And things had gone steadily downhill from that moment onwards. Having got herself into an injured, I-am-being-victimised mood, Meera made life miserable for herself and her friends the entire length of the Puja holidays. Then had come the final blow-up. That particular Friday evening, all the ladies, both bigwigs, and the also-rans were invited home for the traditional manjal-kumkumam business. The ladies within the social-whirl in Rampuram invariably divided the 9 nine days of Navarathri among themselves so everybody got a chance to visit everyone else.
"Quite frankly, it is a stupid system", Meera declared, putting on her most irritating, convent-school accent. "Why can't they just have one big feast, ask all these dames to bring all their various stupid dolls, put them all together and we can all gorge on sundal, and make fun of each other's sarees, pavadais, daughters-in-law, bakshanams, husbands, sons, and ask all the good little girls to sing all the right songs with the perfect thalams……"
"Meera, enough, okay?" Arjun said quietly, sensitive to the distress slowly building up on Vidya's face. "Chinakka has been in one of her moods…..it is tough, but that's no reason to……", he trailed off.
"No reason for you," retorted Meera, her throat tight and hurting with tears, "You're the dear grandson…..nothing ever changes for you, does it? I'm the one who has to suddenly act whenever we come here."
"Act?"
"Yes, act…!", Meera bit the words out through her teeth, "Isn't that what it is? It is to me. This is not how we live back home. We don't sit on the floor; we help ourselves at the dining table and we've not been given any training as to what constitutes "Hands off" and what is "Okay to touch" in the kitchen; our mother does not bathe and then walk around in a wet saree, huddling against a wall every time one of us 'haven't-had-our-baths-yet' types walks by; our entire puja room consists of one small shelf in the store room….what the hell is all this, but acting? And what happens to Amma when she's here? She's like a different person……", her voice trailed away.
Srini and Kumar, a little lost and bewildered, looked down at their feet.
Vidya tried. "It is tough on you…and I don't understand why they are tougher on you than on Arjun,", she offered, "but, you know, maybe you are the one who's changing….as far as I know, everyone's always been like this here…in this house, in our house, in Rampuram."
"And how come I don't seem to do anything right these days? What happened to all that "Our Meera is so sweet; Our Meera is so bright and clever…" stuff? Have I suddenly turned into something so awful?", Meera's voice broke.
That immediately led to a chorus of equally young voices saying: "Of course not!", "Hey, come on, ya!" Don't be silly"; "Oh…forget them!"
It was time to get ready for the evening.
"Amma, I'd like to wear that silk maxi we made, when we cut up your old Benares saree."
"No, Meera. She has bought a green and gold pavadai-dhavani set for you, specially for this evening. You can wear it with that gold choli."
"Fine," Meera conceded, hastily, "maybe the maxi is a bit much…I'll wear that red saree of yours, the one with the gold buttas. That will go with my gold choli."
"No, Meera…..there'll be a problem. Just wear the pavadai….please!"
"What problem?", Meera's face began to redden, "You know how I hate pavadais….I am telling you, I'll wear a saree…isn't that equally traditional?….even more grown-up, actually!"
"She wants you to……!"
"Besides….Amma…..I know how she'd have chosen that pavadai….it will be a ghastly green, filled with gold zari….Amma, please….I'll look terrible…please, let me just wear a saree…..I won't wear the maxi. I understand that would be stupid for this evening. But I won't wear the pavadai…..! And, Amma, please can you tell her I'll comb my hair and braid it…..I hate it when either she or Lalithakka do it for me. They use so much oil, and put so many flowers in my hair……I hate it….Amma, please……"
The door, which was half-shut, was pushed open. Chinakka, eyes bright in anticipation of battle, bustled in. A yellow cloth bag, covered all over with fat red printed lettering, was held, almost like a banner, in her hand. A brown paper cover peeped from within.
"Here, Meera. I bought this for you. Wear it this evening."
"Chinakka, I thought…..", Meera began.
"Yes, Chinakka, you give it to her. She'll wear it……", Pushpa rushed into speech. She pulled the brown paper cover from the bag, and removing the outfit from it, shook it out, and spread out the davani, exclaiming: "Oh look, Meera, it is all stitched and ready…edges done, everything. What a lovely green! Thank God, we packed your gold choli……"
"Oh, you even have a matching choli, is it?" queried Chinakka, almost as if she was hoping that that had not happened! If it hadn't, Meera would have been forced to wear this with just about any old choli she had…. like a lot of far simpler, better people did, after all. Wearing matching cholis was in itself a sin of indulgence in Chinakka's view.
Meera took a deep breath.
This had gone far enough.
Loudly, she said: "Chinakka, I am wearing Amma's saree."
There was a small silence.
Pushpa shut her eyes for one agonised moment.
"What?", asked Chinakka, quietly, addressing her question to Pushpa, "what did your daughter just say?"
Pushpa opened her mouth….to say what, Meera never knew, because she spoke up just then and said: "Chinakka, ask me. I said I'd wear a saree. I am sorry you went to all this trouble to get me a pavadai. I do not like them. Maybe you should have asked Amma first. She'd have told you. I'd rather wear a saree…..and please," she added, " don't blame Amma……"! The moment she said the last three words, she knew she had made a big mistake.
Her mother turned, a furious, how-dare-you-find-me-out glare on her face that seared Meera where she stood…..and Chinakka immediately sat down, painfully and slowly as befitting a martyr, on a nearby moda, and said: "Blame? What do you mean blame? Why will I blame Pushpa?! Have I ever blamed Pushpa? Or anyone? I only mean well, and do well…do I not? What do you mean? I do not "blame" people, let me tell you. What have you been telling her about me, Pushpa?"
"N-n-n-nothing….! Nothing at all, Chinakka. I told her…..I told her, Chinakka went to so much trouble. She got you such a lovely pavadai…see? I told her. You must wear it, I told her….."
Meera stared at her mother.
Lalithakka, with an instinct for trouble, perfected by years of experience in domestic squabbles and upsets on the home front, nosed out the vibrating atmosphere, and ambled in……. casually, as it were.
"Oh yes, you are getting ready, is it? I have organised the sundal, the sweet, the kumkum and chandhanam, cut the jasmine strands into use-size lengths, don't worry, don't worry…..even the coconut pais are all ready….I've done everything…..of course, I was waiting all this while thinking one of you would come and ask if I needed any help…but you know, I've done this for so many years, and as long as I have Meenakshiamma on my side, what do I care…..so, Meera, did you like the pavadai? No, huh? Thought as much!"
Then, lowering her voice, she spoke in what she imagined was a "private" voice to Pushpa and Meera: "I knew this would happen. Poor Chinakka ….she has no idea. I am so much better with young people. So what?! Let young people wear what they want, is what I say. Till recently, there was nobody like Meera for Chinakka, now all she does is make remarks about you….and once you go back, Meera, you won't believe what all she says. Didn't like all that gold, no? That's what I also thought when she first showed it to me. Our Meera won't like it, I said. Ask Meenakshiamma. These girls like soft colours, English colours. But, doesn't matter, Meera. You just wear it for this one evening, okay? Good girl, okay?,", the soft voice slithered on. Chinakka stared ahead stonily. Meera watched her mother smooth the pavadai over and over with her hands.
And then Lalithakka said: "Meera, as soon as you get ready, come to my room. I'll comb your hair for you…..I've got lots of jasmine and kanakambaram ready."
Meera looked at her mother again.
"Amma, I don't want……..!"
"Oho!", Lalithakka said, "Vidya is coming in half-an-hour to get her hair done. Why, even every bride in Rampuram has come to me to get her hair done, you know that? All these girls come to me when they want to dress up."
"This is Rampuram", Chinakka suddenly spoke up. "We have a way of doing things here. What will people say when they come here and find Chinakka's granddaughter dressed badly? Do you know, Dr. Jagannathan's granddaughters will be here, the entire Shobhana Saree Mills people will be here, the former Chief Secretary's family will be here…..and you stand here and argue about your dress for the evening! What were you planning to wear? A short skirt….what do you call it?….a mini? And maybe you would like to leave your hair loose on a "good" day, and probably walk around without even kumkum for your forehead? What will people think?"
Next Part
