If love were as simple as keeping a promise, we'd all have broken hearts.
Too-Late Dowry by Joseph Fleckenstein
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Shankar Bhattacharya
had requested the day off from work at the tannery. He told his supervisor the
day would be his fifth wedding anniversary and he hoped to spend the day with
his wife.
The day of the
anniversary Shankar slept until midday. When he awoke he decided not to bother
shaving or washing. In the kitchen, his wife, Rena, had bread on the table and
water on the stove for tea. As he entered the kitchen he glanced at his wife
but said nothing.
“Cheer up, Shankar.”
She had decided she would not be the first to mention the
“anniversary” word.
Shankar and Rena
lived in a small two room flat in a poor section of Mumbai. The building always
smelled of a hundred different meals and the stairwells were mostly littered
with trash that the residents expected others to retrieve. Since their rooms
were on the uppermost floor many days the sun would beat down on the roof, half
baking the unfortunates who lived below. In winter there was no heating and
room temperatures sometimes fell to near freezing. The flat was the best they
could afford. The other occupants of the building were similar people. Everyone
was struggling to merely stay alive. Few in the building had hopes of moving to
better quarters anytime soon.
Rena added to her
efforts.
“Tell you what. I am
going to make your favorite dish tonight. Yesterday I bought some chickpeas, yogurt
and an eggplant.”
With a side glance
and a sly smile, she added, “I have another surprise, but I am not telling you just
yet.”
Rena was a plain
looking woman. She was slender and lacking the curves men preferred to see on a
woman. Her appearance no doubt played a part in her eventual need to marry
below her caste. She was adamant that she did not wish to grow old alone. It was
for this reason her father felt obliged to offer a dowry that was more than a
token. Despite circumstances she continually displayed a cheerful disposition. Everyone
said she was congenial and pleasant. Rena tried her best to keep her husband
happy despite his moods and his rough ways. She often thought that if she could
only have a baby. How wonderful that would be. A child, preferably a boy, would
give Shankar an improved attitude. But after five years there was no baby and
hope that one might come along was slipping away. The absence of children was a
great disappointment since the relatives on both sides were in the custom of
having large families.
Finishing the tea,
Shankar remained unsmiling and quiet. He ignored Rena’s attempts to humor him.
Rising from the table he walked to the closet and withdrew the only jacket he
owned. Slipping an arm into a sleeve, he turned to Rena.
“Yes, I know it is
our anniversary. It was five years ago today. I am sure you remember. That was
the day your father reaffirmed the promise of a dowry. The dowry that has yet
to be delivered.”
“Shankar, we have
discussed the dowry many times? Father is a man of his word and he will deliver
the dowry exactly as he promised. Recent years have been difficult for him. He
has three more daughters to marry off. And, business at his shop has declined
because of increased competition. I am certain he will keep his promise as soon
as he can possibly do so. There is no question of that.”
Shankar turned and
walked toward the door. Over his shoulder he said he was going to visit Samir. After
he closed the door, Rena engaged the deadbolt. In this neighborhood one needed
be ever cautious. She walked slowly to the kitchen table and sat. Her hands
began to shake. She dropped her head to her hands and began to sob softly.
Outside Shankar found
it was raining lightly. It was pre-monsoon weather and in the coming weeks the
rains would be unceasing day after day. He decides to walk the distance
regardless of the weather and without an umbrella.
Arriving at Samir’s
apartment, Samir’s wife met him at the door.
“Oh, Shankar, come
in. Let me take your coat. How are you? We have not seen you for some time. I
presume you wish to see your brother.”
“If he is up and
about. How is he doing? Better, I hope.”
Shanta looked down at
her brother-in-law’s feet. His shoes and clothing were soaking wet but she said
nothing. She was not especially fond of this particular in-law. Mostly she
resented the way the man treated his wife. Also, he always smelled of the
tannery and cow hides. She guessed that he bathed only infrequently. On every
family occasion she was polite to him but rarely had she gone beyond
politeness.
“Your brother is
still a little shaky on his feet but he will be glad to see you. He’s growing
tired of being house-bound and not being able to walk about. Right now he’s in
the kitchen, reading.”
Samir and Shanta
lived in a three-room apartment that had a bathroom, hot water, and heat. The
place was luxurious compared to Shankar’s quarters. Samir had always been imaginative
at finding ways to make money.
In the kitchen, Samir
was obviously happy to see his younger brother.
“Have a seat. Good to
see you.”
“I suspected you
would be home what with the foot problem. How is it?”
“Improving. Every day
I’m a little better. I believe I will be able to return to the store next week.”
Samir was manager of
a small clothing store, but he had other sources of income. He was resourceful
and imaginative. He was good at reasoning things through. That why Shankar
often looked to him for advice.
“How is it going with
you and Rena?
Shankar hesitated
while looking at his hands.
“I’m not so sure.
Today is our fifth anniversary.”
“Yes. I almost
forgot. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Noise in one of the
bedrooms is followed by the sound of running, small feet. Samir’s three year
old boy appeared and explained to his father that his bear lost a leg. Shankar’s
heart fell at the sight of his nephew. The boy reminded him of what he missed
in life.
“Dipak, don’t worry.
Your mother will sew the leg on. Your bear will be as good as new. Maybe
better. Give the bear to your mother. I am visiting with your uncle Shankar.
Now run along.”
Shanta heard the
commotion and appeared with a towel and sandals for Samir. She placed the towel
on a chair in front of Shankar and the sandals on the floor near his wet feet.
She forced a smile for Shankar’s benefit.
“I thought you might
be able to use these.”
Bending down she took
hold of her son and retreated to one of the bedrooms. After she had closed the
bedroom door, Shankar faced his brother.
“You are lucky, Samir,
to have two lovely little boys. I envy you.”
“They are great boys,
especially the older one. He’s as sharp as a tack.” Samir started to say more
about the children but then stopped. He remembered children were a sore subject
with his brother. He did not wish to be seen as talking excessively about
children.
“I know you and Rena
would like to have children. It’s not too late. You still have time.”
“I appreciate your
good wishes, but, no, I suspect I am married to a dry cow.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Children
are a wonderful addition to the family but they are not everything. You have a
good wife. She cares a lot for you and she is the best cook of the whole
relationship. Besides, marrying a wife who is a caste higher never hurts a man
in India. It often leads to better things. In my opinion you made a good
marriage.”
“I’m glad you think
so. Of course, it’s easy for you to say. You have what I call a beautiful apartment.
You have children. And, you actually received the promised dowry. I find myself
in very different circumstances.”
“Don’t dwell on the
dowry. You will drive yourself crazy. How about your father-in-law finding you steady
employment with one of his business contacts? That was certainly worth
something. In a way that favor was better than a dowry. As you are no doubt
aware many of our relatives live in filth and many days have nothing to eat.
Here is more food for thought. Right now you are king of the roost. Rena treats
you like royalty. She waits on you day and night. Cooks whatever you choose. If
there were children that arrangement would surely change. Being a mother
realigns a woman’s priorities. It’s human nature. What I am saying is that you
cannot have everything in reality exactly the way you find them in your dreams.
Besides, if she hasn’t become pregnant it could be your fault. It is not always
the woman’s fault you know.”
“The work that Mr.
Dutt found for me was only for the reason that he wanted to be sure his
daughter would have food and shelter on a regular basis. As far as her not
becoming pregnant, well, that must be her fault.”
Neither man spoke.
Momentarily Shanta returned to the kitchen. In time she delivered up a tray
with a pot of tea, cups and a plate of biscuits. She looked at Shankar.
“The biscuits are a
day old but this kind seem to age well. I think you will like them anyway.”
She turned and exited
without another word.
Samir poured the tea
and gestured toward the biscuits.
“Help yourself.”
“Thank you. I might
have a biscuit at that.”
Shankar took a bite
from a biscuit and followed it with a sip of tea. Returning the tea cup to the saucer
he faced Samir. He had become pensive.
“There’s a fellow at
the tannery by the name of Abhi Banerjee. We got to know one another fairly
well. Abhi lives a block from us. The building where he lives is worse than the
one where we live if you can believe that. They have one boy. He was not paid
his promised dowry after three years. He became so upset and angry …”
Anticipating his
brother’s trend of thought Samir interrupts. “That’s enough. You
should not be thinking along those lines. That would be entirely uncalled for.
I understand what is eating at you. The dowry. The lack of children. These things
are not everything in life. Far from it. You should understand that. Besides,
you might be paid the dowry someday. And children could still come along. All
of these things are still possible. Think of it that way. When all is said and
done you may not be able to find a better wife. You would be out of employment for
a long time. And, you might also find yourself in serious trouble with the law.”
Shankar was not
hearing the kind of advice that he had anticipated. There was no affirmation of
his reasoning. Silent, he took another sip of tea.
“It is something I
have been considering for some time. I really become angry when I think of the
way I have been cheated. Really, I don’t think there would be any trouble. The
police usually do not concern themselves with these happenings. These events are
common occurrences.”
“Brother, you are talking
about dangerous and unnecessary steps. I suspect the reason for your visit is
to seek my opinion. My advice is that you should behave yourself. Forget the
dowry for now. Personally, I would like to see you find contentment with your
present wife. Furthermore, I would not like to see you spend a part of your
life sitting in a prison cell.”
Shankar did not touch
the towel or the sandals. He knew he would be walking again in rain on the
return trip to his flat. In addition, he preferred to avoid being indebted to
Shanta for the slightest favor. The brothers continued talking for a spell but
only innocuous topics were bandied about. When the tea was gone Shankar
announced he must be going. As he stood, he wished his brother well. Samir
looked up from his chair.
“You should visit us
more frequently. Bring Rena next time.
At the door, Shanta
handed him his jacket but, because it was still raining, he merely threw it
over his arm. They both tried to be outwardly pleasant to one another.
“The tea and biscuits
were very good. I would have sworn you had made the biscuits today.”
“Glad you liked them.
Come more often, Shankar.”
In the street the rain
had increased. Shankar was the only person in sight without an umbrella. On the
way home he walked through the puddles rather than around them. He was in deep
thought.
At the flat, Shankar
tapped on the front door and Rena promptly pulled it open.
“Welcome home traveler.”
Shankar walked
through the door, dripping water.
“My word, you are
soaking wet. I’ll find you some dry clothes. Come in the bedroom.” Rena retrieved dry
clothing and placed it on the bed. A moment later she returned with a large
towel.
“I must look after
some things cooking on the stove.”
Rena returned to the
kitchen to check on her dishes. Meanwhile Shankar used the towel to dry himself
and then dressed with the dry clothing. His jaw was set as he walked into the
kitchen. Standing behind Rena he spotted a heavy cast iron skillet on the table.
Rena had received it as a wedding gift. He took hold of the skillet and in one
wide swing struck his wife of five years a vicious blow. The wife who could not
conceive. The wife whose father did not deliver on his promise of a dowry. As
her body lay on the floor Shankar took a seat at the kitchen table and began to
weep. He felt hopeless. For the next hour he paced back and forth in the small
flat, telling himself he did what was necessary. He reasoned his taking action was
demanded by the situation. Eventually he walked to the police station and
reported that his wife had an accident in the kitchen. He said it seemed she
fell and hit her head. She was unresponsive.
Two policemen
returned with Shankar to the flat. After inspecting the body one policeman
looked at the other. Before he could speak Shankar said he must use the toilet
down the hall. As he walked toward the door he added that he will return in a
few minutes. When he was out the door each policeman took half of the rupees
that had been placed on the kitchen table. When Shankar returned the senior
policeman explained his interpretation.
“Looks as though she
slipped on some cooking oil that had spilled on the floor. Apparently she hit
her head as she fell. We see this kind of accident frequently. You would think
women would be more careful. If you like we will notify her family.”
“Would you, please? I
am a little distraught at the present. Her parents live in the fifth block of Hill
Street. They own a clothing store there called “Bargain Clothing.” Their
apartment is on the second floor above the shop.”
The policemen walked
directly to the clothing shop and rang the apartment bell. In time Mrs.
Banerjee opened the door. She was shocked to see policemen standing there in
rain slickers.
“Oh, my word. Is
something wrong, officers?”
“Sorry, mam. Are you
Mrs. Banerjee?
“Yes, I am Mrs. Banerjee.”
“We would like to
speak with Mr. Banerjee if he is home.”
“I am sorry. He is not here at the moment.”
“Do you know when he
will return?”
“Shortly, I presume. Today
is my one daughter’s wedding anniversary. My husband said he was going to
deliver a dowry to my daughter’s husband. First he was going to stop at the
bank. Perhaps he will stay for a brief celebration. I am uncertain.”
Mrs. Banerjee’s
comments confirmed what the policemen had surmised.
“Sorry to bother you,
Mrs. Banerjee. We will return later in the day to speak with Mr. Banerjee.”
It was their practice
to address only the man of the house with matters of importance.
