But Kiran knew better. Amma wasn’t capable of love, at least not the kind she claimed she held for her daughter-in-law. No doubt Amma had a deep capacity for affection and loyalty to her own flesh and blood. She was generous and kind when it came to her brothers and their families.
Kiran was Amma’s only nephew and the object of her fondness and adoration. In her eyes he could do no wrong. He was bright, handsome, wealthy, and just about the most eligible young man in the state, if Amma were to be believed. She often compared her own puny and pasty-faced son to Kiran in the most crude manner. It left Kiran embarrassed and, despite his mild disdain for Suresh, feeling sorry for him. Poor Suresh’s ego was put through the shredder again and again, and no man deserved that, not even Suresh. But despite Amma’s pounding, Suresh had managed to survive in that strange household.
Survive was the key word for anyone who had to live with Amma. Was it survival that had forced Megha to vanish? Had she been abused by the Ramnaths and couldn’t tolerate it anymore? The thought of what she might have suffered at Amma’s hands made Kiran wince. What about how Suresh may have treated her? As the popular proverb went, still waters could run very deep. Megha had always smiled a lot, showing the rest of them a happy and contented bride’s face. Had that been a façade?
Only minutes ago, Kiran had noticed Suresh sitting silently in a corner, dressed in disheveled blue pajamas, eyes downcast, clasping and unclasping his hands while his mother talked to the police. He had spoken haltingly when questioned by the men. Claiming he had woken up to find his wife missing, and searched for her everywhere in vain, he had gone back to staring at the floor.
Amma’s husband, Vinayak, on the other hand, looked genuinely distraught. He hadn’t said much, other than to mention that he’d been asleep until Amma had awakened him with the grim news that Megha’s bed was empty and neither she nor Suresh could find her anywhere. Uncle was a decent man, but he was henpecked, and keeping his mouth shut was his way of dealing with his aggressive and bossy wife. Amma had her husband tucked firmly under her thumb.
Cousin Shanti, Suresh’s younger sister, blinked, as always, through her thick glasses and serenely answered the policemen’s questions. Very little seemed to affect Shanti, the poor, simple soul. She lived in her fantasy world of poets, playwrights and authors—the world of English literature, her first and only love. Only names like Shakespeare or Chaucer or Whitman seemed to stir her to life. Neither Megha’s presence nor her absence would mean much to Shanti. In fact, due to Shanti’s detachment from reality, she seemed to be the only one who didn’t cower under Amma’s intimidating gaze.
Going back in his mind to earlier that evening, Kiran tried to recreate the scene in the Ramnaths’ home. He and his parents and his other uncle, together with his wife and two daughters, had been invited to dinner at the Ramnaths’. It had been for no special reason other than to socialize as the close-knit family often did, or so it had seemed in the beginning. His folks were extremely family-oriented.
Had there been any signs in Megha’s behavior to indicate this mysterious disappearance? He attempted to analyze her actions minute by minute except for the time she’d been alone in the kitchen. Nothing had seemed extraordinary. She’d been her usual cordial self.
The only thing unusual he’d noticed was that Megha had looked thinner and there were faint shadows around her eyes. In fact, he’d wondered what was wrong, whether she’d been ill. He could tell she had been working hard—her hands, with their narrow, tapering fingers, had looked a bit rough and red.
He’d also observed that she had hardly eaten any dinner. She had cooked a delicious meal and fed them well, but since Kiran was always so finely tuned to her actions and reactions, he’d noted that she’d practically skipped the meal herself.
Then his mind wandered to that odd episode after dinner. Amma had dispatched the men, namely, Kiran’s father, his two uncles, Suresh, and himself on a long walk. “You men should go take a nice walk and digest the rich meal, you know. And Suresh needs the exercise to build some muscle.” When the older men had put up some resistance, she’d firmly pointed out, “Walking is good for the prostate also, no? And the three of you are getting old. Go, go walk!”
Kiran had flatly refused to go with the other men because he’d become suspicious. Amma was up to something. He’d sensed an undercurrent of excitement in her all evening. She had been more animated than usual, more talkative, more manipulative.
After she’d disposed of the men, she had shepherded Kiran’s mother, Kamala, and his aunt, Devayani, into the drawing room and shut the door, making it obvious that something of great importance was about to be discussed. Megha and his three female cousins, Kala, Mala and Shanti, had been told to amuse themselves by playing card games in the kitchen.
Pretending to relax in the master bedroom with a newspaper, Kiran had found a spot where he could put his ear to the wall separating the drawing room, so he could eavesdrop. Somewhere deep inside he knew this secret conference among the ladies had to do with Megha.
What he heard over the next few minutes was disturbing. The walls in that home were rather thin, and thank God for that.
“Megha’s father has still not paid you any of the dowry money or what?” Devayani asked in her nasal drone. His Aunt Devayani was a small woman with an overbite and perpetual allergies that left her with a congested nose and a voice that sounded like a broken guitar.
“Not one paisa yet. And I don’t see any chance of it coming soon. That’s why I’m thinking about this,” replied Amma.
Kiran had wondered what this meant. Exactly what was the old bat planning?
Then he heard his mother’s voice say, “Chandramma, it’s only one year since the wedding. Why not wait a bit?” Kamala was generally the voice of reason amongst the three women.
“One year is more than enough if you ask me,” Devayani sniffed. Amma had mentored Devayani since the time she’d married Amma’s youngest brother, Rama Rao, and since then Devayani had become Amma’s staunchest supporter and friend.
“I have been very patient,” Amma confirmed. “They promised us the money. This is clearly a breach of contract, no? Also, there is the matter of infertility to consider.”
Kiran frowned. Breach of contract? Infertility? Where had his aunt learned such terms? She had obviously been educating herself on these matters.
“A healthy young girl can’t get pregnant in one year or what?” Devayani wanted to know. “Then she must be barren also.”
“Wait a minute,” Kamala interrupted. “The girl gets along well with the family. And she is beautiful and bright, Chandramma. That was the main reason you chose her for Suresh, remember? You always wanted someone just like her for a daughter-in-law.”
“I have considered all those things, Kamala; I’m not a fool.” Amma sounded irritated at Kamala’s words of caution.
“And pregnancy takes time,” Kamala argued, somewhat impatient herself. “It took me many years before Kiran was conceived.”
“That may be, but don’t forget you had miscarriages before and after Kiran.”
Miscarriages before and after his birth? Taken by surprise, Kiran contemplated the matter for a minute. Nobody had told him that and he’d never really questioned why he was an only child. It was something to which he’d never given any thought, always assuming his parents had ended up with a single child because fate had determined it. And well…it had.
No wonder his parents doted on him and the rest of the family treated him like a precious commodity. As the son of the oldest Rao brother, Kiran’s was a special position to begin with. On top of that, his father’s brother had two daughters and no son. As the only male in the Rao clan, it was up to Kiran to carry on the family name. It was small