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  Chandru remembered an incident from his last visit to India. He was wearing a very expensive watch which Jamuna had given him for his birthday. His brother-in-law Suresh had liked it very much and repeatedly said, ‘This is a very good watch. Next time, bring one for me and I will pay you the money.’ Initially he had ignored the request, but when Suresh brought it up again, Gouramma had called Chandru inside and admonished him, ‘Chandru, you earn in dollars. After all he is the son-in-law of the family. Give it to him.’

  Chandru was unable to refuse his mother’s demand. He knew that she would create a scene if he did not do what she asked. He removed the watch and gave it to Suresh, without uttering a word.

  Coyly Suresh protested, ‘Why are you gifting it to me? You can bring me one on your next visit. Anyway, Surabhi will give your mother the money.’ But he promptly took the watch and slid it on to his wrist.

  Chandru was well aware that Suresh would never pay the money but Gouramma would go about saying that he had.

  After Chandru returned to America Jamuna noticed his bare wrist and he had had to explain what had happened. She flared up. ‘Everyone in your family is greedy. They won’t hesitate to strip a person naked and just grab all they can get from the US. Last time, your mother took away my bag and Surabhi helped herself to my cosmetic kit. They always have one mantra—“Anyway you can get it cheaper there.” They don’t realize that dollars do not grow on trees.’

  In a fit of anger, she had not talked to him for a few days.

  Another time, his Dharwad friend Kitty had sent an email asking him to get a coral set for his wife and had promised that he would pay for it immediately. For old times’ sake and much against Jamuna’s wishes, Chandru had taken the set along. When he gave it, though, Kitty was very unhappy. ‘This coral is not so red. It is rather pink. We get this kind even in India. Anyway, since you have brought it I will take it. After all it must have cost you just a few dollars.’ Thus, he took it without paying for it.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Ugadi, Kannada New Year, arrived quietly in America. Gouramma had taken the precaution of carrying a Hindu calendar along with her so as to keep track of all the important fasts and pujas. She was really happy to be there with her son for the festival, so she told Jamuna, ‘New Year is on Thursday. Both of you take leave and let us celebrate it. Call your friends for lunch. We can go to the temple in the evening.’

  Jamuna was completely untouched by her excitement. She replied, ‘It’s a working day, Amma. We get only a few days’ leave in a year. We have to save it for emergencies. We cannot take leave for a festival. If you are keen, we will celebrate it on Sunday.’

  ‘One can’t celebrate festivals according to one’s convenience . . . If it falls on a Thursday, we should observe it on that day. Vinuta always takes leave whenever we have a puja at home.’

  Sarcastically Jamuna shot back, ‘She is a government schoolteacher, which I am not. In any case, in India, people hardly work.’

  Gouramma was at a loss for words. She just stared at Jamuna in silence as Jamuna walked off to her room.

  Gouramma had been observing the change in Jamuna’s personality. She was such a different person in India, carefree, talkative, a spendthrift. But in the US, she was quieter, calculating and very conscious of her diet. She would drive twenty miles if she could get something for five dollars less.

  Gouramma was disturbed on another account. She had noticed that, unlike Girish, Chandru had to share in the housework, and washing the dishes and ironing the clothes were his responsibilities. Gouramma had been brought up with the view that the male members of the household did not work in the kitchen.

  ‘Chandru, please don’t work in the kitchen. Don’t you remember? Your father and Girish never come into the kitchen.’

  Immediately Jamuna intervened. ‘Don’t pamper him, Amma. In India, you have servants. Even I had never stepped into a kitchen before I came here. Everybody has to share in the housework here.’

  Gouramma was offended. ‘Jamuna, I feel bad. As long as I am here, I will do Chandru’s share of the work. When I leave, he can go back to sharing the workload.’

  ‘What’s the shame in doing work in your own house, Amma?’ Jamuna retorted. ‘Now because of Manasi, we have more work. Please do not give such advice.’

  Gouramma’s face fell. She felt hurt and humiliated. Chandru comforted his mother. ‘Amma, you should not worry about such small things. Actually I enjoy helping out.’

  ‘Can’t you hire someone to iron your clothes?’ Gouramma persisted. She felt awkward, when she saw her son ironing Jamuna’s clothes.

  ‘If I were rich like Jaya, then I could hire someone who can do the housework for ten dollars an hour. We are ordinary people,’ said Jamuna.

  Gouramma knew that there was no point in arguing. As it is, she was feeling miserable because this was the first Ugadi festival where there were no mango or neem leaves strung on the front door, no puja of the panchanga, the Hindu calendar, no aroma of sweets and mango rice. To change the topic, she asked, ‘Who is Jaya?’

  ‘Jaya is Kishore’s wife. They are one of the richest Indian families in the US. She celebrates Ugadi with a gala dinner. She invites all Indians and we too have an invitation for this weekend,’ said Chandru.

  ‘Does she invite people for all Hindu festivals?’ Gouramma asked.

  ‘No. The festivities are shared among different people. Some celebrate Deepavali and some others Sankranti, on the respective festival weekend. But all Indians meet.’

  Everyone was looking forward to Jaya’s party. Jamuna wore a very expensive silk sari, lots of jewellery, almost like a bride. Though Gouramma always liked the traditional Indian way of dressing, she felt that Jamuna was overdressed for the occasion, but she did not comment because Chandru was quiet. Gouramma had prepared some sweets which she carried in a big silver bowl.

  Jaya’s house was like a mansion, with a swimming pool, eight bedrooms and a huge lawn. Today the front hall was brightly decorated. There were many Indian children playing around, dressed in rich Indian costumes, speaking in an American accent. Most women were decked up like Jamuna. Gouramma felt that since these women never got an opportunity to wear Indian clothes they probably wanted to show off to each other. Most of the time, at work and at home, they wore practical Western outfits.

  Feeling completely out of place in this crowd, Gouramma sat in a corner. A young woman with short hair, wearing a red Banarasi sari and sporting a bright red bindi on her forehead came up to her and spoke in Kannada. ‘Amma, you may not remember me. I am Chitra. I used to come to your house.’ Was this well-built, confident girl the same thin, scared Chitra? Gouramma thought.

  Chitra continued, ‘I am Shankaranna’s daughter. He was a peon in the school where Shamanna Sir taught. You had come along with him for my wedding and blessed me.’

  Gouramma vaguely remembered something about Chitra’s life and now she was a little confused. But Chitra continued talking, ‘Why hasn’t Sir come? Anyway, I am in a hurry now, but I will come and take you to my house tomorrow evening. Will you come? I will take the address from Jamuna.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gouramma agreed immediately. She desperately wanted a change.

  It was a gala dinner; over a hundred people had been invited. Gouramma went up to Jaya and told her, ‘You should have called me to help you. It must have been heavy work for you.’

  ‘No, Aunty, I did not do any work. I called in caterers from New York.’

  On the way home, Jamuna talked most enviously about Jaya. ‘Oh yes, she has so much money, she wanted to flaunt it, that’s why she called in caterers.’ For some reason, Gouramma did not quite like that comment, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. She felt they should appreciate Jaya for what she had done to get the Indian community together.

  Just then she remembered her conversation with Chitra. Turning to Chandru she said, ‘Chitra wants to take me to her house tomorrow evening. I would like to go.’

  ‘Yes. Chitr