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Sudha Murty HOUSE OF CARDS Contents About the Author Also by the Same Author Dedication 1. The Village 2. Young Dreams 3. The Beautiful Thief 4. Destiny 5. Reflections 6. A Second Chance 7. Generation Gap 8. The Strings of Love 9. Partners 10. The In-Laws 11. Changes 12. Different Values 13. The Fall of Idealism 14. Family Visits 15. Disillusionment 16. The Decision 17. The Beginning of the End 18. Money Brings Changes 19. A Silver Spoon 20. The Ways of the World 21. Shades of Grey 22. Sweet Revenge 23. A House of Cards 24. The Silent Cry 25. Connections 26. Learning to Survive 27. Things Fall Apart 28. Growing Pains 29. Hope Acknowledgements Follow Penguin Copyright Page PENGUIN BOOKS HOUSE OF CARDS Sudha Murty was born in 1950 in Shiggaon in north Karnataka. She did her MTech in computer science, and is now the chairperson of the Infosys Foundation. A prolific writer in English and Kannada, she has written novels, technical books, travelogues, collections of short stories and non-fiction pieces, and four books for children. Her books have been translated into all the major Indian languages. Sudha Murty was the recipient of the R.K. Narayan Award for Literature and the Padma Shri in 2006, and the Attimabbe Award from the government of Karnataka for excellence in Kannada literature in 2011. ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR FICTION Dollar Bahu Mahashweta Gently Falls the Bakula NON-FICTION Wise and Otherwise The Old Man and His God The Day I Stopped Drinking Milk CHILDREN’S How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and Other Stories The Magic Drum and Other Favourite Stories The Bird with Golden Wings: Stories of Wit and Magic Grandma’s Bag of Stories To all the Mridulas who suffer silently 1 The Village There was a small village in north Karnataka with a population of five to eight thousand. It boasted of a beautiful lake with a temple of Lord Hanuman on its shore. The area was dotted with banyan trees. In Kannada, a banyan tree is called ‘aladamara’ and ‘halli’ means village, so the village was named Aladahalli. Aladahalli had only one main road, with houses on either side, and a bus stand right in the middle of the village. Most people who were from here preferred to stay on and commute for work to the cities nearby: Hubli and Dharwad. The advantages of staying in Aladahalli were a laid-back life, less noise and almost no pollution. The greatest attraction though was the school, which was on a par with any city school, and where the medium of instruction was both English and Kannada. Just like in city schools, the students got a rank based on their merit. Bheemanna’s daughter, Mridula, was among the top students in her class and was known for her intelligence. Bheemanna’s family was rich and owned a lot of fertile land. His ancestral house was very old and large. The green backyard was filled with varieties of plants and vegetables. There were jasmine creepers in the backyard; Mridula had long, dark hair and would not step out of the house without a string of flowers in it. Bheemanna’s wife, Rukuma Bai or Rukmini, was from a neighbouring village. She was quite different from Bheemanna and talked less than her husband. They had two children, Krishna and Mridula. When Krishna was born, Bheemanna had wanted to name his son Hanuman but Rukuma Bai had insisted on calling him Krishna. After a while, Bheemanna had lost to his wife’s iron will and started calling him Krishna too. But when Mridula came along three years later, he put his foot down. He had once read a novel in which the name of the main character was Mridula. He liked the name since it was uncommon in this part of Karnataka. So, Bheemanna insisted that his daughter be called by that name. his daughter be called by that name. Little Mridula was a bright student. Rukuma Bai frequently told people that Mridula had inherited the smart genes from her side of the family. At such times, talkative Bheemanna usually stayed silent. Young Mridula was sitting on the swing under the big banyan tree opposite the Hanuman temple. It was Ugadi time—the New Year festival for the Kannada people, celebrated in the month of February or March. Summer had just arrived. The mango trees sported soft reddish-green leaves and the cuckoos were making lovely coo-coo sounds. Everyone in the village was busy preparing for the festival. Yet, there was a pin-drop silence near the temple. But for Mridula, nothing mattered. She was swinging without any bondage and with a free mind. From the swing, she could see her house. She was happy. Mridula was not like everybody, she was different. She had enormous enthusiasm for life and unlimited energy for reading, cooking and sketching. She wanted to spend every minute of the day fruitfully. It seemed that the sun rose for her and the rainbow colours were meant only for her. Every day was to be lived to its fullest and every beautiful minute to be enjoyed. Years passed. The family was content and happy. Bheemanna had added some basic modern amenities to his home. Meanwhile, little Mridula had grown up and was excelling in school. She scored a rank in the tenth class. Her teachers insisted that she must study either medicine or engineering. But Mridula did not agree. Bheemanna did not take any decision just for the sake of status in society. He left the decision to Mridula and she insisted on becoming a teacher. But Rukuma Bai was hesitant. Her brother Satyabodha was a bank officer in Hubli. His daughter, Sarla, was six months older than Mridula and not as intelligent. But even Sarla preferred to study engineering in Hubli. Bheemanna advised Rukuma, ‘Times have changed. We can’t tell children that you should become a lawyer or a doctor or marry a person of our choice. Education and marriage should be according to our children’s wishes because these are for ever. After all, it is their life and they have the right to follow their heart and make decisions by themselves.’ Bheemanna always bent the rules when it came to Mridula. She was his life. When people asked Mridula whether she was her mother’s or father’s favourite, she said, ‘I am Amma’s girl—and Appa’s world.’ Mridula remembered a conversation she had had with her father when she was a child. When an animal in the village fell sick, her father immediately took medicine made from the plants in his garden and treated the animal, without waiting for the animal’s owner to call him. After the treatment, Bheemanna was
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