The Elephant Chaser's Daughter Read online

  Grandmother reacted with a look of sheer disgust, as though she were ready to spit in my face. She didn’t understand that I could have a happy, successful life and a good career outside of Thattaguppe. I wanted her to see that a world of surprises and opportunity existed for me out there. But how could I get her to believe me when neither she nor any of the other women in our family had ever experienced that world for themselves?

  Resentment burned in her eyes as she turned to Grandfather. ‘She doesn’t want to marry our Naresh!’

  Grandfather couldn’t be caught standing by while his wife was being insulted by a family member so young. Shaking a threatening finger in my face, he warned, ‘You look here, girl. You can’t step into our house if you marry someone against our wishes.’

  I gasped. This couldn’t be happening. How could my grandparents threaten to abandon me, especially when Amma was away? Did they not care about me and my happiness? Did they not want to be part of my dreams of a better life for all of us? I could see that Grandfather meant every word he had uttered. And there was no reason to believe my mother would come to my defense, either. She too, I knew, would give in to the societal expectations of obeying elders. After all, if she didn’t, she faced the risk of abandonment by her own parents.

  The thought that I should have a say in my own marriage didn’t seem to cross my grandparents’ minds. It was all about what they wanted—what was good for them, and I was obligated to abide by it. Nothing else seemed to count.

  Grandfather pulled out a tiny steel box containing snuff, something he often did when he needed to calm down. He dipped in the tip of his thumb and index finger to pinch a little powder, and then brought it to his nose for a greedy, deep inhale. Drops of powder clung to his moustache like stranded grains of white pollen.

  My vehemence shocked my grandmother who had made a concerted effort to remain reasonably composed. But now she raised her arms into the air in a gesture of helpless supplication and looked up high as if she were praying to God to put some sense into me. Finally she stared straight at me and angrily demanded that I follow my elders’ wishes. ‘This is the way of our family and every family in the village. Every girl must follow it,’ Grandmother intoned, as if she were trying to educate me, as if these were things I had failed to learn, having left home at the age of four.

  I stared furiously at the two people I had loved so dearly. They were parents to me in Appa’s and Amma’s absence. But now, they didn’t seem to care. My feelings of disconnect from my family grew piercing.

  But I refused to give up. ‘Aunt Maria married the man you chose for her, and look what happened.’ I barreled onward without stopping to catch my breath. ‘So many times she has come running here after getting beaten up by her husband. She tried to hang herself. Is that what you want for me?’

  My voice betrayed my desperation. I chose my words as carefully as possible and kept my head bowed submissively but I knew I didn’t sound respectful enough. In a world where grandparents deserved nothing short of reverence, girls just couldn’t talk like this. My spirits continued to sink.

  ‘Yes, we were the ones who chose her partner,’ Grandfather said. ‘And because she obeyed us, we are always there for her.’

  ‘Every time your aunt is beaten,’ Grandmother added, ‘we take her into our house and comfort her. Because she listened to us and married according to our wishes, we will never abandon her.’

  ‘I don’t want to marry Mama, or any other man.’ I was feeling trapped and afraid. ‘I see Amma and Appa fighting every day. I hate it.’

  ‘Just because they fight doesn’t mean everybody does. Do Thatha and I fight?’

  I thought for a moment. My grandparents hardly ever fought, except when they argued about surmounting debts.

  Suddenly Grandmother softened. ‘You are special. You are different. I always thought you would be the lamp to brighten my dark house.’

  I was moved by her kind words, but already knew my family saw me differently from other girls in the village. Her praise did little to change my mind.

  Hearing my grandparents talk about marrying me off to my uncle as casually as they would discuss a sudden rise in vegetable prices in the market made it clear my education meant nothing to them. They couldn’t see its value, especially since I was a girl. In their view, family responsibilities as a wife and a mother were more important than the free, unchained life I wanted to create for myself out of my education.

  With forced politeness I excused myself and struggled out of the room. The fresh air outside was a relief from the suffocating feeling inside. I stood for a few moments watching the sun set behind the dark hills, leaving a vanishing film of bright colors. I wanted to return to the safety of the life I had beyond those hills.

  ‘Akka, come here,’ Kavya called out, yanking me back to the present. She and Devya were gathering into a bucket cakes of cow dung that had been strewn on the road. I went to her struggling to mask my distress with a smile. I yearned to confide in her, but knew she was too young to understand.

  Devya was busy pouring water into the bucket Kavya had brought to her, stirring the fresh dung with her bare hands before splashing it onto the ground. It was the way floors were disinfected in village huts. I sat by the roadside on a boulder and watched them enjoy the simple pleasures of village life. Kavya found joy in almost everything she did: chasing dragonflies by the lake, learning how to drape a sari, or playing ‘Mother’ to the little children who lived on our lane. Humor was always a part of her, her musical laughter ringing out everywhere, delighting everyone.

  Once the initial shock wore off, I began to look at this marriage proposal with detachment. Marrying me to my uncle involved no dowry from the girl’s family. I would be anchored at home to look after others in their old age, and my children would grow up with not just the care and love of their parents, but also that of their grandparents and great-grandparents. My mother might have feared that, just as I had left her at the age of four to go to school, I would once again go off on a path of my own, away from her and the rest of the family. Marriage within the family could ensure that I would remain with her for the rest of her life.

  ‘Will you take care of me when I’m old?’ I remembered Grandmother asking me once. I didn’t realize then that she was asking whether I would fulfill my expected role—not just as a granddaughter, but as her future daughter-in-law too.

  I had replied confidently, ‘Of course, I will. You have nothing to fear.’

  She was very pleased and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

  Now, I understood clearly what she was expecting. The thought of living with the family and taking care of her in her old age in that way had not previously crossed my mind. I had, of course, often looked forward to a time when I could take care of my grandmother, but my plans had not included spending my entire life in the village.

  I had always known that, in villages, girls typically end their educations early to get married. Because every family struggles economically, strong financial pressure exists to give girls away as soon as possible to men who take over the responsibility of supporting them. Having a grown-up girl sitting idle at home only invites unwanted rumors and the attention of undesirable men. Even talking to a boy in the neighborhood was viewed poorly. Every time an unwelcome incident took place, the girl was labeled as promiscuous and loose, and was blamed for bringing dishonor to the family. Marriage, especially for girls, is something parents and grandparents decide. If ever a girl went against their wishes, she wouldn’t have a place in the family.

  Though the idea of marrying someone so closely related was appalling to my schoolmates and me, it was hardly unheard of. Several of my classmates had been subjected to similar arrangements in their own families. During vacation from school, Sunita, then only nine years old, was told by her family that she was to marry her cousin Ram. Child marriage was not unusual in poor villages. The school intervened, and Ms. Ruth assured her that a school official would speak to her parents. She wo
uld not have to get married so early, and not to a close relative.

  In another instance, one of the senior girls was often left alone at home with her slightly older cousin during vacations. When she complained the cousin was making sexual advances, her mother dismissed it, saying, ‘Why does it matter? He is the one who is going to marry you.’ Unable to receive help from anyone in her own family, this girl told Mrs. Law, and someone from the school’s management immediately called her parents and spoke to them. The thought that I, too, was now facing a similar situation frightened and embarrassed me.

  Aunt Maria stopped by the house that evening to talk to me. She tried to soothe me, saying, ‘We always thought our niece would become our sister-in-law and stay with us instead of leaving after marriage.’ It was clear my grandparents had already spoken to her about my reaction.

  I shook my head and replied with teenage intransigence, ‘I don’t want to marry anyone. I want to study.’

  I was not hungry that night. I took a small serving of rice and curry, unlike my usual large helpings, and ate in silence. My stomach knotted in anger and resentment when Uncle Naresh settled down next to me and tried to make small talk as usual. Until now I had not minded his attentiveness but that night I wished he would disappear from my life. Seeing that he seemed his usual happy self, I knew my grandparents hadn’t told him about our conversation. Probably they were afraid of hurting him, especially since they were the ones who had planted the idea of this marriage in his head. I dreaded how he would react when he heard what had transpired that day.

  I lay awake for a long time that night. Grandmother’s presence beside me was no comfort. I didn’t put my arm around her and hug her tightly as I usually did. Instead, I lay listening to the sounds around me: Grandfather’s funny-sounding snores, a lonely donkey braying outside, the clinking of bangles around Kavya’s wrists, and all the familiar noises that wove into the calm of the night.

  Not too long after this day, I was sitting on the floor with my back against the foot of the wooden cot upon which my uncle was lying. We were watching television together. Uncle Christraj had only recently purchased the set from his first month’s salary for his work as a car mechanic in a shop outside the village.

  There was no one in the house except the two of us. Grandmother was outside having one of her regular gossip sessions with the village midwife who lived across the road. Grandfather and Uncle Christraj had not yet returned from work. Kavya and Francis were away at play.

  Suddenly, the power went out and the room went dark. Hardly a minute had passed before I felt strong hands press down on my collarbones in a tightening grip. I felt my uncle’s cheek gently rubbing against mine. His moustache tickled me as he slowly traced the side of my face with his lips. I then felt his lips moving from my cheek to my mouth. I froze. Again, his hands squeezed my shoulders as though to prevent me from moving as he placed a warm kiss on the corner of my mouth.

  My body turned numb. The sound of his heavy breathing overtook all my senses. I couldn’t think.

  Suddenly a streak of light shot through the room. He quickly pulled away and settled in his original position on the cot. I looked up to see Devya standing at the door with a kerosene lamp in her hand.

  I exhaled with relief. I didn’t know whether I was more anxious or ashamed. For the moment, I just hoped Devya hadn’t seen us. I didn’t know what she would think.

  Scrambling up from the floor, I darted into the kitchen where Devya had already started cutting vegetables for dinner. Not able to handle the knife, I gave up trying to help her. I sat staring blankly into space, my heart pounding and my mind racing.

  I was scared to tell Grandmother, knowing she would scold me for spinning stories about her favorite son. Talking about him behind his back would be a form of betrayal in her eyes. Family secrets were family secrets.

  To add to my troubles at home, I had been feeling unsafe out in the village. Each time I went to the market with Kavya, the two men I had previously seen hanging around would follow us. They would find a moment to come close and try to strike up a conversation. Sometimes they offered to buy me good clothes if I went with them. I would immediately turn away and race back home, afraid of what they might do.

  Everything in the village now felt uncertain and dangerous, and I couldn’t wait to return to the sanctity of my school.

  I don’t know when I fell asleep on the last night of the holidays, but I was glad to wake up to Grandmother’s call to get dressed quickly or we’d miss the early morning bus to Shanti Bhavan.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE PRICE OF BETRAYAL

  Grandmother stared out the bus window, silent on the long ride back to school. It was very unlike her, but things had turned icy between us and we both felt it. I was relieved when the bus slowed abruptly as it reached the sharp bend leading to Shanti Bhavan. I put my head out the window and drew in a deep breath of the morning air.

  The summer heat had been hard that year, turning fields and grounds into dry wasteland. Except for scanty patches of grass on which cattle were feeding, there was very little sign of life. Even the lake that usually filled with the monsoons was empty of water.

  Grandmother and I got out of the bus along with a few other families who were also returning to Shanti Bhavan. We walked through the gates and headed straight to the dining hall. On the way, I looked up to stare at the line of colorful flags with the Shanti Bhavan emblem swaying in the breeze. The flags had been hoisted as a proud ‘welcome back’.

  I caught sight of Aunty Shalini moving among the crowd of parents, trying hard to give equal attention to all those who were swarming around her eager to update her on how things were at home and to thank her for looking after their children. While Grandmother joined the crowd, I sat quietly at a table, playing idly with my spoon.

  The hall was now filled with the sound of crying children begging to be taken home, and anxious parents explaining that they would be back soon. By now I had figured out the trick of the grown-ups—making promises not meant to be kept.

  Just then Aunty Shalini and Grandmother walked over to my table. ‘How are you, Mummy?’ I asked, standing up instantly and giving Aunty Shalini a kiss on her cheek.

  ‘I am fine, darling,’ she replied warmly.

  This one word of affection from her made me forgive every instance of harshness with which she had treated me in the past. She had some sort of power over me, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t resist it.

  ‘How are you? How were your holidays?’ Aunty Shalini enquired in Kannada.

  In Grandmother’s powerful presence I knew better than to burst out with everything that had happened over summer break.

  ‘She was very happy at home, Madam. We had no problem. She didn’t fall sick,’ Grandmother answered for me.

  ‘Did she stay with you for the entire time? How are her parents?’ Aunty Shalini asked.

  ‘Her grandfather and I looked after her for the summer. Her mother calls once a month and her father comes to see the children whenever he can.’

  Aunty Shalini seemed pleased. She told Grandmother to advise me to work hard and be respectful to my elders. ‘Last semester she was better, but she can still improve,’ Aunty Shalini said, referring to recent moderations in my temperament. All the aunties seemed to have noticed that my stubbornness and aggression had mellowed.

  After Aunty Shalini moved on to the next parent, Grandmother turned to me. ‘I don’t want them complaining about you anymore. Be a good girl. Pray to Jesus and he will guide you.’

  I assured her I would. ‘Grandmother, tell Kavya and Devya that I will be home soon,’ I said. ‘Please tell Francis to study hard.’ I felt terribly sad about having come away without saying goodbye. They were fast asleep when I left home that morning, and all I could do was pray silently to God to look after them. For some reason, I felt sad for them.

  I kissed Grandmother on both cheeks and she drew the sign of the cross on my forehead with a slow movement of her hand, reciting a prayer
under her breath. For the first time, my eyes were dry as I watched her walk away.

  I felt relieved to be free of everyone in my family, and there was nothing more important now than to find my best friend Sheena. It took me a while, but I finally caught sight of her talking to her classmate, Avnith, and his parents who were seated on the lawn outside. She was laughing at something Avnith’s father was saying. She seemed to have moved on from being consumed by self-pity. And instead of staying back in the dorm and crying when we all returned with our parents, she was mingling with her friends and their families. I knew how hard those moments might have been for her, but I was glad that she had turned strong enough to cope with them.

  ‘Why didn’t I get a family like you?’ Sheena had once asked me. I had no answer. I couldn’t explain why some were born rich and others poor and hungry or why children like Sheena had to grow up alone, never knowing why they had been abandoned.

  I called out to Sheena. Catching sight of me, she waved excitedly. I made my way quickly through the crowd. ‘Sheena!’ I squealed as we embraced each other tightly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I am well. I missed you so much,’ she said.

  I couldn’t control my tears. The joy of being back at school with my best friend was overwhelming. Sheena mistook my tears for homesickness and hugged me again. I collected myself and calmed down.

  I wanted to hear about her holiday and the trips she had made to the city with the staff, but I couldn’t wait to tell her my news first. As we walked towards our dorm, I turned to her. ‘Sheena, I don’t know what to do. I am so scared. My family wants me to marry my uncle after I finish tenth grade.’

  ‘Your uncle?’ Sheena said, shocked but retaining her characteristic calm. ‘That’s crazy.’ Even in challenging moments, she always managed to rise above while I sank into a bundle of nerves. ‘You have to tell Aunty Shalini and Mrs. Law immediately.’