The Mother I Never Knew Read online

  Suddenly, the door opened. An attractive and fair-skinned girl walked in, ‘When did you come, Appa? Why are you sitting here all alone?’ she smiled and stood in front of him.

  She was around Gauri’s age, but fairer. She almost looked like Gauri when she smiled. It took her a few seconds to realize her mistake. Venkatesh spoke immediately, ‘I’m not your father. My name is Venkatesh and I am a manager in State Bank of India.’

  ‘Sorry Sir, you looked exactly like my father for a moment.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked her gently.

  ‘Mandakini,’ she said and kept standing.

  ‘So she’s the one Shankar is worried about,’ Venkatesh thought.

  ‘Sir, whom do you want to meet?’ Mandakini asked him. ‘You see, if you’ve come to find out about tuitions, then I’m the one to talk to but if you’ve come to meet my father, you’ll have to wait a bit.’

  ‘I want to talk to you. How much have you studied, child?’

  ‘I have passed my Bachelor of Science with a first class. These days, I go to people’s houses and teach children.’

  ‘Have you applied for any jobs?’

  ‘Yes, I have applied for both private and government jobs. Right now, I am awaiting the results. Unfortunately, fresher recruitment has decreased now, hasn’t it, Sir?’ the girl asked.

  ‘Manda, who are you speaking to?’ a voice came from the kitchen.

  Before she could respond, the main door opened and Shankar Master came in. He saw Venkatesh and stopped in his tracks—shocked at seeing an exact replica of himself. Venkatesh was fascinated too. He stood up. They had the same colour of skin and the same nose, eyes and face. Even their mothers would’ve got confused. But Shankar Master looked a tad older, possibly weighed down by worries.

  ‘I am Venkatesh Rao.’

  Shankar composed himself, ‘What can I do for you, Sir?’

  ‘Nothing, really. Many people in the area thought that I was you. So I came to see you on a whim.’

  ‘Please be seated, Sir.’ Shankar paused. ‘I’m sorry, this is a poor man’s house.’

  Venkatesh sat down quietly.

  ‘Manda, bring two cups of tea.’

  ‘Please don’t bother. I’ve come here only to meet you. Isn’t our situation very rare? Did your parents have siblings or cousins that they lost touch with? Maybe that will explain why we look similar.’

  Shankar also sat down and wiped his sweaty forehead. He said, ‘Sir, my father’s name is Setu Rao and my mother’s name is Bhagavva. I have never seen my father. In fact, I don’t even have a picture of him. He died when I was still in my mother’s womb. But I know that both my parents didn’t have any siblings. I am their only child. What about you, Sir?’

  ‘I’m an only child too,’ said Venkatesh. ‘My father’s name is Madhav Rao and my mother’s name is Indiramma. We’ve never visited this part of Karnataka and we don’t have any relatives here either.’

  Both men fell silent.

  ‘Well, that theory doesn’t explain the mystery then. I am really curious about our resemblance. Tell me, have you ever been to Mysore?’ asked Venkatesh.

  ‘No, Sir, never. Our family is settled around the Ron, Navalgund and Nargund areas. I haven’t crossed the Dharwad district borders even during my service. I’ve been working in Shishunal for ten years now and am tired of asking for a transfer to Hubli, Dharwad or Gadag.’

  Mandakini interrupted their conversation as she brought tea for them in steel tumblers. ‘This is Sudama’s hospitality—a poor man welcoming a rich man,’ Shankar said. ‘Please drink some tea. We are happy that you came to our house.’

  ‘May I meet your mother too?’

  ‘She’s in Shishunal. I work there from Monday to Saturday afternoon and then I visit my family in Hubli till Monday morning. You can visit my mother in Shishunal, or I can bring her here sometime.’

  Venkatesh didn’t want to inconvenience Shankar’s mother. He said, ‘Well, I’m planning to see Sharif’s holy tomb in Shishunal. It’s better that I go and visit your mother during my trip there.’

  Shankar nodded. ‘Where are your parents?’ he asked.

  ‘My parents and grandmother passed away within three years of each other. That was years ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Sir.’ He added, ‘The other day, a friend came home and asked me for a bag that he’d given to me. I didn’t know what he was talking about. Did he give the bag to you?’

  ‘Yes, someone did. In fact, three or four other people also made the same mistake.’ Venkatesh saw Mangalabai peeping into the room and overhearing their conversation. She seemed amazed at the resemblance too.

  ‘OK, Shankar Master. I’ll take your leave now. Goodbye, Manda, all the best to you.’

  Venkatesh waved out to Mandakini and Shankar as he exited their home. He was happy that he had met them; they were such a simple family. As he walked out of the chawl, he saw people watching him. Quickly, he walked to his car and drove away.

  6

  Revelation

  A few weeks later, the Patils were busy organizing a big moonlit dinner in their house. The rainy season had given way to clear skies and the upcoming full moon day was going to be quiet and beautiful.

  ‘Rao ji, the dinner will be on our terrace today,’ Anant Patil told Venkatesh, as they sat down to some evening snacks. ‘You are not going to order home delivery or go to anyone’s house for dinner. It’s going to be a special night.’

  ‘Why? What’s special about tonight?’

  ‘Sunita has a friend named Sarala. She’s conducting a music programme at our house. I’m sure that you’ll like it. We’ve only invited a few close friends.’

  Vijayabai called out to her husband, ‘Look here, all the dinner entrées and desserts must be white in colour tonight; the menu includes curd rice, white pudding, kheer, sweet white chiroti, rice upma, cabbage sabji and . . .’

  By now, Venkatesh was able to understand her Hubli dialect perfectly. He had picked up the local Kannada and learnt the meanings of several colloquial terms used in Hubli.

  ‘Enough, enough,’ Patil yelled back. ‘Don’t dye your hair white to match the food too!’

  Venkatesh laughed. Sometimes, he envied Anant Patil’s life; it was full of joy and enthusiasm. Both husband and wife enjoyed each other’s company and troubled each other like teenagers. It wasn’t that they didn’t have problems—their son was away for work in a mediocre job, they had a bedridden old mother to take care of and they had to find a groom for Sunita. Since the Patils didn’t have any inherited or ancestral property, they had taken a big loan to construct the house they were now living in. But Patil wasn’t anxious about it. He would reassure his wife, ‘Vijaya, don’t worry about it. We will repay it somehow.’

  In spite of all their troubles, they had a straightforward approach to life.

  But things were very different in Venkatesh’s family. It was always about earning more and more money. Shanta would often take loans and then complain to her daughter, ‘Gauri, I’ve taken a bank loan to buy that new estate in Coorg. I can’t relax till it’s repaid.’

  ‘Amma, why did you take the loan if it was going to stress you out?’

  ‘I took it because your father can get bank loans with a minimal interest rate. It’s business, Gauri.’

  Their family had everything, but there was no intimacy between the four of them. They lived, worked and went out together—it was mechanical. During every social event, Shanta would whine, ‘Oh, I don’t want to go. I really don’t like the food they eat or the way they dress, but we have to. Otherwise, our hosts will think that we are rude.’ But when Shanta met the hosts at the event, she would smile brightly and say, ‘Heartiest congratulations on your new home. You have built a palace! And of course, you’re looking stunning today!’

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