The Guru of Love (21 page)

“He threw it at me while I was writing on the board.”

“Did you see him throw it?” Bandana Miss asked. She didn't even glance at the note around the rat's neck.

“I didn't, but I know he's the one.”

“Prove it,” Mukesh said.

Ramchandra, suddenly remembering that he was holding the rat, dropped it on the floor.

“Ramchandra-ji,” Bandana Miss said, “pick that up immediately, and both of you, leave my room. It's the first day of school. I have much work to finish.”

“Bandana Miss—”

Bandana Miss smacked her forehead with her palm. “Ramchandra-ji, you didn't see him throw it, so there's nothing I can do. Now please leave. I have to prepare for a school board meeting.”

In the hallway, Mukesh said, “Sir, you targeted me for no reason. What's your problem? Are you a panchay, a Panchayat lover?”

Ramchandra contemptuously waved him away and walked down the hall, the rat dangling from his hand, much to the amusement of students passing by.

“Is that your new love, sir?” someone said loudly.

Ramchandra took the rat to the office boy, who was basking in the sun in the courtyard. “This is your problem now,” he said.

The rest of the period was relatively quiet, and Ramchandra once again thought of what he should tell Malati when she arrived. Occasionally he lifted his hand to his nose to see whether the rat smell still lingered.

Malati was waiting in the staff room, her eyes puffy. Rachana was fidgeting in her lap. Two teachers, both women, were sitting in a corner, looking in their direction and whispering.

He had about twenty minutes before the next class, so he signaled Malati to follow him to the small tea shop in the alley outside the school. He rarely went there, because the shop buzzed with flies, but it was the only place he could talk to her in private.

Two students were drinking tea inside the shop, and to his dismay Ramchandra saw that one was Mukesh, who snickered at him as he sat down on a bench with Malati.

“You look tired,” he told her.

Rachana smiled up at him.

“Any luck finding a place?”

“I don't know anywhere to go,” Malati said. She didn't touch the tea in front of her.

Ramchandra ordered samosas for both of them. “You must be hungry.”

“I'm not hungry,” she said in a small voice.

Mukesh and his friend were listening intently.

“Goma wants me to bring you home.”

Malati looked at him with disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“She wants to offer you shelter; that's what I am saying.”

“After knowing all about—”

“Yes, yes, you don't have to say it.” He glanced at the students.

“But how can I even show my face to her? This is absurd. Isn't she angry with me?”

Ramchandra shook his head. The samosas arrived, and Ramchandra asked her to eat, but she didn't. “She's not angry with me?”

Ramchandra took a bite. The samosa was old, and dripping with oil. He set it back on the plate. “I don't know what she's feeling. She thinks it's the best solution.”

“The best solution,” Malati muttered. The shock was visible on her face. After a moment, she said, “I can't do that. How can I do that?”

“What choice do you have?”

She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. He placed his hand on her forearm. “It's better than begging on the streets.”

“But after what I've done to bhauju.”

The school bell rang, and the two boys made their way past Ramchandra's table. “Having fun, sir?” Mukesh said as he walked by. Ramchandra had to get back for the next period, but this needed to be resolved.

“The decision is yours. How much money do you have?”

“I have only two hundred rupees.”

“That's not enough to rent even a room.”

“What am I going to do? What will happen to her?” She stroked Rachana's head.

“So, we have no choice, then.”

She closed her eyes again.

“Why don't you go to Jaisideval now? Goma will be there.”

“What will I say to her?”

“You don't need to say anything to her. This was her idea.” “I'll wait for you. I can't face bhauju by myself.”

“But I won't be done until four o'clock.”

“That's fine. I'll wait here.”

Ramchandra talked to the shopkeeper and gave him some money so that Malati could stay until he'd finished his classes. He kissed her on the forehead before he left the shop. He was already fifteen minutes late.

Bandana Miss accosted him in the hallway. “This is not good, Ramchandra Sir. Sleeping in class, and now late for class.”

“I had urgent business to attend to.”

“Everything is urgent, isn't it? Who was that girl?”

“An acquaintance.”

“Ramchandra Sir, I've been hearing some things. Of all people, I would expect you—”

“I am already late for my class. Why are you delaying me?”

“What is your relationship with her?”

“She's a friend's daughter.”

“Let's hope that's true. You are a teacher. I asked you to talk to Shailendra because I thought you were a good man.”

“Bandana Miss. Please. Keep your lecturing to yourself.” He brushed past her and walked to his classroom.

 

By four o'clock it was raining. Holding a newspaper above his head, Ramchandra ran to the tea shop, where he found Malati crouched in a corner, her eyes closed and Rachana in her lap, playing with her necklace. He woke her, and she scrambled to her feet, startled. He calmed her down, led her outside. The rain was coming down harder, and they stood in the doorway. “This isn't going to subside for a while,” the shopkeeper said. “May as well have a cup of tea.” They drank more tea and listened to the rain. Rachana started bawling, and Malati went to a corner and breast-fed her.

The rain eventually turned into a drizzle, and they decided to move on. Ramchandra held the newspaper above Malati's head as they walked through the puddles in the alleys toward Bir Hospital, where he thought they'd find a three-wheeler—although part of him hoped they wouldn't, so that he wouldn't have to spend more money. As was always the case in bad weather, all the taxis were taken. People scurried about, either finding shelter or braving the rain to finish their errands. “Should we wait and take a bus?” Ramchandra asked her, and she shrugged. “No, this isn't too bad. Let's walk.”

By the time they reached New Road, they were completely soaked. He looked at her. She was beautiful, with the rain glistening on her face. And she was young; he had to remind himself that she was indeed young, only twenty-one. She clasped his hand and asked, “Do you love me?” For a moment he thought she was crazy to ask that question at this moment, but she was watching him, waiting for an answer, and when he said, “Yes,” her eyes filled with a look that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

In Jaisideval, as they climbed the stairs, Malati slowed down. “Come on,” he urged her. They could hear the children's voices as they reached the landing.

Goma appeared at the door, the children behind her. “You could have taken a taxi,” Goma said to Ramchandra. “That baby will catch a cold.” She went into the children's room and came back with a towel, which she wrapped around the baby, whom she lifted from Malati's arms. “You could have simply waited for the rain to die down,” she told Ramchandra.

He had nothing to say. This was a crazy dream from which he'd wake up at any moment.

Malati kept looking at the floor. No one seemed to know what was to happen next. Then Goma took the baby, who had fallen asleep, into the children's room. When she came out, she said, “Why don't you two go inside the bedroom, and I'll bring you some food.”

Suddenly, Malati knelt at Goma's feet. “Bhauju, please forgive me.”

Goma bent down and lifted her up. “What's the matter with you? There's no time for this nonsense. You have to put on some dry clothes.” She asked Ramchandra where Malati's belongings were.

He shrugged.

“They're still on the porch at the house,” Malati said.

“I'll have my parents' servant bring them here after you two have eaten.”

There was energy in her voice, as if the sight of Malati had transformed her. There was a new personality on her face, and Ramchandra could hardly believe that this was the wife he'd lived with all these years.

“Will you forgive me, bhauju?” Malati asked.

“I don't have that power. You'll have to forgive yourself.”

Rakesh, who had been listening intently, asked, “Forgive for what? What mischief did she do?”

“That's none of your concern, wise boy,” Goma said.

Sanu said nothing, and Goma asked both of the children to go into the room and look after the baby; they were to call her when Rachana woke up. Then she brought a dhoti to Malati. “You can wear this until your clothes arrive this evening. Come, don't stand there in those wet clothes, both of you.” And she shooed them into the bedroom and went to the kitchen.

“What's happening, sir?”

“I'll step outside for a moment. Why don't you change?”

Her face still bore the look of bewilderment. She appeared in a few minutes, wearing Goma's dhoti, and said, “I'll go help bhauju.”

In the bedroom, Ramchandra changed into dry clothes and sat down on the bed. Goma had removed all the photographs from the walls. He got up and checked the closet: her clothes were gone. He checked under the pillow, where she kept the necklace she'd been given by his family at their wedding for good luck; it was no longer there. Outside, a bicyclist rang his bell, and the sound rumbled in Ramchandra's head. He ran his hand over the clean bedsheet. This is where Goma wanted him to sleep with Malati. He held his head in his hands.

Goma called him, and reluctantly he went to the kitchen, where Malati was scooping rice from the pot onto the plates. She didn't look up when he entered. Goma called the children, but only Rakesh came.

“Where's Sanu?”

“She's doing her homework.”

“Well, it's time to eat.”

“She says she's not hungry.”

“I'll go fetch her,” Ramchandra said and went to get his daughter.

Sanu was on the floor in her room, her books spread out before her. The baby was sleeping close by.

“Sanu,” Ramchandra said, “why don't you come?”

“I'm not hungry.”

“You'll be taking your exams soon. If you don't eat, you'll not do well.”

She didn't respond, and he asked, “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why is your face like”—he searched for a funny simile—“a piglet's swishing tail?”

“Why is that woman here?”

“She needs a place to stay.”

“This is a big city. Why couldn't she go somewhere else?”

Ramchandra braced himself. “Daughter, you shouldn't hold anything against her. The fault is mine, not hers.”

“I'm not blaming anyone. If there's anyone to blame, it's me.”

“And why is that?”

“I'm just a stupid girl.”

He knelt beside her. “No, your father is stupid. You know everything, don't you?”

“I don't want to look at your face.”

“You don't have to. Just come and eat. Eventually, you'll forgive me.”

“I'll never forgive you. I'll never forgive Mother for allowing her to come into this house.”

“Your mother has a kind heart.” He touched her shoulder, but she jerked away. “Okay, I'll bring the food to you,” he said.

“I won't eat anything you touch. I want to go back to Pandey Palace.”

“This is your home, Sanu.”

“What kind of a home is this?” she said. “She's not my sister; she's not my mother; she's not my cousin. So why is she here?” Now she turned to face him, and anger burned in her eyes. “And you're not my father. Why don't you two go live someplace else?”

Ramchandra shrank back from his daughter's anger. “Please, Sanu, please find it in your heart to forgive your father.”

“Never.”

In the kitchen, they talked about mundane things. Actually, it was Goma who talked; Ramchandra and Malati mostly listened. Goma had taken Sanu's dinner to her room, though Ramchandra was sure she'd leave it untouched. In the middle of the dinner, Rachana began to cry, and Malati went to her.

“I am not sleeping with her in this house,” Ramchandra said.

“And why not?”

“With the children? Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind, Goma?”

“It's funny that you're the one asking me that question.”

“This is insane.”

“It's an insane world. It's better this way.”

“Goma, please don't do this.”

Rakesh turned his head back and forth like a pendulum, watching his parents.

“We've had this conversation before,” Goma said. “And I thought we agreed.”

Ramchandra could no longer eat. “I'm going to be sick.”

“You asked for help, and this is the only way I know to give it to you.”

Malati came back. Sanu hadn't eaten, she said softly, and hadn't responded when Malati talked to her.

“Why is she so upset?” Rakesh asked.

“She'll be fine.”

After dinner, Malati helped Goma with the dishes while Ramchandra looked after Rachana. Both children had gone to bed. When Malati discovered that she was to sleep with Ramchandra in the bedroom, she was shocked. “Bhauju, what are you doing?” she cried.

“I'll sleep with the children,” Goma said.

“I can't do this. Why are you punishing me?”

“This is not a punishment. I am allowing you two to be together.”

“Please don't do this to me.”

Goma led her to the bedroom. “What I am doing is right. Please trust me.”