Read Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel Online

Authors: Amulya Malladi

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Literary, #Cultural Heritage, #General

Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel (33 page)

BOOK: Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel
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Rambha Devi visited Tella Meda often and it was really her idea that a television be installed there. She thought she would be able to convince her husband to give a sixty-five-hundred-rupee color television set for free to the residents of Tella Meda. As superstitious as V. C. Ramarao was, he was no fool. He wasn’t about to just give away a good television for free. He agreed to give it for less than half the price and said he would throw in the installation for free.

Kokila grumbled about the three thousand
rupees
he was charging for the TV but admitted that the evenings would be a little less boring with the television showing movies and movie-song programs. Already, everyone was talking about the half-hour show on Monday evenings,
Chitralahiri,
which broadcast songs from old and new Telugu movies. It was one of the most popular television programs, in addition to Telugu dramas and Hindi serials, shown in the evening.

Rambha Devi came to stay at Tella Meda for a week to ensure that her husband didn’t skimp on the installation. She also wanted to make sure Charvi knew that it was Rambha Devi’s influence that had brought a color television into Tella Meda. And it was her husband’s television company that had provided the TV.

The way she talked about it, the television had walked all by itself from Visakhapatnam (thanks to her husband) and no one at Tella Meda had had to pay a
paisa
for it, Kokila thought bitterly.

“Still, it’s less than half the price,” Subhadra said when Kokila complained that Rambha Devi made it sound like they were getting the TV for free.

“It’s still three thousand
rupees,
” Kokila complained. “Do you know how long we had to save for that?”

Subhadra nodded. “Yes, yes, but still, the installation is free. And if the TV goes bad, they’ll even change it.”

“They have to. It has a two-year warranty,” said Kokila, now well versed in what came with a color television. She had spoken with the local TV shop owner and he told her that V. C. Ramarao’s TV was not that good and that’s why he was able to sell it for that price. The other color televisions cost thirteen thousand
rupees
or more.

“And do you know why his TVs are cheaper than others?” Kokila demanded shrewdly.

“Because he’s a good man trying not to cheat his customers?” Subhadra put in with a smile.

Kokila made a face. “All you can think about is that Krishna movie on Sunday. So it’s a total waste of time talking to you.”

No one was on Kokila’s side. Everyone wanted that television, even Shanthi, who was usually sensible, and they were all so grateful to Rambha Devi. It grated on Kokila’s nerves. She was the one who had juggled the Tella Meda finances to ensure they had enough money saved up and could therefore use that money to buy a TV but did anyone say thanks to her? Did anyone show her any gratitude? Everyone was flocking around Rambha Devi. Shanthi was stitching blouses for free, while Chetana was stitching
sari
falls, a cotton lining at the bottom edge of the
sari,
for free, and Subhadra was cooking all of Rambha Devi’s favorite foods. It was as if Rambha Devi ran the
ashram.
Kokila was resentful. She wished they didn’t have the money to afford the TV and wished that the subject had never come up.

But on the day that the television was to be installed, there was a problem.

“I’m not lying. The money is not there.”
How could they believe I’m
lying?
Kokila thought angrily. She was almost in tears, hysteria humming beneath her calm voice.

Rambha Devi pursed her lips. “My husband insisted that you pay something for the television. That is not unreasonable.”

“Kokila, I know you, you hid the money so that we couldn’t have the TV, didn’t you? You never wanted us to have the TV,” Renuka demanded, glaring at Kokila. Kokila felt a pang. It was true she didn’t want the TV, but she wouldn’t hide the money.

“Kokila never lies,” Subhadra snapped at Renuka. “Okay, where did you leave the money?”

Kokila swallowed the lump in her throat. Three thousand
rupees
! How could it be gone? Who would take the money?

“Right here.” She pointed to the desk in Charvi’s room. They had all congregated there once the theft had been discovered. Charvi herself was out for her evening walk.

“I took it out of the safe and put it there so that I could give it to Rambha Devi as soon as she finished her bath . . . and then the milkman came for his money. I went to pay him. I came back . . . the money was gone,” Kokila said. “Look, I know the TV is important but . . . This has never happened before. I am always very careful with money.”

Rambha Devi obviously didn’t believe Kokila.

“My husband will never agree,” Rambha Devi said firmly. “You will have to give three thousand
rupees
somehow, otherwise no TV installation today.”

Bhanu’s eyes filled with tears. The television was sitting in the new TV room that had been set up with chairs and mats, ready for the Sunday night movie just two days away.

“I won’t ask the electrician to take the TV but he won’t fix the antenna until the money is here,” Rambha Devi said, sure that once she laid down her threat Kokila would find the allegedly stolen money.

“How could you do this?” Bhanu shrieked at Kokila, and ran away with Renuka following her.

“I just left it here for a minute,” Kokila said, looking at Subhadra with stricken eyes. “Who could have taken it?”

“Well, you better find it by tomorrow, otherwise the electrician will take the TV with him, and then don’t come and blame me for it,” Rambha Devi said.

“All day you’ve been strutting around as if the television is a free gift to us and now you’re becoming so stingy,” Subhadra muttered.

“My husband said—”

“Look, the money got stolen. If you don’t believe it, that’s your problem. Kokila here doesn’t have a printing press that will print out three thousand
rupees.
So if it’s gone, it’s gone. You can take the TV today and be gone if you like,” Subhadra said angrily.

Charvi came into her room, her eyes scanning all the faces.

“The money got stolen,” Kokila blurted out. “I put it here and then went to pay off the milkman and the money was gone.”

“What money?” Charvi asked.

“The TV money,” Subhadra said.

Charvi nodded and then shrugged. “It’s just money. I’m sure it’ll turn up. No one steals at Tella Meda. Someone took it by mistake, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure too,” Rambha Devi said, looking accusingly at Kokila.

Charvi looked pointedly at Rambha Devi. “Kokila can take money anytime she wants to. No one knows how much money is in the safe and no one governs her. But she has never taken a
paisa
from Tella Meda. She keeps everything running and I know some months she puts her own typing school money inside the safe. So never look at Kokila with such accusing eyes. God punishes such unfairness. Some eyes that look unjustly may go blind.”

Rambha Devi was stricken. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s time for my meditation before dinner,” Charvi interrupted her, and then focused on Kokila. “Please let everyone know that there will be no television if we don’t find the money by tomorrow. I hope that the thief has some conscience.”

But no one came forward with the money.

“I saw Ravi out and about,” Puttamma said as everyone sat in the courtyard to discuss the lost money.

“You always have to blame him,” Chetana muttered.

But Kokila and Subhadra could easily see Ravi stealing. After all, he had stolen several times before from everyone at Tella Meda.

“When did you see him?” Kokila asked.

“He probably stole the money, that useless fellow,” Renuka said. “You don’t keep your husband leashed properly, Chetana, and see what happens?”

Bhanu sat quietly, unsure of what to say. Chetana’s husband was her father and even though he rarely spoke with her and never ever played with her, he was still her father and she knew what a father meant. She didn’t like it when Renuka called her father names, even if Renuka never referred to him as Bhanu’s father, always as Chetana’s husband. But Bhanu knew stealing was wrong.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Kokila said, and then sighed. “Puttamma, where did you see him?”

Puttamma looked at Chetana and then at Kokila. “In the afternoon. When I was coming here, he was going to the city.”

“That means nothing,” Chetana said, incensed, as she shifted Meena from one hip to the other. It was not that she wanted to defend Ravi; she wanted to defend herself. As a wife, it was her duty to keep her husband on the straight and narrow. She had failed on that account, but if he had stolen the TV money? Oh, no, it couldn’t be him. But even as she wondered who else it could be, Chetana was quite sure that the only person capable of stealing at Tella Meda was Ravi.

“He owes Simhan two months’ bill,” Puttamma said. “And Simhan threatened him last night, saying he’d break his legs if he didn’t bring the money today.”

“And who is this Simhan?” Rambha Devi asked, looking at Chetana with disdain. Her expression seemed to say,
Well, what can one
expect from a prostitute’s daughter?

“He owns a toddy shop in the
kallu
compound,” Chetana said indignantly. “My husband is a drunk and a womanizer. Happy now?” She ran inside her room with Meena wailing on her hip.

Kokila wanted to follow her but before she could, Chetana came back out, a red silk string bag in her hand. She dropped the bag on the tiled floor in front of Rambha Devi. The bag fell with a clang.

“That should be worth three thousand
rupees,
easily,” Chetana said, and patted Meena on the back, trying to calm her down. “Just shut up,” she told her daughter. At six years old, Meena was completely spoiled and cried to manipulate Chetana. It was easy to manipulate Chetana because she still felt guilty about not having taken care of Bhanu as a baby. So everything Meena wanted, Meena got because Bhanu had not asked anything of Chetana and never received anything either.

Rambha Devi opened the bag that lay in front of her and pulled out four thick gold bangles.

“Manikyam gave them to you. You can’t give them away,” Subhadra said, putting a hand on Chetana’s shoulder. “They are your insurance for later on in life; don’t waste them on a television.”

Chetana shook her head. “Not on the television but on Ravi. This is the last money I waste on him.” Chetana looked at Bhanu. “He’s not a good man. We won’t let him come back into Tella Meda again.”

“Never in Tella Meda again?” Meena asked curiously. Bhanu had ambivalent feelings about her father, but Meena definitely didn’t like him. Since she’d been born she had spent no time with him and saw him with jealous eyes. He was the man who made her sleep with Bhanu in Renuka’s room, away from Chetana.

“Never again,” Chetana assured her.

“Now, now, don’t be rash,” Rambha Devi said, weighing the bangles, assessing their worth. “He’s still your husband.”

“Are these worth a color TV or not?” Chetana demanded, speaking over Rambha Devi’s advice.

Renuka looked shrewdly at the bangles then and snatched two away from Rambha Devi, who tried to grab them back. “Two are enough. These are thick, thick, and two are enough. Don’t you think, Rambha Devi?”

Rambha Devi looked at the bangles in Renuka’s grasp longingly. She didn’t want them to think she was greedy or short of money, which she wasn’t. It was just that the bangles were beautifully made, the design on them was intricate and two on each wrist would look so much nicer than one on each wrist. Still, Renuka was right, they were quite expensive and two should be worth three thousand
rupees.
And she could convince her husband of their value by simply not buying jewelry for the next two or three months.

“Yes, two are enough,” Rambha Devi admitted grudgingly.

Chetana took the last two bangles from Renuka and put them on. They sparkled on her skin and she shook her head. The bangles were the only valuable things that had come out of her marriage and she had dreamed of so much more. She had dreamed of a big house, servants, a happy life . . . a life like Manikyam had.

And it had come to this.

The electrician from V. C. Ramarao’s company hooked the color TV up in the TV room and the antenna up on the terrace. Everyone stood in the front garden admiring the antenna as it was put up. Almost every home in Bheemunipatnam now had an antenna sticking out. It was a status symbol and even some huts had antennas. But they had black-and-white televisions, while Tella Meda was getting a color one. It was a night for celebration.

The money had just been sitting there.

Ravi had come to beg Charvi for some and usually she gave him a twenty here and there, but this was a stack of notes, some crisp, some dull, and he knew he had hit a gold mine. This was the color TV money that everyone was talking about. And he did think that the drab and dull Tella Meda needed a television.

Ravi didn’t want to deprive anyone of a TV and surely when the money went missing that devotee woman would give it to them for free. He felt no guilt or remorse for putting the money in his pants pocket. He hurried away before Kokila could spot him. They would get the television anyway and he would finally be able to pay back the money he owed Simhan.

Ravi had seen what happened to others who didn’t pay the toddy shop owner what they owed. They were beaten, severely. Simhan was the only
kallu
shop owner in the area who allowed patrons to drink on credit. But he charged fifty
paisas
extra per bottle and if payment didn’t come at the end of the month, legs were broken and faces were bashed in.

Ravi was afraid of Simhan. He was a large, dark man with a thick mustache. He looked like an
asura,
a demon, from an Amar Chitra Katha comic. And he had arms as big as tree trunks and a voice that scared Ravi enough that he always paid his debt, no matter whom he had to steal from.

This time Simhan had given him almost two months’ grace period. The bill had risen and risen. Now he could not only pay off Simhan but also enter the brothel of Chamba, who had kept him out since he hadn’t paid her whore two months ago. They said she had some fresh bait. Maybe for the money he was left with, he could get the fresh bait.

BOOK: Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel
10.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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