Vihaan turned his phone on to see a string of missed calls—mostly Jyothi’s, some from Daniel, and even one from Malathi.
Where are you? 🥲
Vihaan read Jyothi’s text.
Vihu?
Please come 🥹
Why tf are you not picking up the phone? 🤬🤬🤬
Get your ass here. 😩😑🙄
Vihaan got into his car and started the engine.
Coming 🙂 He replied.
It took him longer than expected, but he eventually found his way back to the family house. Harish was there; he was talking to Malathi and kissing her forehead. Vihaan turned his back, deciding to enter the house through one of the other four doors to give the couple some privacy.
“Hey, Vihaan…” He was spotted before he could make his escape. It was Harish.
“Come here, man,” Harish called out to him. “Good to see you, man. Heard a lot about you. Good to finally meet you.”
“It’s really nice to meet you, too,” Vihaan forced a smile. He had an innate talent for it—forcing a convincing smile no matter the awkwardness he felt inside.
Vihaan reached out to shake Harish’s hand, but Harish pulled him into a hug instead.
“You look good, man,” Harish patted his back while releasing the hug. “My wife says you are her favorite brother.”
Unable to process how to react, Vihaan looked at Malathi and smiled.
“Thanks,” he uttered, his voice lower than he had intended it to be.
“But you have made me very upset,” Harish remarked in an exaggerated voice. “Can you guess why?”
“Err… I don’t know,” Vihaan slowly realized. “Is it the wedding?”
“I am so sorry,” Vihaan added. “It was a really busy time at the restaurant; I had to be there.”
“Okay,” Harish conceded. “I will accept your apology on one condition. You must visit our house for lunch.”
“Okay,” Vihaan agreed, not entirely sure of what he had just committed to. “I will be there.”
“Okay, great!” Harish said. “Then in three days, after the Bhootha?”
“We have a Bhootha?”
“Yes, we do,” Malathi stressed. “You should know that. Don’t tell me you don’t know about the Kola, too.”
He did not. But he didn’t wish to admit that.
Kola is always before Bhootha, he formulated in his head.
“It is tomorrow, right?” He took a shot in the dark. “I know about it.”
“Yes,” Malathi affirmed.
“Where is Jyothi?” Vihaan asked.
“She’s in the hall outside Baby-amma’s room,” Malathi answered. “It is time for you all to pay her a visit, and Jyothi is waiting.”
“Ittena barpini, maraya?” Shekar gibed.
(“You come only now, man?”)
Vihaan just nodded.
“We should go in,” Daniel informed him. “They are saying that Grandma is awake and responding.”
“Okay,” Vihaan replied.
He looked at Jyothi, who just stared at him with a look of momentary disappointment and said nothing.
“Sorry,” Vihaan whispered.
Jyothi sighed. “Let’s go.”
Shekar muttered. “Do not be disheartened if she does not recognize you all. These days, she barely remembers herself.”
“Sometimes she says things that are quite harsh,” he added. “Do not mind her; it is probably the age talking.”
The door opened and Shekar entered first. Jyothi held Daniel’s arm and entered next, followed finally by Vihaan.
As he entered, his vision was obstructed by his sister and brother-in-law, but the sight of Jyothi suddenly tightening her grip on Daniel did not give him a good feeling.
Vihaan stepped forward to clear his view of his grandmother. There she was: Dombottu Baby, lying on her majestic bed. She lay at the center of the bed, her body now too small for the mattress that had once bowed to her presence. Her skin had darkened and her bleach-white hair was unkempt and frizzled, spreading across her shrunken face.
She was wearing a nightgown.
She hated nightgowns, Vihaan thought.
Jyothi sat next to her grandmother and held her hand.
“Amma, do you recognize me?” she whispered in Tulu, donning a smile.
Baby did not respond; she just stared at Jyothi. Jyothi’s smile faded as she looked at Daniel. Vihaan noticed that her eyes were red, moisture bottling up inside them.
“It’s okay,” Daniel comforted her. “Try again.”
“Amma, see, I am here.” This time it was harder for her to maintain the smile. “Do you know who I am?”
Baby smiled. Jyothi felt the grip on her hand tighten, albeit tremulously.
“Jyothi,” she muttered. “Ee ya?”
(“Jyothi, is it you?”)
“Yes,” Jyothi’s face brightened. “Yes, it is me.”
“You are pregnant,” she muttered in barely legible Tulu as she released Jyothi’s hand and moved her trembling palm toward her tummy.
“Seems like a girl,” Baby said softly. “You are glowing.”
Jyothi chuckled.
Shekar approached Daniel and Vihaan. Standing between them, he gestured for them to come closer.
“Looks like Baby-amma is lucid now,” Shekar whispered. “Let’s not talk about Jyothi’s wedding situation. Let us not introduce you,” he added, looking at Daniel. “Don’t feel bad, but, you know, let us not upset the sick.”
Jyothi heard Shekar and shot him a piercing look long enough to ensure he saw it. She then turned back to her grandmother.
“Vihu,” Baby’s voice cracked. “He hasn’t come?”
“I am here,” Vihaan announced as he walked toward the bed. He knelt on the floor and held Baby’s hand.
“You are tall now,” Baby noticed. “You should fix your hair.”
Vihaan smiled. “I will.”
“I want you to meet someone,” Jyothi said as she pulled Daniel toward her side. “This is my husband,” she avowed. “His name is Daniel.”
“What?” Baby didn’t catch the name. “Danil?”
“Daniel,” Jyothi repeated gently, slower this time. “His name is Daniel.”
Baby studied him again. Her gaze lingered, curiously measuring a face she hadn’t learned yet.
“Yank ninna pudar panre apuji,” she told Daniel. “Banga yank.”
Daniel just stared at her, unable to decipher her words, which Vihaan translated. “She is saying that she cannot pronounce your name. It’s difficult for her.”
“Tulu barpuja ayeg?” she asked Jyothi.
(“He does not speak Tulu?”)
Baby hummed, as though filing the information away. The effort seemed to tire her. Her eyes drifted shut, then opened again, settling on Daniel. She searched for the words, then spoke slowly and carefully.
“She… take care of you?” she asked in halting English.
Daniel straightened at once. His eyes brightened. “Yes,” he said gently but without hesitation. “Very much.”
Baby studied his face. The corners of her lips lifted just slightly. “Good,” she murmured. “That is good.”
She paused, then looked at him again. “And you? You take care of her?”
“Yes,” Daniel replied, a soft smile breaking through. “Always.”
Baby nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
Her eyelids fluttered. The strength in her fingers loosened. “I am tired now,” she said quietly. “I want to sleep.”
Shekar ushered them out as the nurse stepped in and gently closed the door behind them. Outside, Jyothi turned.
“Chikappa,” she said, her voice steady but firm, “please let me decide when and how I introduce my husband.”
“Okay,” Shekar responded and walked away.
The preparations for the Kola had started. The veranda was roofed with freshly tied coconut leaves, and bright red plastic chairs filled most of the ground.
Daniel and Vihaan moved around outside, helping with the setup for the upcoming event, while Jyothi helped Malathi in the kitchen.
“Sometimes I wonder if it would have been so nice to grow up here,” Daniel stated. “Away from the noise and rush of the city. Amidst something so beautiful and dense with history.”
“Yeah, the culture. It’s beautiful,” Vihaan joshed. “It would have also skinned you before you could marry my sister.”
“Too dark, man,” Daniel replied.
Vihaan just smirked.
There was a pause where Vihaan and Daniel said nothing. Vihaan, feeling a bit stilted, tried to say something, but the words never came out.
“So, what is this Kola all about?” Daniel broke the silence. “I asked Jyothi; she said it is something about a god possessing a man.”
“A demigod, usually,” Vihaan corrected him. “In Dombottu, it’s a bit different.”
“Different how?”
Vihaan didn’t answer right away. He picked up a length of rope and tested a knot someone had tied, tightening it with a small tug.
“In most places,” he said finally, “the Bhootha is a deity usually specific to a place or a house. We worship it for blessings.”
“But in Dombottu,” he added, “it is a demon, and we appease it enough so that it does not destroy us.”
“What do you mean? Dombottu is haunted by some ancient demon?”
“Allegedly,” Vihaan corrected. “And it is not ancient. Kesanna is a Brahmarakshasa, and I guess he is no older than eighty.”
Daniel looked at him in awe. He wanted to know more, but before he could ask any more questions, he saw Vihaan’s face change. He looked scared.
Daniel noticed a sudden yet subtle shift in temperature as the light falling on him disappeared. He was covered by a towering shadow. Someone was standing behind him.
It was Keshav.
“Javaane bala poyi,” he said. “Kesannag per-bajjayi kanre undu.”
(“Let’s go, young man. We need to fetch milk and areca nut for Kesanna.”)
Vihaan did not move. Keshav looked at him and sighed.
“Can’t you hear me? Let’s go,” Keshav remarked. “Fetch your car. Make yourself useful.”
“Okay,” Vihaan agreed as he went in to fetch his keys.
Vihaan came back to see Keshav talking with Daniel. They were laughing, although he found a hint of obligation in Daniel’s eyes.
“Come, Maama, let’s go,” Vihaan said.
“Are you coming?” Vihaan questioned Daniel, who looked at Keshav.
“No need,” Keshav asserted. “Please have some tea and snacks. You do not have to work.”
Vihaan avoided talking to his uncle throughout their run. And Keshav, despite asking a few questions about Vihaan’s restaurant, said nothing either.
Keshav made him drive from one house to another. At every stop, Keshav would get down and enter the house; after a few minutes, he would come back with a bunch of areca nuts, sometimes paired with betel leaves.
Sometimes he got milk from the houses too, and it came in all shapes and forms—from a few drops to fairly large Bisleri bottles.
After a while, they stopped at a local milk depot. After Keshav spoke to him, the manager gave them a milk can.
“Vihaan, get over here,” Keshav called out. “I need your help.”
“I want you to transfer all the milk we collected into this can,” Keshav said. “We might need more if we cannot fill it.”
Vihaan nodded as he fetched the bottles from his car. He felt a sense of relief at the prospect of doing something that could occupy his mind.
But as he poured the milk one by one, he felt a sense of unease that he could not explain—a feeling of strange grossness in his stomach that he could not put his finger on.
That milk came in all forms of texture, enough to give Vihaan a sense of visual trickery; some of the offerings were watery with an ivory undertone, and some were fatty and yellow—almost too yellow.
They smelled weird. An unpasteurized rawness that Vihaan wasn’t familiar with, despite being in the restaurant business for the better part of the last decade.
“We need a couple more bottles!” Vihaan yelled at his uncle, who was chatting with the manager at the other end of the depot.
Keshav did not respond. Instead, he stood from his chair, bid farewell to the depot manager, and walked towards Vihaan.
“Okay, a few more houses then,” he claimed.
“Why can’t we just get it from here?” Vihaan suggested. “We are at a depot. Plenty of fresh milk.”
Keshav stared at Vihaan with an innate intrigue as he chuckled internally.
“We cannot,” he said. “Come, let’s go.”
Vihaan sighed as he followed his uncle to the car. With the strange smell of the milk lingering in his nostrils, Vihaan accepted the fact that it would take a long time before his mind could escape the odor.
“Let’s go there,” Keshav pointed to a minuscule house at the edge of Dombottu, with next to no free land outside the actual structure. “We will get some milk there.”
Vihaan stopped the car outside the house and looked around.
“Maama, I don’t think they have any cows here,” he told Keshav, who was getting out of the car.
“There aren’t any,” Keshav replied. “But I heard the lady there just had a baby.”
Vihaan paused, evaluating everything he had done for the past few hours, piecing together every single detail to justify his presence at that moment.
He watched his uncle go, carrying an empty plastic bottle, and saw a woman greeting him. She stood there carrying a baby, intently listening to what Keshav had to say. Vihaan stared as she exchanged her baby for the bottle in Keshav’s hand.
Keshav turned away from the woman, rocking the baby in his arms and scanning the road. Vihaan saw the woman, partially visible from the line of sight spared by his uncle’s presence. She unbuttoned her blouse and placed her palm across her breast. Vihaan immediately looked away.
He felt his stomach churn and his throat constrict. Finding it difficult to breathe, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He gagged—once, and then once again.
Keshav got back into the car, now with a filled bottle.
“Let’s go,” Vihaan heard him say amidst the sound of milk being poured into the can. “A few more houses.”
That smell, Vihaan remarked to himself. That goddamn smell.
Dombottu Family Tree
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Baby (Matriarch)
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Keshav (Eldest son; ritual authority, caretaker)
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Vanaja (Eldest daughter; lineage bearer)
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Jyothi (Eldest daughter → heir of Dombottu) ── Daniel (Husband; Christian)
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Vihaan
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Girija (Younger daughter) ── Shekar (Husband; son-in-law)
- Malathi ── Harish (Husband)
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9 Other siblings → ~28 cousins
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