THE STERADIAN TRAIL: BOOK #0 OF THE INFINITY CYCLE (8 page)

15

D
ivya went home for a rather late bite of lunch. She had overeaten in the morning; the mor kali had slid down the gullet like lava and settled down in the gut like a lump of lead. It was almost teatime now and she still wasn’t feeling hungry. But she didn’t want to mess up her eating routine too much and decided to drop by for a quick bite of something.

The fact that Joshua had stopped by the lab just to say hello to her had left her in a jolly mood and she arrived home on her Scooty humming a merry tune.

But the song died on her lips abruptly and her heart skipped a beat when she noticed that her usual parking spot outside the veranda was already taken. There was a Honda bike parked there with complete immunity like a royal caravan. She squeezed the Scooty between the bike and the wall and waited for the door to open. Meenakshi usually knew she had arrived from the squealing of the gate-hinges, but this afternoon, Divya had to ring the bell to get her attention. So there was no mistaking who had come calling.

Meenakshi answered the door with a big smile on her face instead of reprimanding Divya for showing up so late for lunch. Divya dropped the Eastpack in the veranda, hung the Scooty keys and went in after her.

A strange sight greeted her in the living room and she froze to a halt as soon as she stepped inside. Venus was on the floor with a namam blazing on his forehead, sitting cross-legged in front of her old writing desk. There was a small pile of paper slips on either side of the desk, held down by paper weights, surrounded by some loose sheets of paper fluttering and swirling under the fan.

‘What’re you doing?’ Divya asked him as Meenakshi went into the kitchen to warm up the food.

‘Can’t you see? I’m writing
Sri Ramajayam
,’ Venus said. Then raising his voice and making sure Meenakshi heard him, ‘Seems you refused to do it. How do you expect Amma to write it 10,008 times all by herself? We need to show some consideration for our parents, Divvy.’

Amma. We. Our. Well played, Venus, Divya thought and broke into a smile. She now knew why Meenakshi looked so happy when she opened door.

‘When you were little, you used to spend all your holidays filling notebook after notebook with
Sri Ramajayam
s. Won’t even talk to me if I came home. Don’t know what happened to you now.’

‘All right, Venus, enough. Don’t overplay your hand,’ Divya lowered her voice and said. ‘But I’m glad His Highness has decided to come here finally, at least for this,’ she pointed at the paper slips. ‘Give me a minute. Let me go debit all the carbon credits on my face and come.’

Divya went in for a quick wash as Venus resumed his good work, notching up brownie points from Hanuman as well as
his future mother-in-law. Oh yes, he needed them both, from the latter more than the former.

Venus, aka Venu Sampath, final year, civil engineering, held in his secret possession the key to the happiness of many people. His parents and Divya’s especially. The two parties had sat down together before the engagement and worked out the modus operandi with the precision of a computer algorithm:

START: Engagement.

Step 1: Venus would win a scholarship for grad school in the US and move there first.

Step 2: He would finish his MS and get a job.

Step 3 (runs in parallel to Step 2): Divya would complete her course here.

Step 4: The wedding would be held in Madras during the summer of their graduation.

LOGIC CHECK: Venus had to plan his vacation accordingly.

Step 5: They would travel together after the wedding to the US, where she could study further or take up a job, whatever the couple deemed fit.

LOGIC CHECK: Venus had to take care not to apply for a Green Card until the wedding because Uncle Sam made it almost impossible for Green Card holders to bring their spouse from overseas.

Step 6: Venus would apply for a Green Card as soon as Divya landed on American shores and walked into the all-embracing arms of Mother Liberty.

Step 7: Green Card would arrive in the mail.

Step 8: Kid or kids whatever the couple deemed fit, but born with American citizenship and passport.

STOP: Live happily ever after.

Venus had no complaints against the parental master plan except that it was he who had to set the ball rolling, gaining a toehold in America. It wouldn’t have been a problem if he had known about it a little earlier. But the engagement and the Plan were sprung on him after he had already spent two successful years mounting a largely successful guerrilla campaign against academics and pulling his grades down a steep slope like the value of the rupee; or, as Divya told him, after he had initialized himself into an infeasible solution. By the end of four semesters, he was so firmly entrenched at the bottom that even getting admitted into a decent school was going to be difficult, let alone winning a scholarship to cover the study; he wasn’t even going to set his sights in that direction.

When his parents fixed his match with Divya and publicly released their blueprint for a happy and fulfilled life, he was trapped in a double-bind situation. And while he had to contend with his subpar performance, Divya raced up to the higher echelons of her class, making it clear it was only a matter of time before fellowships from all the top schools in the US began piling up on her table. Though he was proud of her as only a fiancé could be, he was acutely alive to the shame and embarrassment that would ensue – to him as well as his parents – if he failed to get into a decent school in the US. One particular scenario haunted him and gave him
sleepless nights: he tagging along after her to the US as
her
dependant on a spouse visa. This nightmarish possibility forced him to pull up his socks and try to get his act together after the engagement. But the damage he’d inflicted on himself was irreparable. He had slipped by the yard and there was no way he could scale by the inch and make up. However hard he tried, whatever stunts he pulled, he could not shore up his grades beyond one or two decimal points.

Tension kept mounting and reached its peak in the seventh semester when he began short-listing schools he wanted to apply to. He became so desperate and obsessed in his pursuit that Divya gradually slid off his radar screen. More so in November and December, when he had to put together his apps and also make progress on his final year project. Their meetings and phone calls became less and less frequent.

But fortunately for Venus, Divya understood his predicament and even managed to empathize with him. Though his indifference bothered her, she felt hopeful that things would change for the better once he managed to get admission into grad school. She tried to put him at ease, giving him his space and not bringing up touchy topics in their discussions.

But these were a virtue of Divya’s, not her mother’s.

Meenakshi could not afford the luxury of such delicacies in behaviour. The mother hen that she was, she was worried sick whether her son-in-law would live up to his potential in life and be worthy of her little girl. However hard she tried, she couldn’t put to rest the one question that kept popping up in her head from time to time which she didn’t dare
share with anyone: Had they rushed into the engagement a little too prematurely? Should they have waited a few years more?

But each time doubts began nibbling at her mind, Meenakshi kept telling herself that she had known Venus right from the cradle and seen him grow into a fine young man. Venus was a ‘good boy’, and when it came to marriage, it had to count for something. All the same, Meenakshi could not put her deep-rooted apprehensions about his career to rest. They came bursting forth whenever she came face to face with him with the same mathematical precision mapping back to the Blueprint of Life: What were his grades last semester? How was this semester going? What were his GRE and TOEFL scores again? How was the app process going? Was he done short-listing universities? What were his chances? Did he talk to astrologers about it? What did students in his position in the previous batches do? Which universities gave them admissions? Was he taking tips from them? What about his cousins in the US? Did he want her to talk to her nephew in the US?

The habit of giving Venus the third degree crept up on Meenakshi without her even realizing it, forcing him to run for cover each time she loomed up on the horizon. It became so compulsive that when he started cutting back on his visits to the house, she started badgering him over the phone. Over time, it started to tell on his relationship with Divya. It had gotten so bad the last few months that he even avoided ringing Divya if she was at home because he didn’t want to run the risk of catching her mother at the other end. So when Meenakshi had told Divya yesterday that Venus had called, Divya was pleasantly surprised. Today, when he materialized in the house all of a sudden and even started chipping in with
Sri Ramajayam
s for her mother, she was astonished beyond words.

~

Divya returned to the living room wiping her hands with a towel. ‘What’s up with the namam on your forehead?’

‘Holy month. Particularly special for Vishnu,’ Venus said. He stretched his writing hand and cracked his knuckles. All that manic writing was clearly taking its toll on him. ‘Sadagopan uncle was visiting us in the morning and my mom wanted me to look proper. Where were you when I called yesterday?’

‘I’d gone to the campus,’ Divya said. ‘I would’ve called back, but Amma said you were going to Chengalpet.’

‘Yeah, went to meet Binary.’

‘That much I figured. Any special reason?’

‘Not really. I went chumma, just like that.’

‘So far away for no reason?’ Divya asked, plainly jealous that Venus would rather go see his friend than meet her.

‘Was worth it,’ Venus said. ‘Got to eat the greatest raw plantain
bajji in this world. Haven’t tasted anything like that in my whole life.’

‘Homemade or from a shop?’

‘Homemade!’ Venus said. ‘His grandmother made it. All you women – my mom, your mom and
you
– should go sit at the old woman’s feet and learn how to make a bajji like that. Turmeric, ajwain, asafoetida, chilli powder, salt, everything was so perfectly balanced. You could smell the thing a mile away. And best of all, it comes out nice and long in one full piece like a Kerala catamaran, crisp and golden, not clumpy like you people make it – my mother included. Wow wow wow, the taste still lingers in my mouth.’

Divya laughed. ‘You should be in politics.’

‘What do you mean?’ Venus stopped writing and asked.

‘You do the balancing act quite nicely. You keep mentioning your mother, but what you’re actually doing is taking a dig at
my
cooking skills and my mother’s.’

Busted, Venus grinned. ‘Sorry. Shouldn’t have included you in the list. Not fair to you,’ he said and resumed writing. ‘Only people who cook should have their dishes critiqued.’

Divya threw the towel at Venus but he caught it and flung it back at her. She missed the catch and it ended up shrouding her head. She peeled it off and said, ‘Tell me, how come you didn’t even bother calling me in the holidays but decided to come here all of a sudden?’

‘Why didn’t
you
call?’ Venus shot back.

‘I was the one who called last time, remember? It was your turn this time.’

‘Sorry. I’ve been way too busy lately.’

‘Busy with what? Project?’

‘Yeah, project and also other things. Remember the paper I presented at the conference last month?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Had to do some follow-up work. What about you? What were you doing on the campus yesterday?’

‘There was this seminar by a prof from US. Lara had invited him.’

‘American guy or some alumnus on vacation, beefing up his résumé?’

‘American.’

‘What did he talk about?’

‘Oh, he just presented some new algorithm he’s developed.’ Keeping Venus’s inferiority complex and drooping morale in mind, she didn’t say anything further. ‘Hey, guess what this week’s movie is?’

Before Venus could respond, Meenakshi hollered from the kitchen. ‘Divvy! Come and eat before food becomes cold again.’

Divya loaded her plate and came back into the living room. ‘So, could you guess?’ she asked.

‘Don’t know,’ Venus said.

‘
Titanic
. Saw the poster today.’

‘
Titanic
? Really? How many times will they keep showing the same movie?’

‘Keep quiet. They showed it only two times before,’ Divya said, having watched it on both occasions.

‘It’s so bloody long. They have to start the show Friday itself. Only then can it end on Saturday evening. Let’s go watch something else.’

‘What!’ Divya said. ‘Does it mean we’re going to a movie on Saturday?’

‘What else is there to do?’ said Venus.

‘Concert?’ Divya said.

‘No, thank you,’ Venus said. ‘I’m surprised you’re even suggesting it after last year.’

Divya’s family had a season pass for the December music festival in the city and she had decided to use it with Venus last year, taking him to a classical violin concert by the twins, Nambisan and Natesan, only to find him asking her in the end, ‘Was it good?’

‘No, I’m suggesting
because
of last year,’ Divya said. ‘I need to make you a little civilized before you leave this country.’

‘Not on Saturday, maybe some other day. Let’s just stick to a movie – but no
Titanic
please.’

‘Okay.’

‘Also, no English or Hindi, only Tamil.’

On any other day, Divya would have insisted on English or Hindi. The recent obsession with blood and gore in Tamil movies really sickened her vegetarian sensibilities. But Venus was on the mend and she didn’t want to say or do anything to send him crawling back into his shell. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘But we should make sure we find a movie I can watch without asking you in the end, “Was it good?”’