trusting eyes surrounded by long lashes, a perfect nose, a smooth, fair complexion, a rosebud mouth, thick, wavy hair woven into a braid that fell to her waist, and the most heart-wrenchingly attractive smile.
An intelligent girl with a keen interest in literature, sports, world events and politics, Megha could hold her own in any intellectual conversation. Her eyes lit up with excitement whenever the topic turned to books and politics. She seemed to know so much about literature and the latest political scandals. Her life’s ambition was to become a journalist. With her natural curiosity and flair for words, she probably would make a first-rate journalist. If only she had a chance.
Megha was a tall woman but a bit thin. There were fascinating curves in the right places, though. Even in simple and inexpensive saris she managed to look neat and elegant. For some reason he always pictured her in an urbane setting. She had an aura of refinement and had never seemed to fit in with the Ramnaths. God, she was uncommonly lovely! And so incredibly cheerful.
She always had a kind word for everyone, even Kiran’s snobbish cousin, Kala, who never missed an opportunity to make snide remarks about Megha’s lack of expensive clothes or sophisticated accessories. Amma, who could put terror into people’s hearts and probably made Megha’s life a living hell, was treated with quiet respect by Megha. And that good-for-nothing, gutless Suresh somehow managed to earn affectionate glances from her. But how did she do it? How did she keep her spirit intact in the face of such gloom and tedium?
He was positive Megha was not the type who’d pick up and run from her family. Something terrible had happened to drive her away, or else she’d been taken against her will.
Kiran had been smitten with Megha since the day he’d laid eyes on her. It was on her wedding day. Like a fool he’d fallen in love with the girl who’d just become someone else’s wife—that someone else being his own cousin. At the wedding, Kiran had shaken hands and congratulated her and Suresh—pretended to wish them a long and happy marriage while envy for Suresh and lust for his gorgeous bride had plagued him all evening. Wow, what a girl! What an enchanting bride Suresh had bagged.
After the wedding, Kiran had tried hard to convince himself that what he felt for Suresh’s new wife was only infatuation, but every time he’d seen Megha she’d seemed more appealing. And every time his reaction had been the same: heartbeat rising, a tight feeling in his chest and abdomen. And the obsessive need to see her, spend time with her, perhaps touch her. As weeks turned into months, he was forced to admit that his feelings were beyond temporary fascination. His was no adolescent attraction; it was full-blown love with all its excess baggage.
And then there was anger, because Megha didn’t deserve to be married to a weak, spineless loser like Suresh—didn’t deserve to be treated like a personal slave by Amma. Talk about life being unfair! Thoughts of a rare illness striking and killing off Suresh had crossed his mind a few times, thoughts Kiran had quickly suppressed. How could he think such awful things about his cousin, the man he had played childhood games with, the boy he had looked up to when he himself was no more than a toddler?
It had bordered on hero worship then, because Suresh was four years older. Suresh could read sentences when Kiran could hardly master the alphabet. Suresh could do multiplication when Kiran could barely add and subtract. At some point, Kiran couldn’t say precisely when, he had surpassed Suresh academically and physically, and then continued to grow and run. That was when Kiran had recognized Suresh for what he really was: a weak, selfish and shallow man with little respect for others. He even suspected Suresh had some sort of mild mental affliction that made him so apathetic. Kiran wasn’t sure what he felt for Suresh—respect, brotherly affection, contempt, anger, pity? Lately, the negative sentiments had overshadowed the positive.
A plaintive wail coming from the direction of the house nudged Kiran back to the present. And with it came the worry and serious concern over Megha’s whereabouts once again. Was she gagged and bound? Was she in pain? Was she sobbing her eyes out in a dark hole somewhere? And the most frightening speculation of all: had she been molested and perhaps even killed? The questions and images that filled Kiran’s mind were deeply disturbing.
Amma claimed that her thoughtless daughter-in-law had run away from home for no apparent reason. Putting on her best distraught mother-in-law act for the policemen, Amma was bawling with all her might. “My husband and I love Megha like our own daughter,” she claimed, her wide face crumpling in what appeared to be genuine pain. “How could she run away from us? We want her to come home. Please find her,” she’d pleaded. Amma was currently continuing the farce with remarkable aplomb. She’d even managed to redden those fearsome eyes to make her grief seem authentic.
But Kiran knew better. Amma wasn’t capable of love, at least not the kind she claimed she held for her daughter-in-law. No doubt Amma had a deep capacity for affection and loyalty to her own flesh and blood. She was generous and kind when it came to her brothers and their families.
Kiran was Amma’s only nephew and the object of her fondness and adoration. In her eyes he could do no wrong. He was bright, handsome, wealthy, and just about the most eligible young man in the state, if Amma were to be believed. She often compared her own puny and pasty-faced son to Kiran in the most crude manner. It left Kiran embarrassed and, despite his mild disdain for Suresh, feeling sorry for him. Poor Suresh’s ego was put through the shredder again and again, and no man deserved that, not even Suresh. But despite Amma’s pounding, Suresh had managed to survive in that strange household.
Survive was the key word for anyone who had to live with Amma. Was it survival that had forced Megha to vanish? Had she been abused by the Ramnaths and couldn’t tolerate it anymore? The thought of what she might have suffered at Amma’s hands made Kiran wince. What about how Suresh may have treated her? As the popular proverb went, still waters could run very deep. Megha had always smiled a lot, showing the rest of them a happy and contented bride’s face. Had that been a façade?
Only minutes ago, Kiran had noticed Suresh sitting silently in a corner, dressed in disheveled blue pajamas, eyes downcast, clasping and unclasping his hands while his mother talked to the police. He had spoken haltingly when questioned by the men. Claiming he had woken up to find his wife missing, and searched for her everywhere in vain, he had gone back to staring at the floor.
Amma’s husband, Vinayak, on the other hand, looked genuinely distraught. He hadn’t said much, other than to mention that he’d been asleep until Amma had awakened him with the grim news that Megha’s bed was empty and neither she nor Suresh could find her anywhere. Uncle was a decent man, but he was henpecked, and keeping his mouth shut was his way of dealing with his aggressive and bossy wife. Amma had her husband tucked firmly under her thumb.
Cousin Shanti, Suresh’s younger sister, blinked, as always, through her thick glasses and serenely answered the policemen’s questions. Very little seemed to affect Shanti, the poor, simple soul. She lived in her fantasy world of poets, playwrights and authors—the world of English literature, her first and only love. Only names like Shakespeare or Chaucer or Whitman seemed to stir her to life. Neither Megha’s presence nor her absence would mean much to Shanti. In fact, due to Shanti’s detachment from reality, she seemed to be the only one who didn’t cower under Amma’s intimidating gaze.
Going back in his mind to earlier that evening, Kiran tried to recreate the scene in the Ramnaths’ home. He and his parents and his other uncle, together with his wife and two daughters, had been invited to dinner at the Ramnaths’. It had been for no special reason other than to socialize as the close-knit family often did, or so it had seemed in the beginning. His folks were extremely family-oriented.
Had there been any signs in Megha’s behavior to indicate this mysterious disappearance? He attempted to analyze her actions minute by minute except for the time she’d been alone in the kitchen. Nothing had seemed extraordinary. She’d been her usual cordial
