

The

Music Box

Rina Dass

Copyright © 2015Rina Dass

All rights reserved.

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Udita APT# 060904, 1050/1 Survey Park, Kolkata - 700075

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, organizations and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved by author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. Published by author.

The views expressed in this book are entirely those of the author. The printer/publisher, and distributors of this book are not in any way responsible for the views expressed by the author in this book. All disputes are subject to arbitration; legal actions if any are subject to the jurisdictions of courts of Kolkata, India.

ISBN: 978-93-84923-70-9

First Published: May 2015

Price:`309/-

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### Contents

PROLOGUE 7

THE JOURNEY 8

ANJOLI'S STORY 55

Interlude 106

SURESH'S STORY 108

BELA'S STORY 132

GOPAL'S STORY 177

Journey's End 209

Epilogue 213

This book is for you Ma

#  PROLOGUE

Anjoli held the music box in her hand and watched the gilded cover glitter in the sunshine. Nothing that she had received could give her as much happiness as this childhood gift . Just holding the box gave her a thrill. It was solely for her listening pleasure, for her to treasure, keep for a life time.

There was a time when Anjoli had lent this most precious box to a person she loved dearly. The box had found its way back to her though the journey had been clouded with tears and sadness. The young girl was lost in the mist of the past but the music continued to delight the others who came afterwards. It could work the same magic of soothing troubled hearts, the tune never grew old.

Through the years it had lost its sheen and gloss but as soon as the lid was opened, the music worked its joyful wonder. It was as if this beloved box with its enchanting melody contained the joy and wonder of life flowing in abundance, of beauty and grace that existed even in the darkest hours of the night.
PART ONE

# THE JOURNEY
Chapter 1

I pressed the door bell with the usual three long and two short rings, my signature tune for Dida to answer the door. I braced myself for a longish wait as it was Dida's siesta time, it took her a while to come up to the entrance. The door was opened so quickly that I almost toppled over. Didn't need much guessing that it was Ma waiting on the other side.

"Where's Dida?" Unable to hold my curiosity I asked in the same breath, "Didn't go to the office, did you?"

As we walked in to the kitchen, one wave of the maternal hand was signal enough to lower my voice.

"We went to the visa office and by the time the interview was over, it was too late to go back to work. Since I had no idea how long it would take I had planned to take the day off. Do try to speak softly. Don't wake Dida up, she has had a long day and is resting."

"Hmmh. . . .What's for tea?"

My mother pushed a plate of sandwiches, they were from the same lot that had been packed for our school lunch. Before I could register any complaint my mother had taken refuge in her bedroom and closed the door with a finality that brooked no interference.

Gulping down the sandwiches I made my way to Dida's bedroom. Dida and I are fighting a war regarding privacy. Now that I am sixteen, I can express my views about reserving the rights to admission. As far as Dida was concerned these civilities are not meant for her. I pushed aside the curtain to find Dida resting but not dozing.

"Hey Dida did you get the visa?"

"Millie don't you think you need to knock, to announce your arrival. Not just barge in." remarked Dida.

"Oh come on now, you must be dying to tell me what happened."

Dida was never one to let go of the chance to pay me back in my own coin so she made me wait for a couple of minutes before she took off on her day's adventure.

Before proceeding further with Dida's trials to get the visa I should present a dossier on my family members.

We are a family of six, my father's parents, my parents and my brother and I. My grandparents have always lived with us and it is really difficult to imagine life without them. This made it easier and convenient for everyone including my parents as Dida is always there to keep a vigilant eye on us. Dada is one of those reserved old gentlemen who help you with intellectual activities but isn't too good dealing with what I consider "Life". Younger brothers are generally an inferior order of humanity, mine is no exception. Football and cricket are his major interests followed by how to wreck my entire life. My parents are I guess like most parents, can't do without them but really wish they would grow up and move with the times!

Dida has always been very special because she is so unpredictable, with a nose that can smell trouble before others get a whiff of it. One can never predict her reactions or responses but on our behalf she can drive a good bargain not only with my parents but find a solution to the trickiest of situations. She is more with the times than a lot of adults I have met and that is saying a lot.

Dida has a daughter Usha, my aunt, who according to family history, is so bright and brilliant that she went off to the higher halls of learning in the West and never returned to her homeland. Currently she lives with her family in USA. Our aunt and family do the occasional India holiday but such trips are few and far apart. We remain more as faces in the family album. My aunt had invited my grandparents to visit with her family but you know how it is, never seemed to happen. As for us we had to be content with vacations in India. No chances of our joining the jet set, zooming off to exotic shores or rubbing shoulders with Hollywood celebrities!

This time my aunt was very insistent that her parents should visit USA. Dida decided that she would take up her daughter's offer. Of course there were the usual family councils on whether Dida who had never gone abroad could be trusted to fly half way across the world.

Angered by this sexist attitude, she resolved, there and then that she would prove all the men in her family wrong. Once her mind was made up, she would travel or die!

Dida very often discusses her plans with me because she feels that I am more informed than my parents who are only clued in to corporate business. Any conversation with Raja, my brother is limited to grunts and hunger pangs. Consulting me is one of Dida's limited options. She accepts that I am the face of modern youth and my parents will soon become outdated!

The two of us had discussed this issue and resolved that it would be very demeaning if she couldn't tackle Mission USA. The first step towards accomplishing the journey was to obtain a visa. I had heard the most horrific stories of trying to get a visa to the promised land of Indian dreams. Dida had managed to overcome the first hurdle. In my opinion that was commendable.

Dida answered in a long suffering, weary tone, "Oh! I spent hours standing in the hot sun, without a drop of water, waiting for the queue to unwind its way in to the consulate."

"Is that all you can remember," I said.

"How can I remember with my brains on a slow sizzle in the hot sun? All I wanted was to sit under the shade and ease my tired legs. They should provide a separate enclosure for senior citizens. If I had to wait any longer I would have collapsed."

"How did you answer all the questions that the Americans asked you?"

Dida at her self -righteous best, sat up immediately and spoke in her haughtiest tones, "I was taught to speak English in school so don't sit there, making monkey faces at me."

"Ok did the man speak to you in English or American?"

"Not a man but a lady. She did have to repeat herself though as her accent wasn't quite what I'm used to. Let me remind you before it escapes my mind, I didn't need a translator like many others including some men."

"Did she ask you any tricky questions?"

"Not really. I guess she was getting tired of the long line of applicants. But she wanted to know why your Dada wasn't accompanying me. Even a foreigner thinks that a husband should escort his wife. Certainly your Dada doesn't consider that, does he? Now that the visa has been granted I guess I really have to go."

Dada had made it clear right from the beginning, that he was not leaving his native shores no matter what golden land lay across the oceans. "I have had enough of travelling in my life. I refuse to suffer the lumpiness of strange beds, the indignity of body searches and the upside down body clock of jet lag any more. At my age I need my creature comforts. My home is my castle."

If Dida wanted to go places she would have to do it on her own steam. My eligibility as a tour companion and guide was neither mentioned or considered.

"Are you still undecided, I thought the entire family would now have to acknowledge your superior will power? Ma isn't going to let you hear the end of it after having taken the day off from work to drop you at the consulate."

"Hmm decisions, decisions. I need to think things out. Mira will be hard pushed to balance both the office as well as the home. The first person to complain will be Miss Gourmet Palate."

"Are you referring to me? Don't forget your dear husband and son, their delicate digestive systems are unmatched in this world! I can try to survive on junk food and as far as Raja is concerned quantity keeps him going."

There was a rustle of the newspaper followed by a timely barb from Dada "The visa was only a talking point. It is time Anjoli accepted that being a queen bee in the kitchen doesn't qualify her to fly across the seven seas."

Nothing could have got Dida going faster. She was hopping mad and she swept out with a derisive glance.

"Dada, your evening tea will be laced with arsenic," I said making a hasty exit.

It never helps to be a peacemaker in the marital discords of oldies. The dinner table would be where the real battle would be fought and conceded.

Dida was a bit preoccupied but there was no discussion about the visa. Dinner was just the ordinary weekday affair with the gripes and groans about everybody's daily drudgery.

A week was over, Dida's lack of initiative had made me lose interest. Just as I had settled down in front of the computer to do some serious online chatting, Dida knocked, actually waited before coming inside. Repeated reminders paid in the long run. Dida was also falling into line.

"Come in and hurry up I'm on the computer and online."

Slipping in silently, Dida asked me if I could help her to mail my aunt. Dida is enthusiastic about all new gadgets and keen to use them. Unfortunately it ends up as a do or die contest between humans and machines and she does make a bad loser! It is surprising how the kitchen gadgets accept her superiority but she is convinced that the other tools have a personal grudge against her.

All through the years that my aunt has lived abroad, the post had carried weekly bulletins about the home and country. She had relied faithfully on the postal services of all nations and they had tried not to fail her but like most deliveries they were uncertain in their arrival. Dida's life changed when the internet with its irresistible speed infiltrated our household. It was instant gratification. Dida was eager to master this machine no matter how long it took her. No one in the house wanted to teach her, as it was a grim session of hammering away at the same set of instructions. Though most days I was ready to give up in despair, Dida's tenacity was unflagging. The training was coming along at a slow pace so more often than not I was her scribe.

Dida spoke softly." Could you mail your aunt to tell her that she should send the necessary details?"

"You've decided. So when are you going?"

"No need to stare so hard. I'm definitely old enough to know my mind. Do you ever take me seriously? Soon you will learn I mean what I say."

This was her usual dialogue, delivered to all mankind when they failed to heed her ultimatums or dire warnings.

" Is this for real?" I asked not quite believing her.

"Why do you think I've come now? I know that this is the time you chat with your friends and no one can disturb you. Ask Usha to email at the earliest."

"No one! Say that again. I am at every one's beck and call. I'm bonded labour. Except for Raja everyone in the family doesn't even blink a wink if they need my services."

My message got an immediate response "Am thrilled. I shall call back as soon as possible."

"No,' said Dida, "Ask her to mail details. I'll inform every one after it has been fixed."

"I don't think that is right. You need to let the rest of the family know in advance. Schedules will need to be reorganized."

"You follow my instructions. Leave me to manage the rest."

Not being in a mood for arguments, I completed the task to find that she had already left my room.

My aunt mailed all the information in the next ten days. Accordingly I relayed the data to Dida, the rest was her business not mine.

Weekday breakfast times are not when the family is at its best as each one of us is grappling mentally with the day looming ahead. Today we were all running late. Conversation mode was not welcome. Not an auspicious time, to spring surprises, as her newspaper horoscope would have advised. Dida had her own reasons and the news was out. Early in the morning every one's brains are on standby. I sneaked a quick look at the family but nothing showed on their faces.

Ma was the first to react, "No offers, no notice and you are ready to leave!" Everyone looked blankly but Dad seemed to have understood.

He patted Ma's hand and said "Mira, Ma is talking about her visit and you are already in the office trying to get the staff to accept a revised contract about the pay package."

We knew that my mother had a difficult week ahead in the office as some of the staff was threatening to go on strike if their demands were not accepted. The last few days she had been discussing strategies with the men in the house. The tension was too much, she wanted the crisis to be over. Ma apologized immediately but I wondered if the significance of Dida's travel dates had sunk in.

Generally Dada is silent during breakfast, as the newspapers are priority reading, he remarked sharply, "Your experience is limited to haggling with shopkeepers. Anjoli do you have any idea about the complexities of mediating with office unions? Is this the time to bring up such trivial issues?"

Dida wasn't to be put off so easily, "All of you should know well ahead to plan your appointments and meetings without blaming me afterwards."

Before any more comments could be made, Raja said, "Dad we are late, traffic is going to be bad. I'll barely be in time for my geography exam. Come on, hurry up!" Everyone made a beeline for the door while Dida looked a bit upset. The keyword was action; now that the departure dates had been notified.

By the time I was back from school the telephone appeared to have been welded to Dida's ears, the news was being passed along to family, friends and foes. Tea time was when we exchanged notes; I filled in with what had happened at school and heard the neighbourhood gossip. Since Dida was busy with a proclamation about her overseas odyssey I looked for Dada. Waving wildly and taking a minute off the line, I was told that he had gone out for the day. Guess he must have tired of the phone ringing and had left to find peace in a quieter household. After several minutes, Dida seemed to have finished informing the inner circle of family and friends, the ones who were on the VIP calling list. Others could wait, by tomorrow it would have percolated to all and sundry.

"Your morning newscast didn't have the expected impact, did it?"

"I didn't want to upset anyone at the start of the day but needed to get over with it. Now that the itinerary is almost ready I'll be honest, I'm feeling a bit nervous. Your Dada is right, it is a long way to go. I haven't travelled much. I don't know whether I'll be able to make the trip on my own.'

My heart went out to her as she looked a bit unsure and wistful, so unlike, her usual confident self. Hugging her tightly, I said, "Come on, you can do it. If astronauts can circle outer space, you can do almost the same, flying across the globe. Let us wait and hear what Dad has to say about your travel plans."

Dida still looked a bit apprehensive but I hoped she would convince herself to go through with the trip.

The next few days saw a heavy influx of family and friends. You couldn't have guessed the number of world travellers we knew. Of course most of them had not ventured beyond the limits of the city but there was always someone's third cousin or uncle who had flown across the continents in seven days and was waiting impatiently to take the first passenger rocket to the moon. All our conversation now revolved around luggage allowances, clothes and gifts. As the days went by Dida was getting more worked up. She kept on asking Ma if she would be able to run the house on her own.

When she thought we were not within hearing distance she would ask Dada if he would be comfortable in her absence. Dada was very patient with her unlike his usual taciturn self. He reassured her, saying just what she wanted to hear, "We are going to miss you but we will survive."

Disbelief instead of smiles greeted the news that Dida's visit would be for sixteen weeks.

"I didn't know I would be away for so long." she wailed.

Neither did we. It seemed an awful long time for us too. Dad explained that her ticket was valid for four months so she might as well make the most of it. Dida was a bit confused by it all and looked at us accusingly as if we were trying to bundle her for eternity in to outer space.

Dada had the last word, "Anjoli it is time that you got to know Usha's family. Who knows you might want to extend your visit."

There was a long silence as Dida tried to figure out the implications of leaving home sweet home for four long months. She didn't appear too comfortable but kept her fears to herself.

The time arrived to get Dida outfitted. Ma kept dragging out all the bags that we possessed. Nothing seemed to meet Dida's requirements while Ma was ready to quit in despair. Obviously there was no case large enough for her clothes and gifts that she wanted to carry. Ma was not up to the daily task of packing and unpacking as Dida required Ma's presence while she endlessly rearranged stuff. One day Ma just packed the suitcase, locked it, stowed it away from Dida's restless hands. Dida looked longingly at the suitcase but didn't have the courage to ask again. She knew Ma's patience had been tried to the breaking point.

Her bags were packed, her tickets were bought, she was ready to fly and the waiting was killing everyone. Endless litanies of do's and don'ts plagued us day and night. All of us had arrived at the stage where ear plugs no longer seemed an option but a necessity.

Mercifully it occurred to Dida that her internet lessons were incomplete. We had agreed that Dida would stay in touch via email. It would only be possible if she could handle the computer independently. Strangely enough Dida's typing skills were not bad though a trifle rusty. It seems that there had been cause for her to learn to type. Now she settled down to learning what she thought was a complicated technical training of using "Word" to send mail. Remembering the password always eluded her so she wrote it down on bits and pieces of paper, only to lose them promptly. By the time she was ready to leave she could find her way in cyberspace.

D Day arrived. Dida was stressed out and fidgety but she put on a brave front. All of us went to the airport to see her off, Dida had fallen strangely silent. Dad seemed to be looking around for some one. He hurried towards a young lady who was encircled by a sea of well wishers who were trying in one breath to say good bye as well as give her a whole bunch of advice. This young lady and her son a toddler were going to USA to join her husband. They would be the escort service.

It was time for Dida to join the long line of passengers to go through all the checkpoints before she boarded the plane. We were all feeling a bit overwrought and worked up when Raja held on to Dida like an infant and kept on repeating, "You are coming back, aren't you." Dad had to extricate him out from the folds of Dida's sari. We needed to leave before it became an all round embarrassment. Dada kept looking back for as long as he could while Dida marched off resolutely trying to keep her fellow passengers in view. All the excitement was over and we were a pretty silent lot that made the journey homeward.

The phone bell ringing in the wee hours of morning heralded Dida's safe arrival in the land of cattle and oil. Given the time of the morning, the call didn't last for long as everyone tried to snatch the last bit of sleep before the day began. Time was ticking for the mail to flood my inbox.

I waited patiently for Dida to reset her body clock and may be try her hand at the computer. It took her about two weeks to get started. As expected, the first few attempts were brief and interspersed with typos. In a few days more, the trickle became a steady stream of news from across the oceans.
Chapter 2

Dear Millie,

Flight too tiring and long. Your dad has a trusting nature. It worked the other way round. I was the escort as they were travelling first time too. Boy was a handful ran up and down the aisles. I didn't have to worry about dying of a blood clot on a long flight. The brat kept me jumping every few seconds, while he dodged food carts and other passengers. The mother was too busy getting sick or catching up on her sleep. I was glad when I stepped out in USA, free of their company. Next time will attempt journey unaided.

Dida

This is what I liked about Dida, her enterprising spirit put her several notches higher than many elderly people who were too scared to experiment. Hardly had she recovered from one international flight and within a few days she was planning the next one.

Short bursts of news came my way as Dida wrestled with the whole process of mailing and looking for the password. Praise rather than criticism was the need of the hour. Lines for communication had to be kept open. Practice would help hone Dida's computer skills.

It is for totally selfish reasons that I needed to be in touch with Dida. She is one of the few adults who did not carry tales, respected my opinions and would not interfere unless the situation got out of hand.

Dear Dida,

I hope you are over the jet lag and the journey. We aren't doing too badly, managing to meet deadlines. We have a new cook who is trying hard to please all of us. How are you getting along with Samir and Reva? They must be happy to have you spend time with them. Raja is keen to know if Samir is a basketball fan.

Next week is the annual school fest, I want to stay over at Dana's house. But in another ten days it will be Dana's birthday and she has invited me for a sleep over. What do you think will be Ma's reaction? Which is the better option? Mail asap.

We are missing you.

Love

Millie

Dear Millie,

Usha has set up a computer for my personal use. According to her it is no big deal. It took some time to remember all that you had taught me. Thank you for all your efforts as they are being put to good use.

I am gradually getting to know Usha's family. Samir and Reva are well mannered kids and try to spend time with me. They have a packed day with several activities after school hours. Samir is preparing for exams necessary for college admissions. Reva is a quiet girl, keeps to herself. Usha and her husband Sudeep work long hours, much like your parents. I have a lot of time to myself and do miss all of you.

If you had to live here you would love their sense of privacy. The bedroom doors are always closed. No entry without knocking!

Your mother will not allow two sleepovers and neither would I. Try your luck with Dana's birthday rather than the school day.

Has your Dada been getting the letters that I have been sending by post? Why don't you try and get him to email me.

Dida

Gradually Dida was settling down in her new home. She seemed to be meeting a lot of my aunt's Indian friends and their families but there wasn't too much news about my cousins. My aunt entertained quite a bit and Dida was happy to exhibit her culinary skills. She had complained in one of her letters that no one ate lunch at home, she too was getting used to eating sandwiches. Weekends saw her cooking to feed an army, the company and activity made her happy. At home, there is always an unending stream of family and friends. Dida enjoyed the chatter and laughter of people, old or young.

Dida's emails were coming with great regularity. The visit was going according to expectations.

Dear Millie,

I have travelled thousands of miles but I've hardly had the opportunity to meet the native inhabitants of this country. All I meet are Indians like Usha and her family. I'm very curious to know how the locals live. The Americans are not to be found anywhere on the streets; as a matter of fact hardly any of them can be seen outdoors. Only unending lines of cars speed up and whoosh down the highways, disappearing in to the horizon.

Usha told me that she would take me to the malls if I wanted to see people. She expected that I would enjoy the open spaces and the freedom of moving without being knocked or pushed around at every corner.

When I told her that I wanted to meet an American family she was at her wit's end. Indians are a part of my life, but the only Americans I see are on the TV and that is no way to know people. The surroundings are so similar to the those in American shows that are aired in India. Neatly mown lawns, gleaming houses, big cars but no people walking around!

Finally I decided to take matters in my own hand. Usha's neighbours are a young American couple with two toddlers. They wave and greet me if they see me but there is no conversation of any kind. One afternoon while out in the back yard I saw Beth playing with her children. I called out to her and introduced myself. Beth was slightly unsure but warmed up after a few more exchanges across the fence.

Usha has a very long list of what the Americans like and don't like. People are the same all over the world but she is more than particular to maintain the social norms. It is better not to tell Usha about my conversations with her neighbour. In India I know almost all the residents in our building. Social interaction is limited to weekends as none of their friends live close by.

Most of my life I have lived in a crowded city. Too much of wide open spaces make me feel lost and lonely. I must confess that I miss the dust blown in by the summer storms, the shrill blare of cars, buses and trucks pressing on recklessly, regardless of safety. The hundred and one smells and sounds that remind me of home.

Dida

Dida's friendliness paid off and Beth invited Dida for coffee. All those over the garden fence chats made Dida feel at home with Beth's family. It came as welcome news that Beth had gone back to college after she had the two kids. Dida was all for education, improving one's self, as women of her generation had lacked the courage and faith to look beyond the threshold of their homes .

Beth's life was very hectic and Dida wondered if Beth's mother or mother in law could lend her a helping hand.

One day she couldn't help but ask, "Do your parents and parents in law live in another city?"

By now Beth had got used to Dida's way of speaking. Earlier she felt a bit uncomfortable with too many personal questions but she realized that they were not only from two diverse cultures but also far apart in age. Luckily Beth was easy going and friendly and Dida's queries were not misunderstood.

"Yes. Mrs. Basu our families live in other towns and it is difficult for any one of them to come and help us out. Unless it is an emergency we wouldn't like to bother any one of them. I don't think that my parents would be comfortable staying too long with me."

"Well" said Dida, "we stay with our son and his family as we would not find it easy to live by ourselves. Though there can be problems, in our case, the arrangement has suited all of us. My daughter in law also works. I would like to believe that she is able to leave her home and children in our care, with greater peace of mind."

"An extra pair of hands are always welcome but you know we guard our independence very strongly. At the same time I don't know how well I would cope with others interfering in my life."

"Hmm, you call it interfering but we consider it our duty to do whatever we can for our children."

Some of Dida's statements made Beth feel that Indian society was too tradition bound and family oriented but she agreed that people were the same all over the world. The two women, old and young had not only struck a rapport but she was well liked by Ann and Sam. Dida would keep an eye on the kids while Beth was busy with her chores.

At times Dida's English ran in to problems with the kids but they managed and enjoyed her company. Dida listened carefully to the rhymes and songs that Ann learnt in school and sang along with them. Dida's family had been comforted by her lullabies and loved to hear her sing. Her songs could cast a spell, wipe away their tears and make them smile.

There were days when day care or babysitters weren't available and Beth had a tough time managing the kids and her classes. Dida had suggested that she would only be too happy to look after them. Beth had an open mind about the offer.

Usha had to be informed before any arrangements could be made. Beth felt that it was better if Dida sorted it out with Usha. She said, "Mrs. Basu, I don't know your daughter very well so it would be better for you to clear it with her."

Dida felt that Usha would have no objections about being helpful and neighbourly. The moment Usha heard it she was ready to hit the ceiling.

"How could you plan like this behind my back? What will every one think about me? Why do you need to do a nanny's job? You are here on a vacation. Would you behave this way at home? Can the children understand your English! This isn't India, people here are more particular."

Dida was nonplussed by Usha's flare up. She believed that Usha would welcome the spirit of enterprise and goodwill. Instead she was up in arms.

"Beth genuinely needs help. Managing her kids will not be a problem. She is comfortable about leaving the children in my care. It gives me something to do as I'm by myself during the day. Why should that upset you?"

"This is not India where people aren't fussy and are casual in their approach. Should any of those kids get a scratch or a bruise Beth will not hesitate to sue you. If there is an emergency, a bad accident will you be able to deal with the situation? You can't drive. You know nothing about how the systems work here. How could you agree without first discussing it with me?"

Dida was slightly alarmed at the mention of lawsuits as by now she had heard enough about lawyers and compensations. Anyways most of the TV reality shows were about losing and winning money.

Usha made babysitting sound like a high security job for the president of USA. Dida had seen some of the babysitters who came to care for the next door kids. She wondered if those teenagers ever heard anything as their ears were permanently plugged with earphones or their attention riveted on their phone screens. If Beth's children could survive those babysitters they were definitely safer in Dida's care.

"I think I am experienced and old enough to manage Ann and Sam. Don't forget I raised you as well as your brother and then Millie and Raja. If Beth wasn't sure she wouldn't have asked me. Promises aren't made to be broken. I gave my word to be there on Thursday afternoon and I will do so."

Annoyed at not being able to dissuade her mother Usha walked out in a huff, praying that better sense would prevail. "I hope that you will reconsider your decision and not cause problems for yourself or for me."

The warning did not deter Dida as her mind was made up though Usha's parting words made her extra cautious. Thankfully the afternoon with the kids passed off well. Sam slept through as it was his nap time, making it possible to keep a vigilant eye on Ann.

Needless to say that Dida felt very smug that she had been proved right. Beth was grateful that Dida had taken good care of her children.

Dear Millie,

There is more to Usha's family than meets my eye. Usha is very conventional and inflexible in her attitudes. I think her children are scared of displeasing her and aren't always very open with her. They fear incurring her anger or disapproval.

Usha has had to work very hard to get to her present position in the office but that doesn't mean that she should be critical of others or think that her way is the only one. Public approval rates very high in her life and she wants that not only for herself but her family. I sense an uneasy distance between Reva and Usha though I can't put my finger to it. May be the usual generation gap with an American twist?

I did spend two hours with Beth's children, her daughter Ann is an adventurous youngster and Sam a peaceful infant. I had to be on my toes so that Ann didn't get in to serious trouble .Sam needed just a bottle. I had noted down all the important phone numbers in case of an emergency. You know that I am a careful and well organized person, used to having children around me. Usha's fears were unfounded. If I could fly half way across the world by myself then it doesn't need rocket science to look after two toddlers for a few hours.

Beth has promised to teach me how to bake an apple pie. Both Sameer and Reva like apple pie and it would be nice to be able to bake their favourite dessert. American grandmothers are supposed to be good bakers.

Dida
Chapter 3

The vacation seemed to be going through some unexpected hiccups. I was debating whether to speak to my mother about this. May be Ma could help resolve some of the issues as it wouldn't be nice if Dida had to cut short her vacation because of minor misunderstandings. Before I could put my thoughts in order there was a raging storm in Usha's family and Dida, most unlike her nature, had decided to take sides. Whenever there was a difference in opinion between my parents regarding the two of us Dida was careful to remain neutral. Right from the beginning she had made it clear to us that my parents had the last word. We respected her because she didn't throw her weight around and rarely interfered with our parents' way of raising us.

It would appear that Usha was very ambitious for her children, willing to provide all the facilities if they fell in with her plans. She had come abroad as a naïve young woman with a sharp mind plus a willingness to work. It had not been an easy journey to arrive at her present status. She was still sore from the scars of the battles that she had fought both at work and in her personal life. The system had rewarded her in many ways but had also prevented her from understanding her children's perspectives.

Certainly some of her failings were those of most adults and in particular parents. There is a definite nagging tone that most parents develop through the years and it is a rare offspring who does not to have to deal with it. Parental behaviour and attitudes can transcend all international boundaries and cultures, they are ageless and constant.

Sameer and Reva were being groomed to become doctors and engineers and while Sameer didn't appear to object to his parents' plans. Reva was proving to be a growing obstacle in the pre- planned future. Dida had witnessed a few skirmishes between Reva and her mother but they were nothing major. I knew that Dida wouldn't intervene unless the whole situation got out of hand. True to her character, she waited and held her counsel.

Dada was too private a person to ask if Dida had mentioned any specific incidents regarding my aunt and cousin. There were times when Dida found it easier to confide in me but she must have given some indication of the strained relations in her letters to Dada. Dida hadn't mentioned if there was any feedback from Dada. The rest of the family didn't seem to know much about the way events were shaping up in faraway USA.

Dada had also been getting Dida's letters by snail mail. A few times he had mentioned to my parents, "I should have gone with Anjoli. She seems to be getting worked up; living in a different social set up is too much for her at this age."

Dad was a bit taken aback by this and said, "Ma isn't the kind to make trouble but she can be touchy over certain issues. If I were you I wouldn't lose sleep over what is bothering them. After all Ma and Usha are meeting after a long time. Obviously adjustments have to be made."

But the next mail wasn't a storm it was a hurricane.

Dear Millie,

How do I begin, I'm besides myself with anger as well as anxiety. Last night I heard both Usha and Reva arguing loudly. All of a sudden I heard Reva slam the door and the sound of a car speeding away. Usha had retired to her bedroom. There was nothing I could do. It was impossible for me to fall asleep with a granddaughter driving crazily in the night.

I must have fallen in to a dreamless doze when the doorbell rang. Sameer answered the door. Muffled sounds could be heard. I recognized Reva's boyfriend Andrew's voice in the hallway reassuring Sameer that Reva was fine and to let her be by herself. Thank God that the child had come to no harm and whatever was the matter it could be dealt with later. Differences are a part of life; but you don't just vanish in to the night leaving every one worried and witless. This kind of behavoiur can't be condoned.

I'll let you know exactly what went wrong but now I need to calm down.

Dida

I thought of sharing the news with Ma but had second thoughts. Dida's next mail might provide some clues. There were times when I had felt like walking out of the house but hadn't the nerve to carry out my threat. I had a sneaking admiration for Reva but also felt that she hadn't done the right thing. But maybe she needed to be reckless to prove her point. Sometimes you needed to shake people out of their minds before they understood that you meant business. I hoped that things hadn't got too much out of hand and that peace would be restored between my aunt and my spirited cousin. Going by Dida's mails it seemed that my aunt had been trained by the Gestapo and her role model was Hitler!

The night's drama had taken its toll on Dida and she had woken up late. By the time she was ready to face the day, everyone seemed to have gone off to work or school. There was a note stuck to the fridge asking Dida not to disturb Usha as she was tired and had taken the day off from work.

As a mother, Dida was worried for what her daughter had gone through the night before. Did children ever understand how they could kill their parents with their thoughtlessness? At the same time she couldn't figure out why her highly qualified daughter could handle a managerial team in the office but couldn't deal with her teenage daughter at home. Usha seemed heavy handed as well as intolerant with her own children and could not reach out to Reva.

Everyone had had a bad night and Dida decided that the best solution would be to cook some family favourites while waiting for the situation to unfold. She always held the view that a well cooked meal was one of the best ways of bringing the family together. As she minced and chopped, stirred and fried her mind kept working on the troubles that beset the family even though all her energies were directed towards the pots and pans in which meats and vegetables simmered and sizzled as they turned in to delicious curries and gravies.

While Dida was cooking Usha emerged from her room and flopped despondently on the chair. Biding her time for Usha to speak, Dida poured out a hot cup of tea. There was silence as Usha sipped her tea , probably trying to think her way through last night's tempest. Dida's heart went out to her daughter but she was sensitive enough to wait for Usha to begin speaking.

Dida thought to herself, "Does anyone ever know what makes others tick?"

Usha had left home when she was a young girl returning only for short holidays. Dida had wanted her bright and intelligent daughter to make use of every chance that gave her the opening to go ahead. In spite of a lot of family advice and criticism Dida had not hesitated to encourage Usha to go abroad to study and further her career. Neither had she disappointed her mother; she had won almost all possible prizes and scholarships. Dida's heart had swollen with pride and love for her hard working daughter. Aspiring youngsters in the family were asked to look upon Usha as their role model. Her career as well as her married life seemed to have a fairy tale ending of the" happily lived after" types.

Circumstances were making Dida take stock of the situation and ask herself if she really knew the middle aged woman sitting in front of her. Being pragmatic Dida accepted the need for reassessment but she didn't know how to broach the subject. Distance and time had created gulfs that needed to be bridged.

Usha sat and brooded, lost in her thoughts. After a long silence she looked at Dida and burst out, "Aren't you going to ask me what happened last night? What that silly child said and did?'

"Obviously you don't see eye to eye and it has distressed both of you and led to Reva's thoughtless behaviour.

There is so much that I don't know about your life and your family. Unless you tell me, how can I help you."

May be Usha expected a sympathetic answer or just silence but this was definitely not what she wanted to hear. She looked accusingly at her mother and said, "You have never been there when I needed help. I was always the prize cow, to be exhibited and to brag about to the world at large. Who cares about what I do to keep everyone happy?"

Usha's sharp words startled as well as upset Dida but she didn't want to aggravate her already irritable daughter. It would be wiser to hide her hurt feelings instead of raking up the past.

"I know that Sudeep and you work hard. But that is true of many families not only here but in India too. Your brother and his wife also are a working couple. Reva should be able to speak to both her parents as much as you must also listen to her. May be she doesn't confide as she thinks you will not allow her the freedom to make her choices ."

Dida had hardly finished speaking when Usha broke out, "Mira and Anish are lucky as both of you look after the house while they are at work. We have to manage all fronts without any help from family. It is not easy to carry such a heavy work load but if only that silly girl would realize that I am doing it for both of them. She doesn't hear a word of what I have to say and is set on doing what she thinks best.

The children were born in this country, this is where they belong and call home. But for us, acceptance did not come easily. Our accents, our clothes, our colour, our ignorance of social and cultural norms set us apart. We had to prove ourselves at work and elsewhere. Do you or the children know the loneliness and frustration that Sudeep and I faced? We went through it all because the children would have the advantage that we didn't have.

We have been careful to see that the children were part of the mainstream, without losing out on the values and ideals that have allowed us to integrate and move up the ladder. Nothing is free. Who stands to benefit if they follow their parents' advice?"

Dida wondered what it was that Reva wanted that had set them at loggerheads. May be it was Andrew, the American boy friend but even in India boy friends were no longer taboo. If that was the case then Usha was being unrealistic. The children had been born and raised in this country and saw themselves as Americans so Andrew was not an unusual choice or was he? Dida wondered if she should voice her thoughts about boyfriends in general. After all her other granddaughter Millie had boyfriends too.

She said, "Usha are you upset about Reva's boyfriend being an American?"

"No, Andrew isn't on the top of my worry list. It is Reva, she is so obstinate. Thank goodness she has boyfriends. If she didn't she would stick out like a sore thumb among her friends. If that happened, it would be another problem. Andrew is more sensible than most boys of his age."

Dida couldn't help but think that Usha saw life as a series of mathematical puzzles that could be solved if the right formula was applied. Life was more like a maze with unexpected twists, turns and blind endings.

The phone rang and put an end to the thaw. It was an urgent call from the office. Usha decided to go back to attend to some crisis. She was better off at work than trying to deal with an intractable daughter and a critical mother.

Usha's outburst had also upset Dida, as she had not pictured herself as an uncaring and boastful parent. Would Dida have to mend fences so that there could be a dialogue among all three of them?

Dida's thought it best to speak to Sameer and try to get some idea about the undercurrents. Time was running out to resolve the issues as she was midway through her visit. At least Sameer would be able to tell her the reason underlying his sister's clashes with her mother.

Dida was not eager to involve Sudeep. She had not had much chance to interact with him and they were formal with one another. Possibly Sudeep would be the last person in the family she would like to consult. But if matters came to a head then she would take help from any quarter. Dida had observed Sudeep and Reva working in the garden. Father and daughter didn't speak much but shared an easy relationship.

Dida wished to seize the earliest opportunity to speak to Sameer and when she could get him on his own. Luck was in her favour as Sameer was the first one to come home. Dida got to the crux of the matter without giving him a chance to escape to his room.

"Sameer, I'm worried about what happened last night. What is the problem between Reva and your mother?"

Sameer was taken aback by the frontal attack, as he didn't really know his grandmother. Relationships took time to build especially if the meetings were few and far. He was an affable, happy go lucky teenager who managed to get along with almost everybody unlike Reva who was moody and unpredictable. He looked around, wishing that he wouldn't have to actually answer that question. Dida just kept on staring, willing him to answer her, then and there. The poor boy was cornered; there was no way he could escape.

"Oh you know Reva can never agree with Mom's suggestions. She is supposed to take some advanced courses to help later on in college. Mom was angry with Reva's point blank refusal."

"Why?" asked Dida.

Experience had taught us that when Dida started questioning she was worse than the KGB.

"Reva wants more time to practise music to enter a good conservatory. Mom wants her to opt for courses that will help her to try for medical school. Reva has good grades, she could pretty much get what she wants but she sure doesn't want to apply for medical school. All of us know her first love is music while Mom's sights are set on her becoming a doctor. These arguments have become more frequent in the last few months as it is time now for Reva to enlist for the courses. Music is Reva's life but sadly not a part of Mom's ."

Dida nodded her head while mentally deciding on her next ploy , "So what are your plans?"

Sameer heaved a sigh of relief at not having to speak any further about his sister's ongoing battles and hostilities. "I haven't quite made up my mind. There's still time."

He hadn't answered Dida's question but she let it pass. May be Usha would learn from her experiences with Reva and be more amenable to Sameer's needs.

Sameer waited for Dida to continue or allow him to move along. Dida watched carefully as if trying to read more from his expressions rather than his words. She remembered he had just come home from school and must be hungry.

"I'm so sorry to have kept on nattering. Come and have something to eat. I made one of your favourite snacks and it is still fresh and hot."

The matter seemed to have ended for the time being. Dinner that night was very quiet, everyone was preoccupied and no one seemed to have noticed that Dida had cooked such a great meal. Dida was a wee bit put off that nobody had praised her efforts. All great artists like to be complimented on their creations and Dida was no less. She noticed that they had all eaten heartily even if they hadn't acknowledged her art! Reva appeared to be sulking and Usha was preoccupied with her work. The men had left for their own rooms.

The atmosphere wasn't right but Dida had decided that she wouldn't take too long to work out her strategies. The people she needed to talk to were Reva and Usha. A rebellious adolescent is highly combustible; needs timely and careful handling. If Dida wanted to help she first needed to understand her own daughter.

Dear Millie

I haven't been too successful in finding out why Reva had hurtled out of the house that night. In the end it doesn't matter though I hope she didn't do anything silly that she will regret later. The TV shows are full of stories about the kind of problems that young girls face just because they didn't stop to think before they acted.

I find that I don't know my own daughter. Somewhere along the years I've lost her whereas she thinks I abandoned her. Parents often draw up plans for their children's future with the best of intentions. The goals are achieved but success seems hollow. I am unsure if Usha was pushed to become who she is today. If so, Reva shouldn't suffer the same fate. Usha was so self motivated that we didn't have to do much. She knew her mind and pursued it with single minded determination.

Nothing can be done unless both Usha and Reva are willing to understand each other's views and talk without losing their cool.

People are unpredictable and it doesn't always pay to stir troubled waters. Do you think Reva will hear me out or give me the cold shoulder?

I'll let you know how it works out.

Dida
Chapter 4

Gardens were not only a luxury but a rarity in our city. Parks were grassless and brown where the tired masses stopped to catch their breath, youngsters jostled with one another for just a bit of space to run around. Dida had lived her life in a concrete jungle.

This garden was not only big but well tended by the two most interested gardeners Sudeep and Reva. It was a green, secluded, peaceful oasis. They mowed, watered and planted with great care and zeal. The flower beds were in Reva's care while the lawns and the kitchen garden were Sudeep's. After her arrival, Dida had happily accepted the task of watering and doing whatever tasks were allotted to her. Just being out in the open with so much of greenery was heaven. It was a bonus to be able to use all the garden fresh vegetables and herbs.

Next morning everyone else had left for work except for Reva and Dida. Both of them were out in the garden, lost in their own worlds. Dida was rudely jolted out of her reverie by Beth's voice over the fence.

"Mrs. Basu, Mrs. Basu, can you give me some time."

It took Dida a few seconds to realize that Beth was calling out to her. She looked up to see Beth waving frantically and saying, "I'm worried as Sam is down with fever and needs to be rushed to the doctor. Do you think you could look after Ann as she will be home from day care?"

Dida volunteered promptly "Oh dear! Yes I can do that. Don't worry."

Beth rushed in and out in a trice, "It won't work. You can't drive and Ann has to be picked up. I need to ask someone else."

Reva must have over heard Beth's request. She walked up to them and said "Hey Beth I can get Ann. Just call up and let them know at the day care."

Beth was relieved with the immediate answer to her request. Dida was pleased with Reva's neighbourly response. She was taken aback when Reva said, "Why don't you come along with me? Ann will be happy to see you."

Dida was pleased with Reva's invitation; even if it was for a short ride. It would be a welcome getaway from the house. Except to go for an evening walk Dida had little choice but to be confined indoors. In India she had the freedom to move around by herself but here without a car it was next to impossible to do much.

Most of the afternoon was spent in looking after Ann. At the end of the day Dida was feeling a bit tired and grateful that Reva had volunteered to entertain the energetic youngster. Ann listened to Reva playing the violin while Dida nodded off. The music stirred some long lost chord in Dida's memory.

Dida went up to where the violin lay and picked it up. May be the violin could direct Dida to Reva's world.

Reva looked at her warily, "Be careful, it is an expensive instrument."

Dida just smiled, tenderly drawing the bow across the strings. Her touch was a bit rusty but the bow yielded to her fingers. At first she played hesitantly and soon she was speaking softly to an old, dearly loved friend.

Reva wanted to interrupt but stopped mid way; waiting for the music to stop. Before she could say more than express her astonishment, Beth was at the door and thanking them profusely for taking care of Ann at such short notice.

Reva couldn't take her eyes off Dida, who was by then back home, busy in the kitchen getting dinner ready.

Unable to contain her curiosity any longer Reva burst out, "Dida, you play the violin?. How come Mom never told me about it? Did you take classes when you were young? Do you still play?

Dida laughed, "Did my music sound as if I play every day? It has been years since I've held a violin."

Her words left Reva curious and eager to know more. Here was a side to Dida that she didn't know about. More than that she felt her own mother had purposely kept it as a secret. May be Dida would understand her better since they both liked music. Or was Dida one of those people who as children were forced to learn music and only looked upon it as a mere accomplishment, nothing more than that. If that was the case then she wouldn't understand what the violin meant to Reva. Music unlocked the doors to an enchanting wonderland. Taking away music from her was like robbing her of life.

Dida saw Reva all worked up, trying to figure out the puzzle. She looked long and hard at Reva's tense face searching for clues as she travelled through the labyrinths of her past. For what seemed ages both of them were trying to take the measure of each one's trust.

Dida was the first to break the silence. "How much does your music mean to you? What would you give up for music?"

Reva could understand the first question. Why should she have to give up any thing for music. Long hours of practice were required and she knew it. Music was not one of the extra classes or an excuse for joining the school band; it was much more than that.

Repeating her question, Dida waited. Reva couldn't figure out the answer.

"Do my feelings matter? All that anyone wants in this family is that I should have a profession but not in music!"

Dida didn't react to Reva's angry outburst.

"Would you much rather follow what your parents want you to do or strike out on your own and apply for scholarships or whatever is necessary to embark on a career in music. Music is a fickle mistress."

There was pain and sadness in Dida's words almost as if she was talking to herself. Reva wondered if Dida had walked the same path. She decided to take the plunge, trust her instincts.

Reva's voice quavered a bit, "I don't know how to answer your questions. I can only guess that you've been there. Will you please talk to Mom? May be you can get through to her. I'll give it all I have. All I'm asking is for a chance."

Reva had played the ball in to Dida's court. Would Dida be able to win the game or would she have to beat a retreat? It was Dida's turn for action and she wasn't sure whether Usha would be willing to hear her out.

"I'm not promising anything but I'll give it a try. Don't push me I'll choose the time and place."

Dida's try is almost as good as a promise I could vouch safe for that.
Chapter 5

Dear Dida,

I am sure that you will help Reva in every way that you can and she is lucky to have you on her side.

Back home I am not in Ma's good books. My midterm exam scores have dropped and no one in the house is pleased with me. This is the time for the inter school festival and my dance troupe has been selected to perform. Within the school we had to compete with four more teams to be assured of our place to represent at the festival. I had to choreograph two major dances and you know that it takes a lot of planning and time. At first nothing seemed to be working out. Getting the right music was next to impossible; nothing was falling into place. Roby was reluctant to arrange the music. I don't know what is troubling him but he seems to have withdrawn into a faraway, alien world. Finally Dana decided that we needed to get someone else to do the dance scores or we would never be ready. After days of agonizing, nail biting and hair tearing we found our saviour.

The exams had been scheduled just before the selection for the final dance shows. I was so involved with getting our act together that there wasn't much time left to go through my books. Obviously the results weren't too good but this isn't the last exam that I am going to take. Ma was displeased and Dad thought that your absence was making me irresponsible.

Why can parents never see the big canvas? I am not underrating education but surely books can take the back seat when the need arises. Fortunately good sense prevailed and they allowed me to continue with rehearsing for the dance show. It paid off and we have made it to the inter school festival.

I'm sure you will be looking forward to my team's success. By the way some thing is drastically wrong with Roby. He is becoming more distant by the day, absolutely unreachable and we seem to be drifting apart. Once this festival is behind me I'll have to find out what is bugging him. Wish me luck on all counts I want to win at the festival and not lose Roby, you know he is special.

Millie

There was no one else in the family like Dida who understood and appreciated my passion and ambition to be a dancer and choreographer. Music and dance held a special place in Dida's heart.

My mother had enrolled me for a course in classical Indian dancing. In her mind all arts were interlinked. If I didn't continue after the initial classes at least I would be poised and disciplined. I wasn't very enthused or keen to continue for much longer as classical dancing was not my style or preference.

My life took a dramatic turn when I saw a performance that combined both classical as well as jazz dancing. This was all about movement of bodies lost in the rhythm and beat of music. My heart was on fire. This was the real stuff, this was what I wanted to learn.

I asked my mother if I could join classes that taught experimental modern dances. It was the answer that I had pre empted. I must finish the course in classical dancing before I embarked on something new. My dance teacher had complained that my commitment was minimal. Nothing could be left half done in my mother's book.

There are times when you know that no amount of pleading will get you anywhere. I did not give up but waited for an opportune moment. As children you are born knowing that parents need careful handling so that they can eventually be won over to your side. The time was not right and I would have to wait for "the tide in the affairs of men" period for my request to be considered and granted.

My luck changed after a school show where I had got the chance to choreograph. Dida had come along with my parents to see the performance. It drew a lot of applause and Dida smartly took it upon herself to speak on my behalf. Must admit that her help was never half hearted and neither was her foresight.

"Mira, look how well Millie has done. It might be a good idea to let her join that Sawney girl's classes for modern dancing. I think she will benefit immensely. The school is not too far away from home and there are a lot of girls from our building who attend the same classes."

My mother was not ready to give in so easily. So she employed her usual delaying tactic, "Let me think about it." It was rarely that my mother gave a quick verdict. Dida's recommendation swung the request it in my favour. The modern dance classes would continue along with the classical one.

Dancing opened the doors to participate in school shows. My group became popular and we did well at inter school competitions. I was lucky that my friends Dana and Roby shared my enthusiasm and interests.

Roby and I have lived in the same building from the time we were kids. We had grown up together, shared a special bond and knew one another inside out. Being involved deeply in the show I had not noticed that we were moving apart. Roby had annoyed me with his decision not to help out with the music. Earlier on he had not only arranged the scores but was also our handy man for backstage jobs. It would not be easy to replace him. No one seemed to fit the bill. No amount of pleading and cajoling could make Roby change his mind and I was desperate. His attitude left Dana and me confused as well as angry. When a team loses a performer it creates a major vacuum. The worst part was that Roby had taken a vow of silence and was not ready to share the reason behind his strange behaviour. Well what other alternative did we have but to look for a substitute?

Of course there were others who were happy with the break up. Losing the lead musician meant that we were at a huge disadvantage. I must hand it to Dana's determination to scout for someone who could not only fit the bill but also gel with the others. She found Rahul who turned out to be quite versatile though temperamental. But beggars can't be choosers, we learnt to work with what we had. Whether it was hard work or just our luck but we were chosen to represent the school. It was a heady win and now we would have to prove ourselves in a bigger arena, become the top team in the competition among the big schools in the city. This might well be our ticket to fame.

Roby had congratulated us but he remained an outsider. Wrapped up in himself; he appeared to be there in body but his mind did not even seem to be in school. There was too much on my hands and what with the extra rehearsals as well as keeping up with my school work; I had stopped worrying about him.

It was Dada who asked "Where is Roby these days? He doesn't come over any more. I hope you haven't fought. It is not easy to get really good friends."

"Look Dada I don't know what is bugging Roby but he seems to have cut himself off from every one. He won't tell and I don't want to keep on repeating myself. He is on a self imposed exile. What am I supposed to do?"

"I think you are not devoting much thought to the issue, not finding out what exactly is troubling him. Never let a friendship die for lack of effort."

Roby was well liked by everyone in the family, they felt comfortable with him, not a mean task to achieve, as they have impossibly absurd standards! If Dada had noticed Roby's behaviour it must be obvious to all and sundry that something was drastically wrong.

Wise words but what could I do if Roby wouldn't speak. Once the inter school show was over then I would find the time to confront Roby and get to the bottom of his problems. Now all my energies were dedicated to winning the event.

Little did I realize that having given me the sweet taste of victory my nemesis was now hurling me towards a mighty fall. All the extra work had left me extremely tired and busy. The first thing I neglected was my room. I had not bothered to clean my room it was worse than the city dump site. CDs, clothes, books, papers were piled all over the room with not an inch left bare. My mother rarely entered my room as it was Dida who inspected and supervised the cleaning up. Now with Dida's departure it had become Ma's responsibility. Sundays were delegated for all these extra chores and mind you she was pretty regular. But for the last few weeks there was too much happening in both our lives and tidying my room was the least of my priorities. Even more than the lightning strike I was devastated by the deadly blow that followed.

Ma stood silently, eyebrows raised; nostrils pinched and killed me with her deadly stare. "Is this your room or a cesspool? Please tell me the reason behind this holocaust?"

The icy tone cut me in to shards as I fumbled for an answer. The death sentence was passed even before I could present my case.

"You will not stay back after school but come home straight. The entire thing is getting out of hand. There seems to be nothing else in your life except those never ending rehearsals. You are too exhausted to concentrate on your studies or homework. Not only will you clean up your room but do extra revision in geography and math, the subjects in which you scored badly. No more practicing for the competition not until I review your progress in those subjects."

How I howled my heart out knowing that there was no escape. Crying would get me nowhere but how unfair could a mother be, this was the cruellest cut she could deliver! Previous experiences had taught me that in these kinds of cases no mercy would be shown. Tears streaming down my face I set about to tidy the room, when there was a persistent knock on my door.

"Go away. I don't want to see any one." I screamed.

"It's me Roby. What's up? Are you crying? Open the door."

I needed a shoulder to park my sorrows so I let Roby in and cried some more. He waited for me to quieten down and hear my story.

But before I could stop sobbing, Roby cut in, "You know how parents are, the punishment is always more drastic than the crime. My life has been messed up royally by my parents. I have been so depressed for the past few weeks that I just haven't been my normal self. My refusal to participate has hurt you. But I have been so down in the dumps that I couldn't even bring myself to confide in you. I'm sorry."

Roby looked so woeful that all past sins were forgiven. I found a place to sit down and commiserate together.

"My dad's office has located him to another city and he is keen that we move as soon as possible. I don't want to leave now as I have little more than a year to finish high school. I want to complete my schooling here. It isn't easy to make friends in your last year of school. My pleas have been falling on deaf ears. Why can't he try to be in my shoes and see how this is affecting my life? Nothing appears to make sense to me anymore."

"Is that the reason you dropped out?" I asked.

" Why join and quit half way? What's the use of not being able to go for the finals? "

"Have you talked it over with your mum? What is her opinion?"

"Mom has said that she will try to see what can be done but she can't promise ."

I felt another onslaught of tears coming as I thought that Roby and I would no longer be in the same city, leave alone the same school and block of apartments. All this wailing wouldn't get me anywhere and I decided to carry on with the work on hand. I hoped that Roby's parents could be brought around to at least extend his stay for another year.

Must hand it to parents they had the power and capacity to mess up their children's lives. Look at my mother, she hardly steps in to my room but when she does; it has to be neat and shiny like an award winning entry in a woman's magazine! Roby's father couldn't wait another year to relocate. We were constantly moved around like chess pieces without a thought for our feelings and needs. Life couldn't be more unfair! Would my mother relent soon and release me from this harsh detention so that I could join the practice sessions.

Thank goodness that Roby had at last confided in me and we were back to being buddies. It was also a relief to know that he wasn't interested in some other girl and his problem was entirely the handiwork of his parents. Some good had emerged from this horrible detention!

Dear Dida,

Let me give you the good news that Roby has broken his vow of silence and we are back to being good pals. But I have landed in a bigger mess as Ma has stopped me from staying back after school for rehearsals. Why can't she understand how important this event is in my life? Everyone needs a helping hand to give them a lift but Ma seems more intent on pulling me down. Dana is mad with me as she feels that without my presence the team isn't working too well. Also Rahul is a new addition and everybody needs to strike the right personal balance as an unit. Ma prides herself on being a progressive manager but she refuses to consider my views. If I could only go on strike like the people in her office may be then she would try to work out a compromise. I can only pray that she will change her mind when she inspects my room on Sunday.

Surely you can speak to your own daughter and bring her around to understand Reva's ambitions? If you could convince my mother to agree to my dance lessons it shouldn't be that hard to work round your own daughter. Why must children always have to follow parents' instructions? What makes parents feel that they are the absolute authority on their children's choice of careers?

Don't give up. You must help Reva.

Millie
Chapter 6

All of us were getting too caught up in our day to day crises. There was little time to spare after balancing school and other activities to mail Dida as regularly as before. Ma had reluctantly agreed to a deal that would allow me to spend more time with the dance group if my weekly reports showed "marked improvement". A girl had only twenty four hours each day. Dida's worries had retreated to the background while I battled with the now and here in my own life. At this time my survival was more important than Reva fighting for her rights.

I hadn't noticed that Dida's mails had become infrequent. There were the occasional telephone calls and my grandparents corresponded even though the letters carried news that was fifteen days old.

Dada was the one who wrote regularly and may be was better informed than the rest of us. At the best of the times he was a man of few words though he did voice his concern. Dida's letters were erratic and short. Dada appeared agitated and restless whenever the post brought letters from USA. He thought that it was better for Dida to come home. I overheard him telling Ma, "It might not be such a good idea to visit your children who have been living abroad for a long time. People change and Anjoli must learn to accept that Usha is not the same as the young girl who left her home and country so many years ago."

Dida was trying to find a way to help Reva but it was difficult to approach the topic. My aunt was tied up with business targets and meetings and had little time to spare for the family. Dida's life was more or less restricted to the kitchen and house.

Evenings and weekends were no longer leisurely relaxed affairs as Usha was in a hurry to meet deadlines. Reva was making the most of it as her mother didn't have much time to devote to her children's progress. Instead of taking more credits in math and sciences she signed up for some advanced classes in music. This information would have to be conveyed and like all offspring she was waiting for the right time . After all there is a time and a place for personal announcements. But parents have a different sense of timing that result in terrible explosions that could have been diffused. Children need to be careful when they are dealing with volatile substances like parents. Instead of the parents it is the children who get blown to bits and are transformed forever. Very much like the Big Bang that fashioned our universe It is amazing how we repeat these cosmic disasters in human lives and go on to create new worlds.

Unfortunately there was a PTA meeting that Usha decided to attend only to be told that Reva was taking extra classes in music. Usha was livid and could barely rein her temper. It was unbelievable that Reva had gone against her wishes, not even told her, showed such total disregard for parental authority. This was not something to be taken lightly. Reva was smart, why should she waste her talents pursuing music when medicine, law or engineering would bring in a steady income as well as recognition? There was no harm in having music as a hobby but definitely not as a career. How many musicians remained on the top? Most of them fizzled out after a meteoric rise. What had gone wrong with the way she had raised her daughter?

Usha could only look back at the way she had to claw her way to the top. Her children didn't have to adjust to a new country, culture, social norms and give up all that was known and comfortable to start from scratch in a foreign country. Her parents had expected her to make the most of the chances that came her way and she had wanted to please them. Did she have dreams of her own? May be there was no place for anything except a burning desire to go ahead. As all these thoughts rushed through her mind, leaving a trail of anger that grew into a storm of righteous rage, scrambling her brain and mental balance.

Not a word or gesture warned any one of the madness that was coursing through Usha's mind. She praised Dida's cooking and even asked her about Beth's children. Her face was like a Japanese Noh mask, smooth and blank.

"Tonight might be the right time to speak to Usha" thought Dida as she cleared the table.

No one had paid much attention to Usha whisking Reva in to her study. Sudeep had settled down in front of the TV in the family room. Sameer was in his room finishing an assignment and Dida was clearing up after dinner. Peace had descended in the house marking an end to a busy day. Dida was hurrying up with drying the dishes as she didn't want to miss out on one of the TV soaps that she had been following avidly.

Doors slammed all over the house, followed by loud voices that created a war zone where there had been no sign of discord or revolt. The plate slipped from Dida's hand adding to the unrest that seemed to fill every corner of the house. Reva was racing out of the room followed closely by Usha shrieking hoarsely with pent up fury. Shivering, taken by surprise, Dida stared blankly unable to comprehend the reason for this unusual display of wrath.

Making a push for the door Reva collided with the frail figure of her grandmother, toppling her over.

"I am leaving and this time I'm not coming back ever. You are an unnatural mother! How could you raise your hand to hit me? I don't care about your grand plans and I don't want to have anything to do with you. You may be Miss Perfect but I am not!"

Dida landed on the floor, too stunned to get up. For a while both of them lay on the floor in a tangled heap of limbs. Reva was making a beeline for the door but Usha got there first and held her daughter in a tight grip. Unable to escape Reva fell in to her mother's arms. None of them noticed Dida trying to recover from the fall and wondering what had caused that chaotic scene.

Sameer was the last to arrive. He was better off in his own room than trying to make sense of this mess. As he was hurrying out, he noticed Dida massaging her back, assessing the situation though she was still dazed by the turn of events. He helped her to sit down and got her a drink of water.

"Are you alright? Shall I help you to go to your room?" asked Sameer, noticing Dida's pale and anxious face.

"No. Give me a few minutes and I'll be fine." Dida was touched by Sameer's concern. "Maybe, you should give your mother and sister a glass of water."

Dida was sure that whatever might have caused this frightful debacle; it should not have happened in the first place.

Limping slightly, Dida made her way to the sofa where Usha sat staring blankly in to space. Gently and very hesitantly Dida asked, "Won't you tell me what happened? Come on tell me I am sure I can help both of you."

Whether it was Dida's forgiving tone or Usha's own guilt, she held on to her mother and cried her heart out. Not a word passed between the two of them until Usha had regained her composure and could bring herself to talk coherently.

"Ma I'm so upset that I didn't even think before slapping Reva. It was so wrong of me to have lost control. But this girl is so self willed, does not even try to understand that it is for her own good, for her future that I want her to take those courses. She didn't have the courtesy to inform me about the music classes. I had to find that out from her teacher and not from my own child. What do you think were my feelings when I heard all this? Why must Reva go behind my back and act so slyly? Am I her mother or her enemy? Music! Music! That is all that matters!"

"Why are you so up in arms about the music lessons? Isn't Reva doing well in class?" asked Dida hoping that Usha wouldn't fly off the handle again.

"Reva is bright and tops her class but music has her undying attention. If without too much hard work she can achieve good grades with just a bit more effort she could score well to apply to the top ranking engineering and medicine schools. Why do you think I spent so much money to put them in to private schools? I want them to have the advantages that I didn't have. How would they know how much I struggled to find my feet in a foreign country? I sacrificed so much to get where I am now. Oh no! Instead of utilising the resources she wants to be a musician."

Usha liked to call the moves, to be in charge of the situation. Losing her cool meant that she had allowed her temper to get out of hand. If she wasn't careful there would be a face off and Reva might just walk away from home. Usha, the manager was poles apart from Usha the mother. In the office she would consciously employ all the tools of modern management; she looked after her group's interests and had built up a loyal team. She was smart, quick to learn but the skills to interact with people had not come easily. No matter how tactful she had to be at work, at home she expected both Sameer and Reva to toe the line. Usha thought there was nothing wrong or unusual about her expectations. and She was not asking the impossible from Reva to follow her plans. Above all she felt let down that Reva had neither taken her in to confidence or thought it necessary to inform her about the changes.

While Usha was raving and ranting Dida had drawn Reva in to her arms and tried to comfort the young girl who sat and glared accusingly at her mother daring her to say or do anything more.

"I have heard your side of the story now I think you should allow Reva to have her say. Come Reva come tell me what is it that made you want to leave home?"

Reva was so angry that she squirmed and fidgeted but was determined not to speak a word.

Dida spoke softly so that Usha could not catch her words, "I promised to help you and I can only do that if you tell me what actually happened."

May be Reva sensed a genuine note of concern, a desire to make things right, whatever it was she decided to take up her grandmother's offer of help. At first her voice was choked with indignation but slowly she was able to suppress her tears and speak.

"Ma never listens to what I say. She never has and never will. The last three years or so I have told her that I want to be a musician and not anything else. But no she has her own ideas about my career and refuses to acknowledge my needs."

Usha had to interrupt, "Don't be unfair I have never stopped you from joining music classes. Don't forget how you hopped from one musical instrument to the other. You began with the guitar, strummed your way through so many others until you stopped at the violin. Did I make a fuss about it? Enjoy your music as a hobby not a career. Surely you understand my concern for your future."

Reva was so furious that the words came hissing out, "Do you know the money the rock bands and pop singers make? What are you talking about? I like pop music but you also know that I want to train as a classical violinist. It requires the same dedication if not more than a doctor or an engineer. How can you decide what profession I should follow? You chose what you wanted to do so why should you deny me my chance? Why can't you understand that music is what I live for ? Let me tell you this I will never let you take it away from me! You can do what you want but you won't get your way!"

Their endless arguments upset Dida taking her back to a world that she thought she had left far behind. The present no longer existed; she had gone back to a past that refused to be buried and the ghosts were clamouring to be let out. She felt helpless and trapped as if there were hands nudging her, voices wanting to be heard and they wouldn't rest until their stories were told. They refused to be silenced any longer, they would not be stopped.

An uneasy silence had descended as Usha tried to regain her composure. Sensing the lull Dida began to speak, "I hadn't thought that I would ever have to tell this story, remember events that I would much rather forget. This is my story, every turn of it can still turn a knife in my heart"

Dida's travels took her not only across continents and oceans but across the long forgotten pathways of her past. It had not been easy but as an intrepid explorer she had not lost heart but continued with her journey.

PARTTWO

# ANJOLI'S STORY
Chapter 7

My earliest memories are of sounds, whether awake or asleep, there was music floating in and around me. Perhaps my first lessons in music were the soft lullabies with which my mother rocked me to sleep to the sonorous notes of my father's voice as he welcomed the new day. I cannot remember a time when there was total silence, there would always be a song, a half hummed tune, a note or two wafting in some corner or the other in the house. It wasn't surprising that I could distinguish the rise and fall of the musical scales before learning to speak clearly. My parents singing, the staccato beat of the _tabla_ , the strumming of the _sarangi_ wove a magical cloak of tunes all around me. My plump little fingers rolled over the black and white keys of the harmonium but no matter how hard I pressed I could not get a sound out of it. I let out a cry of frustration until I realized that someone else had to work the bellows. Baba would laugh when he saw the fat tears rolling down my cheeks, gather me in to his lap as his fingers moved with practiced ease over the keys. Neither would the taut skins of the _tabla_ yield to the pressure of my soft baby palms. But I found that I could imitate some of the tunes and words that I heard around me. No one paid much attention to my childhood babblings but when I struck a false note, I would be corrected. While I could walk in and around the music room it was out of bounds when there were regular music sessions or practice. Disturbances during such times could have dire consequences. An otherwise gentle father didn't hesitate to scold me when I wandered in to the room, trying to attract his attention. I was bundled out of the room without much ado by the very same people who would at other times be quick to indulge my whims and fancies. Although my mother picked me up and wiped away my tears she also explained firmly that nobody could be bothered while singing. It didn't take me too long to understand that music was serious business.

As I grew older I found that my father was more attentive when I sang. Sometimes he would sing along with me, his deep voice guiding me through a difficult piece. I took it for granted that I would follow him, becoming a part of the charmed golden circle. Not very often but there were times when my mother joined me, there was a sweet sensuousness to her voice that added an extra lilt to the song. All three of us were bound by the songs that were woven through the hours of sunshine and darkness.

It did not occur to any one that I was old enough to attend school. Music was all that mattered and if it hadn't been for Gopal Kaka my father's _tabla_ player, I would perhaps have remained illiterate. Gopal Kaka must have discussed, the necessity of schooling, with my mother. Such mundane tasks and responsibilities were not my father's cup of tea.

On the first day it was Gopal Kaka who accompanied me to school and left me loose in a bewildering sea of screaming infants. Nothing had prepared me for this caterwauling. Just as I was about to follow most of the class in the howling match, I heard a piano being played. Without any hesitation or fear, I followed the sounds that lead me to a lady who was engrossed at the keyboards. Ears perked, I tried to make sense of both the music and the unfamiliar instrument. The tinkling notes were drowned by the loud clanging of a bell followed by silence that abruptly brought all the noise to a sudden end. The white robed lady at the piano stood up, held my hand and led me towards a hall filled with girls of all ages. Overawed by the swift change of events; I was about to cry but the firm yet gentle clasp kept my fears at bay. A friendship and an understanding was forged that would sustain me through my life.

School was a daily task, a routine that had to be followed but of little interest. No one at home was bothered about my academic progress. I managed to make my way from one class to the other. One among many in the classroom I came in to the limelight during school shows. Since I was neither beautiful nor afford the expensive dresses for the shows, my role was that of the lead singer in the background. My prayers and pleas for one of the fancy dance costumes were neither heeded or answered. My mother promised but when the time came for payment there was always some problem and I was relegated as usual to my backstage position. Children are realists, deep in my heart I knew that my dreams of pirouetting on stage in a gold spangled sequined dress with silver wings would never come true.

Some days I stayed back after school hours just to hear Sister Rose playing the piano. Girls from wealthy families paid extra fees for piano and violin lessons. If Sister Rose found me lingering near the music room she would call me. Her strong, sure fingers would guide mine over the black and white keys. On some lucky days, I could have a few more extra minutes.

Almost in a whisper, Sister Rose would say sadly, "Why is it that I have to toil with unwilling girls while someone with the gift has to be deprived."

My parents could barely pay the school fees leave alone the extras. Very often I would be called in to the school office only to be handed a memo that there was a backlog in the tuition fees. Music in school was for the rich and no time or effort could be wasted on those who couldn't even pay their school fees on time. The nun who sat in the school office didn't mince her words. I hated having to listen to her barbed tone of disapproval.

Life took an unexpected turn when one of my classmates Devika began piano lessons. Devika had noticed me loitering near the music room and playing on the piano. Whatever was the reason she asked me, "Anjoli could you help me with the piano lessons?"

I was a little surprised by her request. Devika was already taking lessons in school while my learning was restricted to Sister Rose's graciousness. Devika was insistent, until I gave her an answer.

"The correct thing would be to ask Sister Rose. After all she will know best. Any way why do you want my help?"

The conversation appeared pointless until Sister Rose called for me.

"Anjoli, would you like to take piano lessons?"

"How can I? My parents can hardly pay the school fees on time. Piano lessons are impossible!"

"What would your answer be if I told you that someone has been kind enough to offer the fees for music lessons?"

I was so happy that I didn't even think for a second that I needed to ask my parents or to find out about the donor.

"Yes, Yes. I would love to learn from you."

"Don't you want to know who has been so generous and thank them?"

I waited silently for the information. The chance to take proper lessons was too much for me to absorb. It was an unexpected windfall, such goodies rarely fell into my lap.

"Devika's mother has requested that you learn along with her daughter and she will take care of the fees. I will help you write a letter to convey your gratitude for such kindness."

Twice a week I stayed back after school and tried to learn as much as possible. Sister Rose allowed me to practice on the school piano as I didn't have the use of one at home. None of my teachers influenced me as much as Sister Rose since both us were united by our abiding love for music. Once in a way she would ask me about my parents and must have formed some idea about my family background. At first it was the music that attracted me but with each passing day I found her to be an intuitive and sensitive mentor teaching me more than the musical scores and songs. Many years later when I felt helpless or confused I would try to remember her calm, soft voice telling me to listen to my heart, to what she called my soul, my inner self.

As her slender fingers guided and taught me to play the right notes, her melodious but firm voice would tell me, "Never be untrue to yourself, child. No matter how confused and difficult the choices may be, if you are silent and listen carefully, you will hear the truth. Just the same as you know when you strike a false note so you will know when you are wrong."

Why didn't I tell my parents about the piano lessons? May be because they paid little interest in my schooling or I feared that they would put a stop to the extra music classes. Baba was so involved in his own life that nothing else mattered. Looking after the family's need was not his responsibility. Money was perpetually in short supply and my mother had to make do with little. My father's musical career was not too successful, his earnings depended on his recitals. Concerts depended very much on patronage and recorded music had yet to establish itself. More often than not it was the patrons who had to be courted while the musicians waited in the wings. Not everybody had the skill of attracting those powerful, wealthy men who would generously reward the chosen few.

As my piano classes continued I came to know Devika better and soon we became good friends. Devika would talk about her family and home and it made me realize that we had no relations. Our house overflowed with musicians, accompanists and music lovers but there were no uncles, aunts, cousins or grandparents. In Devika's house there were weddings, birthdays and festivals of all kinds that marked the passage of time unlike ours that was totally devoted to music.

Devika was to celebrate her birthday in a few days time. Her parents had promised to throw a big party for her as well as for one of her brothers was coming back from abroad after completing his degree in medicine. I was both overawed and overwhelmed to be invited. In my imagination her house was a palace of gilded interiors filled with equally fabulous people. Along with the joy of being invited, was the task of getting my parents' permission to attend and the birthday gift. More than the invitation it was the birthday gift that would probably be the cause for the refusal.

"Ma, one of my friends in school has invited me for her birthday party. I do want to go. I can go, can't I? You will say yes, won't you?"

My mother didn't look up from her darning but questioned "Someone I know? When is the birthday?"

"It is Devika my best friend. I do want to go."

"This is the first time I am hearing her name." answered my mother as her teeth snipped sharply at the thread.

"Ma, you don't even know any of my friends, so how does it matter? Can I or can't I?"

"It's almost the end of the month, can't go to a birthday without a present, can you? May be another time."

I almost choked on my resentment but it had to be now or never, "How often do I ask you for anything. You don't know how much I love Devika. You don't know how much she cares for me. It is always no, no, no. You don't care for me."

"Anjoli stop behaving like a baby. You know very well that if I could I would. You are just like your father you must have what you want and like him you can't wait. What is so special about this friend that you must go for her birthday?"

Anger and disappointment made me blurt out, "You would like to know wouldn't you? Do you know that her mother pays for my piano classes?"

Before I could speak any further, a sharp slap stung my cheek and my mother's voice pierced my ears. "You are a wicked girl. We might not be as rich as your friend but of all things to have another pay for music classes. Piano lessons for an _ustad's_ daughter! Are you out of your mind? How long has this been going on? Wait until your father hears about it."

My mother was so taken aback with my confession that she kept staring speechlessly at me. Not only I was feeling humiliated at being slapped but couldn't comprehend why the piano lessons were condemned. I was determined to go, if my mother wouldn't give in then I had made up my mind to ask my father.

"If you won't allow me to go then I'm going to ask Baba. But go I will."

"Do what you want. Your father will be upset with your deceitful ways. The first thing he will do is stop your piano lessons. How could you behave like this?"

My mother's angry recriminations, her threat of discontinuing piano lessons couldn't deter me. This time I would ask my father and fight it out.

Eyes bleary with sleep and tears I waited patiently for my father to come home. Most musicians kept late hours as recitals started in the evenings, often carrying on to the wee hours of the morning. On school days I hardly ever met my father. If on the previous night he had attended a performance, he would sleep till late. Baba was quite surprised to find me sitting half asleep, huddled in one corner of the music room.

"What is the matter? Why you have been crying! Come tell me what is wrong. I am sure I can help you."

I had been feeling so insulted and aggrieved that for the first few minutes I could only cry without being able to say a single word. Baba held me in his arms as I sobbed breathlessly, "I can't go to Devika's birthday party because we can't buy a gift and you will not allow me to play the piano. You won't love me."

It required a great deal of patience and coaxing to get the entire story out of me. My mother stood by the door, a silent spectator, waiting to see the outcome of my weeping and complaints. I don't think she expected Baba to react any differently from her. Those were not the days of fusion music. A trained singer in Indian classical music very rarely had much to do with Western music. I don't know whether he couldn't bear to see me heart broken or he felt that western or eastern music was music but he reassured me, "If you want to play the piano, go ahead. Of course you can go for your friend's birthday party. Tomorrow we will go together and buy her a gift. Don't cry any more. Your face is swollen and red. No little girl should cry so much."

My gamble had paid off and my mission was achieved. As I lay in my bed I could hear my mother's raised voice . "Do you know that Anjoli's friend is paying for those lessons? Don't you feel ashamed that almost every month I have to borrow to pay her school fees? Why do you make promises that you can't keep?"

Deep in my dreams; I heard Baba humming a soft seductive tune to pacify my mother. He knew how to sing away her fears and worries. Charmed by his golden voice my mother allowed him to have his way even though in the recesses of her mind she knew that she always paid the price for his promise.
Chapter 8

Rubbing the leftover sleep from my eyes I raced to get ready for school. Last night's upheaval had caught up with me and I was running late. As I rushed my father called out to me, "Don't be in a hurry. We are going to shop for your friend's birthday. You needn't go to school today. Go, tell your mother that today is a holiday for her too. No cooking or housework. The three of us will go out for the whole day."

This was too good to be true, I ran to the kitchen to give Ma the extraordinary news. We hardly ever went anywhere and today we were to be out for the entire day. My mother heard the excitement in my voice and her eyes lit up slowly and she broke into a rare smile. She looked so different, all shiny and relaxed so unlike her usual crumpled, careworn self.

Baba had decided that style and elegance would mark this day. As we set out of the house he said, "We are not going to the local market. Today we shall go to New Market. The stores stock the latest fashions where Anjoli will choose a gift for her friend."

We boarded a tram car that would drop us close to the market. As soon as we were in I looked around anxiously for a window seat. Cars, buses, rickshaws, people scattered on all sides at the approach of the tramcars that ran through the middle of the wide city roads. My parents were sitting together while I had bagged a window seat. I could hear my father pointing out the landmarks to my mother while I twisted and turned to see them all. Offices, schools, temples, churches and bazaars all seemed to pass by in a quick succession as the tram moved towards our destination. I thought we arrived at the market in too short a time.

The market was a revelation. It was said that any article from a needle to tigress's milk was for sale. Merchandise spilled out from the shops in colourful displays of the latest designs and fashions. Saris, dresses, rolls of silk, satin and cotton vied to catch the shopper's attention. The lights and the dazzle of the shop windows slowed down my pace to a crawl. To my inexperienced eyes each shop seemed better than the last one.

We walked back and forth trying to decide which toy shop was the best. No decision had been made about what would be the right gift for Devika. Dolls that could open and shut their eyes with a head full of brown curls were popular with girls. I mentioned to my father that a doll would be a good gift.

"Oh! No, I am sure she must have many dolls. We should look for an unusual gift, something that she hasn't got." said Baba.

I felt like telling my father that I had only rag dolls, nothing to match the beauty of those blue eyed, golden haired creatures. Who wouldn't mind having one of those as a play thing?

My mother noticed that we had spent most of our time aimlessly wandering around and walked in to one of the toy shops. I stood and stared with deep admiration at the lovely creatures, wondering whether I would ever possess one of them. Dazed and unsure I followed my mother, to find that she was enquiring about prices. While Baba was still window gazing, my ever practical mother had unearthed a gift that seemed perfect. She had discovered a doll's tea set with a delicate floral design. It looked like a miniature copy of an expensive china tea set, an unusual gift for a girl who was supposed to have many golden haired dolls.

Ma asked me, "Do you think your friend will like this tea set? It is so dainty. I am sure any girl would be happy to have this."

Since my parents seemed so sure that Devika had several dolls, the tea set would make a nice gift. I nodded my approval. Meanwhile praying hard that Ma might buy me a doll. But she didn't. My dreams would never come true. Much as I would have liked a doll; I was grateful that she had taken care of buying Devika's gift.

Ma knew the state of my impoverished wardrobe and the lack of a decent dress for the party. Next to the toy shops were stores for children's clothes. A quick survey and Ma found one that was within our means. She took her time, looking at each one carefully, mentally noting the prices. Then her eyes alighted on a red polka dot dress with lace trimmings. It had an expensive and exclusive look, quite unlike the others on display. The dress caught her fancy but not the price. Fiercely determined, she wore the shopkeeper down with her haggling. I was a bit embarrassed by the pointed exchanges between my mother and the shop owner, the offers and counter offers but admired my mother's thoughtfulness. Last night's hurt and humiliation were forgotten and forgiven. In spite of all the upheavals, Ma had remembered that I was a young girl going to a party.

Though it had been Baba's idea to come shopping for a gift, he had spent all his time window shopping and people watching. As we were about to leave the dress shop he took hold of my hand, propelling me towards another shop. My mother followed suit but I could make out that she was quite puzzled. Today my father had decided that he would be the benevolent provider. He signalled, to the salesman, with a big smile and an expansive flourish, "Show me the latest designs in saris. Price is of no consequence. Only the best will do."

The salesmen gave us a knowing look, showing us saris that he guessed would suit our pockets. This day was so unlike any other in the year, it turned out to be so special, my father felt like a king and he was choosy. "Did I not tell you the latest? Show me the best." he ordered.

Responding to Baba's orders the salesman let fall a cornucopia of rainbow coloured saris, they cascaded on the counter, satins and silks, cottons and taffetas, each competing with the other to attract our attention. If my mother gazed fleetingly, at any one of them, it was taken as a sign of approval, the sari was draped over the salesman's shoulder and its beauty extolled. I kept shifting my attention from the saris to my mother, wondering which one would meet her approval. An enigmatic smile flickered on her lips but her face revealed nothing. She did not respond to any of the queries, allowing the stream of fabrics to keep on unrolling as if willing none of them to charm her.

Some of the saris were being put aside to make space for more when a peacock blue sari caught Baba's attention.

"Take that one out that is the best of the lot." He didn't even wait for the salesman to drape it over my mother to ascertain her choice but held it across Ma's shoulder as he pivoted her towards the long looking glass. "This sari was woven only for you. Look how beautiful you look!."

My mother was blushing, a shy smile suffused her face, and she looked as radiantly serene as the goddess Durga. Only for a magical moment or two, did the spotted shop mirror, frame the myth of a fairy tale couple.

It was a day ringed in golden light, a day that I held on to as a talisman, a day to be treasured in each little detail, when for once everything seemed to go the way it should.

I knew what Cinderella must have felt when she entered the ball. It was enchantment from the beginning to the end. Devika was at the door to greet all her school friends escorting us to the garden to play party games that broke the ice as we joined hands to become fierce competitors or team mates. Tea was announced just as we were running out of steam. We trooped indoors, I couldn't take my eyes off the fairy lights, balloons and streamers that festooned the hall. The pride of place went to the birthday cake decorated with multicoloured icing and candles. It was like a scene from the story books in the school library. I don't remember what I ate or drank but every mouthful seemed like manna from heaven, the fizzy lemonade tickled my nose, making me giggle.

Once tea was over it was time to go home. Devika and her mother were waiting with a tray heaped with party favours, hand crafted and sequined bags filled with candy. As I was about to take my leave, Devika's mother drew me aside and asked me to wait. Had she observed me stowing away a tiny piece of the birthday cake to take home for my mother.

A bit unsure, I followed her in to the next room. A gentle hand on my shoulder, eased me a bit, though I was still trembling with nervousness at the thought of breaking some unwritten rule. She held out a small box tied with a golden ribbon and said, "Anjoli, this is a small gift from us to say how much we appreciate your help in the piano classes."

I blurted out, "But it is Sister Rose who teaches us. Once in a way I help Devika with the difficult pieces. I am so grateful to you for paying my fees."

"Whims and fancies that is our Devika, she gets bored so easily. I know that your presence is making her continue with the piano classes. I am sure you will like the gift."

A red and gilt piano, the size of my palm, lay in the box. As I took it out to have a closer look, Devika's mother opened the top of the piano and it started playing. Amazed, my glanced moved from one to the other.

Not knowing what to say I mumbled, "I know the tune. It is For Elise."

"This is your own piano. You can hear the music when you want. Just the gift for a music lover."

Back home, I chatted on endlessly about the wonders of that evening as I drew out the piece of birthday cake from the folds of my handkerchief. The cake had crumbled into dry morsels, no longer tasting like the delicious large slice but my mother ate it to please me.

It was the music box that caught her eye too. Like me she didn't know what to make of this special gift. She turned it around several times and said to herself, "A generous an expensive gift but then they have the money to spend. I have not seen a curio like this before."

"Take care of it and remember the person who gave it to you." reminded my mother as she handed the music box to me.
Chapter 9

Devika continued with the piano lessons for another year or so until a new hobby caught her fancy. Sister Rose would often remind her that without practice she wouldn't go far.

"You need to practice and practice. Your fingers cannot play if your heart and mind are not on the keys."

Devika was frank enough to say, "Sister my hands are now happier when I am riding a horse, they don't like running endlessly over the keyboard."

"You must tell your parents that you don't want any more piano lessons. I cannot teach a child who doesn't want to learn."

When Devika told me that she would be discontinuing her lessons, it followed to reason that mine would also stop. I waited for Sister Rose to give me the bad news.

Devika's mother had told Sister Rose that she would pay the fees if I was diligent. She felt that I would benefit from the lessons unlike her daughter who was easily bored. A condition was attached to the favour. Every month I would have to go to their house and play for her.

"You need to ask your parents before you consider the proposal. If I recollect rightly, earlier you had not informed your parents about the music lessons and upset your mother. You are still young and must take your parents in your confidence. I need their approval before giving my consent to the request. I trust you to be truthful."

Sister Rose's words reminded me of my mother's sharp reprimand and the slap when I had mentioned my benefactor as well as the piano classes. Now that Sister Rose had laid down the law I didn't have the courage to disobey her. I was grateful to both the ladies for continuing the lessons.

Through the years I had come to confide in Sister Rose who was wise and sensitive to make sense out of my outpourings. I had come to trust this lady who had a special place for me and directed me through my growing years.

If it had to be done, so be it. As soon as I got home I decided to get done with it. If my mother refused the favour, Sister Rose would find a way out. She could be trusted to solve the problem.

"Ma, Devika will not be learning the piano any longer but her mother has agreed to pay for my lessons."

I looked at my mother but she remained steadfastly silent. Was she agreeable? Since I could see no signs of disagreement I thought that it might be the right time to continue with the next part of the offer.

"Is that all?" asked my mother.

"No, not completely. She wants me to go once a month, to her house, play for her so that she is aware of my progress. Only if you agree on both counts will Sister Rose continue with the classes." I tried to sound disinterested though my heart was thumping as I feared that there would be an outright refusal.

My mother heard me but she didn't say a word for a good ten minutes. Not wanting to show my frustration I turned my steps towards the door.

Her words stopped me in my tracks. "Earlier neither your father nor I had any idea of the arrangement as you had decided to keep it a secret. Your father did not ask you to discontinue the classes. I will ask him about this offer and his decision will be final. I can't understand your fascination for the piano. You have a powerful voice. You should be training to sing not wasting your time on that instrument, the likes of which we will never possess. If Devika's mother has decided to be your patroness then you need to keep the other part of her offer too. After all our lives are ruled by our benefactors, aren't they?"

I did not miss the sarcasm, unjustly aimed at Baba and myself and couldn't help retort, "At least some one is paying for me to learn the piano! Neither Baba nor you have given me any formal lessons in singing."

"Music lessons for me! I no longer know the meaning of that word. All my waking hours are spent in trying to run the house with hardly any money. When I could pay I was taught. Now that I can't I am not."

Her last few words had me puzzled but my sixth sense told me to hold my tongue. If curiosity killed the cat, I did not want to share the same fate! Even though I had little idea of how the household was run I knew that my mother faced a losing battle to pay bills. Money lenders, vendors would all come to the rear entrance, almost breaking down the door, to recover their dues. I shared my mother's shame of always being late with payments; sorry for the excuses that she had to make. It was my mother's fate to listen to those brazen voices hurling abuses and ultimatums and suffer the humiliation. Money had to be stretched, expenses curtailed as there was no regular income. My father had a few students but that was not enough. Concerts were the golden goose but my father was not fortunate enough to perform frequently. Winter was the season for concerts and it was the better known musicians who got the first preference, the others had to wait. Baba would agree to sing for a smaller venue only to be offered a last minute invitation for a recital in a well known show. Commitments had to be honoured and we would be the losers. By now my mother had realized that my father's chances of making it to the big league were diminishing rapidly. Coupled with that frustration was the lack of money and it was gradually corroding her life.
Chapter 10

My father was not savvy enough to further his career; he lacked the talent to promote himself. If he was provoked too much then he would embark on some hare brained scheme without giving it any time or thought. Instead of furthering his career or bringing in some badly needed cash, he would often land up with spending more than we had.

Recorded music was slowly gaining ground with popular songs from the movies rather than with classical music. Technology was changing the face of the entertainment industry. The leap from silent to the talking movies not only made way for a wider range of acting talent but changed the entire outlook towards music. Movie directors cashed on the Indian penchant for music and dances and no film worth its name was without half a dozen or more songs and dances. The common man took to the movie music, the songs were part of the story line and they were hummed, long after the movie had finished running. Film music was gaining precedence, rapidly becoming a part of the oral tradition of the nation. The lyrics did not always matter but the tunes lived on. A new breed of men known as music directors were in great demand, they wrote the scores, arranged the music. A career as a backstage singer in the films could earn good money. Movies became the launching pad for many singers. The trade was raking in profits with gramophone and record companies spinning money.

Since concert bookings were not always easy to get Baba decided to try his hand at singing in the movies. He had convinced himself that if other musicians were minting money from films, there was no reason why he should fail.

He was extremely confident as he shared his ideas with my mother, "Don't worry. Nowadays movies pay more money than concerts. Times are changing. A performer gets paid royalty. One song can earn a lot of money. I am willing to break with tradition to earn money."

Ma was used to his castles in the air. "How do you think you will get in to films? You need an introduction. Who will give you a reference?"

" No worries on that count. It is easily done. The other day I met Shailesh Babu at one of the shows. He is working for one of the well known film directors. He told me that they are looking for a male singer for the hero. I am sure he will give me an audition. After that there is no stopping me. You will hear my songs on every man's lips."

Once my father decided on a plan there was no holding him back. The next day he went off to the film studio with the fond hope of landing a contract. He wandered in the corridors hoping to meet anyone who could direct him to Shailesh Babu. People seemed busy, the only ones who spoke, were like him ever hopefuls. All of them had a dream of being feted as a silver screen hero or failing that some role or the other. Many of them had heard these fantastic stories of village lads who had won fabulous roles. The only requirements were a bit of luck and the chance to be noticed for a screen test. It was a waiting game, but if one could last out, the possibilities were endless. A few even spoke of going to Bombay as the industry seemed to be doing better and success was easier.

My father had made no headway in getting an audition but he had come home armed with a lot of information. He wanted to go again and try his luck. These fruitless visits continued for a few weeks more. Each passing day added to his store of stories about the studios, the latest scandals, the romances and the demands of leading heroes and heroines. My mother's patience was wearing thin. Stories didn't keep kitchen fires burning. Since he was out for the greater part of the day he had no time for his regular students. Few of them were threatening to leave. More than any other source they provided a steady income. It was time that my father got rid of the studio bug and settled down to the known routine.

One evening my father appeared jubilant and excited. At last he had been rewarded with an audition or if we were lucky enough with a job.

"I have met the man who will solve my problems. The wheels of success will roll smoothly."

Had our dreams come true? A note of optimism crept into Ma's voice, "Did you meet Shailesh Babu? Did he hear you sing?"

"Do you think all this happens in a day? No. I met Hari Babu who has Shailesh Babu's ear. His recommendation carries great weight."

"Did this Hari Babu make an appointment for you?"

"Hari Babu will make an appointment but he needs some money. He doesn't do these favours for any old street singer. He took an instant liking to me. But he said that without a bit of tea money nothing gets done."

"All this has a familiar sound. Hari Babu will swallow the money and you will still be waiting in the corridors!"

"Women are all the same. Bela is there any one you trust? If he didn't want to help me why would he make the offer? A small sum of money is all that is needed ."

At a loss for words, my mother sighed in despair.

A couple of days later, Hari Babu said, "I have spoken to Shailesh Babu's assistant, he will surely meet you. The hero's script includes five songs. They are looking out for a fresh, new voice. If you can impress him then the job is yours. Don't forget me when you land the offer."

He pushed Baba in to the room and melted away. There were other keen aspirants waiting near the sets, looking anxiously around for the person who would direct them in to the world of stars. After a few hours of waiting aimlessly, the news spread that the director was busy and would not meet any one. Each day there was some new problem, some delay that came in the way of meeting and clinching a deal. The excuses ranged from the probable to the absurd, a meeting between the two could never be arranged. Every other day Hari Babu extended his palm and it was Baba's duty to fill it.

Hari Babu knew intuitively when the springs would run dry. He vanished from the waiting room with the same mysterious speed that had announced his presence. His absence was marked and mourned not only by my father but by many other gullible, trusting souls.

My mother raved and ranted as she dealt with another list of useless expenses but Baba shrugged it off. He told Ma, "Each one has to feed his family. He did what he could. It isn't easy to earn a living. Art and commerce never go hand in hand. Don't worry. Money comes and money goes."
Chapter 11

My school years were coming to an end with no plans for my future. Others were busy discussing options after leaving school. The more ambitious and clever girls would apply to colleges, guided by their fathers or elders in the family. Who would counsel me?

My long friendship with Devika stood me in good stead all through life but now our paths would diverge in opposite directions. Not only had Devika inherited her mother's beauty and elegance but also the quality of drawing out people. Her generosity had paid for my piano lessons. Many years later I had asked her why she had wanted my "help" when she was already taking classes from Sister Rose.

"I had noticed your whole face light up as soon as you heard Sister's fingers on the key board. Honestly I didn't much care about piano lessons but in our family it was deemed a necessary accomplishment for the girls. Your interest was genuine. I told my mother about you. It was Mummy's decision to let you attend those classes."

At least once a month I would visit Devika's mother, playing all the latest pieces from my music classes. She would listen critically and attentively; pointing out my mistakes. I soon came to realize that she had a ear for music and was herself an accomplished pianist. Unlike my parents she had time for me.

Devika's brother had gifted her a gramophone, her eclectic choice of music expanded my own horizons. Not only did I listen to symphonies but to jazz and rag time. Those were the days of the big dance bands and Devika would try her hardest to teach me to waltz and jive.

"Come on Anjoli! Relax and let yourself go. Don't be so stiff! Move to the music." But I was too shy and inhibited and could only watch her swaying to the music. Some days she would not listen to me, pull me out from my comfortable perch in the armchair and twirl me around with mad abandon. We would end up laughing and falling on the floor in one exhausted heap.

Sister Rose asked to see me as soon as the school leaving examinations were over.

"Mother Superior has been asking if you have any plans once the exams are over.'

"No. I haven't really thought much about the future. You know I am not good with books and don't think that I would like to study any further. There is the question of money too. It would be a big help if I could add to the family earnings."

"I had expected to hear you say this. The school would like to offer you a job in the junior school. The pay isn't much but you would gain experience and work in a familiar place among known faces. Later on you could apply for a diploma in teaching. "

I don't know what prompted to me say, "I don't want to teach. I want to try something else."

"Don't be so hasty. Think about it before you refuse such a good offer."

"I know what I want. I don't want to teach."

My refusal was totally unexpected. This was probably the first time that I had spoken rudely to Sister Rose, who, was too upset to speak. She left without another word or glance. Neither was I in any frame of mind to apologise.

I realized that I had offended and displeased Sister Rose as well as the others who had tried to help me. It wasn't going to be easy to take back my word because I believed that I also had the right to refuse the job. It seemed wiser to wait and see if I could sort it out at a later date.

I was at a loose end now that school was over. Boredom set in after a few days of glorious freedom. The school bell had divided my life into time zones. Now I didn't know what to do with this infinity. Most of all I missed playing the piano and meeting Sister Rose. My pride stood in the way of making amends.

I hadn't told my mother about the offer of a teaching job. Ma's reaction was foregone. We needed money and a steady job would go a long way. I think that at moment I wanted to be like all my classmates, to leave school, step in to another world, take on the unknown and be treated as an adult.

The piano was only a minute part of music that I learnt and appreciated but it was the never ending stream of Indian music that had sustained me from infancy. I couldn't remember when I learnt the first notes or hummed tunes. It was like breathing, like oxygen without which life is impossible. Yes I missed the piano but I always associated it with school and the limited hours of use. But there was music at home to revel in. I started paying greater attention to my father and his students. Every day I joined the students who were learning under my father's guidance. Baba didn't acknowledge my presence but he did not also stop me from joining them..

Very often the intricacies of a particular raga escaped me. I knew that I needed help and expected my father to teach me. A few times he guided me but mostly left me to my own devices..

Never the less I didn't get disheartened but continued as best I could. A great change came over my mother as I started regular practice. She started planning out sessions with the traditional lessons for voice training. At times it was tedious to repeat the diverse arrangements on the musical scale or _sargam_. Ma knew when to give me a break; she would switch over to teaching me a simple love song or a hymn, tunes that were easy to master.

Very often she would help me to hold a note and maintain the right pitch. Her voice had an innate sweetness, her singing seemed so effortless yet perfect. There were days when she would sing and I would simply listen, trying to learn as much as I could. Reading musical scores were as important as listening and following the teacher's style of interpreting the raga.

Why had it never occurred to me to learn from my mother? She had all the qualifications required of a good teacher, an experienced voice and patience to guide the student to achieve to her potential. Above all she had the innate gift of the true singer. There was magic in the way she allowed the notes to float in and out of the raga and touch the hearer. After all the word Raga meant that it was music that enthralled the audience.

Ma seemed so much happier now and in spite of all her household chores she made time for me. Meticulous instructions and attention to detail made her an inspiring teacher.

I was taken aback when Ma asked, "Are you enjoying this more than the piano? Are you happy learning Indian classical music?"

Those few weeks that I had spent with my mother would undoubtedly remain as some of the memorable in my life.

Ma could be short tempered and I did not want to upset her in any way. Instead of answering her I said, "You sing so wonderfully. Why don't you give public recitals? "

My compliments seemed to have had the wrong effect. She seemed offended and displeased while I couldn't figure out why I had upset her

Gopal Kaka walked in to the room and noticed my glum look.

"What's wrong? You were singing so well and I must say that your mother is in excellent form. Bela should continue it is a treat to hear her."

"That is exactly what I told her and she walked away. In my opinion she is better than Baba."

Now it was Gopal Kaka's turn to stare at me.

"There are some questions that are better not asked. It is time that your father started teaching you. A good musician must have both art as well as heart."

I was a bit miffed that Gopal Kaka had chosen to sideline my query and reminded him that my father had showed no interest in teaching me.

"He hasn't noticed you. When Bela teaches you he can only hear her sing. He is deaf to everybody else."

I was not to be silenced, "I sing along with his students. Why doesn't he ask me to sing by myself? After he has taught some new lesson he asks each student to demonstrate. He doesn't ask me. Ma gives me time and attention."

"They are his students and he has a duty as a guru to see that each one of them is learning well. You are not his student, his disciple. You must ask him to be your guru."

"Why do I have to do that, he is my father and I am his daughter. In my opinion our relationship should be reason enough to take me under his care."

"Of course you are right after all it is our parents who are our first teachers, our gurus. But there is a special bond between the teacher, the guru and the _sishya_ , the student. The Guru's wish is the student's command and the relationship is incomplete without the _dakshina_ or offering that binds both of them. The guru has to approve of the _dakshina_ before he agrees to teach. You know the story of Dronacharya and the offering he asked from Eklavya even before he taught him any skill. After Eklavya cut off his thumb as the offering he could no longer learn how to use weapons yet he did not hesitate to give what his guru asked. You need to ask him if he will consent to be your guru."

Gopal Kaka's words set my mind off in another direction. Sister Rose was my teacher and it was my duty to mend matters. I decided that the next morning I would go to school and meet her.

School was closed for the vacations. My feet rang through the empty, silent corridors as I hurried in search of Sister. I found her in the library, her total attention centred on her reading. Standing silently, I waited for her to notice me.

Sensing my presence Sister turned around. She stood up and held out her hands. "How are you Anjoli? It is so nice to see you. Tell me what have you been doing now that school is over?"

She pointed to a chair next to her and asked me to sit down.

I was so relieved that she had chosen to gloss over my refusal and that we were friends again. Eager to share my news I said, "I am learning Indian music from my mother. My visits to Devika's house are no longer frequent but when I am there I play the piano."

We chatted for a while and Sister did not ask me about my future plans. Though I was happy that she hadn't brought up the topic I also wanted some guidance about earning a living. Having refused the earlier offer of a job I was reluctant to seek advice.

As I sat and fidgeted I felt Sister's hand on my shoulder. Without any hesitation, caring and soft spoken as always, she looked in to my eyes.

"Not everyone is as fortunate as you are to be blessed with the gift of music. Treat this with respect and love. Do not misuse it. We don't get what we want most of the times. Our dreams have little to do with what fate has in store for us. The trick is to make the best out of the worst.

You might want a career in music. But I have little or no idea about that as far as music in India is concerned. In most societies women musicians are not looked upon favourably and I don't think it is different in this country too.

Have you consulted your parents? Have you found out what they have in mind for you?

I thought that the school's offer would suit you but it didn't appeal to you. The vacancy has yet to be filled but it will not remain open for long. Let me know if you change your mind.

Are you sure you do not want to continue with your education? If you make an effort you will be able to cope."

It was nice of Sister to mention that the offer of a job was still open. I knew that most of these jobs went to needy Christian girls. Sister Rose must have really pushed my case. I felt happy that she had not only praised me but that we were friends again.

I felt a bit guilty about not telling my mother about the job. At the same time I didn't want to be forced into taking up the school job. It was wiser to hold my tongue and see if my parents had any plans.

The results for the school leaving examinations were out and I hadn't done too badly. My parents were happy that I had managed to get through but there was no mention about further studies. Many of my classmates would be joining college. Just a handful would stay at home and get married as soon as it could be arranged. I seemed to belong to neither category. As usual no one at home seemed greatly worried about me.

Devjika's mother had sent an invitation asking me to spend the day with them. Since leaving school I had hardly stepped out of the house. This would be a welcome break as I enjoyed visiting them.

As I walked in, Devika's room looked as if a cyclone had turned all her belongings upside down. Clothes, shoes, books were strewn all over the place but there was no sign of my friend.

A pile of clothes as well as Devika tumbled out of the depths of a big carved armoire. Before I could say anything Devika greeted me. "Anjoli you have forgotten me if Mummy hadn't sent the invitation you would not have come. You couldn't be bothered if I die or live!"

Not a stranger to Devika's dramatics, I smiled, "It doesn't look as if you are dying. You look as if you are discarding your entire wardrobe in favour of a new one."

"Some of it is so childish, I don't think I'll ever want to be seen in such clothes again. Do you know that Mummy has become the cruel stepmother and is sending me away? Take a good look at me lest you forget what I look like."

"Stop speaking nonsense. Where are you going? Your parents can't think of living without you."

"So you think. Mummy says that I need to be disciplined and taught to behave more like a lady. She has planned to send me to a college in the hills, far away from the city. I shall be "finished" so that I can make my entry in society without tripping and falling flat on my face. Do you know who recommended this college? Sister Rose! How could she conspire with Mummy to send me in to exile? I am sure I'll not come back alive."

"Your mother loves you so much I am sure she must have a good enough reason. You will be coming back for the holidays, won't you?"

"Who knows? Who cares" said Devika while she wailed and distributed her clothes in little heaps all over the room.

"I know. I care", said Devika's mother as she entered the room. "How you love to act the persecuted martyr. The entire family lets you have your way. It is time for you to behave like a young lady."

Devika looked at me, "Didn't I tell you. Mummy wants to get rid of me. Can you see any fault? Who wants to hear my side of the story?"

Devika's departure was so unexpected that I was speechless. I couldn't figure out why she had to be sent away to become a young lady. It was true that she was a bit spoilt and wilful but she could charm the whiskers off the sternest nuns.

When it was time for me to leave; there was a lump in my throat and all I could do was to embrace her.

"Anjoli I will write to you from my prison cell in the hills. You must not forget to reply to my letters. Remember to visit Mummy. She is very fond of you."

The thread was never broken as Devika's mother would send for me. My visits were not too frequent but she would always request me to play for her.

She would say regretfully, "I wish you had a piano at home. You are getting a bit rusty without regular practice. Try to visit me more often to brush up your playing."

The piano faded into the background and it was the songs that I was learning that now came to the forefront.

My day was now divided into hours that were solely devoted to training my voice to soar effortlessly from the highest to drop to the lowest note, to try out a combination that delineated a raga. There were no written scores so I had to practice for hours on end to remember what I had heard, to be able to sing it later. An accomplished musician knew how to compose and improvise, keeping in mind the notes that symbolized a raga, embellishing it as she kept on singing. It was a hard task not only to remember the ragas but to be able to identify each one by the notes that differentiated one from the other.

Gopal Kaka on the _tabla_ and my mother on the _tanpura_ were my accompanists. One helped me to keep the beat and the other with the pitch.

Some days my father would listen but he avoided both criticism and praise. He refused to get involved in my lessons. Finally I gave up waiting for his approval. If he wished to ignore me so be it. My happiness lay in pursuing music.
Chapter 12

The season for concerts had arrived and this time my father was lucky to be booked for some of them. Not only would he earn well but it would give him the chance to further his career as he would meet the more influential organizers and patrons. Many of these concerts were held in other cities and towns but my mother and I would stay back at home.

Among all the people that came to our house and they were a medley of singers, musicians, patrons and others associated with the business of making or selling music, the only two who had my mother's trust and confidence were Gopal Kaka and Rokeya Bai.

Gopal Kaka was a constant in our house. He was not only my father's accompanist but also his dearest friend. When I was younger I used to wonder where he would disappear during the night. He was one of the first people to enter the house in the morning and the last to leave at the end of the day. If my parents could afford the space he would have lived with us. He had no family of his own and he loved me dearly. As my father's t _abla_ player he didn't earn much but he also accompanied other musicians as and when he got the opportunity. Balloons, coloured ribbons, trinkets and candy, he took it upon himself to give me all that my childish heart yearned. It was his responsibility to get me in to school. My parents could not have managed without his unwavering care and affection for all three of us. Unlike others who had an extended family we seemed to have none. Gopal Kaka filled the role of several relatives rolled in to one. He was all the family we needed. Even my mother who did not talk too much found a sympathetic ear in Gopal Kaka. She could depend on him to help her out no matter how serious or trivial a problem it was.

Rokeya Bai was one of the few ladies who visited us and she was great fun. Everything about her was glamorous, her saris were bright and ornately embroidered, she was laden with jewellery and her kohl rimmed eyes either sparkled with laughter or brimmed with tears as her voice sailed across the room and in to the hearts of her listeners. My mother by comparison was quiet and retiring but Rokeya Bai's presence would change her in to a giggling and chattering woman. The latest scandals, the gossip from the world of entertainment, the whims and fancies of the famous musicians, their escapades and affairs, there was nothing that she did not know! Her days were crowded with public and private recitals including long hours of practice but she made time to visit us. She was one of the few people who got along famously with all three of us. Her gifts were never very elaborate or expensive; a box of sweets, a fragrant garland for my mother's hair, some colourful bangles or clips for me, no one was ever forgotten. The biggest and best treat was when she would not only sing but get my mother to join her. Ma could rarely refuse Rokeya Bai and it was heaven to hear their voices rising and falling as the notes made their way through the ragas. But there were days when both women spent long hours behind closed doors and Rokeya Bai would leave with tear stained eyes.

Increasingly my days were confined within the four walls of the house and I was so steeped in music that I had little time for the outside world. Other musicians and singers came to the house and I would listen to their performances as there was so much to appreciate and learn. My father was particular about my presence when there were a lot of outsiders in the music room. Slowly I realized that women though welcome in the world of music were not accorded the same respect as their male counterparts. Yet there were singers like Rokeya Bai who were more talented than many male singers.

This year's tour seemed to be longer than usual and Baba along with Gopal Kaka would be away for about two months. My father was concerned about us as my mother and I were unused to living on our own.

It was Rokeya Bai who came to our rescue. She would be in the city for the greater part of my father's tour and help us if the need arose. Both my parents were fond of her and my father felt confident to leave us in her care.

Baba's students came to the house to practice and my mother supervised. During my father's absence I was not allowed to practice along with the students. My mother was more than careful to see that there was no gossip about me. Schools as well as colleges were rarely coeducational and young people were not encouraged to socialize. It was weddings and other festive occasions that gave youngsters the chance to meet but not mix freely.

Women singers were supposed to have lower moral standards and it was not considered a desirable profession. Should girls show musical talent they were not encouraged to develop it beyond a certain age. If women became musicians or dancers they were often referred to as courtesans. Many of them ended up as paupers by the time they were in their mid thirties.

The last decade or more had seen rapid changes all over the world, the World War, the shift in political power had all contributed to a society that was shedding many traditional beliefs and way of living. There was greater openness and acceptance in social mores and customs.

It was possibly the advent of recorded music and the film industry that were responsible for this shift in people's attitude towards the world of entertainment. At the beginning I was a bit resentful that Ma would not allow me the same freedom that the students enjoyed. It was later that I understood that she did not want me to suffer as she had my good reputation at heart.

Rokeya Bai had a busy schedule but she would send someone or the other to enquire about our well being. Occasionally she would arrive unannounced and stay until late at night. We looked forward to these visits and if Rokeya Bai was in a good mood we would have a ball.

If she came after an out of town recital she would order my mother to cook a simple meal for her. She would complain, "You should see the oily, spice drenched food that they serve me. Can I afford to be sick when I have to perform the next day? I have to ask my maid Dhanno to cook and she makes such a fuss in other people's kitchens. You know how silly and vain Dhanno is, when we are out of town she would like to be known as the only person who can help me dress and do my toilette. She behaves so outrageously if she has to go in to the kitchen that I have a good mind to throw her out."

My mother would smile and say, "Rokeya Bai you will never sack Dhanno. She knows how to take care of you after a long and difficult day. Dhanno guards your privacy and will let no one go past her when you are tired. She has been in your service for so long that she knows exactly what you want to eat, what clothes are suitable for each performance. Above all she eases out all the weariness of the day with those strong hands.'

Rokeya Bai would chuckle and nod. "You know me too well. Tell me what I should do with that old she cat. She refuses to leave and no one can give a massage as well as she can. There is magic in those fat fingers. My poor body is all doubled up in knots after the long hours of sitting cross legged on the floor."

While my mother was in the kitchen Rokeya Bai would ask me to sing. There were days when she would take up the notes from where I had stopped. Her voice would interpret the raga in a way that was beyond my imagination. The hours would be steeped in the music that poured in such delightful measure. If my mother joined us then the picture was complete, it was pure ecstasy.

When Rokeya Bai had kohl smudged eyes and her feet stumbled as she stood in front of our door, it was time for me to disappear. Dhanno would hand her mistress over to my mother, continue grumbling as she waited for the storm to blow over. My mother would close the door, shutting out the world and all that was audible were loud wails and mumbled words. Ma's voice was barely heard. After some time Ma would come out of the room and would signal Dhanno to go in.

After Rokeya Bai left Ma would feel sorry, "Poor Rokeya, she sings her soul out for all of them yet they neither love nor respect her. No one has a moment to spare for her, all they want is her money. She sacrifices her health, her voice, all for this whole bunch of ingrate people. Men know only how to take but rarely to give."

It was during the time when my father was away that Rokeya Bai suggested that we accompany her to a recital at one of her patron's country home. As business was prospering, a new temple, in their village, was being consecrated. The celebrations would go on for a few days and Rokeya Bai as well as other musicians had been invited to sing at a special recital.

"Both of you hardly go out of the house and you haven't left the city for a long time. Punditji is not at home and this is an opportunity for you to have a short holiday. The village is only a few hours by train, the Basaks will not only host us but bear our expenses. Both of you could do with a change of scene. Now don't make excuses. I have asked for separate rooms and all other provisions to be made for us."

I looked expectantly at Ma, hoping that she would accept Rokeya Bai's splendid offer. I could hardly remember the last time we had gone on a holiday.

"It is so thoughtful of you to ask us to go with you but I haven't asked Anjoli's father. It would not be right of me to go without his permission."

"Didn't Punditji leave you in my care? I am taking the responsibility there is no need to worry. Just pack your clothes and come."

For once Ma didn't need much persuasion to fall in with Rokeya Bai's plans. The idea of getting away from the monotony of daily life must have been too tempting to refuse.
Chapter13

A couple of days later Rokeya Bai arrived in her new car to take us to the station. This car smelt and felt expensive, the seats were soft and I sank in with a wonderful feeling of luxury. I was glad that I could sit next to the window and look out at the city getting on with the daily business of life.

Though I was not a child but excited enough to point out to the others, "Look there's Howrah Bridge that means we are near the station."

As the car rolled in to the station; we were besieged by an army of porters. The ladies were overseeing the boxes, baskets and bags that were being loaded on to the porters. Rokeya Bai's attention was riveted on the musical instruments. Heads would roll if there was a scratch on them. It took a while to count and account for all the various bits of luggage before we could proceed. The crowd surged around us in waves, carrying us forward in the mighty sea of humanity. I could hear Ma or Rokeya Bai exhorting the porters to be careful and not let any mishap befall the precious luggage. It was Dhanno who found us and with a lot of hand waving and shouting managed to make us stop in front of the carriage reserved for our use. Dhanno supervised the porters as they stowed the baggage, counting each piece as well as ordering them to be extra careful with the fragile musical equipment. As we settled in to our seats we realized how experienced Dhanno was in organizing these expeditions. It was a foregone conclusion that Dhanno would emerge as the winner in the battle of wits while paying off the porters. Having settled ourselves in the coach, Dhanno saw to her mistress's comfort, arranging the cushions and rugs, opening the baskets of food. It was not a big entourage but Dhanno knew the pecking order well, Rokeya Bai's comfort came first.

The train's shrill whistle, the sudden lurch signalled the beginning of the journey. As the engine steamed out of the station my attention was diverted to the people who were left behind as they called out last minute instructions and advice, bidding farewell to their near and dear ones. The train gathered speed as I turned from the window to take a look at the fellow passengers inside the train.

By now Dhanno had unpacked the food and was handing out the plates. There was one boy, who looked the youngest among the group, who kept staring at me. Eyebrows would not be raised if I made his acquaintance. He turned his face away as soon as our eyes met; paying complete attention to the heaped plate of food.

I had made it known that I wanted the window seat and was looking out at the countryside rolling away with every turn of the wheels. My pensiveness was disturbed by Ma, "Anjoli, you have been sitting near the window for a long time. Others would like a chance too. Let Ali sit in your place."

Rokeya Bai called out to me, "You will see enough of greenery and cows for the next few days. Come join us for a game of cards. We are one short of a foursome and you play a good game of Twenty Nine."

Giving up my coveted position I joined the card players. We cut cards to choose partners and found myself teamed with a handsome young man. Rokeya Bai didn't seem happy with the choice of partners and asked if I would like to play with my mother. It made little difference to me and I agreed but the young man was not too willing.

"Rokeya why do you want to change what Fate has destined?"

"What has fate got to do with a game of cards? Faiz don't play with me if you so wish!" was the petulant answer.

We were a dream team and played well together where as the other two were terribly unlucky. My partner Faiz would keep on making fun of Rokeya's skills.

After losing a few games not only was Rokeya Bai losing interest also and the jibes were putting her in to a foul mood. Right in the middle of a game she threw her cards, refusing to play any longer.

Ma intervened, "Rokeya why don't we change partners and see if the cards are in your favor?"

I was credulous enough to think that Rokeya Bai would not agree.

Rokeya Bai was pleased with this suggestion. "This is a good idea. Let us change partners"

But neither Faiz nor I wanted to change as by now we had won several hands.

"Just because you are losing you want us to change. If that is so I don't want to play anymore."

Rokeya Bai was annoyed with me, "You are a silly girl. I am bored and I don't want to play anymore."

The game was discontinued and I thought it best to chat up Ali.

Ali gave me a lopsided grin, "You will catch it today. Don't you know that Faiz is her current favourite? You should have asked Rokeya Appa to play with him and not with you? I hope you are lucky to escape her displeasure for the entire trip."

Ali's words made me turn around and find Faiz sitting next to Rokeya Bai. Tears were rolling down her cheek and as he dried them with his handkerchief. He bent over, smiled slowly and whispered in her ear. No one appeared to be noticing them except for me. Remembering Ali's warning I didn't want to be caught staring at them.

Ali's words showed up my naivety and innocence. I started to blush and not knowing what to do looked blankly out of the window.

Ali gave me a friendly nudge, "What is your name? I haven't seen you before. Do you sing or play an instrument?"

I answered all Ali's questions to cover my gaffe. Ali was Rokeya Bai's nephew and was being trained as a _sarode_ player. Like all musicians he had to learn to sing and understand the basic music that delineated every raga. His ears had to be sensitive to the pitch and purity of each note.

After we had exchanged notes I asked Ali, "What does Faiz do?"

"Faiz oh he is like most of her men friends. He does nothing. Sweet talks and manages to milk her for as much money as he can. It all depends on her moods, if she is happy and singing well she spends like a queen. If her voice is troubling her and the number of recitals and patrons are on the decrease then she is worse than the devil. Women are difficult."

"Speak of wisdom from the mouth of babes! What does a chit of a boy like you know about women?" I retorted.

"Well more than you! You couldn't even guess that she only wanted to play with Faiz. Never mind. Let us be friends. These village trips bore me to death. Once the sun sets there is nothing much to do except when there is a recital. The deathly darkness and silence kills me. At least you are from the city and we can spend time together."

I was careful to keep my distance from Rokeya Bai and Faiz. The rest of the journey was spent chatting with Ali. He had a wicked sense of humour and was worldly wise for his years.

It was late afternoon by the time we alighted at the deserted village station. No one seemed to be there but it was Ali who sighted a group of men coming towards us.

"Rokeya Appa they are carrying garlands for you. These men have been sent to greet and welcome you."

The patron had sent his estate manager along with a few other able bodied men to escort us to the village. There was one car and bullock carts for the entourage and the luggage. With a dismissive wave of her hand Rokeya Bai and Faiz drove away in the car while we tried to fit in as best as we could in to the bullock carts.

None of us said much as we tossed and turned and tried to make ourselves comfortable in the swaying cart. It was only Dhanno who was loud in her complaints. "As if there wasn't enough place in the car for me. I am not used to being pitched about like this on such bumpy roads. She must overdo everything as though that smart two timer didn't spend enough time buttering her up in the train. When will she learn? Only money matters to them, nothing else! Wait and see if this one doesn't run away after a few days. Then it is silly, fat Dhanno who picks up the pieces?"

As the maid paused to catch her breath Ali piped in "Absolutely correct. Dhanno Didi who cackles and scolds."

Dhanno was not going to take any sass. Ali could not dodge the smart rap that landed on his knuckles.

The carts heaved and swayed as they tried to miss the rough patches and potholes. We were thrown from side to side and it might have been better idea to walk the rest of the distance. The heat, dust and cramped seating arrangements left us disgruntled and irritated.

Massaging our sore bottoms, we stepped out as the cart came to a grinding halt. The consecration of the temple had attracted many villagers as well as family and friends and the house and the gardens were overflowing with people.

Dhanno went off in search of her mistress and the men were shown to their quarters. An elderly maid guided us to our room and disappeared in to the cavernous building. Ma had a head ache so she lay down to rest while I decided to look around.

The main house was surrounded by other smaller buildings. There were some ponds and I could see people bathing as well as washing clothes. Ali had warned me that bathrooms were scarce and we would most probably have to bathe in the pond. Uppermost in my mind, was the thought of drowning, as I couldn't swim.

Since no one was about I ventured a little further to find out if I could meet Ali. Before I could look around, a maid appeared with the message that my mother was looking for me. I found that Ma had recovered from the gruelling ride and was nibbling at the refreshments that had been sent for us.

Ma suggested that we should take a walk to see the new temple and find out details about the next day's ceremonies. As we were about to set off we were told that the patron Mr. Basak's mother wanted to meet us. We followed the maid who led us in to the inner rooms meant exclusively for the women and children.

As our eyes got accustomed to the dimly lit room, we saw a fair, fat lady seated on a low wooden seat. She ordered the maids to take the noisy kids out of the room and asked us to sit down on the mats placed in front of her.

"Are you comfortable in your room? Did you like our home made sweets? The food and confectionary are fresh unlike the stale and adulterated stuff on sale in cities. The sweets have been made with milk from our dairy. The last few days we have had house guests as well as visitors. Special cooks have been employed to cater to all tastes."

My mother nodded agreement and the conversation continued in a fitful manner. Suddenly old Ma Basak asked my mother, "Are you professional singers like the bai?"

Ma just shook her head to which the lady wanted to know why we had come on this visit. Without giving away much information Ma told Mrs. Basak that we were Rokeya Bai's friends and she had invited us.

"Friends? You look like you belong to a respectable family. Where is your husband and how did he allow you and a young daughter to come in the company of a singing girl?"

Questions flew thick and fast. Ma tried to field them as adroitly as possible. Obviously some of Ma's answers were not informative enough to satisfy her curiosity. Her gaze suddenly turned towards me, "Your daughter seems old enough to be given away in marriage. Are you looking around for a suitable match? How old is your daughter?"

Immediately my mother reduced my age so that the topic of marriage could be avoided.

Mrs. Basak said, "The last few years have been good for us and I told my son that we needed to build a new temple to thank God for our good fortune. My eldest born is very obedient and rarely goes against my wishes. He asked me if he could have a party for his friends with some of the singing girls. Though it is a religious occasion, I decided to let him have his way. They tell me that this bai is both beautiful as well as talented. Is it so? I have never seen girls like her perform or sing. We only get to see the travelling drama companies that tour villages and their plays are almost always stories from the Ramayana or Mahabharata."

"Rokeya Bai sings beautifully and she can sing _bhajans_ and other devotional songs."

"Tomorrow after the consecration ceremonies are over I have arranged for one of the leading group to sing _kirtans_. You must come with your daughter."

"Of course we will." said my mother. Relieved that this at least did not need a careful answer.

The old lady was the matriarch and looked after all the day to day running of the family land and farms while her sons attended to the business in the city. Very little escaped her notice and she had the last word where the village property was concerned.

It was evening by the time we left her room. The house and the grounds were enveloped in darkness with only a few pin pricks of lights coming from the lanterns that lit the rooms and corridors. We were city dwellers, our homes and streets lit by electric lights, our ears deafened by the rush of incessant traffic. The hoot of a solitary owl, the chirping of crickets, the giant geckos clicking away on the walls added to my list of growing terrors. Sleep escaped us and it was out of sheer exhaustion that we nodded off in the early hours of the morning

Next morning we met Dhanno as we attempted bathing in the pond. Rokeya Bai had not recovered from the journey and would only meet us in the evening. She wanted Ma to offer her apologies to the family and to go ahead and enjoy the temple rituals and pujas.

As we neared the temple, we were welcomed and ushered to our seats so that we had a clear view of the ceremonies. The ladies of the family were blowing on conch shells, the village drummers were playing on the _dhaks_ and above it all the chants of the devotees reverberated in the air.

The crowds thinned a bit as soon as the rituals were over and sweets had been distributed. The space was cleared, mats were rolled out and the musicians and singers got ready to sing _kirtans_. The percussionists got their _dhols_ ready as the lead singers took their positions. Great religious zeal and fervour marked the performance with the villagers joining in singing the refrains. The religious music lasted for more than an hour.

I had not seen Ali since the day before and knew that as a boy he had the freedom to roam about ad explore. Once the music started Ali appeared from nowhere and listened to the _dhol_ players keeping time to the _kirtans_. When we were about to leave he found the right moment to inform me that we could meet in the afternoon.

I hoped that Ali would keep his word as I would otherwise be stuck indoors, twiddling my thumbs. It was siesta time and everyone was trying to recover from the morning's hectic activities while conserving their energies for the evening's programme. A loud knock on the window pane announced Ali's presence. I tiptoed out of the room so that Ma would not notice my absence.

Ali had discovered the orchard where the trees were laden with guavas and were easy to climb. The afternoon sun was too sharp and almost everyone was resting indoors. The two of us plucked guavas, climbed trees and ran around aimlessly, happy to have the freedom to do as we liked. The city we lived in had such few open spaces that we seldom had a chance like this. Ali boasted about the friends he had made. How they had enjoyed swimming in the big pond near the temple. Ali might have had a good time but I had been petrified of bathing in the pond. I was sure that if Dhanno hadn't held me in an iron grip I would have drowned.

"I have eaten so many sweets that my stomach is ready to burst. The boys here are rustic and easy to impress. Come to think of it, this is much better than I expected. Also Rokeya Appa is so busy with Faiz that she has forgotten about my existence and I can do as I please without her watchful eye."

"You seemed to have had a better time than me. I could hardly go to sleep last night. The flickering lantern threw such eerie shadows and shapes and right until dawn there were such strange sounds that I barely slept a wink."

Suitably tired by our afternoon activities we made our way indoors. Ma was getting dressed for the evening and she had also taken out the clothes that I was to wear. Our wardrobe was limited but Ma had packed a couple of her good saris for me to wear. She had chosen one of my favourites and I was ready in no time.

I thought of stepping out for a breath of fresh air when there was a knock at the door. One of the maids had come with an invitation, to join the family, to watch the festivities that had been organized for the local populace. Ma stayed behind but I decided to accept the offer.

The yard in front of the temple had been cleared and a special enclosure had been made for the guests and ladies. Restless crowds waited for the show to start. There was much pushing and shouting as everyone wanted to have the ringside view. The village strong men with bulging muscles kept order among the masses. Women admired and children applauded the daring, audacious feats of brave men who swallowed fire and swords. They were dumbstruck by the magician's tricks and sleight of hand.

Just as the sun was setting the word went round that there would be a fireworks display. The fireworks exploded in to the night sky in myriad patterns, dazzling and blinding the spectators. The extravaganza went on for almost an hour drawing gasps of delight and amazement from the villagers.

The crowd melted away in to the surrounding darkness as soon as the show was over. The invitees made their way indoors while I lingered on for awhile. Scattered pools of lights, encircled the workmen busy taking down ropes, tents and other equipment. Night had crept in, drawing an inky cloak over houses, trees, ponds.

I had no idea when the recital was to begin so it was advisable to go back to our room. It would be best to go to Rokeya Bai's room as my mother had most probably gone to see if she could be of any help before the performance.

The door was ajar and I overheard the low murmur of my mother as well as Rokeya Bai's voices. I knocked on the door but there was no answer. Tired of waiting, I walked in. No one had noticed my presence, not even the hawk eyed Dhanno. Rokeya Bai lay sprawled on the bed, crying and abusing in the same breath. Ma was sitting silently, holding Rokeya Bai's hand. Dhanno looked on helplessly while she clutched a glass of warm milk that her mistress drank before a performance

An unending stream of vitriol was being heaped on some one. What had the culprit done to deserve these curses? Why was Rokeya Bai so livid? None of the two women tried to restrain her. At last the tears ran dry and a red eyed Rokeya Bai managed to sit up.

Ma held a glass of water and said softly, "Try to get a hold on yourself. You need to get ready for your performance. Twice they have sent word that they are waiting for you. It will be impolite to delay any longer."

Rokeya Bai was in no mood to heed Ma's words. "I can hardly speak. You want me to sing. Even you don't care for me! All of you think I am a music making machine. A gramophone!"

There was a loud knock and Dhanno went to attend. "What should I tell them? They are getting impatient for your recital."

Dhanno saw me when she went to open the door. "What are you doing here? When did you come?"

There was no response from Rokeya Bai as she buried her face in the pillow.

My mother took matters in hand. "Dhanno tell the messenger that that there will be a delay and not to keep on pestering us."

"Who told you to speak on my behalf? I have told you I will not sing. My heart and voice have both been broken."

Ma's voice took on a steely edge, "The last hour or so I have listened to your wails but don't forget Mr. Basak has paid you a handsome advance and made all the arrangements according to your wishes. Why should he have to suffer because your love life has turned topsy turvy? Invitations for this soiree were sent in advance to friends and business associates. Do you want to shame him? He will think twice before asking you to perform. Don't forget you have given your word. Does your word have no value?"

Rokeya Bai looked suitably chastised "I have cried myself hoarse and it will take me some time to recover and sing"

"Drink the milk, it will soothe your throat. Let Dhanno help you to get ready."

No one had taken any notice of me but now Rokeya Bai's eyes rested on me, "Why don't we ask Anjoli to sing while I get ready. Then the guests will not be so bored and restless."

Ma couldn't believe her ears. "Anjoli is not ready for a public recital. It will be wrong of you to make her do so."

But Rokeya Bai was adamant. "I agreed to your suggestion. Now it is your turn to listen. I have heard Anjoli sing and share your view that she still has a long way to go. There is a sweetness and innocence to her voice that will go down well with the audience. Don't worry I will help choose the songs that will suit her vocal range. Trust me."

I looked clueless from one person to the other. Ma gave an almost imperceptible nod as Rokeya Bai said, "Anjoli don't worry. Let me choose two songs for you. Begin with a devotional song in _Raga Desh_. It is appropriate for the occasion, for the celebration of the new temple. Sing in the middle octaves, don't stray towards the high notes and strain your voice. If you have the time on your hands then sing a light hearted _khayal_. I have confidence that you will not fail me."

She gave orders to Dhanno to call the accompanists so that she could instruct them accordingly.

Events moved at record breaking speed. Rokeya Bai's stream of invectives as well as tears were forgotten, though their cause still remained a mystery.

Except for the school concerts I had not sung on public occasions. What if I had an attack of stage fright? At the same time I felt excited that Rokeya Bai had reposed faith in my ability.

Without wasting any more time she helped me choose the songs and shared a few valuable tips. The accompanists had arrived. She spent more time with them as they would have to support and help me if I made a mistake.

Before leaving for the hall I asked both of them for the guru's traditional blessings and felt reassured as my mother kissed me on my forehead me and wished me luck.

Led by the accompanists I walked in to the hall. I felt awkward to look up until I heard Mr. Basak enquiring about Rokeya Bai. One of the musicians had been deputed to give him a trumped up story about the delay. He said that I would fill in until Rokeya Bai's appearance. Mr, Basak was not too pleased but divas were notorious for their unpredictable tempers.

I took my place and looked around. The only person I knew was Ali who was surprised to see me instead of his Appa. My mother was hidden from view as she was sitting in a screened area meant for the ladies of the family. The audience didn't seem very receptive but it was my duty as a musician to win them over. As I started to feel at ease there was a gradual change in their mood. A few times I slipped on the higher notes but the accompanists skilfully covered up as much as possible.

Rokeya Bai had taken special care over her appearance, she was dressed in a flaming red sari, a string of sweet smelling jasmines was entwined in her long plait and her kohl rimmed eyes swept seductively over her audience. She apologized profusely, prayed that if they pardoned her delay, she would try to win over their hearts with her music.

It was late in the night as she started with the deep majestic notes of the _Darbari_ , a raga for a royal audience. Her honey rich voice rose into the stillness of the night sky to steal and scatter the brilliance of stars on earth. She had not only conquered hearts she had enslaved them forever.

I have heard many musicians sing or play _Darbari_ but for me no one can hold a light to that night's performance.

The next morning I was still very sleepy as I sat on the steps leading to the pond. Who was the first person I should see but Ali. "You can sing. Not bad for a first timer but last night Appa was in great form."

" Last night why was Rokeya Bai in such a terrible state, crying and swearing. You should have heard the language she used."

Not allowing me to continue further, Ali gave a knowing smile.

"Appa can make the multitudes swoon to her melodies or rain abuses to kill her enemies. Her stock of abuses is greater than her repertoire of ragas. It is clear that you don't seem to keep your ears and eyes open or you would have known the reason for all that drama."

"If I knew I wouldn't be asking your highness, would I?"

"Last afternoon Faiz decamped with Appa's money. He had been plaguing her to give him more money to start a business and she refused. He must have realized that no more funds would be coming his way and made good with what he could lay his hands on. What's new? All this breast beating and tears are routine when a lover leaves. At least now she will concentrate on her music until a new one comes along."

Ali appeared so casual that I pretended that I was not so ignorant about such matters. As usual Ali gave me a crooked smile. "Do you know that some of the men were enquiring about you? They wanted to know why Appa had been hiding her young protégée. If you could be booked for performances. Faiz's disappearance seems to have been your gain!"

Ali's parting words made me uncomfortable and took away from the pleasure of last night's recital.

Lost in my thoughts I almost bumped in to Ma Basak. Before I could apologize for my absentmindedness she looked critically at me. "Your mother told me that you were not singing girls. I believed her because you didn't dress or act like them. But my daughters in law told me that you sang at last night's soiree. If it is true that you are not one of them then think before you become one of them. Tell your mother what I told you. A mother with a grown up daughter should keep her wits about her."

The journey back home was not quite the same. A task had been completed and there were others to be done. Every one's thoughts were winging homewards. I sat near the window, looking out in to the passing darkness wiping everything in its path as it raced forward.

Rokeya Bai's voice cut through the desultory silence. "My child, I didn't even thank you for helping me out that night. Do forgive me." She draped a finely embroidered expensive shawl around my shoulders. "It is a small token of my gratitude."

The shawl so richly embroidered, soft and silken, smelling of exotic perfume was what Rokeya Bai was all about. But at that moment I couldn't bear to let it lie against my skin. I murmured my thanks and handed it to my mother for safe keeping.

As the train brought me closer home I realized that it had taken the village to lift the blinkers off a simple, trusting city girl and turn her in to a woman.

#  Interlude

This story lay buried and hidden for such a long time. Had the time come for it to see the light of day? She wondered if Usha would understand how traumatic such a narration could be. She looked at the two women in the room. Would this long forgotten past make life more difficult or would it help in solving her granddaughter's problem?

Reva put her arms around Dida. "Thank you for telling us. I knew you would understand. I am sure that Mom will now be more sympathetic towards me."

Anjoli looked at Usha who was carefully trying to find words to deal with these revelations. The jigsaw pieces would not fit. The image of the mother she knew did not match the story that she had heard.

Usha didn't want to sound critical but neither could she gush like a teenager. Obviously her mother expected an answer but she was at a loss for the right words. She felt that she had been put in a spot. What could she say to Reva that would change the situation? Her mother's tales proved that music was an unsuitable career. Was Anjoli siding with her granddaughter or her daughter?

An uneasy silence filled the room. Usha looked at Anjoli and chose her words carefully. "Why did you choose to be silent all these years? Did you feel ashamed of yourself? How will this story help any one of us? "

Anjoli felt rejected and hurt but age had taught her to be wiser and kinder. She would try her best to convince Usha to try and empathize with Reva.

"If you will hear me out you will see that I don't agree with you. There is a lot that I have told you about my childhood but there are events that still sadden and upset me. I could not speak about it unless I could come to terms with it myself.

Revisiting the past is not as easy as you might think. I am neither ashamed nor embarrassed but there are incidents that I would much rather forget. I shared all this so that you would understand why it is important for Reva to explore what she thinks is her future. Give her that chance and let her find out for herself.

My story remains incomplete unless you hear the others speak. Their lives are a part of mine. They made me the person whom you know and see today. Listen carefully as they also live through you and your daughter. These voices from the past are milestones that lead and direct to the present."

PARTTHREE

# SURESH'S STORY
Chapter 14

I had been lucky this year, the concert season had been much better than the previous ones. The bookings were in big towns and the audiences were larger and more receptive.

In the last few years the advent of recorded music had brought about a great change. Classical music was no longer the exclusive privilege of the rich and the titled. The common man now had the chance to experience this music and he was willing to pay the price.

After a long time I had been able to send a decent sum of money to my wife. My earnings were small and irregular and I was aware how my wife struggled to pay the bills. Making good business deals for recitals was not my strong point. Commercial success escaped me as people took advantage of my trusting nature but my satisfaction came from singing to a discerning audience.

This season's earnings had been appreciably more and Bela and Anjoli would be able to indulge in a few luxuries. I was fortunate that my family managed on my small income but I also owed them the basic comforts. Bela belonged to a well to do family but she rarely complained of having to make do with so little.

Gopal and I had been away from home for almost two months and we were both keen to go home. Our plans underwent a sea change when some of the other musicians said that they were thinking of going to Bombay to try their luck.

"Suresh Bhai why don't you try your luck in Bombay? It is the city to be in. The roads are paved with money. Either you will impress a film director or a concert organizer and then your life will be made."

I didn't want to mention that in spite of waiting for several days and greasing palms I had not been able to meet the music director in the Calcutta film studios. How would I stand a chance in an unknown city? But the Bombay studios were booming so my luck may be better.

I looked at Gopal to gauge his reaction. We had started our careers at about the same time and he not only accompanied me on the _tabla_ but was my dearest friend and confidante. We looked at one another and I could sense that he didn't mind giving it a try. If we were together the chances of getting better offers would improve.

"We don't know anyone in Bombay. Where would we stay and whom could we approach."

"Suresh Bhai, don't make me laugh. Most of the music directors are from Calcutta. Who will they consider first, their own people or us? Don't worry about a place to stay that can always be arranged. If you have money then the doors will be flung open or there are enough empty benches to spend the night. We are boarding tonight's train to Bombay would you like to travel with us?"

The journey was enjoyable; there was a great spirit of friendship and goodwill. I felt that we were right in coming to Bombay. My earnings from the concerts had been better than usual and it looked as if Lady Luck was on my side.

The train steamed in to Victoria Terminus and at the sight of the milling masses I could do nothing more than stand and gape. Our fellow musicians bid us goodbye and melted away. It took us a few minutes to realize that we were on our own and would have to brave the crowds and find our way out. All that talk of a golden future didn't look too promising. The countless people, the constant din and the long journey made me nervous and anxious. Gopal, a man of few words, was sizing up the surroundings to see how quickly we could we get to a hotel or boarding house.

We had been given a couple of addresses and after several enquiries found that we would have to take the train to Dadar. The last few weeks we had performed in several towns and had been on the road. We needed a respite before we began our quest for the film studios.

Bombay was a city that never slept. People were on the move all the time. No one wanted to spare a minute to answer our queries. I was used to an easier, more relaxed way of life. Every request, every reply was triggered by money, if there was no money to be made then people were not interested in either you or your questions.

Information wasn't easy to get, no one wanted to waste time helping others. It took us a few days to find our bearings and our way to the various film studios. Bengali music directors were making their mark in the movie industry, coming from Calcutta might benefit us. Orchestras were becoming popular and allow Gopal to get some work too.

We landed up at the studio nearest our hotel and chatted up the watchman at the gate. His information seemed limited to the big stars, he could tell us little about the music directors and recording studios. After a few days of tea and sweet talk; the guard gave us the names of two people whom he thought could be of help to us. He reminded us, "Nothing is free. Should you strike a deal you will have to give me my share."

Armed with his information we entered the cavernous building but everyone whizzed past us. We passed brightly lit sets, had glimpses of scenes being played out with great intensity but we did not find what we were looking for. After much asking and knocking on the wrong doors we were able to locate Mr. Joshi.

He appeared to be busy and refused to acknowledge our presence. I cleared my throat several times before he deigned to look at us. If I wanted to catch his attention I would have to pull a quick one. We had nothing to lose so I gave it a try.

"Anil Biswas asked us to meet you? He said that you could be of help."

"Who are you? Are you carrying a letter from him? Have you had an audition?'

"No sir. He said that you would help us get auditions for his next movie."

I had tried to sound confident and well informed and hoped that he would not see through my bluff.

"In a few days there is a chance of male singers being auditioned. You can try your luck but nothing is guaranteed. Keep in touch as you might be the next famous singer. Go to the next room and register your names. Don't forget that promises weren't made."

It was no better at the other studios. In some places we were given vague dates, often we were rudely pushed out without being given the opportunity to present our credentials.

Hotel bills were mounting while our money was running out. If we didn't land a job soon we might not have money to buy rail tickets to go home.

Miserable, dejected with hunger gnawing at our entrails, we decided to go and sit on the beach. At least that was better than trying to kill time in the small, stuffy hotel room. We needed to think through a way to earn back the money we had spent in Bombay. After being away for several weeks, I did not want to go home empty handed to face Bela and Anjoli's dejected faces.

"Every place is the same. Unless you have an important contact no one wants to meet you, let alone speak to you. At least in Calcutta we know people and won't starve to death. Where are all those musicians who had told us that Bombay would change our fortunes and make us famous?" Gopal sounded disheartened and irate but I felt that it we shouldn't give up so soon.

"You lose heart too easily. We need to meet more people and I'm sure we will meet the person who will appreciate our music and want us to join his team."

"I wish I could share your optimism but you have never been a realist. You like to live in the castles that you build in the clouds. Your training is in classical music and this is not where your future lies."

My past experience had taught me that when Gopal was in the dumps it was best not to argue. Why should we be an exception, this city had welcomed countless numbers to become millionaires. I believed that being here would work in our favour. It was a question of waiting for a run of good luck.

Tired of considering all options and not finding a solution I started humming a tune. The gentleman sharing the bench with us interrupted me.

"You have a good voice. Is music your hobby or profession?"

"I am a musician and am looking for an opening in the movie industry."

"My name is Prabhat Godbole, an agent for musicians and I organize concerts too. What kind of songs do you sing? I may be able to help you."

His words were the best music I had heard since our arrival in Bombay. "I am a classical singer but if needed I can also sing film songs. I would be obliged if you could help me."

Failure has a sour smell. Mr. Godbole didn't have to try very hard to guess that we were desperate. My experience had also told me that he was a fixer, a middleman who could expedite matters. He offered to book us for a concert that would be held in a few days. It required a lot of hard bargaining to arrive at what we considered a decent fee.

I was relieved that there would be some money in the kitty to stave off the hotel staff for a few days. They had been threatening to evict us as our bills had been piling up. The concert led to a few more bookings but we were not earning enough. In the mornings we would dutifully do the rounds of studios. By now we could recognize the same diehards who queued up in front of studio gates and casting offices. We shared notes, kept alive by the dreams of making it big in this city of multimillion deals. Newcomers believed that Bombay's streets were paved with gold, all you had to do was know how to pick it up. It was a city of spectacular successes and failures. If one movie mogul rose to prominence and fame there were twenty others who failed. Our motto should be determination and perseverance even though in Gopal's case it was fast disappearing.

We had moved to cheaper lodgings but the work was so sporadic that we were spending more than our earnings. I believed that if we didn't give up trying then the break would come. Though Gopal had no family of his own he was more homesick and keen to go back to Calcutta. It was best not to think of family and home as it did not solve problems but made us feel depressed. After all they were the ones who would benefit from our hard work. It is not as if we were eating off a golden platter!

Gopal was not in a mood to be appeased. "Suresh we have spent a lot of time in Bombay and our concert earnings have gone. All this running around from one studio to the other is not getting us anywhere. We have nothing to show for our stay. Looks like a repetition from the past, we have again started dodging creditors. Let us go back. You haven't seen your family for a long time, aren't you worried about how they are managing?"

"Why do you thinking I am going through all this hardship? Once the cash starts rolling in all will be forgotten and forgiven. We should not give up so easily."

"I don't think you care about anyone but yourself. Have you ever thought about your family? It has been quite some time since you sent them money. They might be starving for all you care."

Gopal's words angered me. Who did he think he was? My family was my responsibility not his. How would his departure help my wife and daughter? I had to concede that I borrowed from him when I was short of funds but that didn't give him the right to lecture me.

"Suresh I have had enough of running from one studio to the other. I want to go home. No matter what you say I am no longer willing to follow your plans. You love running after mirages and for once I am not willing to follow you."

This was one of the few times that our disagreements had been so sharp and hurtful. We couldn't patch up our differences and slept fitfully through the night.

The next morning I got up bleary eyed with a heavy head to find that Gopal was busy packing.

"Your mind is made up. Are you leaving today?"

Gopal turned his face away and carried on with what he was doing. "I am taking this evening's train. I am leaving behind some money for your use. I hope good luck will come your way."

A thousand and one words raced through my mind but neither of us could open our hearts to close the distance that separated us. I went to see him off at the station but could only say good bye. As the train started to leave the platform, Gopal gave my hand a hard squeeze, "Suresh take care. If you need me, let me know."

I made my way blindly through the crowds and all I could remember was the day Gopal and I had met. He had befriended me, a gawky village lad and without being patronizing or overbearing, had helped me find my feet. Always impulsive and trusting, I didn't hesitate to take the plunge. Success was elusive but the risk had to be taken.

Gopal could have been a success had he stayed on. He had received more offers than me. Newly formed orchestras were always looking out for skilled percussionists. There would have been no dearth of jobs. I was on my own but resolved that I wouldn't give up so easily.
Chapter 15

The next morning I started with renewed enthusiasm and enquired if there were any openings. The set manager had informed the watchmen at the gates that extras would be required. As soon as I made my appearance the watchman gave me a big smile, "Today they are taking in a whole lot of extras. You will get a role. Go try your luck."

I did not want to act as an extra but it wouldn't hurt to have some money in my pocket. It was not easy to gain entrance in to a set where shooting was going on. This could be the chance I was waiting for. Today I might meet the man who could change my life.

By now I knew many of the music directors by face and while the shooting was on I saw one of them. As soon as the scene was over I would try to make his acquaintance. It so happened that the music director was still on the sets and I introduced myself.

"Sir, my name is Suresh and am trained in classical music. I have heard that you are composing the music for this film. Please give me a chance. I am sure that I will be able to please you."

The music director looked through me as if I did not exist. I felt insulted but this meeting might not be possible again.

One of the actresses was sitting next to him and going through her lines. Pity or boredom or whatever might be her reason she decided to speak on my behalf.

"Why don't you give this man a chance? You have been scouting around for new voices; this man may be the answer to your prayers. There is no harm in hearing him sing."

"You know so little about music Nazeera. This man is one of the extras in the last scene. You want me to hear him sing! Don't be daft."

"He says that he can sing so why not hear him out. You have nothing to lose. I was trying to help you but then I'm only an actress, not the famous Naresh Babu. You don't have to listen to me."

I kept my fingers crossed, hoping that he would listen to Nazeera and give me a chance. I smiled sheepishly, glancing from one face to the other.

"Nazeera I'll try your advice and see if he can sing. Who knows I might have a winner on my hand."

He beckoned to follow him. I couldn't believe my luck. I thought of Gopal and how silly he had been to leave last evening. This is how winners were made; you needed to have faith in yourself.

Naresh Babu asked me to sing any song of my choice. After a few lines he asked me to sing a popular tune from a recent film.

"Satisfactory. Your voice might suit one of the male actors but I can only decide after I have heard a recording. Meet me tomorrow and we will take it from there."

In the last few months I hadn't got the chance to showcase my talent now it had happened so effortlessly. I could not help but think of Gopal, if only he had not been in such a tearing hurry to leave, he too could have had tasted success.

I had to thank my good fairy who with one wave of her hand had made my dream come true. Nazeera was not to be seen, she had disappeared in one of the corridors running through the vast studio buildings.

There was no one with whom I could share the news of my good fortune so I ordered a dinner of rice and meat curry. Funds had been low and we had cut costs on everything including food. Soon I would have enough money to live in style.

All fired up to get the job I was at the studio gates well before time. I found my way to Naresh Babu's room to be told that he was not available that morning. The next best course would be to try to meet Nazeera to thank her and ask her to put in a word on my behalf. By now I was immune to these setbacks. It was best to think and act positive.

A little bit of asking around brought me face to face Nazeera.

"Suresh isn't your name Suresh? Did you get Naresh to hear you sing? Why didn't you meet me afterwards?" Nazeera pouted and tapped me on my shoulder

"I did try looking around for you. You were nowhere to be found. Thank you for putting in a word for me. Naresh Babu had asked me to come for a recording but he isn't in his room."

"It doesn't matter if he isn't there. We can spend some time together. Come along with me."

I was a wee bit surprised by her invitation as much as I had been by her generosity in championing a total stranger. No matter the reasons, nothing would be lost by spending some time with her. It might be to my advantage if she espoused my cause.

Nazeera led me in to a tiny ill lit dressing room with a mirror nailed to the wall and a table strewn with an assortment of tubes and jars of makeup. There was some desultory conversation about movies and the industry. We both agreed that without a doubt; one had to fight every plucked eyebrow and painted nail to not only gain entry but to hang on to one's position.

There was nothing in common between us and the small talk was dying out when Nazeera asked me, "Are you looking to act or sing in movies?"

"I want to pursue a career in music and have no ambitions of becoming an actor."

"Then why spend time doing mob scenes?"

"I need the money and came as I wanted to meet the person who would give a chance to sing in the movies. Once I have made my name singing for a top actor my life is made. I know that given the opportunity I will succeed. But it is my bad luck that I haven't been able to record a single song for music directors to understand my worth. Naresh Babu had asked me to come today and as usual is nowhere to be seen. The tables would have been turned if I was one of the popular singers. Then Naresh Babu would be chasing me."

"You have some cheek. You haven't had a proper audition or a contract and you are comparing yourself to the big time singers. I admire people who have the courage to fight. In this business you have to show yourself, exhibit your skills and make people sit up and take notice. You need flamboyance and attitude if you want to succeed. Those who are reticent and shy have no place here. The bigger the ego, the better the chance. This evening I will be meeting Naresh Babu and I will remind him of his promise. Keep on coming to the studio until you achieve your goal."

As I was leaving the room Nazeera called out, "Dress smartly. Appearances matter in this business. You look too shabby and untidy, those are signs of failure. If you can't buy new clothes at least see that they are laundered and ironed. You are a good looking man all you need to do is smarten up."

Nazeera's compliment boosted my ego but with hardly any earnings and debts piling up where was the money to buy new clothes. First impressions mattered even if I did not appear on the screen.

The next few days were repetitions of earlier ones. If Nazeera was free we would spend time together. I had almost given up on Naresh Babu when he dropped in to see her.

He was surprised to see us together while Nazeera complained, "Naresh you have no more time for me. These days you are so busy. Suresh has been trying to meet you for several days but you don't have any time for him. "

"How can I forget you? You know how it is; all the last minute changes and big star tantrums. I just haven't had the time. We should meet this evening."

Her voice heavy with sarcasm Nazeera asked, "We, who does this we include?"

"Nazeera you know who we includes. If I have given you my word you know that I will keep it. Come over this evening."

Naresh Babu did keep his word and I recorded a song for him. He told me that I would have to wait for a contract as the final details for the film had not been worked out.

"Keep in touch. When all the ends have been tied up I will recommend you to the director. I am sure that he will consider you."

Though the recording session with Naresh Babu had not yielded any results I was back to earning by giving music lessons. Parents of one of the student's were large hearted to offer me meals and a bed in lieu of the fees. This helped greatly as I did not have to pay for board and lodgings and had some money to spare. My frequent visits to the studio had also brought me in touch with people associated with music and a few concert bookings were coming my way.

Without family and living among strangers was stressful but I had to prove my point to Gopal as well as Bela. I wanted to earn enough money to justify staying back in Bombay. As and when possible I tried to send money to Bela.

Gopal's departure had robbed me of a good friend and confidant and I grew closer to Nazeera. She could never take Gopal's place in my life but we did become close. I was one of the few people who did not harass her for favours nor accuse her of not furthering my cause. Her suspicious, high strung nature won her more enemies than friends.

There were days when we had nothing much on our hands and we would sit and swap stories. Nazeera was vain and self centred and she could talk about herself for hours on end. But there were times when she wanted to know about me. I don't know whether she was prompted by idle curiosity or genuine interest.

"Suresh were you born in to a family of musicians and had to follow the family tradition?"

"I come from a family of small traders and it was unheard to be a professional vocalist. Being the youngest in the family nobody was too bothered about me."

"Most musicians don't earn much money or fame so what made you choose this profession?"

"I don't think you will have the patience to hear my life story. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Nazeera arched her painted eyebrows and said, "Why shouldn't it interest me? I wish I had a choice and didn't have to follow my mother's footsteps. You could have worked with your father."

"Do you have any idea of how stifling life can be as a small town trader? Sweating in a windowless room, trying hard to make a miniscule profit. It is a boring, dead end job."

I shuddered as past memories haunted me; being scolded and punished for playing truant from school. My father did not want to waste money on my school fees as I showed no aptitude for book learning. I was apprenticed to learn the trade but made a mess of that too. Without any guidance or plans my life was sinking into a morass of boredom and futility.

Picking up a tune was easy. Music could hold me spell bound and consume all my time and attention. Yet the idea of becoming a musician had not occurred to me.

Travelling actors and musicians were an instant attraction. Music was very much a part of these plays. Whenever a group arrived I would be drawn to their camp. I hung around a few times until one of the actors noticed me. Acceptance came slowly and it took time to be a part of the charmed inner circle. Tales of their wandering lives lured me but their hardships escaped my notice.

"Were you an actor before you decided to become a singer?"

"Noticing my interest some of the troupe taught me the latest songs and allowed me to do odd jobs. But once the group packed up and left for the next town I had nothing to do."

If there was any pathos to be wrung out of a story, Nazeera would not hesitate to use the last drop. She gave a great sigh and allowed a tear to hover around her eye. "Do you know Suresh I have never known what it is to be a child. I was pushed in to this profession as soon as I could walk. My mother was so smitten by my father's stage performances that she decided to follow him. Little did she know that he had besotted wives all over the country and tired easily of their company. After my birth my mother no longer cared for a nomadic existence and pestered my father to settle down. He did exactly what he had always done, abandoned my mother and found comfort in the arms of another enamoured woman.

I grew up in the wings and back stages of small town halls. Empty make up jars and lids were my first toys and when other girls were preening in their first silks and satins, the only finery I could don were stage costumes. I wouldn't be surprised if my first words were from the script of a play!

Why did my mother push me in to a profession where people can't distinguish between reality and make believe? Actors come to life under arc lights but fade away in the daylight."

I had firsthand experience of Nazeera's mother Shaheena's sharp tongue and her husband was lucky to have escaped from a harridan like her. More than Nazeera's well being Shaheena was interested in her daughter's earnings. She could not forget her husband's desertion and she greatly influenced Nazeera's attitude towards men. Shaheena's energies were directed solely in promoting Nazeera's rise to stardom, encouraging only those who could help further her daughter's aspirations. Though my presence irked Shaheena she was afraid of incurring her daughter's wrath.

My story sounded so mundane after Nazeera's oft repeated and embellished anecdotes of her life.

Though I did not possess Nazeera's theatrical skills, after a long time, I had delved in the distant past and could not help but linger for a while in the forgotten years of my youth.

"My father's patience was running out and he issued an ultimatum that I must either fall in with his plans or leave home and go my own way. I had been expecting him to take me to task but the suddenness and finality was unexpected. Without thinking, I looked my father in his eye and told him that I would leave home the next morning.

I don't know if my bravado shocked my father but he didn't ask me to change my decision. My mother sobbed her heart out and pleaded with me to reconsider my plans.

My pride had taken a tumble and I was determined to prove that I did not need my father's largesse to support me. I walked out with all the earnest foolhardiness and innocence of youth, with no idea of what lay ahead of me."

"How is it that a big city didn't gobble up a greenhorn and spit you out? Of course it is easier for men. I hate to think of what would happen to me if my mother was not there for me."

"It isn't easy for men too and the city with its constant roar frightened and confused me. One of the musicians had given me his address but the chaos of the city had dulled my senses, my eyes pained with the unending movement of men and vehicles and the constant clamour made my head reel. I looked around for a place to sit and recover."

Nazeera was amused by the fact that my first experience of the city had left me so befuddled. "I wouldn't be able to live in a village. The silence would make me crawl up the wall. Short of sounding superior, I find it amazing that you didn't get run over and die. It always makes me laugh when I see villagers trying to cross city roads. They run up and down and all over like goats."

"You can laugh as much as you want but the city can daunt the bravest of men and I was but a young boy. I sat on one of the benches in the tea shop with no money and gut wrenching hunger. The owner was about to throw me out when I approached him for a piece of bread in exchange of a job. These tea shops are always on the lookout for cheap labour. Though the owner pretended he was doing me a favour he was happy to have netted a country bumpkin free of charge.

It was a miserable existence and several times I was tempted to swallow my pride and go home. Next doors there was music shop that sold records. Without much of an effort I picked up the tunes and hummed to myself. I had an appreciative audience among the customers who liked to hear the popular numbers. Some of them would request their favourites, the more generous among them would occasionally tip me.

Among the regular visitors to the music shop was an old man who would drink tea at the shop. One afternoon he asked me to sing a semi classical song that was the current hit. Long after I had finished he kept looking at me.

As I was about to move away he asked me, "Son, have you ever had music lessons?"

Gently but skilfully he managed to extract the story of my life and then offered to give me music lessons.

"I can hardly pay for my food. How can I afford to pay your fees?"

"I can see that you have no money but I can gauge your potential. God has given you the gift of music. I will teach you but you will have to promise that you will give me your complete attention and allegiance. Think about it and let me know."

There is the old saying that when you are ready your guru finds you. I had nothing to lose and gladly gave my consent. My guru was Atif Khan and as teachers go I still think of him as one of the best. Not only did I learn music from him but I met my best friend Gopal who was learning to play the _tabla._ "

The moment I uttered Gopal's name, Nazeera exclaimed, "Stop. Stop. All your stories end and begin with Gopal. I don't want to hear a word about him. Do you think you can continue without mentioning Gopal?"

"There is a rhythm in every aspect of life and so to in music. The percussionist keeps that beat without which a singer may lose his path. Gopal is not only an integral part of my music but also in my life."

Nazeera would not have any of it. "Why don't you tell me about your guru?"

"Though we didn't spend much time together, I still grieve for him as I could have leant so much more. He gave generously of his time and skills to all his students but age was against him. He knew that I had no home or family in the city and sheltered me. I could not have asked for more. He not only included me in circle but made me a part of his family.

Guruji's death caused a major upheaval in my life. I now knew what I wanted to do but lacked the means to pursue. It was Gopal who took me under his wing and helped me find teachers as well as earn a living. My training would have ended had he not made all the arrangements. Gopal accompanied with such subtlety and certainty that the singer could skim and swoop through the notes and yet not lose the rhythmic pattern of the _sargam_. He had the makings of an accomplished percussionist but he did not neglect or desert me in his search for perfection."

"You have condensed your life in to a few sentences because I forbade you to mention Gopal" teased Nazeera. "Tell me about your wife? Is she pretty? Can she sing? When did you get married? You hardly speak about her."

"If you were not so impatient I could have told you why I hold Gopal in such high regard but you will not allow me to continue. Women are never easy to understand or please. You have not met Gopal but have made up your mind that you don't want to hear about him. What has he done to incur your displeasure?"

"He sounds so boring, a goody two shoes. If he loves you so much why did he leave you to fend for yourself? He cannot be as good a friend as you keep telling me."

There was no answer to that question. After his departure, Gopal had not got in touch with me. Would changed circumstances take now take us in different directions. Nazeera looked upon people either as her fans or as her rivals. Nurturing friendships especially with women was not her cup of tea. How could I explain to her that Gopal had always cared not only for me but for my wife and daughter?
Chapter 16

People were drawn towards Nazeera because of her liveliness though she was not a picture book beauty. She demanded total loyalty and attention on those she conferred her favours. If she felt that she was being neglected she would rave and rant and work herself in to a fury.

When she was in a bad mood she would say, "You are like other men. You have abandoned your family, left them to fend for themselves. Why should I help you? You are just like my father, you can't be trusted."

During lean periods Nazeera would often put the blame on her father's behaviour and come down hard on men. At the same time she also revelled in male admiration. I was neither rich nor a rising star but she was probably fonder of me than of most of her male friends. Nazeera had been born in to show business and she knew that the public could be very capricious. If she did not stay in the limelight, her house of cards could tumble down. Even when she was at the height of her fame this anxiety made her edgy. At times this would make her hysterical. She would stand in front of the mirror, critically examining her reflection then suddenly turn and address me.

"Who do you see in the mirror? Who is Nazeera? The vamp, the girl next door, the spurned lover or the star, I am the director's puppet. It is the audience who breathe life in to me. If there is no audience then I do not exist. Musicians also need listeners but they can perform independently while actors come to life if others believe in them."

Naresh and Nazeera shared a long standing relationship. They had met when they were trying to find a foothold in the movie business. A perfect foil for her quicksilver temperament, he had the equanimity and common sense to put up with her melodramatic ego. Success was coming his way, he was gaining recognition as one of the popular and well known music directors. His songs were on every one's lips. A movie's success and box office earnings depended greatly on the music and songs. People hummed the tunes long after the movie had stopped showing.

Through the studio grape vine, Nazeera had ferreted out that Naresh Babu was more than friendly with another up and coming starlet. Some days she would shout and berate him for his unfaithfulness while he tried appeasing her. If she became too foul mouthed and loud then he would leave in disgust.

Nazeera's career was currently in the doldrums, making her jittery. A film star's career was erratic and for most actors it would often end in one short burst. Popularity with the public was essential but it was the directors who chose the cast. Nazeera had yet to reach those dizzy heights when she could command both roles as well as fees. Now that Naresh Babu was doing well, his word carried weight and he could put in a word for her.

The studios were a hot bed of rumours and gossip and Nazeera had heard that Naresh was spending time with Promila. If the stories were to be believed Promila's success was in a large measure due to Naresh's recommendations.

Nazeera was so unpredictable that it took me some time to notice that she would shower me with attention when Naresh was around. She thought that my presence would win him back. I don't know what made her think that way. I had no standing in the film industry and was neither rich nor handsome. Her ploy did not work but she would not give up. She nagged Naresh about Promila until he stopped visiting her.

The tension and stress of having no work in hand was telling on Nazeera. I understood what she was going through and tried to tell her that there was nothing to do but ride it out.

"Look at me Nazeera I have come such a long way from home and in all these months I have hardly earned a decent living. You need to keep meeting people and not be too choosy about the roles that are available. You shouldn't lose hope."

I don't know why Nazeera thought that Promila was responsible for her declining career or the loss of her beau but she was now a changed person.

Our relationship is not easy to describe. We were both keen to make it to the top but I lacked Nazeera's ambition and fierceness. I still believe that with me she was as open and honest as she could be and tried her best to further my career. She treated me as a friend and a brother and was comfortable in my company. Underlying all this was a mean and suspicious streak and when that got the better of her she could go berserk. There were times when she would misplace trinkets or clothes and would immediately suspect her maid of theft. It wouldn't take her a second to scream and slap the imagined offender. If the missing object was found she could be generous in her reward or just brush off the whole incident. There was no knowing which way she would go. May be she identified so deeply with her movie roles that she could not distinguish between fantasy and reality.

Lately I had been toying with the idea of leaving Bombay. The city had not helped my fortunes to change and I was tired of this itinerant living. Under normal circumstances I would have sought Nazeera's advice but nowadays she was either too angry and abusive or withdrawn in a world of her own.

It was raining very hard that evening and I had no other place to visit. I could go and sit in a roadside tea shop but that cost money. The best way to kill time would be to visit Nazeera. For all I knew she might be in a good mood and it would be like old times.

I made my way to Nazeera's and found that Naresh was there. They were so absorbed in talking to one another that they had not noticed me. I was not too sure of my welcome and judged it wiser to leave.

Naresh spotted me standing in the doorway.

"Suresh has come. He is the right person to put you in a good mood. You seem to be happier in his company."

Naresh had not finished speaking when Nazeera flew in to a right royal rage.

"What has Suresh got to do with my moods? Men are so insensitive that they can't see beyond their nose. Promila and you are the cause of all my woes."

"Don't talk like a fool. How is Promila to blame for your problems? She hardly knows you."

Nazeera's face had turned an ugly shade of purple and she could hardly speak. "Promila has bewitched you. Why should you visit me? It is only because of you that she is getting so much work. A two bit actress like her!"

"How dare you speak to me like that? Have I ever commented about your friendship with Suresh? I don't know what you see in him but for your sake I tried to help him. You had no time for me and you have the nerve to complain about Promila."

I did not wish to get caught in this cross fire but there was no reason to take the insinuation lying down. If he suspected that I had taken his place in Nazeera's affections he was truly mistaken. Could this be the reason why he hadn't gone out to help me?

"Naresh take back your words. You have not by any means furthered my career. I have not gone places and though you are not to blame for it, don't take credit for what you haven't done. What exactly do you mean by my friendship with Nazeera? I don't owe you any favours. Do not involve me in your quarrels."

Nazeera pounced on Naresh Babu and held on to him. "All this time you have been deceiving me, going behind my back. Why couldn't you tell me that you love Promila and not me?"

Tempers were running high and our voices had risen to a crescendo. Accusations, envy, all the frustrations of failed fortunes surfaced and swept us into a frenzy. It was an ugly scene, none of us were able to stop shouting or retain a semblance of sanity. Nazeera had been clinging on to Naresh Babu's sleeve when he decided to leave. Frustrated, spurned, she hurled a vase placed on a nearby table. Naresh Babu ducked and a sharp piece of glass struck my face.

I had not seen the vase coming towards me and the damage was done before I could dodge. A sharp piece of glass had cut open my forehead, covering my face with blood. Nazeera screamed and fainted in the true tradition a movie star.

Our loud voices and the sound of shattered glass brought family members as well as neighbours to the scene. One of the men was dispatched to call a doctor, who advised me to go to the nearest hospital, as my wound needed stitches.

I don't remember much after that as for the next few days I lay ill and delirious in the hospital. Nazeera managed to get hold of my address and sent a telegram asking my wife to come as soon as possible to Bombay.
PART FOUR

# BELA'S STORY
Chapter 17

There had been little news or money from my husband ever since he had decided to continue living in Bombay. Gopal had come back and told us that we would have to wait until Suresh got over his bout of movie madness.

"You should know your husband by now. Every passing breeze is an invitation to fly even if the destination is unknown. In my opinion he is not cut out for the film industry. Classical music is his forte and that is what he should stick to."

Our life bordered on the edge of genteel poverty though I tried my level best to manage with the money that Suresh sent. I had no idea of how he was faring in Bombay as he hardly corresponded. Almost all my letters had come back undelivered as Suresh constantly changed his lodgings. Keeping in touch with him was pointless and a waste of time.

Gopal could make out when I was really short of funds and helped me out. We could not have survived without his support.

Every day I waited for the postman's knock in the hope of a letter or a postal order. On that fateful morning it was Anjoli who saw the postman coming our way and had scurried to open the door. I waited for a couple of minutes for Anjoli to hand me the mail. All I heard was the postman's voice followed by her loud wail. I rushed to the door to find her trembling and reading a telegram. In our lives a telegram was rarely a bearer of good news. She held on to the telegram and continued weeping. An unknown lady named Nazeera had sent the news that Suresh was very ill and that our presence in Bombay was not only necessary but urgent.

Anjoli and I knew that we would have to enlist Gopal's help to go to Bombay. There was no telephone in our house and Anjoli rushed to one of the neighbours to call and inform Gopal.

Gopal arrived with as much speed as he could muster, his eyes glued to the telegram, trying to make sense out of the brief message.

"Do you know Nazeera? What has happened to Suresh? How long does it take to go to Bombay?"

Gopal was lost in his thoughts and took his time to answer my anxious queries.

"My first requirement is funds. I need to see how much money I can raise at such short notice. Once that has been done I will buy the tickets for all three of us. You will need to look in to a hundred and one things as the trip might be a long one. The train journey to Bombay will take two nights. Stop worrying. I will try my level best to see if we can leave by tomorrow's train. The sooner we get there the better. It was too be expected that Suresh wouldn't be able to manage on his own"

I could only thank God that we could depend on Gopal's unstinted loyalty and generous nature.

The telegram had in no way indicated what was wrong with Suresh. My anxiety could only think of the worst possible fate. Mercifully there was much to do before we left and little time to indulge in idle thoughts.

True to his word Gopal made all arrangements and bought the tickets for the next day's train. We would leave in the afternoon and he asked me to pack some food for the journey.

There were so many unanswered questions buzzing around in my mind. Nightmares chased me until I fell in to an uneasy sleep. Anjoli was sunk in deep slumber, her arm flung across me to safe guard her from all harm.

Next day I was in a daze as the taxi rumbled and coughed through the streets leading to the station. Anjoli held the music box in her hands and kept on playing the same tune over and over again. I prayed that I would be able to control my irritation and not snap at her.

The ride to the station seemed endless and every time the taxi jerked to a halt in front of a traffic light I thought we would be delayed and miss the train. The scenery was a series of blurred images and in my mind I had arrived in Bombay. Anjoli could not sit still and fidgeted with the music box while Gopal sat stiffly in the front seat, rigid and tense.

Lost in my own world I didn't realize that I had pushed through the jostling crowds and reached the platform. My impatience was getting the better of me and each time the whistle blew I expected the train to move. Yet when the train gathered speed to steam out of the station and the noise and din faded away it did not register that we were moving towards our destination.

the rhythm of the moving wheels or the hum of people's voices, calmed my frayed nerves, lulling me in to a deep sleep.

The present no longer existed, it ceased to bother me and I slipped in to the past that no longer was so distant. My life was slowly rewinding before my eyes.
Chapter 18

There was the little girl, with solemn eyes and long braids playing in the garden, laughing, chattering and giggling in school, and all the time growing, growing so fast that she suddenly became a young woman.

Growing up in a large joint family had its advantages; you could be left pretty much to your own devices unless you were an angel or a devil. If you managed to just stretch the rules but not completely break them you remained unnoticed and could do what you pleased without the gaggle of grandmothers, mothers and aunts breathing down your back.

Men and women lived in two almost separate worlds circumscribed by invisible lines that were rarely crossed. Confined to the inner courtyards the women seldom stepped out. Male approval was the passport to the outside world. Ranked a few hundred steps below the male hierarchy women's identities were amorphous. The middle echelons of society were the most straitjacketed; the women were allowed a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beyond their doors but discouraged to leave the safety of their cloistered lives.

Hardly any of the family elders discussed higher education or careers when a girl managed to cross the hurdle of the school leaving examination. Regardless of her merit and achievement, they always concluded with the time tested verdict that higher education for women was a waste of resources. As soon as most girls reached their teens the social machinery would be set in motion to start looking for a suitable match. It was a question of waiting out the time while the search was on. Sooner or later, a man would be found and overnight a woman would emerge from the cocoon of girlhood.

Not being an exceptional student there wasn't much talk about my progressing further than school. I was quite content to go along with the family plans. In any case women had little choice as it was the men who made all the major decisions. The horizon was so limited that it was almost as if the world was flat and a woman stepping too far might fall off the edge.

Early marriages meant young widows too and often these unfortunate women were sent back to their natal families. It was a miserable life of deprivation and dependence. Yet in times of childbirth, weddings, illnesses and other family festivals and emergencies it was many of these faceless women who took charge.

Rani Didi my father's sister was one of these child widows. She had lost her husband when she was young and as was the custom doomed to endless abstinence and penance. In one fell swoop her life was drained of all happiness and vitality; her existence had to be erased in the quickest way possible. Ruthlessly all signs of feminity were eradicated. Long tresses were sheared until a coarse stubble covered her scalp. Colours were wiped out to be shrouded by a white starkness. A meagre afternoon meal, the minimum doled out to keep the body barely alive. Women were either brood mares or work horses. These souls were burnt to ashes by desire and envy for the simplest of pleasures.

On one of his trips my grandfather had been able to bring back Rani Didi along with him. She never went back to her in laws and with the passing of time took over running her father's household. The harsh years that she had spent with her husband's family had left her with an iron hand and a heart of steel. She was a hard task master and not easy to please but she was fair and could at times amaze even her detractors with her intuitive insight.

My mother decided that Rani Didi should teach me to sew and cook. These were skills that were supposed to bring instant acceptance for a young bride. If I must learn then I might as well have the best teacher. Unlike most of the others who were easy going and lenient Rani Didi was the other extreme. None of my cousins wanted to suffer her regime. But my mother would not give in to any excuses. It was a widely held belief that if a girl was able to survive Rani Didi's training then she could take on the most pernickety of mothers in law. Not a mean accomplishment, considering that in the case of young brides, the fiercest dragon in her new home was her mother in law. Perfection was Rani Didi's motto and for a novice it was almost unattainable. It took me several days of pricked fingers to complete hemming a handkerchief. She didn't show any sign of pity as she rapped my knuckles with her thimble, ruthlessly ripping away all the hard work. My progress was slow but I was stubborn enough not to leave mid way. Rani Didi did not relax her standards but she showed greater understanding and sympathy.

She would shake her head and sigh, "God created woman and pain at the same time. She is always at the mercy of another and crumbles easily. A woman should learn to be like water that creeps into crevices and with time wears down the rocks that obstructed it's way."

Rani Didi never had children and only a dim memory of a boy who was her husband. Her observations were from the sidelines as she was never the main player. Since she could not be a wife or a mother; she seized the chance to take over the thankless task of running the kitchen and household. Managing a large family had taught her how to manipulate the cross currents of loves and hates and at the same time keep the boat afloat. At no time would she let the family name and its interests be compromised. The men respected her acumen and judgment. She had the power to veto any major decision that involved their personal lives. Only the foolhardy would want to be on her wrong side.

My family had lived in the same town and neighbourhood for many years. Ancient scandals could still rouse tempers and erupt in heated arguments! Provincial and staid, the town lumbered along at the same sleepy, slow pace as the last fifty years.

Our house had once stood on the outskirts of the town and near the family paddy fields. Gradually the farm lands receded as the town sprawled and spread around us. As the family grew, the house expanded in to rooms, corridors and store rooms to make space for the increasing numbers.

There was an outer courtyard that separated the family quarters from the rest of the house. There were a few rooms in the rear of the house where the young, single men lived. It was an unwritten rule that those rooms were out of bound for women though there were times when one of the young widows in the family might be seen slinking in for a midnight tryst. A big family looked after its own, jealously guarding its secrets from the outsiders prying eyes.
Chapter19

The house slumbered in the hot afternoon sun. Bamboo blinds were lowered, the louvered window shutters were half open to let in the breeze, and mats were spread out on the floors. Mothers feel asleep while singing lullabies, grandparents dozed and dreamt of their youth and restless young children fell in to a deep stupor, their energy sapped by the great heat. The roaring kitchen fires were banked, dirty dishes lay piled up and even the kitchen cats napped in the coolest corner of the corridor. Big and small, old and young, masters and servants, lay under the spell of the afternoon siesta. Not even a leaf stirred and only the incessant call of the brain fever bird pierced the somnolent stillness. Even the stone floor felt hot to the touch as I turned and tossed in an attempt to sleep. I got up to have a drink of water and wondered how to amuse myself. My restlessness would not allow me to sit in peace without disturbing others. Closing the door softly I climbed up to the terrace. The heat was blinding but in front of me stood the big stone jars, soaking in the sun, full to the brim with the year's supply of pickled mangoes. The temptation was too great to resist and I took out a piece of sour and spicy mango and popped it in to my mouth. My tongue exploded with the mingling of sweet, sour and hot tastes.

And then the sound of singing broke through the heavy, summer air. It sent a shiver down my spine. The voice seemed to caress each note as it followed one another in the quiet, sun swept garden. Then and there music bewitched and had me in its clutches; a two edged sword that was dangerous to wield. Later on I was fortunate to hear many of the grand masters, the _ustads_ who entertained large audiences but that afternoon's experience would turn my life upside down.

I had to find the singer. The sound came from the far corner of the house, the men's quarters. As far as I knew none of the men in the family were trained or gifted to sing so well. Who could it be? Without a thought I ran down the stairs, in the direction of the song. The song was louder and clearer but I stopped in my tracks as my entrance would cause confusion. I must have stood near the window for nearly an hour.

A bit of bribery went a long way. A sweet or some tawdry gewgaw could fetch a mine of information. My informer could not give me any details other than that he was my uncle's guest and his name was Suresh. Not only did I want to hear him again but also find out who could teach me to sing.

I waylaid my uncle though I knew my queries would make him suspicious. I couldn't care less, "Who is the person who was singing in your room? How long is he going to stay here?"

"Who has asked you to poke your nose in my business? Get lost."

I would have to try another tack. It wouldn't serve my purpose if he refused to divulge any details. "Yesterday I heard him and he sings so well. Don't you think that there are some of us at home would like to hear him too?"

"There is hardly anyone in this house who can understand and appreciate classical music. The older people are happy with devotional songs even if they are sung out of tune and as for the rest they want to hear the latest hits from movies and plays. His music would be wasted on these villagers. Suresh has done me a favour by agreeing to be my guest. Foisting him with an unresponsive audience would be a grave injustice."

"Now that your friend is here why don't you teach us how to appreciate classical music? Once they have heard him I'm sure there will be more takers."

My uncle was intrigued by my interest and quite unexpectedly said, "Do you want to hear him sing? I suppose when I am there you could come to my room. There should be no problem if you don't open your big mouth and spill the news to the rest of the family. If you do there will be trouble for both of us."

This had gone off better than my expectations. I pretended not to show too much enthusiasm and ruin my chances. "Should I come today or some other day?"

"There's no hurry. Suresh has agreed to spend a few days with me. His friend Gopal is expected to arrive soon and then you can hear a proper performance. I can't get over my surprise that a girl from this family should show any inclination for classical music."

Most of the men assumed such airs and graces when they spoke to women especially to those younger than them. I wanted to ask him how he had learnt about classical music while looking down on his philistine family. As long as he kept his word I was willing to listen to his inane comments.

Theatres and concerts were open to men of all ages but as in most cases not for women. Liberal families who were rich and educated were more open to the idea of women accompanying their men folk to such gatherings. But in most families the women rarely went to public performances and ours was no exception. The general attitude was that the men needed to be amused and kept in good spirits. Religious festivals and household crafts like embroidery, crocheting or may be knitting were considered good enough to keep the ladies gainfully occupied as well as entertained. On rare occasions a play or a movie centred round the Hindu epics was allowed but not a performance by a well known musician.

Like many others I hummed and sang the few of the popular songs but had not experienced the gamut and range of classical music. Women were not encouraged to learn music or the performing arts.

One afternoon my uncle sent for me. " Come to my room in the evening if you want to hear Suresh sing."

Suresh was still a stranger but not his music. His songs would float in to the night and find their way to my room. I had not disclosed my plans to anyone but my mind was made up about learning music.

When I entered the room Suresh and Gopal were tuning their instruments before getting ready to sing. Both of them were so rapt in the preparations that they did not notice me. Except for my uncle no one else from the family was present. My boldness might cost me greatly but I was not willing to forgo this first-hand experience. My uncle was smart enough to send me out before my absence was noticed in the family rooms as either of us could get into trouble.

Mesmerized by the music I blurted out , "Ma, I would like to take music lessons."

"Did I hear you correctly?" was the astonished reply.

"Yes you did."

"What will you do by learning to sing, become a courtesan?"

It was my turn to be surprised. "Do only courtesans learn to sing?" Though I wasn't too sure what courtesans did to earn them notoriety.

My mother didn't want to continue what she thought was idle conversation and conveniently changed the subject.

My next step was to meet Suresh and question him closely. I would have to choose a time when my uncle was not around and broach the topic. A watch on their movements told me that they were free in the early hours of the evening. If I waited too long I might miss the chance of meeting Suresh.

A quick look told me that no one seemed to be around their room. I barged in to find both Suresh and Gopal relaxing on the bed. They were startled by my unannounced entrance and sprang up with a jolt. It was so sudden and unexpected that for a minute or so all three of us were hard pressed to speak.

Before they could speak, I rushed on, "You must be wondering why I am here. I have been hearing you sing for the last few days and want to learn to sing. Can you tell me how I can learn?"

My unusual request had them tongue tied. Suresh took time to answer me."I am a trained classical singer and don't sing popular songs. How do you know you can sing? You don't seem to have any experience."

Without waiting for my reply, Gopal suggested, "Why don't you sing for us? Then we will know if it is possible for you to learn. Many people think they can sing but very few are cut out for classical music."

I hadn't come prepared to sing but it would be stupid to let go of any chance. A devotional song was my best bet.

My boldness surprised me. Untrained and nervous, my voice trembled on the first note but ended confidently. What would their verdict be?

It was Suresh who spoke, "Your voice is untrained but it has depth and sweetness."

I was in a hurry as I could get in to trouble if any one saw me in a room with two unknown men. " Now that you know I can sing, do you know of anyone who can teach me?"

"We are new to your town and don't know anyone here. But I could find out. Are you sure that your family will permit you to take lessons. Girls from families like yours are not allowed to take up music."

I had stayed too long in the room and if I didn't want to attract undue notice I should leave. The words tumbled out without much thought. Later I was stunned by my boldness. "Could you teach me?"

At that time it was the song and not the singer who was important for me. The sound of approaching voices rang alarm bells; without waiting for an answer I made my escape.

Suresh had said that I was capable. My mother would have to be tackled without making her unduly suspicious. But I was wrong. After my first request, my mother had put her spy network on the task.

In a big household there were often guests who though uninvited would stay over for as long as they pleased. Unless they were closely related, the women did not know much about them. But there were always ways and means of accessing information though they could not leave the inner courtyard without male escorts.

My mother had made it her business to find out if there was any evidence that would lead to my new found interest in music. She knew about Suresh though she had not yet found out about my second visit to their room. She was smart enough not to divulge anything to me.

"God willing you will be married soon. Who wants a wife who can sing and dance? If a man wants a singer he can visit the women who make a living out of it. Let me make it clear that no one will allow you take music lessons. You should be spending more time with Rani Didi. Get rid of all these silly ideas or the consequences might be too severe. Heaven help you and me if your father or the elders come to hear about your outlandish wishes."

Men had the prerogative to decide on most family matters. If permission was denied then it was next to impossible to go against their wishes. Women used their wiles and guiles to press their causes. Success was not guaranteed and rarely was a ruling overturned. Girls had little to do with their fathers or older males in the family. Requests had to be directed through proper channels who would present the case for approval. My mother had made it clear that it was a hare brained idea and not worthwhile discussing. Chances were that she wouldn't bring it up with the other women leave alone my father.

Disgusted with my constant begging and pleading, my mother agreed to find out if approval would be granted for music lessons. Rani Didi would ask on my behalf and await the result.

My only fear was Suresh would leave by the time my mother and Rani Didi thought of helping me. After my mother had spoken to Rani Didi she warned me, "There should be no hint of scandal linked to you while we are looking around for a bridegroom. Instead of learning to sew and cook you have a strange wish to learn music. Since you were so adamant I have asked Rani Didi to find out if these lessons can be arranged."

It was at one of the afternoon needlework sessions that Rani Didi brought up the topic. "Your mother tells me that you are keen to learn music. I don't remember you showing much interest in music. What is the reason behind this new found craze?"

The best thing would be to tell her about that afternoon's recital and how it affected me. Rani Didi heard me out and then asked me to pay attention to the embroidery on hand. "No matter what you are doing you must learn to do it well. Nothing can be achieved if you are half hearted. Look at the sewing that you are doing, your stitches should be small and even. You young girls skip from one thing to the other, end up learning nothing."

Had I managed to convince Rani Didi and would she take up for me? Her deadpan expression did not encourage any further conversation.

Rani Didi wanted to hear Suresh sing so that she could make a personal assessment. She had to be certain that Suresh could be entrusted with the responsibility of teaching young girls. It was decided that some of the other girls in the family would also learn along with me. Rani Didi believed that there was safety in numbers.

Suresh agreed readily as he was going through one of the lean periods that were such a regular feature of his life. He was in clover as he would not only get free board and lodgings but would be paid a small fee. In a big house like ours one more extra mouth to feed was not considered a burden and so Gopal could continue to stay too. Gopal would travel to other nearby towns to perform and earn a living. Having stayed on for few months both of them were now on familiar terms with the younger men in the family. A strong system of hierarchy was observed in almost all areas of family life and the older men rarely met the other junior or non family members. Many of the men were unaware of how many guests as well as hangers on lived in the house. Unless there was a poor harvest or business did badly no one grudged the extra cost.

The music classes were such a novelty that it drew a lot of attention and there were many takers. Rani Didi had ensured that there was a chaperone for the classes as she did not want any scandal. Finally the numbers shrank as none of the girls shared my zeal. Suresh gave me his undivided attention as I proved to be a willing learner. Supervision became lax and almost non-existent once the numbers decreased. Before long Suresh and I were spending a lot of time together.
Chapter 20

I don't know if life would have taken the turn that it did if we were under greater surveillance. Young people did not often manage to meet and spend time together. It seemed inevitable that at some point we might have romantic feelings for one another. In the beginning we were careful and correct in our behaviour but as time went by it seemed natural that our fingers should brush, our hands should touch and that we should have more to say than sing. Privacy was a rare commodity in a house overflowing with people. Meetings outside of classes were few and we had to make do with the few secluded moments that came our way. Dodging inquisitive cousins and equally nosy servants made fervent declarations of love or intimate conversations almost impossible.

Marriage was a common topic among young women though for better or for worse they rarely had the final word. A woman's consent for marriage was not needed, it was a family decision. The search and the negotiations were left in the able hands of the senior male relations. From time to time I heard about the various young men who were being considered as suitable life partners. Nothing had been fixed and I was not anxious one way or the other.

My mother called me aside and said, "You are aware that you are now old enough to get married. The family has sent the word around; we are fortunate that our search has been successful. The initial talks are over, the horoscopes are well matched, the young man has a government job and his family would like to meet you before they give their final consent."

It would be wrong to say that it was a bolt from the blue but at the same time I had not expected events to move so soon. What should I do? Neither Suresh nor I had ever thought of alternate plans and needed to act swiftly. We rarely discussed marriage and its repercussions on our lives.

Trying to stall affairs from moving too fast I mumbled loudly "What will happen to my music classes? I have been doing so well."

My mother was not too pleased with my words but she did not read much in to it. She thought that I was nervous about the idea of getting married.

"All this singing will be of no use once you are married. You need to prepare yourself to adapt to the family that will now become your own. A new bride has to learn to win over every one including the maids. Don't waste your time on music but on household skills".

I sought out Suresh to inform him about my current status. My heart was pounding fast, my speech garbled, I had to repeat myself to be understood.

Suresh kept staring at me but did not utter a single word. I didn't realize that I was shaking him violently and repeating, "Tell me. Tell me what to do?"

"I love you. How can I advise you to marry another man when I want to marry you. All that I have to offer is my music and myself."

I was almost swept off my feet by Suresh's declaration of love but in spite of my years was more down to earth and prosaic.

"Ma said that the groom's family will be visiting soon. She wasn't explicit, my guess is that the wedding date has been set. We need to come up with a plan as soon as possible."

It was not wise to linger too long and for the sake of safety, I freed myself from Suresh's embrace. Tracing my steps back to the house, my mind was clouded with a foreboding of trouble.

Young and inexperienced, deeply in love , I sensed that Suresh with his boyish charm and winning smile was a dreamer. No matter how strongly I advocated Suresh's cause, he didn't measure up to my family standards of a son in law. No one in the family would support me in my choice. Neither did I have the courage to share my thoughts with any of my cousins or aunts.

Suresh was not unduly perturbed and kept on reassuring me.

"You are getting worked up for nothing. Don't worry. What is the hurry? You are not getting married tomorrow. There is plenty of time."

I was put off by Suresh's arguments and wondered if he would leave me high and dry if a timely solution couldn't be found. In my present circumstances I could do nothing but fret and fume.

Matters came to a head when I was told that the prospective groom's family were coming the next day to visit us. My parents considered it a good match. Their approval would put the final stamp on the proposal.

My cousins and aunts had started teasing me and planning their finery and my trousseau for the wedding. I prayed that this meeting would fall through and for the time being the situation could be shelved. There was no way I could stop the proceedings. My role was the least in the matchmaking even though I was the bride to be.

As was the custom I was surrounded by my aunts and cousins who were given the task of looking after me until the meeting was over. It was next to impossible to escape their eagle eyes. There was no opportunity to tell Suresh that we could not wait any longer.

My hair style and make up was the combined effort of one of the female relatives while Rani Didi decided what sari and jewellery I should wear.

My cousins remarked that I almost looked like a bride and I would charm all the visitors. Who could I trust in my hour of greatest need?

By the time I was called to appear in front of the guests I was almost in tears and ready to call it a day. Mercifully I wasn't grilled for too long.

Rani Didi was in another room waiting to hear the firsthand account. She mistook my tears as signs of nervousness and relief that I had been able to go through it all.

"Was it too much of an ordeal?" she asked.

I didn't try to give her an answer and hid my face in the pillow.

"Your father told me that they are decent people and you will be happy with our choice. It is a big leap in to a new world. You are a sensible girl and they will have no regrets in welcoming you as a daughter in law. I am going to miss you and your music classes."

The mention of music brought on a fresh onslaught of crying and I almost confessed my fears. Better sense prevailed and I willed myself to stop sobbing and hold my tongue.

While I sat lost in thought, my cousin's whoop of joy brought me back to the present.

"Bela, you lucky girl, they liked you from the moment you stepped in to the room. They want to fix the wedding at the earliest date possible. I overheard them saying that as soon as it can be arranged their son will come to meet you. I should get a gift for bringing you the good news.

Stop looking so serious and smile. Aren't you happy that you will be married soon? Your husband to be has sent you his photograph. I had a peek he is handsome!"

Matters had progressed much faster than my expectations. Suresh had to be contacted as dilly dallying would make matters worse. It would not be fair on my part to make my parents go through the trouble and effort as well as spend money on the wedding arrangements. My groom had to be either Suresh or my parent's choice. My role was fixed.

Afternoons were the siesta hours making it easier to escape prying eyes and speak to Suresh. Although past caring, it was better that no roving eyes should see me sneaking out. No point in adding to my woes.

Neither Suresh nor Gopal noticed my entry. They were busy trying out a new song that Gopal had heard in the last concert.

"Suresh my marriage has been fixed. What shall we do?"

Suresh was not very perturbed. "How was I to know that negotiations would move at such tremendous speed? May be we should tell your parents that we would like to marry ?"

Such irresponsible behaviour was maddening. Before I could continue Gopal interrupted.

"You are an ass. Do you think that Bela's parents will give their daughter's hand in marriage to a poor musician like you? They will horsewhip us out of this town and get Bela married off as soon as possible."

"What else can I do? Why do they have to get Bela married so early?"

"What alternative do you have other than to elope and get away from this town as quickly as you can?"

Suresh was bewildered as it was not like him to decide promptly or take immediate action. His words were enough to indicate that he hadn't lost sleep on the subject of marriage.

It was Gopal who spoke out and forced Suresh's hand.

"If you love Bela then the best way would be to leave as soon as possible. You never know who may have seen the two of you together and come to a conclusion. If you delay it might be too late."

I was unnerved by Gopal's words. My experience outside the house was practically zero. If the rules were broken there would be no forgiveness from any quarter. My stake in this was far greater than Suresh. My head ached until I could think no longer.

Gopal looked from one face to the other and tried to fathom our thoughts. "Bela go back to the house. No one should connect Suresh and you. Give Suresh some more time to think it through. Another day or two will not make a difference."

Gopal's words made sense. Nothing could be done until Suresh was sure of his position and his choice to either marry or leave our house.

Why hadn't Suresh thought of a plan? Didn't he love me? What if he deserted me? I loved him and had told him that I was ready to do what he wanted. Uncertainties and doubts clouded my mind, leaving me unsure sure about Suresh's feelings and avowals of love. Why was Suresh so complacent? Why couldn't I be in charge of my own life? Why did men have the power to do as they pleased? Women were pawns in the hands of men.

In the mean while I faced a lot of ribbing and teasing from my cousins. My silence was interpreted as girlish modesty. Every hour I expected Suresh to put my doubts to rest. How long could I play this waiting game and not break down?

At the next music class Suresh passed on a note to me. I read it as soon as I could. He wanted to meet in the evening.

Throwing caution to the winds I made my way to meet Suresh. His face was flushed and he was in high spirits.

"Next morning we will leave town. By the time your family starts missing you we will be too far away to be stopped."

"Mornings are busy and there are too many people around. I will be noticed especially if I'm dressed to go out."

"No you will not, if people around you are in a hurry. Pack a few clothes and meet us at the gate in the backyard. It isn't used much and you can escape without attracting attention. Gopal has bought the tickets. If you are not there at the gate by nine we will be gone. If you love me you will come."

Happy as I was with Suresh's declaration of love, I now wavered between choosing him or the family. Besieged by fears of the unknown, this unplanned flight from the safety and comfort of home, left me sleepless and wide eyed.

I arrived at the rear gate and kept looking over my shoulder. Every passing figure seemed to be taking undue interest in me. In my fear, the short ride to the railway station had turned into a slow and unending journey. Every movement of the wheels distanced me from my family and took me to a new unknown, unchartered universe.
Chapter 21

Our tickets were for Benares which was not only a well known temple town but a meeting place for musicians. I had put myself in Suresh's hands and hoped that from now onwards he would take good care of me. Sleepless, hungry and lonely, there was nothing more that could bother me. Leaving me in a dank, dark hotel room, the men went in search of food. Unused to being cooped up in such a small space I looked desperately out of the barred window, trying in vain to breathe some fresh air. The lane seemed to turn and twist and lose its way in a cluster of buildings. Occasionally the sound of temple bells broke the silence or the bellowing of a bull holding up people in the middle of the narrow pathway. The enormity of my elopement struck me as I sat huddled up in fear of the uncertain future. Not many options were left, I would have to stick by my choices and make the best of my new life.

I dozed fitfully for the rest of the day while trying to find the right words to tell Suresh that our wedding ceremony should not be delayed. In the evening, Gopal got hold of a priest, who agreed to marry us. What should have been a day of gaiety and festivity, marked by the love and warmth of friends and family, was a hurried temple ceremony. We were now a married couple, at least there would be no need for lies or pretence.

Gopal had found a place for himself and for the next few days we enjoyed the privacy that all newlyweds craved. Funds were low and both Suresh and Gopal made the rounds of patrons and fellow musicians to earn a living.

Moving from house to house and from one town to the next became the routine. After several months of wandering, we finally decided to live in Calcutta. The city was famous for welcoming musicians and its audiences were sensitive and knowledgeable about music. Many of the rich patrons lived in this city, the chances of earning were better.

Suresh had the good fortune to learn from some of the better known musicians. Most of my learning came from listening to Suresh though he did try to find time to teach me too. Suresh loved me dearly but he was not cut out to be a provider and a good householder. I had no idea about running a house or managing the finances. Petty expenses made me acrimonious and turned into caustic exchanges and bitter arguments. It didn't take long to realize that I would have to take charge and make the money stretch to meet our needs. Depending on the situation Gopal would share accommodation with us. At the worst, he could always be touched for a loan. Gopal tried to make up for the loss of my family and friends.

As the days went by music became my escape as well as strength. Some of the musicians who heard me sing asked me if I would give public performances. By now I knew too well that women performers were measured by a different yardstick. Suresh's support was essential if I wanted to become a professional musician.

I had been invited to sing at a small concert but needed my husband's approval. As usual Suresh took his time to decide but he did agree. I enjoyed the experience as well as the fact that I had earned some money. Gradually I started making a name for myself but Suresh was becoming progressively critical of my success.

Rokeya Bai, a well known singer was a good friend of both Suresh and Gopal. One evening we had arranged a recital at our home. Rokeya Bai heard me sing and said, "Bela has a sweet and powerful voice. Let her accompany me on some of my recitals."

Sulking and moody; Gopal complained that most of my time was given over to practice while he was being neglected. I could find no reason for his grievances until it occurred that my rising popularity might be troubling him.

Matters came to a head when I was invited to sing at one of the major concerts. Suresh had to be cajoled to escort me but I could sense that he was seething with disapproval and jealousy. Whenever it was possible Gopal played the _tabla_ at our recitals. That evening Gopal was my accompanist and on our way home said, "Bela you were in great form. It was a pleasure to accompany you. I am sure Suresh will agree with me."

May be Gopal's compliment was the last straw. As soon as we got home Suresh said, " You are straining your voice and need to train more. You will not sing any more at public recitals until I say so. Remember that I am your guru and the best judge of your capabilities."

I was at a loss for words to counter his unfounded accusations but Suresh just stared hard. Not wanting to take sides, Gopal had stayed away from the confrontation. It was not easy for a student to go against her guru who was also her husband. Speechless, humiliated and holding back my tears, I did not where to turn. I had not hesitated to risk leaving my parents and family for a man whom I hardly knew. Could he not understand that this recognition made up in some ways for the love and affection that I had lost? Music had brought us together and now it was wrecking our relationship. I was too hurt to express my anger but the bitterness that lay smouldering deep inside me. We pretended that this conversation had not taken place but it brought a subtle difference in the way we viewed one another.

This silent strife left me irritable and quick to offense. I felt sick and weak, without the energy or will to stir. The sickness persisted and it took me time to realize that I was pregnant. We had been married for a few years and had yet to become parents. Once the news was confirmed we put aside our differences and welcomed the arrival of our child. Suresh was excited and he would keep running through a list of names without being able to make a final choice.

We couldn't agree on a name for our new born girl and it was Gopal who named her Anjoli, the name meant an offering. Anjoli's birth made me understand the importance and the need for a family. Lacking courage I had kept putting off visiting my parents. My elopement had caused not only my parents but the entire family to lose face. It was more shameful as my father had to take back his word. My actions were responsible for Anjoli missing out on all family ties. Suresh did not talk much about his folks and neither had he expressed any desire to return to his childhood home.

I asked Gopal, "Don't you think it would be nice if Anjoli met her grandparents and other relations? Will my parents refuse to meet me? Will they shut the door on my face if I were to take Anjoli for a visit ?"

Gopal was at a loss to answer my questions but he understood my need to get in touch with my family. "Why don't you ask Suresh to take the two of you to visit your folks?"

Suresh was uncomfortable with the idea as he was unsure of the reception that he would get. "Why do you want to visit your home after so many years? Aren't we a family? You will be miserable if they refuse to meet you or drive you away from the door. Don't go looking for trouble."

Keen to try and mend fences, it was at my insistence that the four of us took the journey to my childhood home. Both the men were uneasy about the meeting and asked me to make the visit on my own. I was to meet them in a couple of hour's time at the main market gate. Our next step was dependent on my family's treatment.

The house was so familiar and yet strange. Instead of pushing open the front gate and walking in boldly, I stood, staring, expecting that some known face, a cousin or an aunt, would step out and invite me. Finally I went to the rear entrance used mainly by the vendors and servants as there were fewer chances of being turned out. Swinging open the gate, I looked around. Household sounds carried across the empty courtyard but not a soul was in sight. One of the maids saw me and suspicious of a stranger loitering inside, asked me the purpose of my visit. I remembered that this was the time of the day that Rani Didi supervised the kitchen.

"I would like to meet Rani Didi. Tell her that I have come from her husband's village."

"What name should I give?"

"The name doesn't matter. Tell her that it is urgent."

"I'll take your message. You can sit on the steps until Rani Didi comes. You look tired and thirsty, I'll get you a glass of water."

Who would have imagined that I would be treated as a stranger on my own doorstep? Busy nursing Anjoli, my back was to the door, I didn't notice Rani Didi's arrival.

"What is your name? What brings you here?"

The moment I heard her voice I swivelled around. Rani Didi uttered, "Anjoli!" and couldn't take her eyes off me. Would I be welcomed or driven away like a prodigal. Signalling me to follow she led me in to her room and locked the door.

"Why have you come back? Do you know that if any of your uncles or father find out that you are here they will kick you out? Your thoughtless behaviour made our family the laughing stock of the town. No one wanted a wedding alliance with a girl from this family. Did you stop to think of how we would find husbands for other girls in the family? Don't expect any sympathy from us. Not a soul in this house is going to lift a little finger to help. As far as you are concerned you are as good as dead and I doubt that anyone's opinion has changed. The men are unforgiving and vindictive.

After so many years why did you want to come back? Has the three pice music master who lured you to run away abandoned you with a babe in your arms?"

I wasn't going to let on that Suresh wasn't doing well. Rani Didi was never one to mince her words. Most small town people were parochial and feared to overstep social boundaries. Her harsh words were a warning that though individuals might differ in their opinions but in the matter of family honour they would present a united face.

"My husband may not be rich but he is a good man and takes care of us. I wanted to make amends for my actions and to ask all the elders to pardon me. I have been longing to meet all of you and especially my parents. Will my mother meet me?"

"Your name is mud, my head will roll, should a word about your visit become public knowledge. Your mother is away on a pilgrimage so you won't be able to meet her. The poor woman, she went through hell for you. Now that you are a mother you may understand her plight. Since I had agreed to the music lessons I also got my fair share of reprimands. Tell me was the music an excuse for meeting the master or did you pursue it further?"

Rani Didi's last words allowed me to change the subject. I told her about my recitals. "Society is changing and now women can sing without being censured as courtesans. The prejudices are there but gradually public opinion is altering, women singers are being respected for their art. Music has proved to be a gift and my solace".

"I don't know much about music but if it has given you strength and happiness then I am glad that I played a part albeit a small one. In most homes it is women who are called to make sacrifices for the greater good of the family. Often the people for whom the sacrifices are made are not even worthy of it.

Look at my life; I was forced in to a bleak grey prison because I became a widow. How was I responsible for my husband's death? But I was punished for it.

Perhaps you were right to chose your own happiness over that of family honour. May you always have the courage to choose your own happiness. Such choices aren't always easy but don't give up without a fight."

I had wanted very badly to be taken back in to the fold but it was also clear that the family had not forgiven me for sullying their reputation. In their estimate I was little better than a fallen woman. It would have made my day if I could have seen my mother but that was not fated. It was best that I should take my leave, accept the reality that now my family circle was confined to my husband and daughter.

Rani Didi had left the room and came back with a plate full of sweets and a glass of coconut water. She would not allow me to leave without eating the sweets. A lot remained unspoken but it was clear that the doors of my childhood home would forever remain closed for me. As I got up to say good bye she took off the two gold bangles that she was wearing and slipped them over my wrists. She held on to Anjoli for a minute or two and then with a quick hug led me out of the room. "I will tell your mother that you are happy and she has a lovely granddaughter. Go in peace and go safe."

As I stood at the gate and took one last long look I felt like shouting aloud and announcing my presence. I wanted so much to turn back the clock, to return to the security of girlhood, to let my baby be carried in the loving arms of her grandmother and above all to be forgiven and accepted.

I hurried back to the market place otherwise we would not be able to catch the next connecting train. My face said it all and was grateful that no one questioned me further.

Suresh carried Anjoli in his arms while he made place for us to sit down in the train. "Don't grieve too much Bela. I will always be there for you."

Words that helped lessen the pain that I would be no forgiveness from those who were once so dear to me.

I had reconciled myself to the fact that Anjoli would not know her grandparents. Neither would I be welcomed by my parents and relatives. My life now revolved around Suresh and Anjoli.

Not all singers have great voices but some know how to project their strengths and establish themselves. Suresh was too lazy to make that extra effort and so our daily life was a struggle to survive. I had tried my best to motivate him but he would do exactly what he wanted. If only he would allow me to perform. Suresh would find some excuse to stop me from giving a public recital until I lost the will to insist.

Household chores and other responsibilities swallowed up my time but music released me from the monotonous drone of life. I wanted Anjoli to achieve what I had been unable to do. I put all my heart and soul in to her training. It was reassuring that Anjoli understood and shared the same enthusiasm while I tried to figure out how to launch her career.

While Suresh was away in Bombay one of his well wishers and patron visited us. He heard me singing along with Anjoli.

"Who was the other girl singing along with you?" he asked me.

"You heard my daughter Anjoli singing."

Mr. Sinha had a reputation for advancing the cause of many well known musicians. He was respected for his knowledge and understanding of music. His opinion would be constructive and help in Anjoli's training.

"Who is her guru? Is Suresh teaching her?"

"He hasn't been in town for some time so I have taken over her training. A better qualified and experienced teacher could be of great help in moulding her."

"She has a well-modulated voice but her vocal range is still limited. There is some difficulty holding the higher notes. But that will come with greater practice."

"Do you think Anjoli is ready to sing at some of the smaller concerts?" I asked pressing for a favourable response.

Mr. Sinha took time to answer my query. "If I remember correctly you sang at concerts. Have you stopped giving public performances? "

"I stopped accepting public engagements after Anjoli's birth."

There was no need for others to know about Suresh's objections. It was the acceptable practice that women would readily give up everything for their spouses and children.

"Now that your daughter is grown up you might want to reconsider your decision. I know the music director of All India Radio and could refer your name for an audition. If you meet their standards you can be on their panel of singers. You don't have to keep concert timings as in a live show because the recording sessions are not during the late hours of the night."

There was hardly any news from Suresh, no indication of his return. There were a few students but their fees didn't add up to much. Running the household on so small a budget was an uphill battle. Debts kept piling up, it was awkward borrowing money from Gopal, to tide me over.

"I would be grateful if you refer me to the station director."

"I am glad that you considered my offer. Your daughter is coming up well but don't hurry her debut. Get in touch with me after a few months and let me see what I can arrange for her. By the way when is Suresh back home?"

Anjoli had no idea that Suresh had forbidden me from giving public recitals. She was thrilled at my getting a chance to be heard by so many people. I thought of asking Gopal's opinion but changed my mind. Rarely had I seen him go against Suresh. Why get him involved in this issue, asking him to choose sides, more so during Suresh's absence.

In a few weeks time, the letter arrived, requesting me to come to the All India Radio studio for an audition. I seldom went very far from the house and had little or no idea of the roads beyond our neighbourhood. If I kept Gopal out of this then I could not enlist his help. Anjoli suggested that one of Suresh's students could escort me. It was a sensible idea but I made up my mind that as soon as possible I would learn to go around the city on my own.

Anjoli came along to bolster my spirits. I was a bit nervous as this was the first time during Suresh's absence that I had decided to go against his wishes. The audition went off without any hitch. The studio rules allowed the candidate to choose the first song. This helped me to get over my initial uneasiness and after that I was asked to sing according to the director's choice. Earlier I had only given live performances. Now my recordings would have to meet the recognized standards of the industry.

The long days of waiting were over and I was besides myself to receive the confirmation that I had been accepted as one of the empanelled singers.

This money was my first independent earning and I had the freedom to spend it on whatever I wanted. Tired of scrimping and spending for household needs; I decided to splurge on clothes for both of us. Nothing compared to the joy of being able to spend with a free hand. The recording sessions at the studio brought me in to contact with the music fraternity and through them I got offers from other places.

Though my songs were being aired I could not hear them as we had no radio of our own. We would sometimes ask our neighbours if we could listen to the broadcasts. This was only possible if the timings were convenient for both sides.

It was only natural that sooner or later Gopal would come to know. I had decided not go out of my way to offer him any information. Probably Gopal did not want to put his friendship to the test so he feigned ignorance.

Anjoli would accompany me to most of the concerts and sometimes the organizers would ask her to fill in if there was a delay and the audience was getting restless She was not always paid but was gaining confidence and experience. The time was drawing close when she would be able to command decent fees.

We were still managing on a tight budget because there was little by the way of regular income but I wasn't constantly trying to evade creditors. I couldn't figure out Suresh's plans as he wrote infrequently and contacting him was next to impossible. He had not got in touch with Gopal too.

Suresh's prolonged absence had changed me, taught me that I could manage on my own. I missed Suresh and wondered what he was doing. This was the first time in our married life that he was away for so many months at a stretch. Had Suresh abandoned us?

Several times I had asked Gopal what lay behind Suresh's decision to stay back in Bombay. Gopal's answer remained unchanged.

"Suresh thinks he can earn more money in Bombay."

This would annoy me no end and I couldn't help saying, "He didn't have to go so far to earn so little. He hardly sends a pittance. How does he think we are managing?"

It was pointless venting my anger on Gopal but then there was nobody else.

All through the long journey I was assailed by fears and doubts. It was wrong of me to have doubted Suresh as he may have been ill for the past few months. Would I see him alive?
Chapter22

As we got down from the train, the unending movement of people and vehicles made my head spin. Gopal led us through the maze of traffic to a hotel not too far from the hospital. Gopal would try to get some news about Suresh.

Though Gopal had some idea of the city it took him time to find out about the hospital and the timings for visitors. He returned with the encouraging news that Suresh was on his way to recovery, the crisis had passed.

In the evening all three of us went to the hospital. Suresh looked pale and weak and the bandage around his forehead unnerved me. Tentatively I stroked his hand and without opening his eyes he said, "Nazeera."

I could hardly contain my tears, and attempted to move my hand when Suresh opened his eyes. He kept looking at me without uttering a word but held on tightly to my hand. "Why have you taken such a long time to come? I want to go home."

I wasn't sure whether he had mistaken me for Nazeera. Suresh had difficulty keeping his eyes open and he lay still and silent. Unsure and nervous, I stood next to the bed when the nurse appeared.

"Are you from the patient's family?" the nurse asked.

"I am his wife. I came in this morning from Calcutta and don't know why he was brought to the hospital."

"Your husband had a head injury that got infected and he was in a serious condition but he is on the mend. He will need to stay for a few more days in the hospital. If there are no further complications he will recover soon. Let him rest now. Come in the morning and meet the doctor after he has finished his rounds. The doctor will be the right person to give you the proper picture."

"Bela, I don't think Suresh is strong enough to carry on a conversation. It is best to follow the nurse's instructions. Tomorrow we will visit Suresh as well as meet the doctor."

The long journey and Suresh's condition had taken its toll on us. It was sensible to follow the nurse's advice. As we turned around to leave I saw a slim and attractive lady coming in our direction. The nurse was pointing towards us.

My sixth sense told me that this was Nazeera. Before I could say a word she came up to me and held out her hands, "Bela, you are Bela. I have been counting the minutes, waiting for your arrival."

Nazeera was all high drama as she narrated how Suresh had been injured. I was too exhausted to make sense of her convoluted account about the accident and told her that we would meet soon to sort out matters.

The next morning we met the doctor who put my fears to rest. Suresh was recovering and would be able soon to go home soon. But it would be better if he stayed in Bombay until the doctor certified that he was fit enough to travel.

Suresh appeared more rested and able to speak for a little longer. "I knew that Gopal would bring Anjoli and you. I am tired of the hospital. Let us go home."

We would have to find rooms to stay if Suresh had to convalesce in Bombay. Nazeera went out of her way to find us a place that was not too hard on our pocket. We needed money as the medical expenses were high. Nazeera had paid some of the hospital bills but I couldn't expect her to make further payments.

Gopal had started looking for jobs and it was only fair to do my bit. After all Suresh was my husband and it was my duty to contribute my share.

I told Gopal, "I think you are aware that I was giving recitals and broadcasting while Suresh was in Bombay. This is a big city if I try I can surely manage to do the same here."

Gopal reminded me of Suresh's views about being a professional singer. I knew that without Gopal's help it would have been almost impossible to come to Bombay but it hurt my pride that we should keep on expecting him to bail us out.

"Is it fair that you should have to pay for all our expenses? I can see that it is a strain on you. I don't like being beholden to you to run the household. I shall ask Nazeera if she can give me references."

Gopal kept quiet but I went ahead with my plans and spoke to Nazeera. At first I was wary of her but found that she had no designs on Suresh. Gopal had not made many friends so I looked forward to Nazeera's visit. She would regale us with all the studio gossip and rumours and tell us what was happening in the city.

Money or the lack of it had never bothered Suresh and in his present condition he was content that there were others to take care of his responsibilities. I had no idea when Suresh would be able to earn but living on hand-outs was demeaning.

Nazeera gave me the first few contacts, I pursued each one of them, seizing every opportunity that came my way. Gradually I met people who could help me to get established in my career.

Seeing that my time was taken up by public performances, Anjoli took over managing the house and nursing her father back to health.

I believe that Suresh knew right from the beginning that the expenses were being met from my earnings. He kept quiet because for the time being it suited him. We never spoke openly about my appointments but neither did I hide information from him.

As Suresh's health improved he started saying that we should leave Bombay. His ambitions had not been fulfilled but I had started gaining recognition as well as earning money. I had some good contracts in hand and did not want to let them go. If we stayed on longer my network would get larger and in the long run help to further Anjoli's career. Suresh could be a dedicated teacher and had made up his mind to give Anjoli his undivided attention. She was shaping up well under her father's care. Every detail of my master plan for the future was falling into place when out of the blue; Gopal announced that he wanted to go back to Calcutta.

"I came to Bombay because Suresh was ill and Bela needed my help. Now you can look after yourselves."

The moment Suresh heard this he was ready to pack his bags and move. Suresh was disenchanted with his stay in Bombay, he had not enjoyed much success and on top of that he had suffered ill health. If Gopal left then it would be next to impossible to hold Suresh back.

I couldn't understand Gopal's need to go back. He was a good _tabla_ player and Bombay had been a rewarding experience. He was not only accompanying some of the better known musicians but playing in orchestras too. His earnings were good, he was staying with us so he had a family life too.

There had to be some way in which I could get Gopal and Suresh to change their views otherwise my career would be wrecked. Living in Bombay was an eye opener. If I was ready to put myself first, my dreams could come true. Why should I leave when victory was almost mine?

I had been a fool to have stayed in the background for so many years. Instead of obeying Suresh I should have continued with music. The best years of my life had been spent slaving and working to run a household on minimum resources. Now I wanted to live for myself, I wanted my music to reach as many people as possible; I wanted to become a voice that every one adored and loved. Why should Suresh be so selfish? Why shouldn't he do his share, stand by me and help my dreams come true. All these years I had supported him as well as I could and the least he could do was be there for me.

At first I tried speaking to Gopal, to see if he would consider changing his mind.

"Gopal must you leave Bombay? You have found a lot of work, much more than in Calcutta. It would be easy for Suresh if you and I helped him. After so many years I am not only singing but getting recognized and rewarded. Doesn't my success have any value?"

Gopal listened to what I said but didn't seem to be in a hurry to speak. His long silence was ominous.

"Have you ever thought why Suresh didn't want you to become a professional singer? Now you have done what he feared, you have ousted him. He has made himself believe that he is too ill to sing and is dependent on you. Your success will spell his end.

You chose Suresh over your parents and family because you loved him. This time you have to choose again and this will make or break your home."

This was a back handed compliment and how was I supposed to react? Why must I make the unpleasant and unpopular choices ? If Gopal had guessed correctly then Suresh had to be humoured at the cost of my career.

"Suresh needs to recover and regain his strength. Once that is done he will be able to perform. His experience and training is invaluable. I am sure that Bombay will prove to be the turning point in his life.

W

 hen you are around, Suresh is happy and relaxed. Why don't you give us time to see how things work out? You have always been there for Suresh; just for once could you be there for me?"

"Bela were you paying attention to my words? Music brought the three of us together now it will tear us apart. My staying or going will not affect Suresh. If you insist I will defer my departure but ultimately both of you will have to sort it out between yourselves."

Gopal had given me some breathing time. I used all my contacts to get Suresh a couple of well paid assignments. At first Suresh pleaded ill health but on my insistence made the minimum effort to perform. Suresh had no qualms about not honouring his responsibilities. His obstinacy proved the biggest stumbling block to my plans and success.

Neither of us liked to quarrel but increasingly our differences were becoming more vocal and affecting Anjoli.

Suresh was unwilling to listen to reason. "The three of us are returning to Calcutta. Bela you have to decide whether you want to stay back in Bombay or go along with us."

I had an offer to sing at a well known concert. A last minute cancellation would not give the right signals. Reputations as well as earnings nosedived if appointments were not honoured. An up and coming singer like me could not afford such mistakes.

"Our tickets have been booked, it is up to you whether you wish to leave with us or come later."

"You know the dates for the concert. How can I come with you? Is it not possible to travel after the concert is over? Why do you want Anjoli to go with you? Let her stay back."

"Provided you want to come home I can arrange for your ticket to be booked for a later date. Our date for departure remains unchanged.

It is better for Anjoli to go back with me. You are hard up for time. She can continue her training with me. It should not make a difference if you are back home soon."

I refused to give in to Suresh, telling him that I would leave when the concert was over. Until the departure we made efforts to remain civil.

Gopal did not make any comment on my decision but a day before the departure he gave me a dire warning, "It will be a sad day if you lose your family for the sake of music."
Chapter 23

I was only staying back for a few days more but Gopal was getting unnecessarily worked up. Not wanting any ill feelings between us I decided not to start another war of words. It was beyond my comprehension, why he was being such a prophet of doom.

Anjoli was upset that we were not going back together to Calcutta. She was a quiet, reserved person and all the bickering had troubled her deeply. I didn't want her to leave but given my late hours at concerts she was better off staying with her father. A short separation would probably give us the time to evaluate our relationship and careers.

At the station Anjoli looked forlorn and sad. She hadn't said a word but held on to my hand. As the train was about to leave Anjoli pressed the music box in to my hand. "The music box is for you, it will remind you of me and to come home soon."

I hated staying in the silent house that had echoed with Suresh and Anjoli's voices and with the rhythmic beat of Gopal's _tabla._ Nazeera invited me over for dinner when she heard that I was by myself and the family had left. I told her about Gopal's fears that I would not go back to Calcutta.

Nazeera smiled, "He is not completely wrong. Success is so sweet that you can never have enough. But I don't have a husband and child so I can't predict what you will do.

Have you any more offers after this concert is over?"

"The word has gone round that I am leaving Bombay. At this moment I have no work."

It was an honour to perform at this annual city concert that billed well known as well as promising musicians from all over the country. The applause told me that I had won over my audience. My performance was an unspoken homage to Suresh who had opened the doors to the world of music.

The stage manager asked me to wait as there was someone eager to meet me. A middle aged gentleman came forward and introduced himself. "I am Mr. Rao and let me congratulate you on your performance."

I thanked him and was about to leave when he stopped me. "Bela Devi, we have proposal that we would like you to consider. If we could meet tomorrow then I can discuss it in detail. If you are agreeable we could meet at eleven in the morning at our office on Cadell Road."

"I am sorry but I will not be Bombay in another few days and will not be able to consider your offer."

"Don't refuse before you hear me out. This is a chance of a life time. We are touring Europe with a group of Indian dancers and musicians and we would be honoured if you decided to join us. You will be one of the chosen few to present to the West the beauty and melody of our music. Most people would jump at being able to perform on a tour like this.

Give it some thought and I will visit you tomorrow morning."

This offer was so totally unexpected that for a few minutes that it went over my head. Reservations for my journey to Calcutta had been made. But this was beyond my wildest imagination. I had never travelled on my own and this brief stay in Bombay was the first of its kind. A thousand doubts assailed me and the more I thought the more improbable it appeared. At the same time it was an interesting trip. Would the tour be a long one? If it was not too long maybe I could manage. Would it be lucrative enough for me to take the risk?

There was no close friend or associate who could help me come to a decision. I couldn't get a wink of sleep as I realized that the dilemma was how Suresh and Anjoli would be affected by my decision. Would Suresh think that I had gone back on my word and shut me out of his life? As a woman I loved my husband and daughter but as a musician I wanted to perform to the widest possible audience. How could I make up my mind when both the options seemed equally important?

I had no idea about most of India leave alone Europe. Common sense dictated that it might be too big a leap and a total disaster. It was safer to return to what was known and familiar. But there was a strong urge to take up this challenge, to showcase my art to an international audience. Would I get another chance if I let this one go?

Mr. Rao was as good as his word and arrived in the morning. The sleepless night had left me stressed out. Why lose sleep, rack my brains, wrestle any longer with a million and one unsettling questions. This time I would pursue my ambitions rather than think of others. I didn't want to be in the background any longer.

My quick decision expedited the arrangements that had to be made on my behalf. The tour would leave in another ten days and I would be handed the schedule as well tips on my wardrobe and other personal matters. Mr. Rao would put me in touch with the manager who would provide the assistance I needed.

My next task took up a lot of time and proved to be an insurmountable hurdle. I sat down to write a letter to Suresh and inform him about the change in plans. I tore up several sheets of writing paper without being able to explain why I needed to go on this tour. Finally I sent him only the bare details and dates and asked for his blessings and good wishes to accompany me.

As usual I was short of money having given the better part of my earnings to Suresh before he left Bombay. Luckily I managed on some advance from the tour group and a few loans. Money matters seemed to plague me no matter where I lived.

There was one visit that I was loathe to make and had put it off until the last minute. I had not said good bye to Nazeera. Fate had conspired to make Nazeera's thoughtless act instrumental in bringing us together as well as parting us forever. No matter her shortcomings, she had showed us a lot of warmth and affection. Nazeera had not hesitated to pay Suresh's hospital bills and gone out of her way to help me. Leaving without meeting her would be downright ungrateful.

Nazeera was taken aback when I told her that I was going on a foreign tour.

"You are a spunky woman! The thought of leaving Bombay scares me and you are off to some strange land all by yourself. Does Suresh know?"

"I have written to him but have had no reply. I guess it is fine by him. You know how laid back he is and the tour is not too long."

"You don't know how fortunate you are Bela. Suresh loves you very much. All these days that he was in Bombay he was never unfaithful to you. Also your daughter adores you. If I were you I would not be able to leave them behind to set off for some unknown shore."

"Come on Nazeera you are making it sound like Ram's exile in to the forest. I won't be away for that long."

Nazeera embraced and wished me all the best. "Don't be gone for too long Bela. This time Suresh may not wait."

Bela's letter took longer than usual to reach Suresh. May be that was how it was destined to be. The information was incomplete and she had not given any forwarding address. If the group had left according to schedule Bela would have left India and there was little that we could do.

Suresh was bewildered by the turn of events. How could Bela plan and agree to a tour without even consulting him. Of course his ego was hurt but more than that he was worried for her well being. There was no doubt that he loved his wife. Bombay might have widened Bela's horizons but at heart she was a small town girl. How would she manage if there was any problem? Who would she turn to in times of need?

Frustrated and shaken up he blamed me. "Gopal if you were not in such a hurry to leave then all this would not have happened. The four of us could have come back together. I don't know what to do? You have to think of a solution."

Suresh could not control his anxiety and would get upset at the slightest pretext. Anjoli had to bear the brunt of his moodiness. Bela's unexpected change of plans had made Anjoli feel insecure along with the added responsibility of looking after Suresh who was quick to find faults. Suresh appeared incapable of action and I knew that I would have to take charge.

Our recitals and concerts took us to the towns and cities of North India and we had little or no knowledge about the rest of the land. This was because there was a great divide between the classical music of North and South India. Very few musicians attempted bridging the difference and recitals were to a large extent delineated by geographical boundaries. Most of us performed at known and familiar concerts or if we were invited to private soirees. Earlier the princely courts and the gentry were the patrons of the arts but now ticketed concerts were taking over and the public was learning to appreciate classical music. Bela had performed in some concerts in Calcutta and Bombay but she had not travelled to other cities and towns by herself. How had she found the courage to set sail to foreign shores? I didn't think that we could have been daring enough to take this plunge.
PART FIVE

# GOPAL'S STORY
Chapter 24

Bela's flight revived my memories. My father was a musician with a travelling drama group and in popular demand as he could play several instruments. We lived in the village and my father stayed with us as long as his earnings lasted. He would be away for many months at a stretch and my mother earned a pittance doing small errands for the gentry. Some days she would take me along with her when there was some celebration or festival as food was distributed to the poor. During some of these feasts there would be devotional songs sung by professional singers. My first love for percussion started with the _dhols_ that accompanied the singers. I longed to drum to the rhythm of the songs. None of the musicians would allow me to touch their drums and cymbals. My father had a pair of _tablas_ but they were zealously guarded as tools of the trade. The short intervals that he spent at home were devoted to music and the happiness of sharing time with his family and friends.

During one of my father's many absences a cholera epidemic ravaged the village. It did not distinguish between the rich or the poor, the weak or the strong, leaving behind a handful of survivors. Poverty and neglect had taken its toll on my mother's health and cholera put an end to her sufferings. Had it not been for the relief team that was sent to the villages I would have succumbed to the illness. After my recovery, it struck me; I would never again see my mother.

Bad floods only added to the people's miseries and our village had been partially swept away by the rising fury of the river in full spate. People were herded in to make shift shelters and many did not know whether they would ever return to their village or families

I was one of the many orphans who sat, shivering in rags, waiting to be claimed. Our hopes were raised, whenever anyone was united with his family. By the end of the day those who were left behind would crowd together in a jumbled heap and cry themselves to sleep.

The camps would not continue indefinitely, having served their immediate purpose. Temporary by design, long term rehabilitation was not their goal. Most adults were going back to their villages or migrating to towns in search of livelihoods. Some women who had lost their husbands or entire families had taken this opportunity to start new relationships and lives. It was only the very old, a handful of the young who were abandoned and waited in vain to be restored to their families.

Life in these settlements had its own perils and we were now aware of unknown and unheard of horrors. Women and children were easy victims, some of them might have preferred death to being rescued. Human greed and exploitation knows no boundaries and scarred many. Protection had its costs.

We spent our time in endless arguments that ended in fisticuffs or scanned the horizons for a known face. My case was hopeless as my mother was dead and my father might not have any news about our condition. Overnight boys would disappear and it was rumoured that they had been sold off to men who would use them according to their needs.

My father had heard of the damage caused by the rising river and how several villages had been swept under water. But his search had been slowed down by roads and rail tracks that had been destroyed or submerged. Paddy fields that should have been green with promise now lay desolate, silted, along with deserted habitations and ruined landmarks.

No one could give him any news and he was ready to give up the search. He was about to leave the district to continue looking for us in the nearby hospitals and shanty towns. One last time he tried his luck at a camp that sheltered a mixed group from several villages. I almost missed meeting my father as I was watching the men taking down the tents.

A voice called out, "Is there any one from Beria? If you have information about Beria; come to the dispensary."

Beria was my village. A kind neighbour might show pity and take me into his family. At least I would not have to face the terrors of an unknown place or people. My father was waiting when I ran in to him. All I could say was, "I am from Beria. Can you take me back to Beria?"

I had despaired so much that I could not believe that it was my father who held me in his arms. My father's joy at finding me was marred by news of my mother's death. All that mattered at that moment was that we were reunited.

At first my father would not let me out of sight and I accompanied him on his trips. But it was not always convenient to have me tagging along and keeping an eye on me. After my mother's death I hated and feared being left behind with strangers.

One of the advantages of accompanying my father was that I was learning to play different instruments. My musical skills stood me in good stead and I was now employable. My father had noticed that I enjoyed playing percussion instruments. He started teaching me to play the _tabla_. Our audiences liked us, we gained fame as a father and son duo who were singers as well as instrumentalists.

On one of our trips my father had heard that Atif Khan was to perform. He was keen to hear Atif Khan's recital and had gone along to the concert. The organizers were frantically searching for an accompanist as the _tabla_ player had not turned up. Word reached my father's ears and he volunteered his services. The maestro was pleased with my father's ready response and talent and they struck up more than an acquaintanceship. Invitations were extended and while on a visit to Calcutta my father decided to meet Atif Khan to pay his regards. My father was invited to spend a few days and it was a rewarding experience for us. There was no formal training for musicians and a student was apprenticed to his teacher until he was considered able enough to perform. I not only worked along with my father but continued training under him.

Used to moving from one town to the other he felt restless and confined. He thought it might be a good idea if I trained under Atif Khan's tutelage. Atif Khan was not averse to the idea and my father promised to come and fetch me after his engagements were over.

But that was the last I saw of him. I missed the camaraderie of the travelling groups and wanted to go back to the old life. In the mean time I had accepted Atif Khan as my guru and was now bound to him. My skills were growing steadily and I was learning more.

It was at this stage in my life that I met Suresh. Both of us had left home for different reasons. Music made us more than friends it bound us for life. When he sang I knew exactly the kind of support he needed. Atif Khan was happy with our progress though he was sparing in his praise.

Good times don't last forever and I would soon find myself without a guiding hand. We had thought that our future was shaping up well and with our Guru's help we would be able to launch our careers. But this was not to be. Atif Khan was old and a fever turned to pneumonia which ended in death.

Neither of us was prepared for this sudden change in our lives. We would have to fend for ourselves. When we stayed and trained under our Guru we had to obey his orders but he also looked after all our needs. Life with my father had hardened me and made me resilient to cope with changes. Also I had trained longer with Atif Khan and knew people who could help us out. Suresh had less experience than me and was content to let me take charge.

My mother's death and my father's disappearance had made me wary of trusting people. I feared that as my bonds grew stronger people would abandon me. It took me time to make friends and I did not allow any one come too close to me. Suresh trusted me implicitly and I cared more for him than he could imagine. After his wedding Bela and Anjoli had become a part of that close circle. My fears of being abandoned came in the way of my own marriage. Suresh's family became my surrogate family. I remembered how my father's absence had shadowed our lives. When Suresh was away I would try and make up by providing any help that his wife and daughter needed. Anjoli was the child I would never have. Their love and affection made up for my being single. I had foreseen that it would be stressful for Bela to manage on her own and had urged Suresh to return with me. This was one of those times that Suresh had not listened to me and all of us paying for the consequences.
Chapter 25

Bela's decision to go on this foreign tour had saddened me. Hadn't she spared any thought or concern for Suresh and Anjoli? Nothing could be done until Bela returned.

She should not delay her return but keep to her schedule but she didn't. Within a few days Suresh drove me crazy with his anxiety. All the fretting and fuming was getting us nowhere and it was affecting Anjoli who had the added burden of an unreasonable father.

I sent telegrams to the address that Bela had sent in her letter. The telegrams could not be delivered as the address was incorrect. I read and reread the letter to see if there were any details that we had missed out.

The only other way was to go to Bombay and find out about the organizers and the tour. Could Bela have been cheated? Suresh would be more of a hindrance than a help. In a depressed and miserable state it was not advisable to leave him in Anjoli's care. There wasn't enough money for all three of us to go to Bombay. We couldn't leave Anjoli behind and if she went with us we would have to be careful about the kind of rooms we rented.

I told Suresh, "It is better for both of you stay in Calcutta as it will be easier and quicker for me to make enquiries. Also we have to keep in mind that we are not exactly flush with money. I will go by myself and try and find out what exactly went wrong."

Suresh was too overwrought to oppose my plans and I set out for Bombay. I looked up people whom I knew in the trade, visited recording studios, spoke to agents and middlemen but no one had any definite information about Bela's tour or the organizers. I was not too keen to get in touch with Nazeera. She was the cause behind all this upheaval. When I saw that I wasn't making any headway in the search I thought that Bela and she might be in touch.

Nazeera was also taken aback by Bela's disappearance. Rolling her eyes she said, "Bela told me over and over again that she wouldn't stay back for an extra day. Suresh must be heartbroken. He loves Bela too much. Nothing is fair in life! I always told Suresh that there are those who love and those who are loved. It is obvious that Bela is loved."

I let Nazeera have her say and then asked, "Can you help me to get news of Bela? An entire group of performers can't do the vanishing act. Could you find out about the organizers or the participants? It isn't every day that people go abroad for shows!"

"I'll give it a try but don't expect results over night. If she were an actress or a connected with the film industry then it would be easy to get some news. But I'll send the word around. Give me some time."

There was truth in Nazeera's words. I had to hang around for a few more days. While Nazeera was using her sources; I renewed my search.

I found out that a group had left Bombay to perform abroad but no one could put me on to anyone who had direct connections. Communications were cumbersome and time consuming. Letters took time and making telephone calls were not only expensive but required planning. Most homes didn't have telephones and Suresh would have to make arrangements to receive my calls. Telegrams were easier to send and receive and I let Suresh know that I was on the job.

Nazeera sent word that she had been able to find out a person who had worked with this group and may prove to be useful. At last there were chances of getting first hand information about Bela's whereabouts.

Following Nazeera's directions I found my way to Mr. Mehta's office. The door was open and I found a stout, well dressed gentleman sitting at the table and talking excitedly over the phone. Framed photographs of famous movie stars and film posters jostled for space on the walls. His conversation led me to guess that he was an agent for those who wanted to appear on the silver screen.

The conversation came to an end and the gentleman's gaze fell on me. Before I could introduce myself he said, "I am Mr. Mehta. What can I do for you?"

"The film star Nazeera told me that you are the right person to help me with information....

"Ah yes Nazeera had requested me for help regarding this person but I'm afraid I didn't have any direct dealings with the artistes. I dealt with their travel documents and tickets. I have no idea of whether any one changed their plans after they left India."

"Mr. Mehta since you were in charge of the travel documents you might be able to put me in touch with anybody who may have news that might further my search. Her family is desperate to get some news of her. They don't know whether she is dead or alive."

"Come back later. I will try to get the names of some of the artistes who travelled with this group."

It was my good fortune that I didn't have to wait too long before Mr. Mehta came up with two names. He said that the other people were not in Bombay and my purpose would not be served.

At least now my search could be more precise. The first name was of no help as the gentleman was out of Bombay. Like many musicians he was on the road, travelling from one town to the other giving recitals.

The next person was a _sitar_ player Abhay Katre who he remembered Bela as soon as I mentioned her name.

"Of course I remember Bela Devi she was one of the liveliest members in the troupe. She was popular with her audience as well as her fellow performers."

"Her family is anxious to get some news of her as she has yet to come home. Do you know if she changed her plans?"

"Does she have elderly parents? Bela isn't married."

I interrupted Katre, "What do you mean by she isn't married? She is married and has a daughter."

"Coming to think about it Bela hardly spoke about her home or family and she didn't let on that she was married."

I was at a loss for words. Why had Bela pretended that she was single? There was no point in asking Katre. He could only repeat what Bela had disclosed.

"While we were at a concert in England Bela Devi got some offers to teach as well as perform, she was giving the matter serious consideration. She had told us that there was nothing to hold her back in India and was willing to try her luck in a new country."

I didn't see any point in sharing my astonishment or dismay with a stranger but I needed to get as much news as I could.

"Do you know where she was planning to live in England? Is there any address at which she can be reached?"

"At the end of the tour we went in different directions. Some people had been asked to perform in other cities and some of us wanted to return home. So I don't know where Bela went. But what I do find amazing is that she wanted to pass of as an unmarried woman. Why would she want to do that?"

I had no answer to that question. There was no point in prolonging the interview and I thanked Katre for giving me Bela's news.

There was a smirk on Katre's face as he bid me good bye. "By the way are you Bela's husband? I thought you might want to know Bela did not misbehave or carry on with anyone in the troupe."

I am not quick to anger but I wanted to wipe off the silly smile on Katre's face.

I was in a predicament now. Should I tell Suresh about my findings? Would he be able to bear the news of Bela's desertion? My own insecurities of being abandoned resurfaced leaving me helpless and depressed.

I thought it was better to leave Bombay as my task was accomplished. The news had unsettled me so much that I boarded the train without even visiting Nazeera and thanking her.

All through the long journey I kept phrasing and rephrasing what I would tell Suresh. I could foresee that in the days to come Suresh would need a lot of care and attention.

By the time my journey was over I had decided that it would be the best not to hold back any information. I don't know what Suresh had expected the Bombay trip would achieve. May be he thought that Bela would come back with me.

Suresh looked blankly at me when I told him that no one actually knew Bela's whereabouts. According to the last report she had planned to extend her stay in England.

My words had not registered with Suresh. He just kept staring blankly at me and repeating, "England? Why England?"

Anjoli was also present when I spoke to Suresh. But their behaviour was poles apart. The next few days were distressing, both father and daughter managed their pain, rejection and anger in their own ways. Anjoli didn't speak about her mother at all. Suresh was the other extreme as any mention of Bela would end in a lot of breast beating and tears.

Suresh was slowly losing interest in giving recitals or teaching. Looking after their household had now become my responsibility. Anjoli tried her best to fill her mother's shoes but she was young and inexperienced. Suresh would berate her for every little mistake, reducing her to tears.

There were days when Suresh's whining would irritate me and then our conversation would deteriorate in to mindless arguments and fights. While Bela was with him he had been temperamental, not given her much time or attention and neither had he been a good provider. Depending on his moods he would either deify or slander her.

For a long time Suresh believed that Bela would return but with each passing day he sank into despair. Once he accepted that Bela's departure was final his attitudes changed. He was no longer the carefree genial companion of the past. He would spend long hours brooding. Music became his greatest comfort and he would sing until the early hours of the morning

He expected the house to run by itself and refused to accept any responsibility about Anjoli who was now a young woman. It was time that we looked around for a suitable match and see her settle down in a home of her own. Any talk of Anjoli's marriage would be met by a stock answer. "Who will want to marry a girl who's mother ran away? What is to say that the daughter will behave differently? After all her mother's blood runs in Anjoli's veins. Let her remain single and not break homes and hearts."

Suresh's unkind words would upset Anjoli and I had seen her wiping away her tears. In spite of her father's thoughtless words and constant demands Anjoli tried her level best to look after his needs. She would try to cover up for his rudeness and went out of her way to be nice to me. Suresh still supervised her music. Anjoli had started teaching some younger boys and girls to supplement the family income. I feared that this state of affairs could not continue for long, it made me short tempered and brusque. A man who did not want to help himself was beyond saving. Yet I could not bring myself to cut the ties that bound us.

Who knows how heaven answers prayers? Suresh got drenched in a sudden heavy shower and caught a bad cold. The cold turned to a bad chest infection and Suresh showed no determination to fight the illness. His condition worsened so rapidly that neither medication nor nursing could help him recover.

Death has a suddenness that cheats the most vigilant and shocks those who choose to ignore its presence. I could not accept that the man who had been the one constant in my life did not exist. It was as if my limbs had been amputated and left me crippled for life. I went through the motions of the funeral service but often imagined that Suresh would suddenly appear and prove me wrong.

Rokeya Bai had organized a memorial service for Suresh and some of his friends had agreed to sing in his remembrance. The number of people who came far exceeded my expectations. I was honoured that Suresh was so well thought of by his contemporaries.
Chapter 26

Deep in my own grief; I had forgotten that Anjoli had lost both parents. It was Rokeya Bai who was forthright and pragmatic enough to remind me, "We need to put our heads together and think about Anjoli's future. She is a young woman and cannot stay by herself. Where will she stay and how will she support herself?"

Rokeya's words made me realize that I had allowed my loss to forget Anjoli's well being. Both Suresh and I would argue about Bela's unexpected behaviour but we had not tried to find out about Anjoli's feelings. Mother and daughter were devoted to one another. She must be heartbroken that Bela had no qualms about deserting her only child. Mature beyond her years, Anjoli had concealed her own fears and misgivings about her parents.

After Suresh's death it was Rokeya who had taken charge of affairs as neither Anjoli nor I had any close family to look after us. I stayed in a boarding house for bachelors, there was no way that Anjoli could stay with me. Neither could she stay indefinitely with Rokeya as it was not a good address for an unmarried woman.

"What about Bela's family. Given the circumstances they might agree to let Anjoli stay with them. Bela had told me that you knew her family. You could accompany her and try your luck."

"No, that won't work. Soon after Anjoli's birth Bela had visited her family home and tried to make amends but they were not agreeable. Why should they believe a stranger's story that Anjoli is Bela's daughter?"

Anjoli had heard us discussing about her future and had not uttered a word. Her self control broke and she cried her heart out. In between her sobs she said, "No one wants me. My mother left me and my father is dead. I have no one."

Rokeya hugged Anjoli and let her cry. "Tears are good for you my child. Grief gives us the depth to understand the pain of parting. It is a sad day for you to lose your father and not have your mother by your side. After your tears have dried you will have the courage to start again. Music needs the sharp edge of separation. It opens your heart to the sorrow and suffering of humanity."

Though I wasn't too keen I had no other alternative but to let Anjoli stay for a few days with Rokeya. While Anjoli was away I thought of the available options for the future.

I remembered Anjoli's friend Devika who was well to do. May be they could put her up for some time until a permanent solution could be found. I persuaded Anjoli to find out if they could be of some help. In case she felt uncomfortable I offered to go along with Anjoli to visit Devika.

Anjoli told me, "Devika's mother doesn't know you and it will be easier if I meet her on my own. She has always been generous and kind and I am sure she will be helpful."

It was Anjoli's bad luck that Devika's mother was not in the city. She was visiting Devika who now lived abroad. Anjoli could not find out when she would return.

Suresh had lived in a rented house and with his death the owner was keen that the house should be vacated. Anjoli would need to move out soon and no solution seemed to be in sight.

If nothing worked out then I would have to rent a house so that Anjoli could stay with me. This was the last resort if other plans failed. As a confirmed bachelor; I didn't want the added responsibility of running a home.

Anjoli would be able to earn a living by teaching music. I could help her to get students but accommodation was the problem. There were hardly any hostels for working women available in the city.

We were at our wits end when Anjoli met up with one of her school friends who mentioned that she could meet Sister Rose.

The school had offered Anjoli a job after she had finished her studies. Sister Rose had a special corner for Anjoli and she might be of some assistance. Anjoli was in two minds to visit Sister Rose. She remembered that she had turned down the job and hesitated to ask for help.

I told Anjoli that we were running out of time as far as vacating the house was concerned. "It won't harm us if you go and meet Sister Rose. You will be able to make out from her response whether she will lend you a helping hand. If you sense that she is disinterested then let it appear as a courtesy call."

Sister Rose was delighted to see one of her favourite students and distressed to hear about Suresh's death. Rokeya had done her bit in getting Anjoli over her initial sense of loss and grief. Sister Rose was kind and sympathetic and could help her to make the right choice. Anjoli was able to loosen up and talk about the uncertain future that loomed ahead.

"Give me a few days time and I will try to see if we can solve your problem. Next week the school board will be meeting to discuss the agenda for new term. I will try to put forward a proposal to employ you as an assistant. The salary will not be too big but it will be a beginning."

"Along with the job I need a place to stay. Soon I will have to vacate the house I am staying in."

"Don't worry Anjoli. God looks after all of us and I am sure he will find a way for you. I will ask all the nuns to remember you in their prayers. It might take longer than your expectations but don't lose heart."

After a long time I saw a smile on Anjoli's face. Confiding in Sister Rose had helped her dream of a new life.

If needed a house could be rented for a few months so that both of us would get some breathing time to plan. I felt that Anjoli wouldn't be too comfortable if she had to stay indefinitely with Rokeya.

Anjoli went back to Sister Rose, delighted to hear that the school would employ her. The pay was not much but I could help make up the shortfall. Sister Rose had kept in mind that Anjoli also needed accommodation. One of the teachers was looking for a boarder and Sister Rose requested her to accommodate Anjoli.

I wanted to have a look at the house and family before Anjoli decided to board with them. Since I was Anjoli's guardian Sister Rose was also keen to meet me.

I was taken aback when she said, "I remember you clearly. You accompanied Anjoli on her first day to school. At that time I had mistaken you for her father. She is lucky to have a considerate and caring guardian. It is understandable that you would like to meet the family with whom Anjoli will board. I will ask Mrs. Roger to fix a date for you to meet her family. As far as I know they are honest and simple people. Anjoli should have no problems."

We had little or no idea of the Anglo Indian community and the neighbourhoods that they lived in. The house seemed neat and clean and Mrs. Rogers was a motherly lady. My English was not too fluent but we managed to get along. I noticed a piano and some musical instruments in the living room. Anjoli would be comfortable with a family that was musical.

Mrs. Rogers saw me looking at the piano. "My husband and sons are employed by hotel bands. I give piano and violin lessons to private students."

"Anjoli learnt to play the piano and she is trained as a singer in classical Indian music. I am sure that she will be happy to stay with you."

"I don't prefer to have girls as guests as they are a greater responsibility. But I work in the school and it was not easy to refuse Sister Rose's request. Anjoli must follow the house rules and she cannot bring other people in to house."

"I would like to visit her once a week as she is my ward."

"You can come from five to seven in the evenings but no staying later than seven."

It was a sad day when we bid farewell to the house that Anjoli had lived in from her infancy. Every nook and corner carried some memory of her growing years, of her parents who were no longer there. It was painful for me too as I could feel Suresh and Bela's presence and their voices lingering in the empty rooms.

Not wanting to prolong the misery, I hurried Anjoli in to a waiting taxi. I had hardly known a family home and now it was like leaving a large chunk of life behind. Anjoli kept looking out of the window until the house slipped out of view. Both of us looked straight ahead; we could not utter a word for fear of breaking down.

Mrs. Roger was waiting for us and I carried Anjoli's bags to her room. I had second thoughts of leaving her all by herself but may be this was the best way out. Anjoli was young and would adjust where as I was older, single and did not want to be burdened any further.

Anjoli was happy to have a roof over her head and to be independent. The family was musically minded and for the first few months they taught her to play the violin as well as refresh her skills on the piano. But the Rogers were not too happy with Anjoli's long hours of _riyaz._ The men played in bands until the late hours of the night and they were disturbed by Anjoli's early morning practice. On the other hand Anjoli was perturbed by the brawls and fights that happened when the father and sons came home drunk.

On one of my visits Anjoli broke down and told me that she would like to move out of the Roger household. Accommodation for single girls was not easy and I racked my brains to find a place.

I told Anjoli, "If Mrs. Roger's house is not convenient you will have to stay with Rokeya until I can find you a suitable place."

"I will stay with Rokeya Bai. I am sorry that I am troubling you but I feel scared to stay here. There are problems that I will face in Rokeya Bai's house but she was my parents' friend and I have full faith in her."

I turned to Rokeya for help and was apologetic about bothering her again. "Anjoli is uncomfortable staying in her present quarters. Could she stay with you until some other arrangement can be made?"

There was a sad smile on Rokeya's face and a trace of unshed tears in her voice , "Gopal Bhai I have seen Anjoli grow up, she is like a daughter for me. But I know that she is not too easy about staying with me. My voice may be highly regarded but not my reputation. It would require courage to live in my house. My doors are always open for the little one. She is welcome to stay for as long as she wants but she has to make up her mind."

Rokeya had been unflinching in her honesty and now it was Anjoli's turn to accept the generous offer or continue to stay with the Rogers until a suitable alternative could be found.

Suresh's death had helped Anjoli learn to take charge of her own life. I noticed that she did not make hasty decisions. After making up her mind to board with Rokeya she was prompt and gracious in expressing her thanks for the generous offer. No matter what people said or didn't; Rokeya remains a woman with a golden voice and a golden heart as she welcomed Anjoli with open arms.

We had to give Mrs. Roger a month's notice and she wasn't too pleased that Anjoli had decided to leave. Unlike her other boarders Anjoli paid her rent on time, did not break any of her rules and didn't try to flirt with her sons.

Living in Rokeya's house was easier as Anjoli knew the set up and she was delighted to be able to practice. Rokeya started taking Anjoli along with her for local recitals to give her the experience of solo performances. Anjoli was blossoming under Rokeya's aegis and she had also auditioned for broadcasting. If and when possible I tried to accompany her on the _tabla_ and time and again she stirred up memories of her parents.

Lately Rokeya had been urging Anjoli to give up her school job and concentrate on her singing. I saw the wisdom of Rokeya's words but working in the school had made Anjoli confident, more social and carefree. She had friends of her own age, working with children had helped her develop a positive attitude towards life. Sister Rose shared a special bond with Anjoli and was not only her guide but confidante. It would be wiser to let Anjoli continue with her school job until she felt the need for change.

Both Rokeya and I had slipped in to the roles of Anjoli's guardians. I felt more responsible about Anjoli and thought that it was time that she was married. When I sounded Rokeya on this subject she was quite ambiguous. According to Rokeya more often than not marriage was a major stumbling block if women wanted to be professional singers. If Rokeya's current lover was troubling her then she was totally against all males and marriage.

The two women who were Anjoli's well wishers were an odd combination of a nun and a singer with a dubious reputation. At the same time I did not want Anjoli to go the same way as Rokeya.

Anjoli was uncomfortable with any discussion about marriage.

Once when I insisted she told me, "I will never know why my mother decided to run away from her marriage though it was of her own choice. You are single and seem happier and carefree than most married people. I think it is better for me to be wed to music than to a man."
Chapter 27

When Rokeya would go out of town for performances, Anjoli took the liberty of staying with Rokeya's nephew Ali. The two of them knew each other from childhood. Ali's wife Azra had met Anjoli at Rokeya's house and they got along famously with one another.

Ali played the _sarode_ but he found it more lucrative to sell musical instruments. His business was good as he was a musician and understood and knew how to make the instruments. He performed at concerts but mostly played for his personal pleasure.

One evening while waiting to have his _sarode_ tuned one of Ali's customers heard Anjoli singing. He was curious about the singer's identity.

"I don't think I have heard her before. She has a fresh and sweet voice.'

"My aunt Rokeya Bai has been training Anjoli and she has given some recitals. She is Suresh Babu's daughter, he was a well known vocalist and you might have heard him sing."

The gentleman listened with rapt attention to Anjoli's song. Since the customer appeared so appreciative Ali invited him to hear Anjoli sing. After the song was over he introduced himself and complimented Anjoli. He asked Anjoli if she would sing at a soiree that he was arranging in his house. No promises could be made without asking Rokeya Bai. It was agreed that he would wait for Rokeya Bai's permission. He was so courteous and pleasant that all three of them liked him. Anjoli hoped that she would be able to keep his request.

Anjoli performed at the soiree arranged by Mr. Basu. That evening's recital was mainly by members of the family with the exception of Anjoli and another _sarode_ player. The Basu family were members of _the Brahmo Samaj_ and their religious as well as social events were celebrated with songs especially written and dedicated for those occasions.

Anjoli had heard some of the songs earlier but not given them much attention. Listening carefully, she was struck by the lyrics as well as the tunes. She could identify the ragas on which the songs were based and realized that the composers were skilled musicians as well as poets. Anjoli was happy to see that there were many women singers with well trained voices. She thought to herself that if women were allowed to sing all kinds of songs on different family and social occasions the stigma about women singers would not remain any longer. Professional women singers had a hard choice, their personal lives often took precedence over their achievement. Living with Rokeya Bai had highlighted the difference in the way male and female singers were treated.

Some of the ladies of the family struck up a conversation with Anjoli and wanted to know if she could teach them. Anjoli was impressed by these refined ladies who seem to be well educated and able to hold their own among men. This was a segment of society that she had not met before and she wanted to know more about them.

On our next meeting she asked me, "Can you tell me about the _Brahmo Samaj_? The Basu family is so polite and talented that I would like to know more about this community."

I told her the little that I knew. They were a community that had broken away from Hinduism and they were greatly influenced by Western thought as well as Hindu philosophy. Their women were encouraged to pursue education and to be active in all spheres of society. I didn't know much beyond that but they were musically inclined and had a fine collection of songs.

Anjoli agreed to teach the ladies. This would give her the opportunity to observe them closely and help her to learn social skills. She got along well with the younger generation and grew close to the twin sisters Nomita and Promita. When time permitted Anjoli would spend an extra half hour or so chatting with the twins. They often spoke about their brother Arun whom they hero worshipped and who would be coming soon on a holiday.

Arun's arrival was to be celebrated in a big way. The twins requested Anjoli to teach them a special song for the occasion. The song became popular so much so at the next class all the other girls wanted to learn the same song.

The twins had decided that Arun should meet Anjoli who was their current favourite. When they came face to face Anjoli could only blush and Arun was tongue tied. Though they did not meet again Arun would ask after her in all his letters to his sisters. On his next visit Arun managed to speak to Anjoli a few times. Arun was attracted to this self contained girl with the melodious voice. Anjoli was not aware of Arun's feelings but she liked him too.

I would bring up the topic of marriage at regular intervals and on the last few occasions it seemed that Anjoli's opinion showed slight changes.

"Marriage might not be a bad idea but I don't think that I have much choice. Who would want to marry me? Women singers are always looked upon suspiciously and I wouldn't\ be viewed any differently."

Though I was not good at guessing women's minds I thought that Anjoli might have fallen in love. I asked Rokeya if Anjoli had a young admirer.

Rokeya exclaimed "No! No! Anjoli is very careful about her reputation. I wish I could be like her. Look how men make a fool out of me.

I am hawk eyed where Anjoli is concerned. I owe it to her parents. If there was some man believe me I would be the first to know."

Just as I was on the look out to get Anjoli married so were Arun's parents. When Arun was informed about his family's efforts; he wrote to his father that he was interested in getting married to Anjoli.

Arun's letter took the family by surprise. They were fond of Anjoli the singer but not as a prospective bride. Arun's mother was alarmed and asked her husband to promptly stop the classes. It was a big joint family, several brothers and cousins with their families lived under one roof. Most of them were of the opinion that Arun's wife had to be special, not from Anjoli's background.

Mr. Basu was tired of the endless arguments that disrupted his marital as well as family peace. At the same time he did not know how to end the classes. Anjoli had no idea that Arun's letter was the cause that would lead to her dismissal.

Anjoli had noticed that her students had cooled off and she thought that they had lost interest in her classes. Her dismissal did not surprise her.

She took her leave politely and confused Mr. Basu as well as others. They had cast her in the vamp's role but Anjoli had been civil and polite.

Nomita had written to Arun that she missed her music classes as Anjoli had stopped teaching them. His father had also written that there were better matches from well known families who were keen to get their daughters married to Arun. The family was unanimous about Anjoli being an unsuitable choice. Above all Arun's mother was vehemently opposed to the whole idea. The Basus were from a different social class and background, it was unthinkable that Anjoli should be a part of their family.

In due time Arun was informed that the family found his choice of a bride totally unacceptable. But he was not a man to give up so easily and decided to test the waters himself.

Anjoli was taken aback to see Arun at her doorstep.

Arun wanted to find out how Anjoli felt about him before he tackled his own people. The unexpected question put Anjoli in a flap. "You have to give me some time to think through before giving you an answer. You know next to nothing about my family or me. There are some things you need to know before you make a commitment. Come back after a week and I will tell you what I feel about your proposal."

That evening Anjoli sent word that she needed to see me urgently. Knowing Rokeya's tempestuous nature, I feared a misunderstanding between the two of them.

Thankfully there was no trouble on that front.

When Anjoli told me about Arun's proposal I felt that history was repeating itself. This time I was too old to arrange an elopement. I felt that Suresh was waiting and watching to see what I would do.

"Anjoli you have told me about Arun's proposal but do you want to marry him?"

"I am deeply touched by his proposal and the fact that he approached me directly. Arun is well spoken but firm and willing to fight for his convictions. But he knows me only through my music and that is not enough. He should know about my background before deciding to marry me. Gopal Kaka you are all the family I have and you must speak frankly and honestly with Arun. It would appear that the Basus aren't pleased with Arun's choice. This might have prompted them to discontinue the music lessons. I do not want to cause a rift between Arun and his parents."

All these days I had wanted to get Anjoli married and without any warning I was in the thick of it all. I would try my best and hoped that Arun would not react adversely.

Arun was true to his word and visited Anjoli after a week. I waited in the next room for Anjoli to finish speaking.

"My father is no longer alive and I have asked Gopal Kaka my guardian to speak to you. Listen carefully to his words and then I will give you my answer."

Anjoli introduced us and decided to leave us together to tell Arun about her family as well as Bela's disappearance.

"I would like to marry Anjoli and will speak to my parents about it. I would be grateful if as Anjoli's guardian you could meet my parents to offer Anjoli's hand in marriage to me."

Anjoli's face had lost colour and her fists were tightly clenched as she looked from one face to the other. Arun looked in to her eyes and said, "Gopal Kaka has told me what I need to know and that has not changed my decision. I would like to marry you."

Arun's words made Anjoli's blush and she nodded to show her agreement.

As far as Anjoli was concerned everything had gone off without a hitch. Arun would have to speak to his family.

Arun's mother tried her level best to dissuade Arun from marrying Anjoli. She refused to eat, cried and asked the same question over and over again. "Why do you want to marry this girl? You can have your pick from the best families in town. What is so special about her?"

Arun told his father, "If you are agreeable Anjoli's guardian will come and meet you with a formal proposal. Should none of you agree then I have no other option but to leave the family home. I am marrying Anjoli not her family as a matter of fact she has none!"

Mr. Basu told Arun that he would make his final decision after he had met me. He wanted Arun's uncles to be present and consider their opinions to help him reach a solution.

Once the men had decided Arun's mother could not openly exercise her disapproval though she was annoyed about her son's adamant behaviour.

Arun told me that his father had agreed to meet me and I should visit them. This would be the first and last time that I would be asked to carry out such an errand as this was not in my area of expertise. Anjoli was more than Suresh's daughter, her happiness was of utmost importance.

The elders from the Basu family were present in full strength during my first formal visit. As I looked around the living room I realized that these people were not only well to do but reasonably westernized. Anjoli would have major adjustments to make. Would she able to take this stress and win them over to her side?

The Basus were polite but distant confirming my fears that they were displeased with Arun's choice. Would Anjoli be happy in an atmosphere of veiled animosity?

Arun's father was the patriarch of the family, it would be helpful if I could meet him personally. If I was uncomfortable with his stance then my advice to Anjoli would be to reconsider Arun's proposal. The last word rested with Anjoli.

The first meeting with the family was a series of polite noises. I took Mr. Basu aside and asked if we could meet in private. I had half expected him to refuse but he agreed. A date and time was agreed upon and I could only keep my fingers crossed.

Anjoli examined me like a High Court judge about the meeting with the Basus. She knew many of them and wanted an honest opinion about each one. It was best to share my fears; their unease and discomfort about the match was apparent though they did not express it openly.

"Gopal Kaka I am happy with what I am doing now. If you feel that the family is not welcoming then I will not marry Arun.'

Anjoli had thrust the entire responsibility on me and her future happiness now rested in my hands. If I took a false step I might ruin her future.

I had told Mr. Basu that it would be helpful if we could meet on neutral grounds. Arun's father opened up slowly but I did not want to keep any secrets. Mr. Basu appreciated my honesty regarding all his queries.

He said, "Did you try to trace Anjoli's mother's whereabouts? Do you know if she is alive or dead? Do you know about her paternal or maternal families?"

Most families have extensive family trees but in my case as well as Suresh's I had to draw a blank. I could tell him a little about Bela's family and the circumstances of her break up.

"Sister Rose is the one person who can give you an unbiased opinion about Anjoli. She has known Anjoli from the time she was a child. I think you will be in a position to consider your decision after you have spoken to her."

I was relieved that Mr. Basu agreed to meet Sister Rose. I told Sister Rose all the details and asked her to keep it confidential until a decision had been reached.

Mr. Basu did not tell me what transpired at the meeting but he was now in favour of the marriage. Most of the family came around but Arun's mother took her time.

I told Anjoli, "Arun's father has agreed to the wedding and he has convinced most of the family but there will be some people who will continue to look upon you unfavourably. Now it is up to you to accept or decline."

When I gave Rokeya the good news, she sighed, "Gopal bhai, I am happy to hear that Anjoli will be getting married soon. Every woman wants a husband and a home of her own. So did I! But what will happen to Anjoli's career? Will it come to an end just when it had started to take off?"

"I don't think we have any say in that matter. Anjoli will have to see how best she can balance family and music. Bela's shadow clouds this issue."

Anjoli had a soft corner for Devika's mother and wanted to invite her for the wedding. Imagine her joy when she not only met up with Devika's mother but with Devika herself. The two friends had a lot to catch up.

Devika had got married a couple of years ago to a doctor whom she had met in England. This was her first visit to Calcutta after her marriage and she was delighted that Anjoli had not forgotten her.

An idea struck Anjoli when she heard that Devika lived in England.

"Do you think there is any way of finding out if my mother is living in England? I would love to have her news and get in touch with her."

"England is not a big country and your mother should not be difficult to locate if she is living in one of the bigger towns. It would help if you could give me some address, no matter how outdated, to begin the search."

"I wish I could but Ma left with no forwarding address but a promise to return which she did not keep. See if you can come up with a plan that will work. If it does I will be happy."

Once all differences were ironed, the details were worked out including the wedding date. Rokeya went overboard with the preparations. Anjoli had agreed that the wedding would be conducted according to the _Brahmo Samaj_ rituals. Rokeya loved celebrations and decided to have a _mehendi_ ceremony. Though it was not a ritual among us Anjoli agreed as she knew that it would please Rokeya. The ceremony was for women, decorating their palms with henna, accompanied by singing and teasing the bride. Rokeya had chosen Anjoli's clothes for this occasion and she looked beautiful in the traditional finery. Anjoli's wedding sari was my gift.

All brides look ethereal on their wedding day and so did Anjoli. I appreciated the simple Brahmo wedding modelled on the lines of a church ceremony and interspersed with songs composed and sung for such occasions. It was a feeling of déjà vu as I remembered that I had been the only one present for her parents' wedding. My fervent prayer was that Anjoli and Arun would be happy and their life would not be blighted like her parents.

When a woman leaves home to live with her husband and his people she enters unknown territory and has to carefully map her way so that she finds her own place and acceptance. Anjoli had some idea of the obstacles that she would encounter and set her mind to win every one's heart. It wasn't an easy task as in this large extended family there were many deep eddies that ran under the seemingly smooth surface.

It was Anjoli's quiet determination; a desire to please and her music that helped her find her own niche. The family had many youngsters learning to sing as well as play instruments. Some of them played the violin and the piano in the Western tradition. It was easy for Anjoli to continue with her _riyaz_ though she kept public recitals on hold. Soirees for family members were a regular feature and Anjoli participated whenever she got the chance. The love of music brought Anjoli and her father in law closer.

Arun was open to the idea of Anjoli carrying on as a professional singer. He understood the need for music in Anjoli's life. But it would be better if Anjoli found out his father's views on this subject. Singing at home or among close friends was very different from a public concert. Anjoli bided her time and chose an opportune moment to talk to Arun's father.

"Would you and the other elders have any objections if I continued giving public performances? There have been a few offers but I have not accepted any. I will only proceed with your approval. Also if you are agreeable I would like you to escort me."

Mr. Basu had noticed that not only was Anjoli trying her best to settle down but she was smart enough not to get involved in the power conflicts that simmered in such large households. Anjoli tried to juggle her music and household duties as best as she could. Mr. Basu though not a professional musician understood that Anjoli needed not only to train but perform. He knew that the most of the family including his wife were now more favourably disposed towards her and he didn't want that to change. The best option was to speak to his wife as she had her finger on the pulse of this household.

Only after all the day's chores and duties were over and the house had wound down for the night did Mr. Basu get the chance to speak to his wife. "Sumita do you think it is a good idea to let our daughter in law sing at concerts?"

"Is this your idea or Anjoli's?" asked Sumita who had got over her initial antagonism but was still quick to censure.

His wife's tone warned him to be more circumspect. "Nah she seems more interested in spending time in the kitchen learning to cook."

"Have you spoken to Arun? What is his opinion?"

"Unless you are comfortable, I won't ask Arun. What do you feel about it? If you don't think it is a good idea let Anjoli stay at home."

Sumita was happy that her husband had considered asking her opinion though she knew all along that he was keen to let Anjoli perform. "All these concerts get over late at night. The timings are not suitable for a young woman and that also a newlywed."

"Would there be objections if she was escorted to these recitals?"

"But who will go with her? Most of the youngsters are busy in the morning with their schools or office so they cannot stay up till late at night to accompany Anjoli."

"After all she is our daughter in law and I could escort her and this will also give me a chance to attend the concerts."

"If Anjoli wishes to perform in concerts then it is best that you go with her. Anjoli should remember that she is a married woman and behave accordingly. I don't want tongues wagging to bring to my notice that Arun's wife is one of those snazzy showgirls! What is the name of the lady of whom Anjoli calls Appa?"

"Rokeya Bai. She holds her audience spell bound with her glorious voice."

"I don't know about that but have you seen the outrageous make up and jewellery that she wears. I don't want Anjoli to dress or behave like her!"

I remember Anjoli telling me that winning over her mother in law was harder than trying to sing one of the more complex ragas. It was to Anjoli's credit that she was well loved by most of Arun's family. Tactfully she maintained peace and goodwill in such a large household.

Anjoli was happy to give public recitals but she became more selective and with her father in law as an escort she did not have to face too much criticism. As Anjoli's family responsibilities increased she cut down on her public recitals and switched to teaching music and broadcasting. She chose timings that allowed her to look after her children as well as pursue her love of music.

I would always miss Suresh and more so when I saw Anjoli winning acclaim as a singer as well as being a happily married wife and mother. Bela remained untraceable and neither Anjoli nor I heard from her.

#  Journey's End

The voices that would not rest until their stories had been told; were now strangely silent. Anjoli could not hear them always but they appeared mysteriously to guide her when she needed them. Today they had bared their secrets as the hopes of a young girl lay in the balance. All of them had been driven by their love for music and they understood Reva's plea. She was one of their own, they would try their utmost for her. They knew it was not possible for them to reach out physically but they would try to empower Anjoli to speak. Reva was of their flesh and blood, music coursed in her veins. It would be a grave fault to be denied her birthright. Anjoli felt them nudging and pushing her, telling her that she must not give up, she must help the young Reva to achieve her goal.

Usha looked quizzically at her mother. "If I hadn't slapped Reva we would never have had this candid confession. In all these years why did you never tell me that your mother had deserted you? Did you ever find out why she didn't come back?"

Usha reminded Anjoli of Arun's mother who could at times be so thoughtless and rude. Family traits were hard to lose they seeped through the generations. If she had taught herself to handle her nit picking mother in law then she must now do the same with her own offspring.

"I didn't want either you or your brother to suffer the way I did through my growing years or to worry that I wouldn't be there when you needed me. Old as I am I still miss my mother and though it took me a long time to forgive her I know that she loved me. If I knew what upset her I would have tried to make her happy. Don't let your pride come in the way of Reva's happiness."

"Ma, have you ever thought of what I went through and what I gave up to leave all that was known and familiar? I did this for Reva and Sameer so that they could have a better quality of life.

You know from your own life that except for a handful most musicians don't earn much. I haven't asked Reva to give up her music. All I am saying is that she should understand her priorities. Is that so hard?"

"Usha you are deaf to other people's voices. You came to this country to study as you wanted the facilities and advantages that it offered you. Your decision to stay here was made before the children were born. You have lived your life according to your choices, isn't it fair that your children have the same chances."

Usha was not a woman to give up easily. Anjoli had grown up in another era and didn't know what it took to survive in today's world. Reva and Sameer had been luckier than most; their parents had planned for their education. It was wiser to buy time and not get Anjoli and Reva siding against her. Usha did not want to appear as a spoil sport.

"Reva I am sorry that my temper got the better of me. May be we should continue with this discussion when both of us have cooled down."

Usha's apology eased the tension. Reva knew that the situation hadn't changed much but she now had Dida as a staunch supporter. Usha hoped that she would be able to win her mother over to her side to change Reva's mind.

Reva's idea of India was mostly limited to what she heard from her parents and their Indian friends. They spoke with great longing and nostalgia about India as home but did not want to really go back. The second generation had no such ties but many of them lived a double life; the mainstream American way outside and at home a mishmash of what was supposed to be the traditional Indian way. Most of them could juggle around to use both the cultures to their advantage but there were some who fell by the way. No Indian parent wanted that to happen to their children. America was the dream destination for immigrants and who else but a fool would muddle up his chance. Reva had heard disparaging comments about those Indian children who did not make it to the top schools in law or medicine or business. She knew that Usha with her own success graph might be unable to grapple with the frustration that Reva had thrown away her chances, opting to become a fiddler.

Anjoli's story had fascinated as well as strengthened Reva's resolve to become a musician. She was sorry that her mother did not share the same dreams. Reva's questions about Indian music were never ending. One question intrigued her.

"How is it that my mother did not inherit a love for music? Nor did she ever mention that you are a singer."

Dida sighed, "I had great hopes that I would pass on the family legacy to my daughter but I found that she was not born with the gift of music. I was saddened but it is not her fault or for lack of trying. Heaven takes with one hand and gives with the other. Usha was a topper in her class, her determination and hard work have made her successful.

After my children's birth I devoted more time to them than to music. Since Usha was not interested she doesn't remember that part of my life but her brother does. He learned to play the _tabla_ though he was not keen to take it up as a profession. Success and recognition comes slowly and that also to a chosen few musicians. Music is a demanding mistress; she tests many and rewards only a handful."

Reva refused to be deterred and said, "Don't you worry, I will carry on the family tradition. Wait and see I will become one of the best violinists. I will make you proud."

Usha had tried not to raise the contentious topic of Reva's music but Anjoli wanted to resolve the issue before her visit ended. She had promised to help her granddaughter and she could be very persistent.

Anjoli had also spoken to her son in law and found that he was more comfortable with the idea. He said, "Usha's arguments are not totally wrong but if Reva has such strong feelings then we need to give her the opportunity to follow her own path. Usha also forgets that young people here are more independent and Reva will end up doing what she wants. It would be better if both of them can come to an amicable understanding otherwise she might lose her daughter."

People don't change overnight and neither would Usha but the ball had been set rolling. Reva could now look forward to going forward without too many hitches.

Usha would not give up easily, "Reva can take up music if she is accepted by one of the top music schools or it is back to books."

Anjoli's stories had intrigued Reva and she had asked Usha if they could visit India and their extended families. Old ties and childhood memories had been stirred and Usha agreed to her daughter's request.

Dida's effort to visit and reach out to her daughter and her family made it possible to meet our cousins from USA more frequently than once in a decade. It was due in a large measure to my cousin Reva that I heard the fascinating history of Dida's life.

Reva had laughingly remarked to me, "Millie aren't we lucky to have a diva for a dida!"

Dida had been quick to reply, "I was never a diva. If there was one it was Rokeya Bai, she had the talent, the attitude and the temper of a true performer. I was lucky to be blessed with the gift but I was spared the sacrifices made by my mother or Rokeya Bai.

#  Epilogue

Dida's dressing table was crowded with all kinds of stuff. Bills, old letters, pencil stubs and keys jostled for space with a royal blue perfume phial with faded gold letters, a silver backed comb, a lacquered tray spilling over with pins, clips, brooches and a music box. From the time she was a child Millie knew that it was wiser not to touch anything on the dressing table but if there was one object that was absolutely out of bounds it was the music box. Only Dida was privileged to start the tinkling music and that too on very special occasions when Millie was sad, mad or even downright bad and needed to be cheered up. There was a special magic to that music and it never failed to brighten her up no matter how perplexing life could be. Some times Dida would laugh and say the tune should be renamed after Millie.

Millie wondered if the music box was the same one that Dida had given to her mother when she went away. Obviously it was one of Dida's prized possessions. Millie decided to lay all her doubts to rest by asking about its origins. "Dida you gave your music box to your mother and after that you never saw her again. Is this the same music box? How did you get it back again?"

"You are a great one for questions! I never saw my mother again but the music box remains my only link to her.

It is a short and simple tale. Devika knew that I longed to get news about my mother's whereabouts to get in touch with her. She had made several enquiries only to draw a blank. After her efforts were unsuccessful she had put out a personal message in some of the leading London newspapers. My mother's name and her Calcutta address were given and anyone who had information about her was asked to contact Devika's London address. Since no one had responded to the newspaper message Devika had concluded that my mother was most probably not alive.

Many years later Devika received a parcel from an old age home near London. My mother had spent the last years of her life there. The office had no records of her family but found the music box along with a faded copy of the newspaper in her locker. Since my mother's name matched the one in the newspaper the authorities had sent it to Devika's address.

Devika went back to the old age home hoping to get more information but the office could tell her next to nothing. Among the few details that were available was that she had been a singer. Apparently my mother had not resided in that institution for long, had specifically mentioned that she had no family in England, and should be cremated after her death.

I would never see my mother again but I felt happy that all through her exile she had not parted with the music box. I would never know why she did not return to her family and country. The choice could not have been easy but the music box told me that she had not forgotten us."

Anjoli cradled the box in her palms. Her eyes were closed and she had drifted off to a world where she could hear the melody of her parents' voices, the staccato beats of the _tabla_ and the notes of the piano fading away. Slowly ever so slowly the music died down as the voices of those dearest to Anjoli sounded fainter and fainter. They would never die and their voices would be heard in those of the generations to come.

