you.”
“Maybe Chetana . . .”
“Chetana isn’t silent enough to listen to what others say. So even if Vidura tried to tell her, I’m sure she didn’t hear anything. You would. You are sensitive, you were close to him, and if anyone should know . . .”
Appeased by the compliment and by the disparaging words for Chetana, Kokila decided to tell Charvi the truth. She quickly realized, though, that she shouldn’t have. Charvi might be a guru, a calm goddess, but she was still very human.
“Vidura said he hated Tella Meda because it was not a real home. And . . . and that he hated you for believing you were a guru and he was upset that Sastri Garu also believed you. He felt that because of you he was not close to his father anymore. He was angry that you thought you had the power to heal because he didn’t think you did,” Kokila said hurriedly. As the words came out and she heard them, she sensed how empty they were. They had achieved nothing. They were vague emotions, the ramblings of an angry boy, and Kokila had presented them as fact, as Vidura’s true feelings, as the reason for his running away.
“Do you believe in me?” Charvi asked Kokila, surprising her.
When Kokila gave her a blank look, unable to understand her question, Charvi sighed.
“Do you believe that I am a goddess? That I have the power to heal?” she asked, and when Kokila merely looked at her feet, not answering, Charvi’s much-touted control snapped. “Maybe you should run away too. You obviously hate my house and me as much as Vidura did.”
Charvi spun around and left Kokila standing alone on the beach. By the time Kokila caught up with Charvi and tried to apologize it was too late. Charvi was wearing her serene guru face and wasn’t listening to Kokila or her apologies.
Vineetha was upset after reading the newspapers. Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Sastri was publicly talking about scrapping the Indian nuclear program by saying that it was adversarial and would raise fear of war among India’s neighbors.
She had sacrificed home and family for the atomic center. She had worked so hard to make India stronger and now Lal Bahadur Sastri was talking nonsense.
Vineetha was worried not just about losing her job but also about wasting a lifetime’s work.
Unsettled and just a little tired of being in Tella Meda, she decided to take a walk on the beach and then go visit Lavanya, who was staying at a friend’s place a few roads away. As a policy, Lavanya never stayed overnight at Tella Meda. A big part of it was pride. She didn’t acknowledge it to be a home and refused to be part of the wayward and hopeless bunch that gathered there.
When Vineetha reached Lavanya’s friend’s house she was told that Lavanya had already left town. There had been an emergency at work and she had been called away. Vineetha was not convinced. What kind of an emergency could an air hostess be called away for? We don’t have enough smiling woman sashaying down the aisle, could you come and help us a little?
When Vineetha came back to Tella Meda, Subhadra offered her tea, which she sat in the kitchen to drink while Subhadra started to grind water-soaked urad dal and rice for idli batter in the large stone mortar and pestle.
“Her brother is gone missing and she’s gallivanting around. She doesn’t even come home for three months because she’s abroad. Doing what?” Vineetha muttered, suddenly resentful of the woman who had been her friend. “She and her ridiculous job.”
“Lavanya feels her job is important,” Subhadra said. “Just like you think your work is important.”
“My work is important,” Vineetha said sharply. “My work is of great importance to India, unlike Lavanya’s. Her work isn’t going to make a difference, a real difference, in anyone’s life.”
“And how is your work going to change the life of the beggar on the street or my life or anyone else’s life?” Subhadra asked.
“My work is going to change India’s
“Maybe Chetana . . .”
“Chetana isn’t silent enough to listen to what others say. So even if Vidura tried to tell her, I’m sure she didn’t hear anything. You would. You are sensitive, you were close to him, and if anyone should know . . .”
Appeased by the compliment and by the disparaging words for Chetana, Kokila decided to tell Charvi the truth. She quickly realized, though, that she shouldn’t have. Charvi might be a guru, a calm goddess, but she was still very human.
“Vidura said he hated Tella Meda because it was not a real home. And . . . and that he hated you for believing you were a guru and he was upset that Sastri Garu also believed you. He felt that because of you he was not close to his father anymore. He was angry that you thought you had the power to heal because he didn’t think you did,” Kokila said hurriedly. As the words came out and she heard them, she sensed how empty they were. They had achieved nothing. They were vague emotions, the ramblings of an angry boy, and Kokila had presented them as fact, as Vidura’s true feelings, as the reason for his running away.
“Do you believe in me?” Charvi asked Kokila, surprising her.
When Kokila gave her a blank look, unable to understand her question, Charvi sighed.
“Do you believe that I am a goddess? That I have the power to heal?” she asked, and when Kokila merely looked at her feet, not answering, Charvi’s much-touted control snapped. “Maybe you should run away too. You obviously hate my house and me as much as Vidura did.”
Charvi spun around and left Kokila standing alone on the beach. By the time Kokila caught up with Charvi and tried to apologize it was too late. Charvi was wearing her serene guru face and wasn’t listening to Kokila or her apologies.
Vineetha was upset after reading the newspapers. Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Sastri was publicly talking about scrapping the Indian nuclear program by saying that it was adversarial and would raise fear of war among India’s neighbors.
She had sacrificed home and family for the atomic center. She had worked so hard to make India stronger and now Lal Bahadur Sastri was talking nonsense.
Vineetha was worried not just about losing her job but also about wasting a lifetime’s work.
Unsettled and just a little tired of being in Tella Meda, she decided to take a walk on the beach and then go visit Lavanya, who was staying at a friend’s place a few roads away. As a policy, Lavanya never stayed overnight at Tella Meda. A big part of it was pride. She didn’t acknowledge it to be a home and refused to be part of the wayward and hopeless bunch that gathered there.
When Vineetha reached Lavanya’s friend’s house she was told that Lavanya had already left town. There had been an emergency at work and she had been called away. Vineetha was not convinced. What kind of an emergency could an air hostess be called away for? We don’t have enough smiling woman sashaying down the aisle, could you come and help us a little?
When Vineetha came back to Tella Meda, Subhadra offered her tea, which she sat in the kitchen to drink while Subhadra started to grind water-soaked urad dal and rice for idli batter in the large stone mortar and pestle.
“Her brother is gone missing and she’s gallivanting around. She doesn’t even come home for three months because she’s abroad. Doing what?” Vineetha muttered, suddenly resentful of the woman who had been her friend. “She and her ridiculous job.”
“Lavanya feels her job is important,” Subhadra said. “Just like you think your work is important.”
“My work is important,” Vineetha said sharply. “My work is of great importance to India, unlike Lavanya’s. Her work isn’t going to make a difference, a real difference, in anyone’s life.”
“And how is your work going to change the life of the beggar on the street or my life or anyone else’s life?” Subhadra asked.
“My work is going to change India’s
Similar Books
