The Mother I Never Knew Read online

  He stood up and went inside the house. Banana leaves were spread out on the floor, serving their purpose as temporary plates for lunch. The menu featured thick rice, rava laddu and urad vada, among other entrées.

  Bhagavva was sitting in a corner, wearing a white sari that had been mended too many times. She looked at Venkatesh and said, ‘Sir, we are poor, but today’s ritual demands these preparations. I hope you like them.’

  Venkatesh felt awkward when she called him ‘Sir’. He wanted to ask her many questions, but didn’t know where to begin.

  So he looked at Shankar instead and asked him, ‘How many years have you been performing shraddha?’

  ‘Since my thread ceremony when I was eight years old, Sir. It’s been forty-seven years now,’ said Shankar, between mouthfuls of food.

  Venkatesh’s mind raced to make sense of this information, ‘Father died twenty-five years ago. That means father’s shraddha was being performed even when he was alive!’ He asked Shankar, ‘What are your children’s names, Master?’

  ‘My mother’s name is Bhagirathi, which is a name of the Ganga. So I named my daughters after rivers related to the Ganga—Mandakini, Alakananda and Sarayu. Manda is desperately searching for a job these days. Now even engineers have to be willing to work in bigger cities like Pune and Mumbai. But how can we send her alone?’

  Bhagavva interrupted him, ‘I’ve told Shankar to get her married.’

  ‘I know it, Avva, but where will I find a suitable groom? Manda was born in mulanakshatra, Sir. I don’t really believe in nakshatras and horoscopes, but a lot of other people do. In fact, according to my horoscope, my father should have been a very prosperous man, but he died before I was born. So how can I believe in all these things? Similarly, Manda’s mulanakshatra is supposed to be inauspicious for the father. But I’m absolutely fine. Nothing bad has happened to me.’

  ‘Isn’t it possible to find a boy whose father has died already?’ asked Venkatesh.

  ‘Of course it is, but I also have to think about the dowry. My daughter is prepared to marry a less educated boy. But even they ask for at least twenty thousand rupees.’

  ‘What about your other daughters?’

  ‘My second daughter, Alakananda, is very intelligent. She obtained a top rank and easily got admission into the best engineering colleges of the state. However, I couldn’t afford the fees and I enrolled her into a diploma course. She feels bad, but she doesn’t say anything.’

  ‘What about Sarayu?’

  ‘Sarayu is in the tenth class. She’s intelligent too and wants to become a doctor. Her teachers expect her to do very well.’

  ‘Will you allow her to enter the medical field?’

  ‘Sir, such things are possible only for people like you. We can’t afford it. But Manda told me that she has decided not to get married. She will earn money by taking tuitions and then she can help Sarayu become a doctor.’

  By now, lunch was almost over. Venkatesh had barely touched his food. He thought sadly, ‘The three girls are good, but thanks to their father’s poverty, they can neither be educated well nor can they be married.’

  He wanted to talk to Bhagavva. He thought, ‘How do I manage to talk to her without Shankar around?’

  There was a sudden knock at the door. It was the school peon. He had come from the school to tell Shankar that he was needed there immediately because the headmaster was indisposed. Shankar got ready to leave—the holy sandal paste from the ceremony was still smeared on his forehead.

  Venkatesh breathed a sigh of relief. He’d be able to talk to Bhagavva after all.

  Shankar apologized, ‘Sir, I’m sorry to leave you like this. But the headmaster will get upset if I don’t go. Please relax and have some tea. I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Shankar. Please take care of your responsibilities. I’ll wait for you right here.’

  Shankar left and Venkatesh went to the next room in search of Bhagavva. There was a faint smell of cow dung in the air. A ray of sunshine entered the room through a hole in the roof. His eyes fell upon Bhagavva who was lying on a mat; but she was not sleeping. She sat up when she saw him and offered him a mat to sit on.

  He sat down and stared at her, as if he was looking at her for the very first time. ‘She must have been beautiful in her youth. But now she looks burdened with poverty, widowhood and a tough life,’ he thought. He asked her, ‘Amma, had my mother lived, she would have been of your age today. What does Shankar call you?’

  ‘He calls me Avva,’ she said softly.

  ‘Then I will also call you Avva. I have a question. Is Shankar related to me? Why do we look so similar?’ Venkatesh asked her directly.

  ‘I don’t know. When you both sat down to eat lunch, I felt like I was looking at Shankar’s brother, if he had one.’

  ‘Tell me more, Avva. How did Shankar’s father die? Maybe that will explain the mystery. As far as I know, my father didn’t have any relatives in this area. Only you can help me with the story. Please, tell me what happened.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’ Bhagavva asked him gently. ‘Shankar is my only child. He was born when I was sixteen years old and his father died before he could even see him. No relatives from his father’s side stayed in touch or helped us. I came here and decided to make this place our home. There was nothing else that I could have done.’

  ‘Hasn’t anyone from your husband’s family come to visit you? Why didn’t you try to go and meet them?’

  She sighed, ‘It’s a long story. Fifty-five years have passed. I think I’ve almost forgotten what happened. I haven’t told Shankar about it either. What’s the use? It wouldn’t have changed anything.’

  ‘But you must tell me, Avva. Maybe it’ll bring me peace. Think of me as your son.’

  Bhagavva’s eyes seemed to focus on something far away. He heard the clock ticking silently as she got lost in the memories of the days past. Slowly, she started narrating her story.

  7

  A New Life

  Shurpali was a small village in Karnataka that had a temple of Narasimha and his wife Laxmi on the banks of the river Krishna. Thousands of people attended the annual fair held here.

  Bhagirathi was born in another village nearby. Her parents drowned in a flood when she was a toddler and her maternal uncle Gopal Kulkarni offered to take responsibility of the orphaned girl. He was the village postman in Shurpali. Gopal’s wife, Kaveramma, scolded her frequently, ‘Your parents have given you an apt name—Bhagirathi. You keep playing in the river all day!’

  Gopal had a son, Hanuma, who was five years older than Bhagirathi and studied in Jamakhandi, a nearby town. Meanwhile, Bhagirathi studied up to the fourth grade. She was not allowed to study further because there was no middle or high school in the village. She didn’t ask to study more either—higher education for girls was unheard of in those days and she had to help at home.

  As the years passed, Bhagirathi grew up to be a very beautiful young woman. She was fair and attractive and had long, black hair. Many women were jealous of her. Kaveramma did not send her out alone often because she was afraid that someone might try to take advantage of her. Bhagirathi’s only companion at home was Hanuma who was now studying in high school. Her uncle and aunt started searching for a suitable groom for her.

  People asked Gopal and Kaveramma, ‘Why are you searching for a groom? Your son can marry her. That’ll be perfect.’

  ‘No, Hanuma and Bhagirathi have been raised like brother and sister. It will not be a good match,’ said Kaveramma.

  Hanuma, Bhagirathi and Gopal also agreed with her.

  The truth was that Kaveramma had completely different reasons for rejecting the match. She believed that there was no use of marrying her son to Bhagirathi because that way Hanuma would not get any dowry at all. But if he married someone else, he would get dowry and maybe other possessions