“…the money was withdrawn using a power of attorney she never knowingly granted, and the man who arranged it was her own husband, Shashidhar Venkatesh.”
I stopped reading.
For several seconds, I heard nothing except the ceiling fan.
Then I looked at my husband.
“Is this true?”
Shashidhar stared at the letter.
His face had lost all color.
“Charu, please let me explain.”
My daughter stepped closer.
“Papa, did you take Amma’s money?”
He swallowed.
“It’s not that simple.”
I looked down at the paper again.
My father’s handwriting was unmistakable.
My daughter must know that the property I purchased for her was intended to give her a choice. No one, including her husband, has the right to use it without her informed consent.
My hands began trembling.
“What property?”
Sulochana sank into a chair.
Shashidhar rubbed his forehead.
Then he whispered, “A small commercial building in Jayanagar.”
I stared at him.
“Jayanagar?”
He nodded.
My father had owned a small property there.
I remembered visiting it as a child.
There were three shops on the ground floor and a modest apartment above them.
After Papa died, I assumed it had been sold years earlier.
I looked at Shashidhar.
“Papa gave that property to me?”
He nodded.
“When?”
“Seventeen years ago.”
I felt the room tilt.
Seventeen years.
The same year my interview letter disappeared.
The same year I gave up trying to return to work.
The same year Shashidhar told me we could not afford a housekeeper.
I looked at him.
“And you’ve been collecting the rent?”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Gaurika made a small sound.
“Papa!”
Shashidhar looked toward her.
“Beta, don’t misunderstand.”
She stared at him.
“How can I misunderstand that?”
He turned to me.
“Charu, I used the money for the family.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
“The family?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
He said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Shashidhar, answer me.”
His eyes filled.
“Because I knew you’d want to return to work.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
He continued, almost desperately.
“Ma was getting older. The children were small. We needed you at home.”
I stared at him.
“So you decided I shouldn’t know I had enough money to hire help?”
He looked away.
“And you decided I shouldn’t know I had a property of my own?”
Silence.
I heard Gaurika begin crying.
Then my mother-in-law whispered, “We were only trying to keep the family together.”
I turned toward her.
“No, Maaji.”
My voice was barely audible.
“You were trying to keep me where you wanted me.”
I sat down slowly.
My chest felt tight again.
Gaurika immediately knelt beside me.
“Amma, are you okay?”
I nodded, although I wasn’t.
She brought water and reminded me of the doctor’s instructions.
I took several slow breaths.
Then I looked at Shashidhar.
“How much rent have you collected?”
He stared at the floor.
“Charu—”
“How much?”
“I don’t know the exact amount.”
“Approximately.”
He hesitated.
“The rent increased over the years.”
I waited.
Finally, he whispered, “Perhaps seventy or eighty lakh in total.”
My daughter covered her mouth.
I looked at him.
Seventy or eighty lakh rupees.
While I had washed clothes by hand because he said a new washing machine was unnecessary.
While I had postponed dental treatment because household expenses were high.
While I had stitched my old sarees into pillow covers.
While I had stopped visiting my sister because train tickets were supposedly too expensive.
I began laughing.
It was a terrible sound.
Shashidhar looked frightened.
“Charu?”
I shook my head.
“All these years, I thought we were struggling.”
He whispered, “We had expenses.”
I stared at him.
“And I was one of the expenses you refused to pay for.”
Pradyumna entered the study after hearing our raised voices.
“What happened?”
Gaurika turned toward him.
“Anna, Papa has been collecting rent from a building that belongs to Amma.”
He frowned.
“What building?”
“The one Thatha left her.”
Pradyumna looked at his father.
“Is that true?”
Shashidhar stood.
“Everyone calm down.”
My son shook his head.
“No, Papa. Answer.”
His father looked away.
Pradyumna’s expression changed.
Then he whispered, “Is this why you told me not to ask Amma for money for my master’s degree?”
I looked at my son.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“Last year, I wanted to apply for a postgraduate program. Papa said we couldn’t afford it.”
My heart tightened.
“I didn’t know.”
He nodded.
“I thought you agreed with him.”
I closed my eyes.
Another decision made without me.
Another opportunity lost because my husband had decided which truths I was allowed to know.
That night, I slept in Gaurika’s room.
Or rather, I lay beside her while she slept.
My body was exhausted.
My mind would not become quiet.
I remembered my father.
