This is a tale of woe of Meenakshi, an orphan girl from southern India. Like the thousands of orphans in India, she lives a life in which others determine her every move. For her, every event is predestined.Many of us are fortunate enough to be told and to believe that our destiny lies within our own hands. In the case of unfortunates like Meenakshi, that is not the case. All of their efforts to decide life for themselves are futile. Fate, for them, is the puppet master. No matter how hard they try there is no outwitting Destiny for Destiny always triumphs!

The Diamond Ring

By N. Rajanna

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 N. Rajanna
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-4779-5

Chapter One

The fire in the hearth burned insistently. Subbamma had risen earlier to light it in the kitchen's sunken mud fire pit. Elsewhere, in the bathroom, she had thrust fronds of dried coconut and dry sticks into cow dung cakes before lighting a match to it. It burned brilliantly. The crackling of burning sticks could be heard even in the kitchen. She wondered upon hearing the sound, for it was surely a sign of someone giving a surprise visit. She believed the superstition as had her ancestors.

But who would come? She had no nearby family. Her closest blood relative was an only brother who hadn't shown his face for nearly eight years. He had written a letter three months back telling her that his wife had given birth to a baby girl, but had given no return address. There had been no further communication.

Tears welled in her eyes as she struck another matchstick. As the fire began to burn she put a kettle of water to boil on the hearth. She went out the door into a large courtyard, crossing to the street entrance to sweep. She tossed a bucket of water onto the stoop and swept away the chalk stencil markings called rangoli that called down blessings upon the home and its inhabitants.

While crossing back to her dwelling a crow perched atop a guava tree in the courtyard cawed out as if heralding someone's arrival. Again, she wondered. The crow cawed again and she waved her hand to shoo it away.

The crow flew away and she turned to enter the home. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a cart halting in the street. The bells tied around the neck of the horse first jingled and then stopped. Subbamma, curious, went back to the front stoop and looked out. A middle-aged man covered in a shawl stepped out of the cart carrying a wrapped bundle over his shoulder.

She became sure the bundle was a baby as the man, having paid the fare, walked towards her. She couldn't yet tell who he was so she stood quietly watching.

As he came nearer he saw her. The stranger grunted and mumbled almost incoherently, "Sister, I have come at last."

She was aghast and stood staring for a few seconds. Her tongue felt tied making any utterance impossible. At last, she spoke. "Is it Subbaih? Why, I didn't recognize you. Come in, dear brother, come in. You will live to be 100 with the luck you have. I just these few moments back thought about you when a crow repeatedly cawed in the courtyard as if to foretell of your arrival. And here you are. How are you?"

"Yes, sister, it is me. Am I not standing before you like a piece of granite, yet alive?"

His response troubled her, so out of character for the brother she knew. He must be exhausted. Welcoming him into the home's interior, she turned with a smile and asked curiously, "Is this the baby? Where is she, your wife, Seethamma? Give me the baby. Why didn't your wife come with you?"

Subbamma put out her arms to take the baby, but Subbaiah stepped back refusing to hand over the child. "Don't touch her," he said sadly. "If you do you'll have to take a bath. Seethamma died. She left us both orphans. She is gone forever, sister." He began to cry quietly. Subbamma stood stunned.

"Why didn't you write to me about her death? You could have dropped me a card, a few lines. What did she die of? You wrote me three months ago and I never heard from you again."

Having said enough, she led Subbaiah to a seat in the courtyard. Instead, he squatted down with the child in his lap. The child began to cry as if she were hungry. Subbamma could not bear to let the child cry so she bent down and took her. The baby, apparently missing the warmth of her mother, snuggled into Subbamma's arms and slept. Subbaiah stared into space. His beard and moustache had grown longer. His hair was gray, his eyes appeared sunken into their sockets and his skin was pale. She wondered where the robust brother she had known eight years back had gone. She pitied him in this condition and, with tears in her eyes, asked again, "What happened to Seetha?"

"It was after the delivery. She was anemic. She was alright for about a month but then she began to suffer with bouts of fever. I got her herbal remedies in the village. We performed many rituals and sacrifices to appease the gods. But it was all in vain. She passed away quietly in her sleep two days back. I left the village and came here."

"Subba, you are so stubborn," said Subbamma. "You should have stayed to make peace with this tragedy. The same happened eight years ago when you fought with your brother-in-law and left us in a fit of fury, never looking back."

Her words pricked his conscience. In a painful tone, he said, "Akkaiah, don't remind me of that instance. It was my cruel fate. Whatever I was destined to suffer I have suffered. But today, I forget it all; I forget everything in the past." Having said this, he bowed his head in grief.

At that moment, Shamanna, his brother-in-law, entered the courtyard. He wondered who was this stranger talking to his wife. And did she hold a baby in her arms?! The child began to cry. He came nearer to his wife and whispered, "Whose child are you holding?"

She tried to smile through her tears and said, "Don't you recognize him? This is my brother, Subbu. His wife, Seethamma, is dead. He has brought their child with him."

At the mention of Subbaiah's name, Shamanna's face contorted with disgust. The old dispute was immediately rekindled. Shamanna turned away and walked toward his home. He was stopped in mid-stride by Subbaiah's grief-stricken voice. "Bhavaiah, I have come to your door, humbled and without guile. Please, let us forget the past."

Subbaiah then stood and respectfully bowed his head. Shamanna's heart was softened and he felt pity for this man who nearly begged his forgiveness. "Come, Subbaiah," said Shamanna, "come to my home which is also yours by virtue of the fact that you are my wife's only brother. I am very sorry to hear that Seethamma is dead."

Not able to say more, Shamanna turned back into the house and went into the bathroom. He felt no grief for Seethamma whom he had despised. He had been opposed to Subbaiah's marriage to the girl from a bad family. Seethamma's mother who was widowed after her daughter's birth had been rumored to have had an affair and was disowned by her relatives. Subbaiah had insisted against the opposition of all of the village elders on marrying Seethamma. This is what had caused him to leave his sister's home and move with his wife a great distance away.

Seethamma's mother, unable to bear the insult, lived with the couple a few months and then died. The couple had been ostracized by all except one or two friends. Shamanna pondered everything and felt a wave of sympathy for his brother-in-law and the orphaned child, just as his wife's heart had melted at the plight of her only brother and niece.

Subbamma sent for a neighbor to help her bathe the baby. By then, Kamakshi, her daughter, had come to see why it sounded like a crying baby. She found her mother in the middle of the room carrying a tiny tot in her arms and holding the infant up to the smoke of burning sambrani incense which had been laid on hot, red coals. This method of drying a child was ages old and believed to protect against colds and influenza.

The fragrant aroma of the sambrani filled the small room. Kamakshi moved quickly to her mother's side, asking, "Amma, Amma, whose child is this and who brought it to you?"

Smiling, Subbamma replied, "This is my child, your baby sister." With that, she kissed the baby on both cheeks. Kamakshi marveled at her mother's words. How could God have given her a baby sister so quickly? Nevertheless, she clapped her hands with glee and skipped happily.

Kamakshi sang, "Tiny tot, tiny tot, this is Amma." Then, because someone had told her that babies were gifts from God, she asked her mother about when God had given the baby?

Subbamma replied, "Your uncle, my brother, brought the baby this morning. God had him bring it to you for your playmate. Go to the courtyard and you will find your uncle sitting there."

Kamakshi shyly touched the child and ran her fingers through its curly hair. Laughing, she said, "Amma, this child is mine. It's beautiful. Wait, I should wash my face before going out to see him." With that, she ran to the bathroom to wash. So great was her joy at being given a baby to play with that she washed up without having been asked.

Subbamma fed a few spoons of cow's milk to the baby before wrapping her in an old sari and laying her in a bamboo thrash. She then went out to the courtyard. She found Subbaih sitting on the ground with his chin on his knees. Kamakshi stood a few yards away, looking curiously at her uncle. The girl was afraid to go near him. His long, gray beard looked like a bush. The wrinkled, weathered face made her doubt it was truly her uncle.

Subbamma, who had come to fetch her brother so that he could bathe, prodded her daughter. "Kamakshi, see your uncle? Go talk to him."

Kamakshi shook her head. Subbaih smiled painfully and asked, "Akkaiah, who is this child?"

"It's my daughter, Subbu," she replied.

With eyes widened in surprise, he asked, "Is this child really yours, Akkaiah? I didn't know you even had children. I'm very happy for you. She will be company for my daughter."

Subbamma kept her happiness to herself, marveling that at long last she had been given another child. She turned her attention to her brother and asked him to take his turn bathing now that the water had boiled. Subbaiah shook his head, explaining that he never bathed in hot water any more and that he was used to cold water. "I will go to the river and bathe," he said. He stood and went in the direction of Kaveri River.

Though Subbamma was happy to see and talk with her brother after eight years, she was worried and wished she could say more to him, to catch up on lost time. She loved him far more than the average sister felt for a brother because she had raised him on her own for many years. He was her only living relative. The rest of her family were long since dead.

The brother upon whom she had lovingly doted had fought with her husband over the issue of his marriage and that had taken him away from her perhaps now, she realized, forever. In anger over her husband's opposition to his marriage to Seetha, her brother had refused to recognize a plot of land near Srirangapatna as family property and instead had sold it, taken the money, and deserted his sibling and her family.

Today he had returned humbled, even beaten down by life. His plight was pitiable. He needed their love, care and concern. He had come to the right place for Subbamma had stores of love and concern on which she desired to shower him and his child. She had already accepted the child as her own, a flower blooming in her genetic garden.

After the midday meal Subbamma laid out a mattress for her brother to take a nap. He was spent, his energies completely consumed. While her uncle slept, Kamakshi kept vigil over her God-given sister. She played with her as she would with a doll. She tried to pretend to feed `her baby doll' and accidentally hurt the infant's mouth. The child wailed in pain. She tried to pacify the crying baby by both singing a lullaby and patting her into submission. She patted the child so harshly, however, that the baby began to cry loudly again. Subbamma said to her crossly, "If you continue to play so harshly with her and hurt her again, I will give her back to your uncle."

This threat so scared Kamakshi that she cried, "No, mummy, no. I won't hurt her in any way. I will just play with her. Please don't give her back. I want her."

The little girl lay down on the mattress by the baby and fell asleep. Later in the afternoon Subbamma carried coffee and sweets to her brother who squatted on a mat in the verandah. Kamakshi having awakened came bouncing in and, leaning over her mother's shoulder, happily announced that she had given the baby sister a name.

"What name did you give your baby sister?"

"Meenakshi. I am Kamakshi and she is Meenakshi!"

Both the brother and sister laughed at Kamakshi's excitement. "Did you hear, Subbu?" asked Subbamma. "My daughter has already given such a sweet name to your child. She calls the little one her own baby sister."

Subbaiah had grown pensive and sat looking at nothing. He spoke slowly. "Akkaiah, children are like angels we are told. I have a request of you. Please raise my little girl. She will be a companion to your daughter. I have already given her over to your care. Please don't say no, Akkaiah."

Subbamma said nothing. She simply stared at him.

Subbaiah continued, "Seetha has left me this tiny tot as a symbol of my future. She is all that is left of my line. I wish she were a boy, but it is God's will. You can say it is my bad luck or that it is God's punishment. Seetha gave birth to five other children, all of whom died in infancy. But this one I pray God will spare and bless with a long life. I am a sinner, Akkaiah. I have lost everything. You are my only other living blood relative. This child is both son and daughter to me. You must protect her for my sake and for the sake of my family's name."

Subbamma wished she could do more to comfort her brother. She said, "Subbu, don't worry over the matter. I have already decided that your child is in no way a liability. She will be like my own daughter, Kamakshi. Both girls will be equal in my eyes and in my home. Relax."

Subbaiah heaved a sigh of relief. He reached for a small trunk near the wall and pulled it towards him. Opening it, he said, "Akkaiah, this is all the treasure I own. I received one thousand rupees for the sale of two acres of wetland. I am setting aside three hundred rupees to be spent on funeral expenses. I want to go to Gaya and complete the ritual arrangements alone for I want to be no more trouble for you. See, these are her silk saris. This is her avalakki chain, her bangles and her diamond nose-ring. Everything is to go to my unfortunate child, Akkaiah. I am a sinner and a poor man. I can give her nothing more than this."

Subbamma responded angrily, "What is this nonsense, Subbu? You tell me that you would go to far-off Gaya alone to perform your wife's death rituals. Am I dead or disabled? You can go to the sacred cities of Gaya, Kashi, Rameshwara or wherever you want after my death. Until then don't speak of such things."

Subbaiah grimaced. "Don't push me, Akkaiah. I have suffered enough in this life. Why should I want to continue in it? Don't try to keep me here."

"Don't be so stubborn," replied Subbamma, with a voice choked by grief. "Surely, you are near the end of your suffering. I have missed you so and now, by the grace of Lord Rama, you have come back. Talk no more of it. What we have suffered is enough."

Shamanna called to her from the house. She rose to head indoors. It was time for Shamanna's coffee. Subbaiah stopped her by saying, "Akkaiah, please take this." He counted out three hundred rupees from a compartment in the trunk. He pushed the trunk towards his sister. She picked up the box and carried it inside for safe keeping.

Subbaiah went out for a walk in the evening. He visited Kaveri Sangama, Dariya Daulat and Gumbaz. At the temple of Lord Ranganatha, he performed the ritual of darshan, offering flowers, before returning to his sister's home. He spoke little. Shamanna and Subbamma made no attempt to engage him in conversation for they knew he was grieving deeply.

At midnight, baby Meenakshi began to cry. Subbaiah, who couldn't sleep, got up and took the child from her crib. He rocked her to sleep, patting her gently on the chest. Awakened, Subbamma watched silently the interaction between father and daughter. In the lantern's dim light she could see her brother gaze with such sad eyes at his baby. He began to weep. Subbamma lay in bed aching for the brother whom she loved so much. Once the child slept, she too fell back asleep. The night grew peaceful again.

The next morning Subbamma awakened early to attend to her chores. She prepared the coffee. She went out into the verandah to wake her brother and send him to wash. In the corner was the mattress on which he had slept. It was rolled up and pushed against the wall. The door to the courtyard was open.

He is an early riser, she thought. He must have gone to the river to bathe.

Subbamma continued with her morning work. At seven both children were awake. The baby cried in hunger. She fed spoonfuls of fresh cow's milk to the baby who then slept.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Diamond Ringby N. Rajanna Copyright © 2010 by N. Rajanna. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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