The Betrayal and Other Stories

By Sivasankari

Sivasankari (born October 14, 1942) is a renowned Tamil writer and activist. She has carved a niche for herself in the Tamil literary world during the last four decades with her works that reflect an awareness on social issues, a special sensitivity to social problems, and a commitment to set people thinking.

She has many novels, novellas, short stories, travelogues, articles and biographies to her credit. Her works have been translated into several Indian languages, English, Japanese and Ukrainian. Eight of her novels have been made into films, having directed by renowned directors like K. Balachander, SP Muthuraman and Mahendran. Her novel 'Kutti' on girl child labour, filmed by the director Janaki Viswanathan, won the President's Award. Sivasankari's novels have also been made as teleserials, and have won the national as well as regional 'Best Mega Serial' awards.

As a multi-faceted personality, she has won many prestigious awards including Kasturi Srinivasan Award, Raja Sir Annamalai Chettiyar Award, Bharatiya Bhasha Parishad Award, 'Woman of the year 1999-2000' by the International Women's Association, and so on.

'Knit India Through Literature' is her mega-project involving intense sourcing, research and translations of literature from 18 Indian languages, with a mission to introduce Indians to other Indians through culture and literature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pustaka Digital Media
• Release date: Mar 8, 2017
• ISBN: 6580501801912

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The Betrayal and Other Stories

Author:

Sivasankari

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Table of Contents

THE BETRAYAL

SHORT STORIES

THE FIRST SALE

THE BIG FIGHT

BOREDOM

i9

THE FLOW AND THE EBB

/BE WITH ME, MOMMY!

MADAME CLEAN

STEPNEY

THORN IN THE BED

SEPTIC

THE IMPERCEPTIBLE SLIP

ME AND MINE

STILLBORN

THE SQUIRRELS AND THE GUAVA FRUIT

A BIG DREAM AND A SMALL CHISEL

The Betrayal

And

Other Stories

by

Sivasankari

Transcreated in English by

Ameeta Agnihotri and Geetha Radhakrishnan

THE BETRAYAL

Chapter 1

Dawn filtered through the curtains. Was it really time to wake up? Chandra’s eyes felt gritty, heavy-lidded. Loaden, heavy, drowsy, red rimmed and sad. It was an effort to open them. Last night… Sleep had evaded her, like it did almost other night – only last night was worse.

It was morning. The day called out to her. Wake up she must. The maidservant had come already and was noisily proclaiming the fact by making a great production of sprinkling water outside the house, where she would draw the traditional kolam

[¹].

Chandra dragged herself out of bed. Her cheeks were still wet from the silent tears she had shed. She was tired. Bitter. A futile fury filled her entire being. But only for a moment. She ran a quick comb through her hair and re-tied her loosened sari.

Looking into the full-length mirror, Chandra’s eyes fell upon her sleeping husband. He lay there hogging the entire bed, legs wide apart, bare chested and macho. He slept the sleep of the innocent. A small snoring sound emanated from him, as a smile curled his lips.

Murmuring in his sleep he turned over, presenting his profile to Chandra. It seemed as if he was showing off, saying ‘Look at me. Even my profile is handsome. Don’t I look good?’ Unknowingly a sneer crossed Chandra’s lips.

What arrogance! What overconfidence! She would have gladly scratched that smile off his face, and painted some pain there instead. Murthy certainly deserved at least a fraction of the pain that she had suffered twenty-five years of her life.

Going into the bathroom, she brushed her teeth for a two full minutes. Her pearly white teeth had not one single cavity, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Quickly splashing water on her face, Chandra examined her face closely. Objectively. Huge limpid eyes stared back at her. Brown and expressive – and why shouldn’t they be? She had spent most of the night awake, feeling sorry for herself! Sad, sad eyes…

Enough of that. She chided herself. Look at your nose, instead. A rueful giggle escaped her lips. Chandra obeyed her thoughts and looked at her nose. It was small and button like. Slightly tip tilted. ‘Like a ski ramp,’ her friends in school would tease her. She then looked at her mouth. ‘Swollen lips’ Murthy had flung at her once during a fit of rage. Sensuous lips, Chandra decided defiantly, raising her head a wee bit higher. High cheekbones, porcelain skin, long neck, wavy black hair. She stood tall and straight at 5’7". Hmm… good posture, Chandra decided. Those years of Bharatanatyam, perhaps.

Turning sideways, she got up on a small stool to get a better look at her body. Nice breasts, she decided. Not too big – thank god! They’d look like hanging melons. But not too small, either…. those would look like cherries!

Wicked thoughts, Chandra smiled again. That waist was slender too, she decided…. the hips were a little largish… hippy… She had a pear shaped body… yes. So what?

Chandra was secretly proud of her milky white thighs. Slender long limbs with well turned out ankles. The tiny anklets were perfect on her feet and those little toes with their toe rings and deep plum nail varnish were the envy of many a beauty. ‘I could worship your feet,’ that cheat had once told her, and Chandra, gullible fool that she was, had believed him.

Fool. Gullible fool. The words beat a tattoo on her mind. There it goes again, Chandra thought. Firmly snuffing out the self-pity before it engulfed her, she turned away from the mirror.

No time to dawdle any more. The sounds from outside were winding down. If she did not open the back door, the maid would ring the doorbell and wake up the rest of the household.

Quickly finishing her self-examination, she threw a last look of contempt on the sleeping body on the bed and ran nimbly down the stairs. Entering the kitchen, she quietly opened the back door and let the maid in.

A new day had begun in Chandra’s life. Her hands automatically performed the chores they were so used to, but her thoughts hurtled down their own path. He is handsome. He is fifty, yet his body is strong and muscular.

His smile too is open and inviting. Makes the smiled-at want to smile back at him. Bright and happy.

‘He is beautiful.’ She thought. ‘Yes. That is the right word for him. Beautiful. Sharp nose, big almond shaped eyes, dark mustache over luscious pink lips and a flawless light skin. But that chin – ah! that chin negates what the rest of the face does. It shows no character. It is small and concave. Even the cleft in it looks misplaced.’

A flawless flawed face. It smiled but showed no sensitivity. Was perfect, chin upwards, but carried no depth. A soulless face. That is what it was. A beautiful soulless face on a selfish body. A body that kept wanting and wanting. And the more it got, the more it wanted. Gluttony. Ugly gluttony. Disgusting. He had a one-track mind – obsessed with sex. Sex and more sex. All roads led to the bed.

Last night came back to her. Chandra was tired, and had a headache. She just wanted to sleep. She had begged, softly, beseeching. ‘Not tonight…please.’ He did not hear, did not care. She tried again, ‘I’ve been working all day. Sitting in the hot sun, making vadaam

[²]…my back hurts like crazy.’ No response. He just would not hear. His wants were paramount, and the rest of the world could go to hell. He would brook no excuses.

Not once in the twenty-five years that they had been married. One thing the guy certainly had, Chandra admitted ruefully, and that was sexual stamina. An insatiable appetite.

Snatches of his monologue came back to her. She could almost hear his revolting voice.

‘Come… re…,’ slurred and slobbering.

‘An Indian woman should yield to her husband. His wish is her command. She is there for him to have…. as and when he likes…’

‘You don’t realise how lucky you are, you bitch…. you know, you should have married some thin, sickly, impotent fellow. He would have never touched you, and you would have died craving for what I have. For what I give so readily. Stupid female.’

What Chandra craved for was some tender, loving care.

An intimate smile, a look that showed he cared, just a small gesture of appreciation…. Things she only read about in the Mills and Boons books or on television, in the movies. Her social life was restricted to the odd office party Murthy took her to. Friends? Yes, she did have a few, but no ‘good’ Indian woman would go around discussing her marital problems with all and sundry. What would they think?

Chandra was brought up short by the demands of the day…

The milk was boiling. Water for the morning coffee was bubbling… Blub, blub, blub. Chandra giggled at her silliness. Looking around quickly, she tried again, ‘blubblubblub’ she said without a pause. There, that sounded more like it. Pouring the boiling water into the coffee filter, she switched off the gas, taking care to cover the milk.

Singing her silly song to herself, she blubbed to the refrigerator and took out the vegetables she needed to cook lunch. A balanced diet – that is what her family would get, she thought. Potato porial

[3]– Murthy would kick up a fuss if potatoes were not made – she smiled mischievously to herself, suppose, just suppose, she did not pack the potato, what would he do?

Fly into a rage probably. It was just a thought. She banished it quickly and concentrated on the rest of the food.

The coffee was ready. Chandra settled down to her peaceful morning cuppa before beginning the rest of her work.

A frown creased her brow.

What was she forgetting? One of the kids had told her something last night…. about a test…She shot up suddenly. Gosh! Yes! Mano. Her darling Mano had asked her to wake him up. He had to study for a test. Abandoning her coffee, she ran up the stairs to his room. She stopped at the doorway and looked at the beloved face. How innocent he looked in his sleep. Her baby was a grown man now. All of twenty years. A morning shadow covered his cheeks and chin. His lean and muscular frame had girls doing a double take when they saw him stride along.

Chandra felt she would burst with pride. Oh, yes! he was growing up right. His heart was in the right place…

She gently placed her hand on his forehead and whispered, ‘Mano.’

He turned towards her and snuggled deeper into his sheets. ‘Mano, sweetie…’

‘Umph….’

‘Wake up, chellam.

[⁴] You have to study for a test. Come… I have coffee ready and waiting downstairs.’

‘Let me sleep for five minutes, Amma…’

‘Wake up this minute, or I will pour cold water on your face. I’m counting…ooooone… twoooooo…and I have the water all ready… here goes…’

Mano opened first one sleepy eye; a slow smile lit his face. He opened his other eye and said, ‘Oh Amma…’

‘No amma shamma! Get up, brush your teeth and come to the kitchen. After coffee, its your books. Read, study.’ She patted him on his shoulder.

Back in the kitchen she poured Mano’s coffee, another one for Murthy and finished hers.

Mano wandered in. ‘Take this cup to your father,’ she said, her back turned to Mano. She was in no mood to confront Murthy early in the morning. He would undoubtedly pass some sarcastic remark. He had a new one every day. Sometimes Chandra wondered if he planned his comment the previous night itself. Perhaps one for each day.

‘Tasteless stuff.’ Monday.

‘Ditch water.’ Tuesday.

‘Ugh! Bitter.’ Wednesday.

‘Is this cold coffee warmed up?’ Thursday.

‘Tap water with sugar.’ Friday.

‘Woman, can’t you make a man a decent cup of coffee? Do I have to suffer this every morning?’ Saturday.

‘Stupid, do you get a perverse pleasure from watching my lips burn?’ Sunday.

Today is Wednesday. What’s it going to be? Chandra wondered. Mano was back, books under one arm. He loved to study at the kitchen table, while the tape played the Suprabhaatam softly every morning.

‘Hey, Amsie, Appa wants you.’

‘Did he say anything about the coffee?’ Chandra asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

‘Why? In fact, he did… complained it was bitter.’

‘If its Wednesday, it must be bitter,’ Chandra mumbled as she went up to see what his lordship wanted.

Her step slowed. Her thoughts wandered. ‘Why do I keep thinking like this? Is this what they call self-pity? Nothing out of the ordinary happened last night. It was business as usual. Why do I feel like this is the calm before the storm?’

Murthy was sitting on the bed. His pajamas were off and he looked really funny sitting there in his underwear. ‘This pajama string has come off,’ he accused holding up the string for her to see. Of course, it was all her fault.

‘HPL.’ Chandra murmured to herself. Uncoded it meant ‘helpless’.

‘What did you just say?’

‘Uh… nothing. Just reminded myself to pick up the vadaams!’

Chandra sneaked a quick look at his coffee cup. It was empty. She hid a smile, found a safety pin and re-strung the tape.

‘I have to leave early today. Make sure breakfast is ready.’

‘All right.’

‘What’s for breakfast?’

‘Idlis.’

‘Every day idlis. Don’t you have any imagination? Make uthappams for me today.’

Had he forgotten he had uthappams just last night?

‘All right.’

This is too easy for her, he thought.

‘And add some finely chopped onions and green chillies. Remember I said finely chopped. Not those huge chunks you normally make. Don’t stand there staring like I’m talking Greek. Get going woman, you have work to do…’

Chandra nodded mutely. She went back to the kitchen and began working on the uthappams. Minced the onions and green chillies real fine, added an extra chilly for good measure. ‘Let his mouth burn,’ she thought viciously, although she knew it was futile. Murthy was used to eating really spicy and steaming food.

Chandra was a rich woman with her own fortune. The house they lived in, the cars Murthy drove, the money he squandered and the lands in the village were all hers. Luckily all these were still in her own name. She had not succumbed to Murthy’s charms and had insisted the property remain in her name. It was the last thing her father had warned her about before he died.

She could have afforded to have a live-in maid and a cook, but doing things for her family gave her immense satisfaction – like serving clean, hygienic food, cooked just right. Besides it kept her busy all day. Especially these days, her work kept her mind from wandering and thinking depressing thoughts.

Mallika and Manju strolled into the kitchen. ‘Can we have some coffee, Amma?’

She smiled. ‘Of course, chellams,’ she said.

They looked so sweet and innocent in their nighties. Fresh as dew drops. Both her girls were really lovely.

Tall, like their father, they had an innocent charm about them. Untouched by the world outside, they lived a sheltered life, filled with school, college, Carnatic music and Bharathanatyam classes.

Everybody’s morning coffee was over, the vegetables were chopped for lunch and breakfast was almost ready.

She had time for a quick shower, so Chandra ran up again. The cool water flowed down her body. She could stand there, under the shower forever. But she had work to do…She tarried just a moment longer, while she decided what to wear. The yellow sari with the red border, she decided.

Feeling fresh with the previous night’s grime washed away, Chandra went down again. She had just finished her morning prayers in the pooja room when she heard Mallika call out to her.

‘Amma, where are you? Appa wants you – quick. Or he will explode.’

‘Wow. Mornings are really hectic,’ thought Chandra, as she climbed to her room again.

‘There you are at last. This shirt has a button missing. Could your Royal Highness find a little time to sew it on for me? Please?’ His voice grew louder with each word. The ‘please’ ended in a shriek and the shirt was thrown at her face.

Trust Murthy to pick the one shirt that had a button missing! Just a couple of days ago Chandra had cleaned out his cupboard and checked each shirt for loose or missing buttons. This one had arrived from the cleaners only yesterday. And he had to choose just that one.

A small sigh escaped her lips.

‘What? Have you gone dumb and grown roots?’

‘This shirt was at the cleaners. Just got in yesterday, so…’

‘Oh! So? Before putting it away, can’t you check my shirts?’

It is no use arguing with such irrationality. Chandra shrugged mentally. That was all she needed to crowd her morning even more. The man could have worn another shirt… it was not the only one he had.

Turning around, she marched to the kitchen, deciding she would mend the shirt only after lunch was taken care of. That done, she sewed the button on and left it on the living room sofa. She was about to carry it back upstairs again but stopped. He could jolly well come down and wear it if he liked.

Suddenly the house looked like a hurricane had hit it.

‘Amma, where is my school badge?’

‘Ma, I need money for my tennis classes.’

‘Chandra, hey…. Where are my gray socks? Nothing is ever kept where it is supposed to be in this house…’

To make matters just a little more hectic, the vegetable vendor wanted to know if she needed some greens or peas. ‘These have come in fresh from Ooty,’ he claimed. The dhobi leaned on the doorbell. Wanted his money for yesterday’s ironing.

His Lordship was descending from his abode. He’d expect a miraculously fast breakfast, now, Chandra thought. If she made it hot and crisp, he’d want it soft and cool….

‘I don’t want chutney…. give me chilli powder.’

‘Amma, don’t put any ghee on my idli. I’ll get fat.’

‘Hurry Ma, the school bus will be here in no time.’

His Lordship took one bite. A disgusted look hovered doubtfully on his face. Another bite… He was deciding what to say, Chandra thought, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. He did not disappoint her. ‘You call this rubbish, dosai?’ He asked. ‘Looks like a dish rag turned brown. Rubbery. Dosai should be crisp and golden brown. I’d rather eat in a restaurant. Paying would get me a nice paper roast…’

All this time he was wolfing down his breakfast. Spoke with his mouth full, too. Ill-mannered creep. IMC, Chandra thought. Besides, what he had asked for was not paper roast dosai, but uthappam! So what was all this fuss all about?

Finally they were all gone. An abrupt peace descended on the house. All Chandra could hear was the old grandfather clock chime nine times. She flopped, exhausted, on the sofa, shutting her eyes for just a bit.

The doorbell rang. Again. Who could it be? She kept her eyes shut, and let the maid answer the bell.

Chapter 2

Curiosity got the better of her. The grandfather clock was chiming again. It was 11.30 AM. Already?

Perhaps it was the woman who carried lunch to school and college for the children. Or perhaps the office peon.

Still it was too early for either of them. She heard the maid say, ‘No school, Thambi

[⁵]?’

As she reached the door, Mano walked into the house, quietly, looking uncharacteristically subdued and tense. He did not even look at the maid. His eyes were glazed. Jaw set in a strong line. Thank God for his strong chin, the unlikely and totally unrelated thought flashed into Chandra’s mind.

Mano walked past her. She held his arm, and asked, ‘What is it, kanna

[⁷]? Why are you back so early? No college?’

No response. He strode straight into his room and banged the door shut. Banged hard that the entire house shook. Then he threw his books on his desk. Loudly. Picked them up and threw them again. ‘Damn.’ Chandra heard him curse.

Chandra walked into the room. Her son lay across the bed, face down. What could be bothering him so much? Was he ill? No. He seemed more than ill. He seemed furious. She went over to him and checked his neck. No fever. ‘What is it, Mano?’