THE RULE BREAKERS
Preeti Shenoy, among the top five highest selling authors in India, is also on the Forbes longlist of the most influential celebrities in India. Her work has been translated into several languages.
India Today has named her as being unique for being the only woman in the bestselling league. She has received the Indian of the Year award for 2017 and the Academia Award for Business Excellence by the New Delhi Institute of Management. She has given talks in many premier educational institutions and corporate organisations. She is also an artist specialising in portraiture and illustrated journaling.
Her short stories and poetry have been published in various magazines, including Cond Nast and Verve . She has been featured on BBC World , Cosmopolitan , The Hindu , Verve , Times of India and several other media outlets.
She has a popular blog and also wrote a weekly column in The Financial Chronicle for many years. She has a massive online following. Her other interests are travel, photography and yoga.
Website: www.preetishenoy.com
Twitter: @Preetishenoy
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First published by Westland Publications Private Limited in 2018
61, 2nd Floor, Silverline Building, Alapakkam Main Road, Maduravoyal, Chennai 600095
Westland and the Westland logo are the trademarks of Westland Publications Private Limited, or its affiliates.
Copyright Preeti Shenoy, 2018
ISBN: 9789387578678
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
For my daughter Purvi, who lives life by her own rules.
Contents
The legal age for marriage in India is eighteen for women and twenty-one for men.
In 2001, 94 per cent of all women in the country were married by the time they were twenty-five years old. Furthermore, 44 per cent of these women got married when they were under the age of eighteen.
Excerpts from a few letters written in 1995.
I dont have the strength to fight anymore.
I dont even know when the days begin and end. These are my study holidays and I am supposed to study. But thats just not happening.
The little free time I get, I sit in front of my booksbut nothing I read enters my head.
Back in Joshimath, I was a topper. I had a life.
Here, there is nothing. All I see is endless days merging into one another. I have no idea where one begins and the other ends. This is a meaningless existence.
I feel so alone.
I feel so betrayed by my own parents .
I feel trapped.
I cannot fight anymore.
I am a coward.
You are just twenty. You have a whole life ahead of you.
Rules and responsibilities: these are the ties that bind us. We do what we do, because of who we are. If we did otherwise, we would not be ourselves.
Neil Gaiman,
The Sandman: Book of Dreams
September 1995
Joshimath
There are two kinds of people in this worldthe ones who follow the rules and the ones who do not think twice about breaking them. It is as though there is an invisible line separating the rule breakers from the rule followers. To cross over to the other side is blasphemy, a disaster of epic proportions.
But, sometimes, the lines blur. The rule followers are then thrown into a tizzy. They do not have the boundaries which keep them safe. They are unsure of what to do, and how to behave. They go through the motions of life, hoping that they havent broken any rules. But that niggling voice in their head refuses to shut up.
For Veda, that voice was booming inside her head that morning. And the fact that her sister Vidya had caught on to it was not helping.
Veda was definitely a rule follower. Her parents would describe her as sweet, charming and obedient. Their father, Rajinder, wasnt exactly a mild-tempered man. With four daughters and a son to look after, he ran his house with the precision of a military sergeant. Their pliant mother, Kamala, just went along with whatever their father decided.
Veda descended the few steps that led to the rose garden in front of her house and inhaled the cool mountain air. She could hear the wind whistling along the bare slopes. The tall deodar and fir trees stood like soldiers behind the lone house perched atop the hill. In the distance, the Garhwal range of the Himalayas glistened like a crown. Veda liked this time of the year, before Badrinath town closed in November and re-opened only in April or so.
It was then that Joshimath transformed from a sleepy mountain town to a bustling tourist centre, as it was the winter abode of the presiding deity of Badrinath. Joshimath had a rich history, as Adi Shankaracharya, an Indian philosopher and saint, had established a monastery there in the eighth century, named Jyotirmath. But Veda rarely visited that spot. To her, it was all part of ancient history. It was only when relatives from other cities came to stay with them, and they had to take them around, that Veda even thought about it. For her, Joshimath was just a small, nondescript, mountainous town, which did not afford her too many opportunities to pursue her dreams.
Veda went into their little step garden, carved out into the mountain, whenever she wanted to think. Today, she definitely had to. The voice at the back of her mind was not allowing her to focus on her course work.
From where she stood, she could see buses and cars making their way up the hill, slowly navigating the hairpin bends. They looked like toy cars and toy buses. Veda wondered where these people were coming from, how their cities looked, and what their lives were like. She had never travelled beyond Dehradun, except for one trip to Delhi when she was a child. She did not have any distinct memories of it, and she longed to visit other cities. She gazed at a lone eagle that flew high overhead and perched on a treetop.
Dreaming of Suraj again? Veda felt a sharp tap on her head. She turned around to see her sister Vidya grinning.
Ouch! That hurt, pagli , she said, as she rubbed her head.
Dont change the topic. I saw him looking at you when we visited the Narsingh temple.
He wasnt looking at me, Veda quickly denied it, even as she felt her cheeks turning red at the mention of Surajs name.
Oh, he so was! He just couldnt take his eyes off you. Look at you! Oh, good lord, you are blushing! Vidya continued relentlessly, as she teased her sister.
Who is blushing? Who, who? What are you talking about? asked Vandana, as she climbed down the steps carrying a large bowl of boiled peanuts garnished with chopped onions and finely sliced green chillies.
Nobody, nothing, said Veda and Vidya together.
Tell me, didi! I am not ten years old like Vaishali. I am thirteen!
Thirteen is not old enough, said Vidya, as she helped herself to the peanuts.
