Read Hope in Chains :: ..and a mother

He has told his friends at work, she thought. She felt irritation rise within her, but the next moment, it was smothered by a warm feeling of belonging. At last, Anandhan’s crisp voice came over. “It’s me, Usha,” he said. “My exams are over,” she replied. “How did they go?” Anandhan enquired. “And what about your parents? Did you tell them?” “No,” replied Usha. “I will tell them today or tomorrow. How is your leg?” “It’s alright,” said Anandhan. “I have got some urgent work. I must be going.” “Alright,” said Usha reluctantly. Couldn’t he have talked for a little longer? thought Usha, as the click on the other end signalled the end of the call. Ah, she consoled herself, there will be time for that. Anandhan had already told his parents and the news at first was not warmly received. “Some refugee from Elangai (Lanka)!” said the old man. However, they slowly came around because there was much in Usha’s favour as well. The fact that she was a nurse certainly helped. The other was the age-old system and the coloured threads that held society together—caste. When finally the parents met, Usha’s father proudly presented their family details. They were not untouchables; they belonged to a middle-order land-owning community very much at par with, if not a notch above, Anandhan’s family. Then there was her horoscope, which again her father managed to extract from the corner of some old diary. It matched Anandhan’s perfectly.

While these discussions progressed, from week to week, the lovers found places where they could meet. In the Oddanchatram town market, and often under what they soon called ‘our tree’—a huge banyan by the side of the river that ran down from the mountains and through Virupatchi village. It was walking distance from the road, yet hidden from it by a bend in the river. They spent many an afternoon sheltered between the huge roots that spread down from its branches. The wedding was held in Sundaram Pillai’s hall in Chatrapatti village. It was mainly financed by Anandhan’s parents; Usha’s parents chipped in with some expenses. There was the question of how many sovereigns of gold the bride would bring. Usha’s father mentioned a modest eight sovereigns, even though they had only six with them. A few weeks before the wedding, they made a trip to Madurai, the nearest big city, to complete the promised eight sovereigns of jewellery. They also had to buy the expensive wedding sari, with a broad gold-embroidered border.

They chose a dark green colour for the saree, which was what the elders recommended. The wedding day and the previous evening saw bright lights and blaring loudspeaker music, which could be heard across the village. The circle inspector was there and so was Karuthappa Gounder, Murali’s boss, and then there were a few of her friends. Her friends stood around the bride in an inner room as she dressed and then waited. They giggled and poked fun at each other, but soon it was time for goodbyes, time for the bride to be led out onto the stage. Her mother clutched her close to her body, heaving with waves of suppressed weeping. Together, they tasted that sugary sadness that came with all weddings. Till now, they had travelled a common path and now they were at a parting of ways. Usha was starting down another road, where they could not follow. They could only stand and wave.

The honeymoon was just as it should have been. Anandhan had a week’s leave; they went on a trip to Palani, the temple town nearby, and came back to settle into Anandhan’s house with his parents. They spent time around their banyan tree. Those happy days hardly prepared her for times ahead. The first month was perfect bliss; Anandhan was as loving as ever, her mother-in-law was kind and mindful of her every need. But soon, boredom set in as she had nothing to do after Anandhan was gone. One day, her mother-in-law suggested that a job would bring in some much-needed income. So she decided to look for a job. By this time, her escapades had come to the knowledge of the nuns in the hospital and they were not likely to give her a job. There was a nursing home in the nearby town but she had heard from friends that the atmosphere was cramped and degrading. Finally, when the urge within her proved too strong, she timidly made her way to the nuns. She was not surprised at the frosty welcome, but her words of remorse and her disarming manner soon softened their hearts. The nuns knew that Usha was very good with her ward work. It was as though in nursing, Usha had found her niche. All these worked in her favour and before long, they relented. A job was given and gratefully accepted. Four months went by and her life had fallen into a happy routine, when her monthly periods failed to arrive and then came the nausea. Something had begun, which was slowly stretching her from within, growing and kicking its way into her life. Jasmine was born on Saturday, 21 November. With her flat, smudgy face, she looked as nondescript as any just-born child and at 2.9 kgs, she was as healthy and active as the best of them.

By the end of the first month, Jasmine’s face took on some of the sharp features that she had inherited from her parents. Her maternity leave over, Usha was back to work again, leaving Jasmine to be taken care of by her mother-in-law during the times when she was in the hospital. Anandhan was not the same; there were fits of rage that he quickly tried to hide, but not before Usha noticed the change. The façade was slipping and before long, there was nothing to hide.

On many a day, he would come home drunk; if there was an altercation, it would often end with him landing a blow on her chest or head. There was also talk of another woman whom Anandhan had been seen with, in another village. Her motherin-law was vaguely supportive, but there was little else she could do. They had sex alright, but they did not make love any more. Rather, these brief encounters resembled the way of a rooster with his hens—just the act, with nothing before and nothing after. At first, she resisted when she really did not feel like it, and then the whole thing would become unpleasant. In time, she learned that it was easier to get it over with. Usha was always glad when it was done and she could get back to her life, which more and more centred around Jasmine, who was almost a year old now. Over the next many months, the physical abuse did not let up. To make matters worse, her mother-in-law somehow was now on her son’s side. She would often make snide remarks that seemed to blame Usha as the cause of her son’s problems. There seemed no escape from this unhappy situation, until suddenly, a door seemed to open for her. The nun, who was the medical superintendent, called her into her office one day.

“You see, Usha,” she said, “there is this hospital for tribals—the Hill People’s Hospital—in Pachalur up in the hills. They need good nurses. Would you be willing to go?” “I will think about it, Sister,” she said mechanically while her mind raced ahead with thoughts falling one on top of the other. How far was it? Would she be able to manage the child on her own? She mulled over the offer for the next couple of days. The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Jasmine was a little over an year old and she could be left with a neighbour, or perhaps there would be a playschool. This could be her chance to get away from everything, but how would she broach the topic with Anandhan? Heaven knows what he would do. After a few days of deliberation, she found him in a good mood one morning. They had had one of their brief encounters the previous night and she had actually kissed him. “The nuns talked to me the other day,” she opened gingerly. “They are not very happy with me here and they might not renew my contract,” she lied. “There is a vacancy in Pachalur, with a better salary, which would be a good opportunity for me.” “What!” he shot back loudly as his face grew grim and sparks leapt into his eyes. Then just as suddenly, he lowered his head and said, “OK, we will think about it.” Usha concealed her joy as she went about her tasks. Her mother-in-law reacted with an outburst of grief. “You are deserting me? And now what will I do?” But this spell was so short-lived and pretentious that it hardly touched Usha. Her mother-in-law’s mind was on other things. Had she not the custody of much of Usha’s jewellery?

Who wanted to look after a girl child anyway, and the new job would pay more. So they kept to their different ways for the rest of the time they spent under the same roof. The next few weeks were spent sorting out things. Anandhan was cooperative but Usha could feel an animosity that lay smouldering beneath the surface. Anandhan would come up with her and help her settle down. They would then visit each other as often as they could. Anandhan had travelled up to Pachalur once, with the luggage on the back of a jeep he shared with others. Now he was going up with Jasmine and Usha who had to join work the next day. On a crisp February morning, the bus wound up the ghat road with its 14 hairpin bends. The sun reached into the windows in a clear stream; now on one side, from behind, and then it came straight at them through the large front windows as the bus swung into its path. The first set of hairpin bends took them onto a plateau, where the road ran flat, skirting the Parapalar dam and its large lake. Now, they were traversing the higher set of bends. The cool breeze offset the warmth of the sun on their arms, the strong green of the forest turned turquoise among the distant peaks. The faint smell of cut wood and grass wafted in and out. There was something in those hills that sharpened the senses that tethered you to life. The silence between them grew until they both felt it; even Jasmine was unusually quiet. They reached about 11 am and trudged up into the campus. Leaving the hospital on the left, they came behind it to a row of houses. The third one on the left was the one allotted to her.

She looked around the house and put things in place while Jasmine tagged along after her. “Shall I put some rice to boil for lunch?” asked Usha. “I have got to go,” said Anandhan, abruptly getting up from the only chair that the house had. “So soon?” Usha asked. “Yes, there is some urgent work.” So saying, he took up Jasmine in his arms and smiled at both of them. “Now I must go,” he said as he handed over the child to her. “Look after her well,” he added, “and you must come down home, at least once in two weeks.” The next moment, he was out of the door and walking down the path. As Usha leaned against the doorway and looked after him, her eyes overflowed and a tear fell on Jasmine, who looked up at her questioningly. Anandhan turned back once and waved before the hospital buildings hid him from view.