Read Online The Lilac House by Anita Nair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anita Nair
Tags: Fiction, General, Domestic Fiction, Contemporary Women, Cultural Heritage, Widows, College teachers, Bangalore (India)
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like finding fault with her.
‘How can you, Giri? How can you be so nasty? It isn’t done,’ she said when he emerged out of the spell they had initially woven around him. Disenchantment made him acerbic. Odious even.
Giri looked at her as if he couldn’t trust his ears. Meera, his goose girl, telling him that he was wrong. Meera met his stare even though she knew he was hurt. Perhaps she should have flung her arms around him, declaring total allegiance, and whispered in his ear, ‘I know, they are rather hard to live with. They try my patience too!’
But how could she make such an admission of disloyalty? If she was so easily a traitor to her mother and grandmother, one day she would betray him too. Didn’t he see that? But Giri didn’t. Instead, he chose to remain aloof. When Meera went to him, wanting to share a moment of distress triggered by them – a careless word spoken, a thoughtless deed, wounds inflicted carelessly and with little malice, nevertheless painful – when Meera turned to Giri for handholding and comfort, he removed himself from her confusion and hurt. ‘I don’t want to get involved. They are your family. You won’t like it if I say something. Just leave me out of this squabbling. Though civil war would be more appropriate a phrase.’
Only, now, Giri doesn’t feel the need to be civil any more. He can say what he pleases. And if she doesn’t like it, she can stuff it, his tone implies.
And yet, Meera can’t help a fugitive thought from taking residence in her mind. He is here, isn’t he?
Meera waited until the next morning before she mentioned the email. ‘Darling,’ she told Nikhil. ‘Daddy is in Chennai.’
Nikhil looked away. ‘When is he coming home?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.’ Meera looked at her tightly clenched fingers. ‘Time to go to school. We can talk about this later,’ she said, injecting a breeziness into her voice. If she didn’t show how perturbed she was, maybe he wouldn’t be too worried.
Saro and Lily read the email together. They looked at each other without speaking. Then Lily began, ‘I don’t understand why he sounds so trapped…’
‘Is it us, Meera? Are we the reason?’ Saro asked tentatively.
‘I don’t know, Ma, I really don’t understand what’s got into Giri.’ Meera found she couldn’t put on a brave face any more.
‘Call him. Tell him we’ll leave,’ Lily said. ‘He can have the house and you to himself.’
‘We’ll tell him that!’ Saro added.
Meera shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s that. Really. I think he just grew tired of us… this life!’
Lily snorted. ‘He isn’t a four-year-old. He is the father of two children. He has responsibilities.’
Saro put her arm around Meera. ‘I don’t think you should worry too much. It’s just a phase. Most men go through it. Even your daddy did. A few days away, and he’ll back here. You are a good wife, Meera, and he’ll never be able to replace you. Trust me, darling!’
Meera wished she could.
Meera next called Nayantara. How did one tell an adult child about her father’s flight? As a childish bid to escape the monotony
of everyday? But Nayantara snarled into the phone, ‘If this is about Daddy, I already know. He called me late in the night after he reached Chennai. What have you done to him, Mummy? How could you? You were never supportive. That’s why he had to run. You were stifling him. I can see it now….’
Meera clutched the phone to her ear. Her daughter’s voice shrilled through it.
‘He drove from the hotel straight to Chennai that afternoon,’ Nayantara said. ‘He couldn’t bear it any more. He was crying, Mummy. Do you know what it is to hear a man cry? To hear Daddy say again and again – I am sorry, baby, but I had to leave. I didn’t know what else to do… It broke my heart. You did this to him! I can forgive you anything but this. You stole his dignity. You did this to him!’
Meera thought,
‘How can you, Giri? How can you be so nasty? It isn’t done,’ she said when he emerged out of the spell they had initially woven around him. Disenchantment made him acerbic. Odious even.
Giri looked at her as if he couldn’t trust his ears. Meera, his goose girl, telling him that he was wrong. Meera met his stare even though she knew he was hurt. Perhaps she should have flung her arms around him, declaring total allegiance, and whispered in his ear, ‘I know, they are rather hard to live with. They try my patience too!’
But how could she make such an admission of disloyalty? If she was so easily a traitor to her mother and grandmother, one day she would betray him too. Didn’t he see that? But Giri didn’t. Instead, he chose to remain aloof. When Meera went to him, wanting to share a moment of distress triggered by them – a careless word spoken, a thoughtless deed, wounds inflicted carelessly and with little malice, nevertheless painful – when Meera turned to Giri for handholding and comfort, he removed himself from her confusion and hurt. ‘I don’t want to get involved. They are your family. You won’t like it if I say something. Just leave me out of this squabbling. Though civil war would be more appropriate a phrase.’
Only, now, Giri doesn’t feel the need to be civil any more. He can say what he pleases. And if she doesn’t like it, she can stuff it, his tone implies.
And yet, Meera can’t help a fugitive thought from taking residence in her mind. He is here, isn’t he?
Meera waited until the next morning before she mentioned the email. ‘Darling,’ she told Nikhil. ‘Daddy is in Chennai.’
Nikhil looked away. ‘When is he coming home?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.’ Meera looked at her tightly clenched fingers. ‘Time to go to school. We can talk about this later,’ she said, injecting a breeziness into her voice. If she didn’t show how perturbed she was, maybe he wouldn’t be too worried.
Saro and Lily read the email together. They looked at each other without speaking. Then Lily began, ‘I don’t understand why he sounds so trapped…’
‘Is it us, Meera? Are we the reason?’ Saro asked tentatively.
‘I don’t know, Ma, I really don’t understand what’s got into Giri.’ Meera found she couldn’t put on a brave face any more.
‘Call him. Tell him we’ll leave,’ Lily said. ‘He can have the house and you to himself.’
‘We’ll tell him that!’ Saro added.
Meera shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s that. Really. I think he just grew tired of us… this life!’
Lily snorted. ‘He isn’t a four-year-old. He is the father of two children. He has responsibilities.’
Saro put her arm around Meera. ‘I don’t think you should worry too much. It’s just a phase. Most men go through it. Even your daddy did. A few days away, and he’ll back here. You are a good wife, Meera, and he’ll never be able to replace you. Trust me, darling!’
Meera wished she could.
Meera next called Nayantara. How did one tell an adult child about her father’s flight? As a childish bid to escape the monotony
of everyday? But Nayantara snarled into the phone, ‘If this is about Daddy, I already know. He called me late in the night after he reached Chennai. What have you done to him, Mummy? How could you? You were never supportive. That’s why he had to run. You were stifling him. I can see it now….’
Meera clutched the phone to her ear. Her daughter’s voice shrilled through it.
‘He drove from the hotel straight to Chennai that afternoon,’ Nayantara said. ‘He couldn’t bear it any more. He was crying, Mummy. Do you know what it is to hear a man cry? To hear Daddy say again and again – I am sorry, baby, but I had to leave. I didn’t know what else to do… It broke my heart. You did this to him! I can forgive you anything but this. You stole his dignity. You did this to him!’
Meera thought,
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