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  Bheemanna was very fond of Vinuta and wanted her to complete her degree, work for two years in order to become financially independent and then marry. At present she was in the second year of the BA degree course in Karnatak College, majoring in Hindustani music. A bright and talented girl, she had won almost every prize in every event in the college.

  Every night, after dinner, Bheemanna would sit on the bamboo cot underneath the mango tree and relax for some time. That was the time when he also talked to Vinuta. ‘Vinu, come here. You have done enough work for the day. Let the others also do something. What did you learn in the college today? Come on. Sing me a nice song now.’

  When Chandru heard that, he would immediately come to the window and listen.

  The sun was shining brightly on that day when Vinuta walked on to the terrace with a big cane basket full of ripe tamarind pods which she was going to spread out to dry. Knocking on Chandru’s room door she asked timidly, ‘Do you mind if I spread the tamarind in front of your room?’ She was speaking to him for the first time since he had moved in.

  Chandru smiled. ‘Of course you can. The tamarind and the terrace are both yours,’ he said.

  He knew she would go away soon after her work was done, but he hoped she would linger on.

  ‘You sing so beautifully,’ he complimented her, eager to strike a conversation.

  ‘Thank you,’ Vinuta responded shyly.

  ‘Why don’t you sing on the radio?’

  ‘I do, I have been, for the last four years.’

  Chandru felt rather stupid. ‘Sorry, I did not know that. Please tell me when your next programme is going to be aired, I will definitely listen.’

  ‘I will. But now, will you please step aside so that I can go?’ Chandru drew back, abashed, and Vinuta left with a smile.

  As the days passed, Chandru became more familiar with Dharwad city and its surroundings, as also with the Desai family.

  Sometimes, Bheemanna would invite him to join them for dinner. Vinuta rarely spoke much but her friendly smile warmed his heart.

  Chandru went to play a friendly cricket match with his team . . . and returned with a dislocated elbow. The doctor put him in a plaster for three weeks and advised him rest for a week. Before he could think of going to Bangalore to recover, Bheemanna came to him and made an offer. ‘Don’t go to Bangalore. We will take care of you. Vinuta is here and she will serve you all your meals in your room.’ Without waiting for Chandru’s response, he called out to Vinuta and said, ‘Vinu, now you are in charge of Chandra Shekhar, until he is up and about. Don’t give him the hard rotis that we eat. Prepare rice for him. Serve him coffee, not tea . . .’

  Bheemanna wasn’t just being formal; his warm heart genuinely wanted to be of help. Chandru felt this was an additional responsibility for Vinuta. He felt sorry for the poor girl. Of course, he had never seen her unhappy, tearful or angry. Perhaps, he thought, she shed her tears while watering the garden and no one in the house knew of her sadness. Only when she got married and went away would they realize the value of her presence, thought Chandru bitterly.

  Just then Vinuta came with a cup of piping hot coffee. And her beautiful shy smile. Chandru could find nothing to say.

  One afternoon Chandru heard the excited chatter and uninhibited giggles of the young girls of the family sitting under the jackfruit tree and discussing saris for Diwali.

  ‘Good thing Kaka has gone to Bangalore for some work, we could give him our specific requests for saris. I have asked for an aquamarine sari with a pink border,’ said Vinuta, excitedly. Chandru was pleased to hear Vinu sounding so happy.

  The following night, after dinner, he heard Bheemanna telling Vinu, ‘Vinu, I could not get the exact colour you had asked for. Instead I have got this for you.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right. This is also very pretty. I like this blue colour,’ said Vinu brightly.

  Vinuta’s answer came as a surprise to Chandru. So unlike his sister Surabhi’s reaction, he thought. Surabhi was the same age as Vinuta. The last time he had gone to Bangalore, he had had to trudge after her through all the shops in Chickpet just because she had wanted a particular ‘shocking pink’ sari. When she had been unable to find it, had she settled for the next best? Not a chance. She had dragged him to the market again the next day and finally bought a sari at twice the price he had budgeted for. Chandru had wanted to tell her that it looked awful on her dusky skin, but the thought of the possible consequences had made him keep his counsel. Vinuta, by contrast, seemed to be well aware of circumstances and adjusted to every situation. Of course, Surabhi’s case was different. She had doting brothers and parents who were ready to spend time and money on her. She could afford to be choosy and insistent.

  Chandru thought he was the only one who sensed and understood the hidden pain and helplessness behind Vinuta’s captivating smile. The next day he asked Vinuta, ‘How would you describe the colour aquamarine? Is it closer to blue?’

  ‘It is blue mixed with a little green. But why do you ask?’

  ‘Just curious, that’s all,’ he replied. It would have been very easy for him to buy a sari for someone who had taken such good care of him during his illness. But he was not sure how the gesture would be interpreted by the rest of the family, so he dropped the idea. As it is, Chandru’s behaviour and close involvement with the Desai household had caused Kitty to tease him one day. ‘Chandru, what’s cooking? You hardly ever visit us. All the time you are stuck at Desai’s house.’

  ‘Absolutely nothing,’ Chandru had retorted sharply. ‘I have begun to like Dharwad, the way you have.’

  ‘Is it Dharwad or the koel in Desai’s house?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Chandru.

  ‘Well, most eligible bachelors have an eye on her.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Oh no, my marriage has been fixed with a Bangalore girl. Are you . . .?’

  ‘No. Unless I settle down to my satisfaction, there is no question of marriage.’

  FOUR

  Suddenly, one day Chandru got instructions from his head office to report back to Bangalore immediately since he was being sent to America on deputation within a month’s time. Chandru was overjoyed. America, to him, was the promised land, the land of milk and honey.

  He had wanted to go there for higher studies but financial constraints at home had not allowed it. Then he had hoped to study computer science so that he could get a job abroad. Unfortunately, his average performance in the engineering entrance exam only got him a seat in the civil engineering department. His spirits hit rock bottom because it was the end of his American dream. But now, ironically, it was his civil engineering qualifications and his performance at work that had brought him the opportunity to go to the land he had been dreaming of for so long.

  He came home that evening and immediately told Bheemanna that he would be leaving. He explained the reason. Bheemanna, too, was happy that the young man whom he had come to like was going abroad. ‘Congratulations Chandra Shekhar Rao. You are going abroad. You must visit Dharwad sometime and stay with us.’

  ‘Certainly. And whenever you come to Bangalore, you must come to our house,’ Chandru extended a cordial invitation in return.

  ‘Yes. My sister Indu stays in Rajajinagar. She has called me over quite a few times. I will make a trip to Bangalore sometime.’

  Chandru went to the market to buy Dharwad pedas and then, thinking of Vinuta, he bought a book of poems.

  As he was leaving for the station, he gave Vinuta the book. ‘I am sorry I couldn’t hear you on the radio. I don’t get Dharwad radio station from Bangalore or anywhere else. Good luck.’

  Chandru looked at Vinuta and felt a sadness emanating from her. She would probably miss him. Though they did not talk to each other a lot, she knew he was a music lover and her ardent fan.

  She on her part felt this was probably their last meeting. Why would he come back to Dharwad or why would she go to Bangalore? Even if she did, what excuse would