Free Song of the Cuckoo Bird: A Novel by Amulya Malladi Page B

. . . chee-chee, Charvi never should have allowed this white man to stay in the ashram.
    In the end even Charvi felt that it would have been wiser not to have allowed Mark Talbot into Tella Meda and her life because when he left, he broke her heart. And it would have been smarter to have kept Renuka out of Tella Meda because she brought along with her the stubborn, old-fashioned ideas Charvi detested. But the mistake had been made and Charvi could hardly turn the clock back and send a destitute widow such as Renuka out of her home and onto the street.
    Ultimately, it wasn’t Renuka’s reaction to Mark that offended Charvi, it was her reaction to Chetana. Charvi had known Chetana since she was born. There was a deep affection that had pooled inside her because of proximity and the knowledge of the circumstances of Chetana’s birth and life.
    So when Charvi heard Renuka screaming so loud that Tella Meda shook with its intensity, and came into the courtyard just as Ranuka slapped Chetana, she took a step back, not having seen physical abuse before and unsure of what must be done. Usually, her father would come and clear up the mess, but since Vidura had left, he spent more and more time inside his room, rarely coming out, even eating his meals in his room.
    When Renuka slapped Chetana again, Charvi moved into action.
    “Stop it,” she said with as much dignity as she could, and pulled Chetana away from Renuka.
    “How dare you?” Chetana yelled at Renuka as tears streamed down her face. “I can do what I want to do. You’re not my mother.” Chetana’s body shook with the shock of being slapped by a veritable stranger.
    “What’s the matter?” Charvi asked, though she could guess. This was about the lipstick Chetana had painted on her lips, probably in hopes of enticing Mark. Chetana had never told where she got the lipstick, but still . . . How could a little red paint cause so much commotion? Charvi thought.
    “She wears lipstick like that whore mother of hers,” Renuka said. Her face was constricted with anger and her thin body was shaking under her white sari. Her back was slightly bent and Charvi noticed the bitterness in her stance.
    “She can wear whatever she wants to wear,” Charvi informed Renuka, and decided to ask Subhadra to explain the rules of Tella Meda to the old widow. “If you ever, and I mean ever, strike anyone again under my roof, you will have to leave Tella Meda.”
    “You don’t teach right from wrong and she’ll end up like her mother, selling her body for five rupees on the street corner,” Renuka cried out. “I care about what happens to them when they grow up. You . . . you are too busy shaking your ass around that white man.”
    Charvi had to wait five seconds before she could pull a calm façade over the anger that was quickly claiming her. “Chetana, ask Subhadra to come here,” Charvi instructed in a controlled voice.
    Once Chetana left to get Subhadra, Charvi told Renuka regally, “You are not the voice of morality in my house. You are not to assume that role. If I feel something is amiss, I will deal with it. If you feel something is wrong, you can tell me about it and I will decide if it is worthy of attention. What I do is not your business and it is not for you to judge. What Chetana does or Kokila does is their own business. In Tella Meda we mind our own business. You will not strike anyone, child or adult, in this house. This is a Gandhian house; we don’t permit any violence.”
    Subhadra came running out of the kitchen, leaving Chetana with Kokila for consoling. “What? What happened?”
    “Nothing,” Renuka said before Charvi could speak. “This woman does not care if that little girl walks around with red paint on her lips like a slut. Well then, why should I care? Let their lives go down the drain. I won’t be responsible, you will.”
    Charvi smiled at the woman’s foolishness. “We all make our own destiny and no one is responsible for another’s