit) what Vairum knew and what he didn't.

Since his return from Thiruchi, Vairum has set the tone clearly: he is the employer, Muchami answers to him, not his mother, and acts on his behalf, not hers. Vairum asks questions; Muchami answers them. He is to bring information to Vairum first.

Now he gives Muchami his orders. "Keep a close watch on my brother-in-law."

Muchami wags his head sagely, his eyes on the bullock's back.

"No one else is going to tell me what all he's up to. I know he's going to get into trouble and I want to know exactly how, when and what kind, preferably before he's in too deep."

Muchami raises his eyebrows, impressed. He has eavesdropped on conversations between college-educated men: they often seem incapable of learning anything except from books. Vairum, by contrast, may turn out to be a man he can respect. Muchami is comfortable with their dynamic, as it has settled out: though he never would have predicted it exactly, it feels natural and right. Even Sivakami appears to agree: she has taken care of these lands for her son, but they never belonged to her. She has to be glad that Vairum is willing to accept responsibility for what is his.

Muchami doesn't even feel his relationship with Sivakami has much changed as a result: he still reports to her in matters of concern to family life, provided they aren't of the sort he simply looks after on his own. In such matters-none have arisen in the months since Vairum's return, but surely they will-he still might trust his own judgment above Vairum's. Vairum is, after all, a young man, hot-headed and condemnatory, without, perhaps, the necessary subtlety and feeling for tradition that Muchami and Sivakami share.

As Thangam and Goli get settled in the government housing complex at Kulithalai, Muchami makes a point of dropping in daily. He almost always finds Thangam on the veranda, alone with the children, and offers to bring her back to her mother's for a visit and a meal. She always accepts, and he returns her at dusk to a dark and empty house. Sivakami sends food back with her, which she always accepts, looking as vacant as her house does even months after they have moved in.

She has been shedding gold since her arrival, and people from Kulithalai and even from Cholapatti have taken to pa.s.sing by their veranda with little squares of paper into which they scoop or brush these holiest of ashes, as Thangam sits there, alone or with the children. Sivakami had wondered if Thangam might ask to have the older girls come and live with her, or if they might ask, now that their parents are so close. But the girls take for granted that their home is with their grandmother, and Thangam and Goli don't press for any changes to their arrangement.

She certainly didn't feel as though Thangam could have handled having any more children at home with her. She has had few such chances to observe Thangam at length since she left to live with her husband, apart from times immediately before or after childbirth, when it's not too surprising that a woman might be listless. Sivakami herself never was, but she knows such behaviour is not entirely abnormal. She does feel there is something not quite natural in the way Thangam relates to her children, though. Where is the adoration she herself felt? She remembers surprise at her abject fascination: is this how it was for her mother? Her mother said it was for the first two kids; with the third and fourth, she had less time to think about it. Maybe Thangam is overwhelmed by numbers: when her children crowd around her, competing for her attention, she gives it politely, but with a slight hesitation. Sivakami would even think distaste if that weren't such a horrible notion. Thangam seems slightly afraid of her children, and far from enthralled.

They are all very good-looking children: fair, some with their father's high, square forehead, some with Thangam's shapely nose. Sivakami herself would have been proud to have borne them. I thought my fate was to have a small family, but I have a large one after all. I thought my fate was to have a small family, but I have a large one after all. Now all that remains is for Vairum to complete it, with children of his own. Now all that remains is for Vairum to complete it, with children of his own.

GOLI'S PRIMARY ACTIVITY ON ARRIVAL appears to be that of using his position as a revenue inspector, which gives him access to the exact income levels and amenability to corruption of all of Kulithalai's prominent citizens, as a springboard for his business schemes. For the first few months, he attempts to revive his proposal for a cigar and cigarette plant, and nearly succeeds, but one important backer with political ambitions withdraws late, and the idea falls through. Goli's spirits are briefly dampened, but he rebounds with an imagined line of bottled cream sodas in innovative flavours. He convinces the would-be politician to invest-"No political liability in soda!"-and pays a dissolute young Britisher for market research and suggestions. The consultant advises Goli that for bestselling "Top Flavours!" drinks (a name Goli paid him a handsome bonus to invent), he can't fail with vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. Goli pays another huge sum to have essences imported from Italy and tries them, at an exclusive event, on half a dozen interested parties, all of whom concur that these exotic tastes are, if not repulsive, not exactly sure bets. No wonder newly arrived Britishers never like our food, if this is the kind of thing their tongues are trained on! They always come around, though, with time. A few of the men say they might consider going in on a line of coconut, mango and lime-flavoured drinks, but isn't the market saturated?

"No one wants to turn him down flat," Muchami reports to Vairum as they walk the fields together one morning, "because he's the revenue inspector. It doesn't do to get him mad: he might tax them at full percentages. Apart from which, there's something about him people like. Even when they don't give him money-and it's amazing how often they do-they want to stay friends with him."

Vairum listens in silence. Nearly every meeting he has had with Goli (always accidental, never planned) has ended in a row. These have been quick but unmistakable, and usually concerned Goli's not living up to his responsibilities. There is something about the very sight of his brother-in-law that is, to Vairum, like a torch held to his tail.

"I'm surprised he hasn't asked you to go in with him on something," Muchami remarks to him, a surprisingly personal incursion.

"He has no access to my finances," Vairum responds curtly, poking a fallen bunch of banana leaves out of a ca.n.a.l. "I told his supervisor right away that he cannot be impartial with me, and that I will show my books only to the higher-up. My brother-in-law has no idea what I might have to give, not that he would get a paisa out of me."

Muchami nods and they walk on.

One day, when Muchami pays his call to Thangam, he finds Goli at home. This has happened only once before: it was a Sunday, Goli had just finished his mid-morning meal and went to take a nap, so Thangam clambered onto the cart with the children, as usual.

Today, however, is a Wednesday, and Muchami dares not ask why Goli is neither at the office nor out on calls.

"What do you want?" Goli asks him, from the door. Baby Sita, learning to walk, clings to her father's legs, the only one of the children Muchami has seen take such a liberty with their father.

Muchami has removed his shoulder towel to bare his chest, as is proper for men of lower castes with Brahmins, and holds it at his waist as he speaks. "I was out on business and wondered if Thangam Amma would like to come to visit her mother." He has never used the honorific for Thangam, who is more like a daughter than a mistress to him, but it would feel equally strange not to use it with Goli, and risk offending him.

"She's there all the time," Goli says. "She's going to be staying home a little more from now on."

Muchami is not sure how Goli knows Thangam's whereabouts, since he is never at home when she leaves and returns. It's hard to imagine him asking about her day or her volunteering the information. But he respectfully takes his leave, and drives away. He returns at four-thirty that afternoon, in case Thangam is alone by then and wants to come home briefly, but she is not on the veranda. He comes every morning for the next week. The door is always shut, the veranda vacant.

Sivakami is worried; Vairum demands that Muchami tell him what is happening, but Muchami can give them nothing, other than saying that Goli bragged to his wealthier friends that he was about to embark on an unprecedented scheme: guaranteed success, no overhead. He was sorry they could have no part in it, but it might have spinoff ventures, he had mused; they would just have to wait and see.

The following Friday evening, nine days after Goli secluded his wife, Muchami hears a rumour in the bazaar that makes him go to Thangam and Goli's house. It's true: Goli is selling packets of Thangam's dust in little printed paper packets. Muchami accosts one customer who has just left the line, having purchased three packets, and asks him to read what they say.

"'Ash of Gold! Most powerful and holy cure from daughter of famous healer! Siddhic power alchemized with Brahmin wisdom! Use sparingly-only small amount needed.'"

Thangam is nowhere to be seen as Goli hawks the virtues of her dust from his veranda. "Once a week only, folks! Step up, step up! It's exclusive, it's rare, it's like nothing you've ever experienced."

"We had heard of it," says the man who so obligingly went over the packet's text with Muchami. "Twice we came to Cholapatti to see if we could get some. But when we would come here sometimes, there were only traces on the veranda. We had to content ourselves with that. Now we will be first in line weekly, and buy also for our relatives!"

Muchami feels sick to his stomach during the whole journey to Sivakami's but knows he has to tell Vairum, and immediately, not because Vairum would expect it, though he would, but for Thangam's sake. Poor child, he repeats to himself with pity and dread as he nears Sivakami's house. Poor child.

He would prefer to leave Sivakami entirely out of it but has to ask her to call Vairum, who is upstairs with Vani.

Out in the courtyard, Muchami tells Vairum in low tones what is happening. Sivakami stays in the kitchen, looking more frightened than curious.

Vairum explodes. "That no-good, exploitative lazy b.u.m of a half-man..." and so on, exactly as Muchami predicted. The servant makes eye contact with Sivakami: she doesn't need details; she knows who this is about. Within minutes, Muchami has. .h.i.tched the cart again and he and Vairum depart.

They arrive along with a couple of hopeful customers, who clap at the still-open doorway and call out to Goli just as Muchami and Vairum dismount the cart. Goli comes to the entrance, looking tired and sounding cranky.

"Wish I could help you, folks, but supplies are limited. I ran out in ten minutes. Come back next..."

He trails off as Vairum bounds up the steps, making as if to close the door.

"Get in the house, you..." Vairum pushes his brother-in-law in the chest and into the gloom of the main hall.

Goli pushes Vairum back and the door shuts as he falls against it. Muchami decides against trying to listen and instead flicks his switch at the bullock's rump, going to fetch a couple of Vairum's friends, sons of a Kulithalai moneylender, who live just outside the government housing complex.

"You can get out of this house if you don't know how to show respect," Goli screams. "I have had more than enough of your-"