Muchami has no idea either, but Vairum will listen to nothing more from her, so she waits and observes.
The biggest change in the household, though, owes to Vani’s arrival. Her music practice transforms their home. She plays for several hours each morning and afternoon, and sometimes deep into the night. When the moon is full, she rises before the sun, fresh and energetic. If the moon is dark, she drags herself sleepily downstairs after the sun has fully risen. In either case, she bathes immediately, does a brief puja to her veena, and does namaskaram for Sivakami. Sivakami was very pleased to see that a girl raised in so modern a household would perform a daily prostration for her mother-in-law. Perhaps Vani understands that almost no other mother-in-law would be so indulgent: Sivakami expects nothing from her in the way of household assistance. For her part, Vani seems to thrive in the piety and order of the house her mother-in-law runs, and shows her respect and affection, albeit in her own, oddly detached way.
Pervasive as Thangam’s dust, Vani’s music is everywhere there is air, in the house and spilling out onto the street: between two people in a conversation, in all the cooking pots, travelling in through nostrils and out in snores. Sivakami has become accustomed to it, and now, when Vani is not playing, there is silence in all those places where before there was nothing.
One morning, Muchami finishes his milking just as Vani starts her playing, and stands in the courtyard shifting from foot to foot as Sivakami mixes yogourt rice for the little girls’ breakfast. They attend the village school together and need a substantial meal before they go, though the rest of the household adheres to traditional timings: rice meals at 10:30 and 8:00, tiffin at 3:00.
Sivakami takes the milk, the third pot he has given her, and starts skimming it. “Do you need a cup of kanji or milk before you go?”
“Oh, no. Well, all right, yes, but… I need to talk to you.” He squats against a post.
“What is it? Kanji or milk?”
“A mix?
She puts sugar in a cup, pours him some of the water strained from cooked rice, adds milk from the pot already boiling on the stove and puts the third pot on to boil. The second is cooling and almost ready for her to add the yogourt culture.
“Well?”
“It’s good news,” he says, pouring his drink from tumbler to bowl, either to mix in the sugar and cool the milk, or to avoid Sivakami’s eye. “The son-in-law’s next posting will be in Kulithalai. He arrived yesterday to inspect the quarters and meet with his supervisor. I saw him last night in the bazaar.”
“They’re coming here?”
“It seems so.”
Sivakami is not sure what to feel. “That’s wonderful,” she says. Why had Thangam not written to let her know? “Isn’t it?”
“Yes. Certainly. Wonderful,” Muchami echoes.
Despite her gladness at the news, Sivakami feels annoyance with Thangam for the first time she can remember. Wasn’t she raised to have better manners than this?
“I wonder how much he tells Thangam about where they are moving to, each time,” Muchami says.
“You knew what I was thinking.”
“I suspect she doesn’t get much warning or information.”
“You’re probably right.”
“And we can’t count on him to let us know.”
“No,” she agrees.
“You have her most recent address, right? I was thinking. Could you spare me for a week or two? Vairum is more than capable of handling the tenants now, and I could get a couple of my nephews to cover the milking, driving, whatever, heavy chores. I’d like you to write to Thangam-kutti and ask if she needs help with moving here. The baby is only one, and the boy is rowdy, I’m sure, a boy.”
Sivakami feels moved at his use of the diminutive in reference to Thangam-Muchami doesn’t have children of his own. He should, she thinks with sudden fervour.
“Yes, yes. You must go. I won’t ask, I will tell her you are coming. Good?”
IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN INEVITABLE that Goli would eventually get a posting in Kulithalai; Sivakami has no way of telling what the likelihood was. Thangam and Goli, put up so nearby, with the youngest grandchildren! For two years. And with Vairum and Vani home-what a luxury, in these modern times, to have her family gathered about her. These years will be happy ones. Who knows: they might even see another grandchild born to this household, a son of her son.
Goli eventually manages to visit his mother-in-law and drink a cup of coffee, at which time Sivakami lets him know that they will have Muchami’s assistance with the move. Goli receives the news as though it is a confirmation of something they had already arranged.
Now Muchami brings Thangam and the babies from the train station to Sivakami’s house. Thangam greets her mother, as well as Vairum and Vani and her elder daughters, who act shy for a moment then grab their little brother by his hands and drag him into the courtyard, promising to show him a couple of crickets they have trapped with Muchami’s help. Thangam looks wan and worn, and Vairum asks his mother for a glass of water as he tells Thangam to sit.
“I hope the journey was not too taxing, Akka,” he says, and takes the water from Sivakami to give to Thangam himself.
“No, no,” his sister assures him, drinking the water and smiling as though to show she’s drinking only because he told her to.
He has been squatting and looking at her. Rising, he says, “I’ll go with Muchami to unload your things. Where’s your husband? Leaving his work to others as always?” He exits the front door.
The littlest girl, Sita, lying in her lap, yanks violently on her mother’s thirumangalyam. It has to hurt, but Thangam, mortified, sits as though frozen, the water a lump in her throat.
Vairum and Muchami ride in silence on the front seat of the cart, while Mari and one of Muchami’s nephews ride in back with the trunks. During Vairum’s years at college, his relationship with Muchami has changed in ways now cemented by his return. As a child, he took Muchami almost as much for granted as he would a parent, and Muchami filled a number of parental functions, including those of play-mate, protector and-when Vairum acquired some responsibilities for the family lands-educator. With the latter shift, Vairum began to act wary around the servant: he needed Muchami, but he, after all, was the owner of the lands they were discussing. Still, it was evident to Muchami (who never made this explicit) what Vairum knew and what he didn’t.
Since his return from Thiruchi, Vairum has set the tone clearly: he is the employer, Muchami answers to him, not his mother, and acts on his behalf, not hers. Vairum asks questions; Muchami answers them. He is to bring information to Vairum first.
Now he gives Muchami his orders. “Keep a close watch on my brother-in-law.”
Muchami wags his head sagely, his eyes on the bullock’s back.
“No one else is going to tell me what all he’s up to. I know he’s going to get into trouble and I want to know exactly how, when and what kind, preferably before he’s in too deep.”
Muchami raises his eyebrows, impressed. He has eavesdropped on conversations between college-educated men: they often seem incapable of learning anything except from books. Vairum, by contrast, may turn out to be a man he can respect. Muchami is comfortable with their dynamic, as it has settled out: though he never would have predicted it exactly, it feels natural and right. Even Sivakami appears to agree: she has taken care of these lands for her son, but they never belonged to her. She has to be glad that Vairum is willing to accept responsibility for what is his.
Muchami doesn’t even feel his relationship with Sivakami has much changed as a result: he still reports to her in matters of concern to family life, provided they aren’t of the sort he simply looks after on his own. In such matters-none have arisen in the months since Vairum’s return, but surely they will-he still might trust his own judgment above Vairum’s. Vairum is, after all, a young man, hot-headed and condemnatory, without, perhaps, the necessary subtlety and feeling for tradition that Muchami and Sivakami share.