A Life Incomplete, page 15
‘It was my mistake, Bey ji. I blame myself more than I blame her for this turn of events.’
‘Your mistake?’
‘Yes. I don’t want to blame her because she has been in bad company since her childhood. You can’t expect more from someone who has grown up in a certain kind of environment. If I had higher expectations from her, I am the one who has erred in judgement. Without having any experience in this field, I thought that a month or two of counselling could correct traits that have been acquired over ten or fifteen years. And even if I had succeeded in addressing some of the problems, who can be sure that they won’t crop up again? How can anyone guarantee this? I had honestly thought that I had been able to bring about a considerable change in her character over the last month but I can see now that the change was merely superficial. So I am the one who made the mistake.’
Gian Kaur could read between the lines and understand clearly what he wanted to convey about the girl’s character. It was hard for her to disagree with Waryam Singh’s assessment.
She sighs. ‘So what can we do now?’
‘Let me think a little more about it,’ Waryam Singh replies uncertainly. ‘It would also be wrong to discard this unfortunate woman unless I can find some other place for her. I will let you know when I have something in hand for her. But be prepared to wait because it might take a couple of days. I will also try to find a dependable maid for you, but if none is available immediately, you could call Radhia back. For now, I have fixed her up in Babu Ganga Vishan’s house. She was in a bad state, the poor woman.’
22
Gian Kaur slumps into her chair, head buried in her hands for a long while after Waryam Singh had left. She is beside herself with worry. How does one get a wayward son to mend his ways? she broods. He’s no teenager who can be rebuked by his mother. He is an adult, and one who has already showed an inclination to renounce his home and family. How does one know that he won’t react in some unforeseen manner to his mother’s advice? He may end up doing something even worse.
Kuldeep and Prakash return a good hour or so after Waryam Singh’s departure. They had left before 8 in the morning and it is now past 12. Gian Kaur’s suspicions turn into firm conviction the moment they enter the house. Kuldeep’s face radiates with a light she hasn’t seen for months. Prakash, too, seems unusually cheerful and even a trifle bold in her demeanour. Gian Kaur is on the verge of saying something but for once, she decides to hold her tongue. ‘It’s taken you a long time, son,’ is all she says as she looks closely at him.
‘There was a very well-known group of devotional singers from Punjab at the gurudwara today. The hymns they sang were divine and we decided to sit there for a while and listen to them,’ Kuldeep answers.
The lie is apparent to Gian Kaur. The morning session of hymns and devotional music at the gurudwara never lasted till mid-day. But she holds her counsel and asks them to have their lunch, her eyes following them wherever they moved.
It is around 8 in the evening. The child has gone to sleep, Gian Kaur is busy making dinner while Prakash cleans the dishes that have piled up since morning.
‘Kuldeep! Come down and have your dinner,’ Gian Kaur calls out to her son.
‘Send it upstairs,’ he replies. ‘I am reading.’
Hmm… Gian Kaur thinks. He usually says ‘bring it upstairs’ but today it is ‘send it upstairs’. The difference is not lost on her.
She places his food on a tray and is going to carry it when Prakash quickly washes her hands, takes the tray from her hands and runs upstairs with it. Each new act strengthens her suspicion but she wants to be completely sure.
When several minutes pass and Prakash is still not back with the tray, Gian Kaur takes a hot chapatti in a plate and starts to ascend the stairs quietly. When she reaches the landing, she finds the door shut. The sound of hushed voices fuels her curiosity. Setting her ear against the door, she hears Kuldeep urge, ‘Come now! Shed this unnecessary shyness and restraint, darling.’ Prakash responds, ‘Let go of my arm, please. Bey ji will think something is amiss.’
Gian Kaur has heard enough. She tiptoes down the stairs to the kitchen and sits on the low stool. A few minutes later, Prakash also returns and tries to busy herself in the kitchen. Gian Kaur lowers her head, unable to summon the courage to look directly at her. ‘Why don’t you go up and offer him another chapatti?’ she suggests.
‘No need, Bey ji. He says he’s not hungry today,’ she chirps. Gian Kaur closes her eyes. She has this horrible vision of her son sliding inexorably towards a dangerous abyss. She knows that she has to make an earnest effort to save him, recognizing too that there is no assurance she will succeed.
She drags herself through the motions of winding up her work in the kitchen before sitting down to have her own dinner. But it is only to put up an appearance. She finds it impossible to swallow a single morsel.
Setting the plate aside, she gets up with a new resolve and makes her way up the stairs. Kuldeep is neither sitting crosslegged in meditation nor reading. He is lying on his bed, gazing straight at the ceiling as though it is his gateway into some distant universe. Startled to see his mother walk in, he sits up and asks, ‘Come, come, Bey ji. Is everything all right? You seem a bit disturbed today.’
She is quiet. Does she suspect something, Kuldeep wonders. ‘Is something wrong? Why don’t you saying something?’
Fighting to keep her emotions in check, she says gently, ‘What should I say, son? You no longer listen to me and I am so restless. I can’t eat, can’t sleep. Besides, how long can you trust this body to go on? It seems to be deteriorating with each passing day. If the Lord decides to take me away tomorrow, who is going to look after baby Baljit? Your father left this world pleading with you but even his last words fell on deaf ears. Thanks to his stature, you can still get proposals from respectable families. But don’t count on them to wait forever. Who knows what we’ll get after they turn away. My son, you are no longer a child. Listen to me.’
Kuldeep smiles silently. Fate is indeed being kind. His mother had broached a subject that has been occupying his own mind. She had given him precisely the opening that he had been searching since his return from the gurudwara.
‘Fate has its own ways, Bey ji. Otherwise, why would Satwant have died?’
‘Life and death are in His hands, son. But it is hope that sustains life. You see a leaf dry up on a tree and no sooner has it fallen to the ground than two fresh ones have sprouted in its place. That’s life. How would this world go on if everyone started to speak like you?’
‘Bey ji, I am fairly comfortable the way I am. But if you still want me to be tied down, I will insist on choosing the shackles that are going to bind me. I hope you can accept this condition.’
She recoils, afraid that the words he would utter would cling to her like a poisonous serpent. ‘You can make your choice,’ she says. ‘But there is no harm if you also take my counsel…’
‘Fine,’ he interjects. ‘I am happy to take your counsel right now.’
‘It’s okay,’ she sighs. ‘Tell me what you have in mind.’
‘I want to marry Prakash…’
‘What?’ she shrieks in utter disbelief, unwilling to comprehend that her own son could be saying this.
‘Why, Bey ji?’ He smiles.
‘Prakash! Instead of bringing shame on me like this, why don’t you just plunge a dagger into my heart? Do whatever you like,’ she simpers. ‘Oh! What a curse upon us! That we have to face such shame.’
Kuldeep was prepared for a certain amount of opposition from his mother but the sheer vehemence of her reaction takes him by surprise. She has always been appreciative of Prakash for her diligence and sincerity towards her work. How could she speak so hatefully about her now?
‘Why did you hire her if you dislike her so much?’
‘I didn’t know about her past misdeeds when I agreed to take her.’
‘And how have you learned about her past now?’
‘From the one who brought her here.’
‘Waryam Singh? What did he have to say?’
‘Oh! How can I tell you what he said about her character and her misdeeds?’
‘Wrongdoings?’
‘Yes.’
‘What wrongdoings? When did he come here?’ Kuldeep asks, his voice rising with anger.
‘This morning, around the time the two of you were walking hand in hand at Panj Teerath.’
‘Really?’ Kuldeep feels sweat breaking over his brow. ‘That liar…that scoundrel…that troublemaker who is an incarnation of Narad Muni himself…he lights one fire, extinguishes another…that’s his hobby. I’ve had enough of that rascal, Bey ji. I can’t understand why he is after my life, why he accuses an innocent girl in this manner. I’m going to teach this devil the lesson of his life…’
He gets up from his bed and begins to pace up and down the room, his heart thumping with rage. Gian Kaur makes a quiet exit from his room, terrified that yet another calamity is lurking round the corner.
23
As usual, Prakash is up before Gian Kaur to attend to her chores. Picking up the broom, she goes upstairs to clean Kuldeep’s room and is surprised to see him walking about slowly. His face bears a look of great anxiety.
Hearing Prakash’s footsteps, Kuldeep looks up at her and signals that she should come near him. ‘Let’s sit down, Prakash. We need to talk about something important.’
‘Come closer to me,’ he murmurs as she sits next to him on the bed. He puts his arm around her shoulder. ‘Prakash, I see a major obstacle looming in the path of the promises we––’
‘I know. I heard everything,’ she interjects.
‘You did?’ He is astounded. ‘How?’
‘I stood in the stairs to listen, when you and your mother were speaking so loudly about it last night.’
‘And so…?’
‘So I’ll leave this house today…so that…you…’
Kuldeep feels as if his flesh is being wrenched off his body. Clasping her in his arms, he implores, ‘If you really want to go, it’s up to you. I can’t really stop you. But please put an end to my life before you leave this place.’
‘May you have a long life! But for a bad character like me, why would you…?’
‘But you are not to be blamed, Prakash. Nor is my mother at fault. This havoc is the handiwork of that scoundrel Waryam Singh. Yes, the same Waryam Singh that you never tire of praising. At least you now recognize the true colours of that devil.’
‘I had no idea that he could be so treacherous, that he could act like a friend but still stab you in the back.’
‘You said you are going to leave this house, Prakash! I won’t let you do that so long as I am alive.’
‘And I won’t let myself become the reason for discord in your house. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve already faced plenty of misfortune. After finding shelter in your house, I did think for a while that my life might take a turn for the better. But who knows what else fate has in store for me?’ Her voice breaks and she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye with her dupatta.
Kuldeep’s world seems to be slipping away from him. Impatient to regain control, he urges, ‘Prakash! I know I won’t be able to live without you. If you attach any value to my life, you should banish the thought of leaving this house. And as far as the issue of discord is concerned, please leave it to me. I am sure I will be able to resolve it.’
Prakash leans her head against Kuldeep’s shoulder and keeps sobbing even as he caresses her face and tries to comfort her. He continues to simmer about Waryam Singh though he relishes the thought that his adversary has been roundly exposed in the eyes of his beloved.
‘After everything that Bey ji has said about me, how do you think she will agree to my presence in this house?’ Prakash whispers.
‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ he asserts. ‘I intend to sort out this matter today itself. Just be patient for a while. I need to go downstairs and have a chat with Bey ji.’
Gian Kaur isn’t awake yet. Or maybe she had just gone to sleep, having stayed up much of the night. Kuldeep sits next to her and nudges her shoulder. She gets up with a start, eyes widening with surprise as her son comes into focus. Having worried about him all night, she isn’t sure if she is merely imagining him there.
While she is still rubbing her eyes, Kuldeep starts boldly, ‘Bey ji! I want to tell you something important.’
‘What would that be?’ she asks, fighting back her fears.
‘I have decided that I am going to marry Prakash. And I am ready to give up my life if anyone tries to stop me from doing so.’
Gian Kaur recoils under the impact of the blow. Gasping for breath, she struggles to regain her composure and absorb the meaning of his words.
‘I am ready to give up my life.’ With that one phrase, Kuldeep has turned the tables on her. Arguments about family, honour, dignity and dowry are swept aside by the rising tide of maternal love.
Throwing herself against Kuldeep’s chest, she cries, ‘Your Bey ji is a poor widow. Don’t leave her alone, son. You can do as you like. I will not say a word against it. All I want is that you should have a long and healthy life. I want to see you before my eyes as long as I live.’
Kuldeep is delighted with the ease with which he has changed his mother’s mind. The anxiety and restlessness of the previous night vanish in a trice. He leaves the house with a new spring in his step.
24
It is about four in the afternoon and despite the bright sunshine, there is a nip in the air. Ganga Vishan reclines in his favourite chair, lost in his own world, savouring the company of his favourite companion – his bottle.
In the room next door, Saroj is in an entirely different world as she lies on the bed and ponders her future. She hasn’t eaten anything since morning. The servant’s entreaties have fallen on deaf ears. ‘What kind of fate awaits us?’ she contemplates. ‘Bau ji’s condition seems to be deteriorating by the day. The alcohol is destroying him. His liver is a mess, his eyes have turned pale and he is losing his appetite too. He is all I have and who knows when I am going to lose him too. It’s no use trying to force him to quit drinking. He just can’t, and I am not sure he will survive long even if he does stop now. Who can I depend upon once he’s gone? What will my fate be?’
She goes into her father’s room and sees him pouring the last couple of tots of liquor into his glass. His eyes are fixed on his glass and he is singing in a low, uneven voice:
You know for sure, I’ll leave nothing of you
And so should you, leave nothing of me
For sure, I will end your existence
And urge you too, leave no trace of me
‘Bau ji!’ she cries and falls on his chair. Head on his chest, she sobs inconsolably. His inebriated mind takes a while to register her grief but when it does, his song trails off into the nothingness that it spoke of and he too starts crying.
Arms wrapped around her, Ganga Vishan weeps as he hasn’t for a long time. ‘Saroj…don’t cry, my child…you know I can’t see you cry…I promise not to touch liquor again…I will die but I won’t drink…you are all I have since your mother died…Don’t…I won’t drink again…’
He continues to mumble incoherently for a long time, and Saroj keeps crying until her tears have drenched his shirt and she can cry no more. She helps her father get to his bed, covers him with a sheet and splashes her eyes with some cold water.
She has heard his assurances so many times that she has stopped taking them seriously. Each time he drinks himself into a stupor, she vents her anger through tears and he responds with similar promises. Only to be forgotten within a few days.
She hears a knock on the door. It is the messenger from the Singh Sabha Gurudwara bearing a note for her. It reads:
Respected Saroj ji
A young couple is getting married at the gurudwara tomorrow morning. We hope you can come early and join the group of devotional singers who will perform the kirtan before the marriage ceremony. We would also be grateful if you can conduct the Aasa di Waar kirtan and the prayers during the ceremony.
Your servant
Secretary, Singh Sabha
Saroj is feeling so low that her first instinct is to scribble on the back of the note that she is indisposed and won’t be able to come. But she reasons that she is in desperate need for a change of setting and maybe the pious ambience of the gurudwara is just what she needs to lift her sagging spirits. She acknowledges the message and goes inside to resume her lonely vigil in her room.
25
Saroj reaches the gurudwara around five that morning. Settling down with the other girls in her group, she sits facing the Guru Granth Sahib and begins the kirtan. She and another girl play the harmonium, with Saroj also providing the lead voice while the rest of the group backs her up.
Saroj is well known in the neighbourhood for her melodious voice and for the devotion with which she sings the hymns. Regulars at the gurudwara, aware that she would be singing that morning, have turned up early to soak in the experience. They know that by the end of the morning service, their minds would be calm and their soul transported to a state that could only be called divine. By the time Saroj has completed the first two hymns, the hall is bursting at the seams but the usual commotion is missing. A cursory glance at the audience reveals that many of them have closed their eyes as they sit cross-legged on the floor, swaying gently with the celestial power of the kirtan.
The morning service is drawing to a close and Saroj is on the concluding verse of the hymn when her attention is distracted by the entry of the bride, resplendent in wedding finery and ornaments that tinkle with each step as she advances into the hall. She kneels in obeisance before the Guru Granth Sahib and sits down a short distance away from Saroj and her group.
Saroj has completed the final verse and is playing the concluding notes of the hymn when the girl accompanying her on the harmonium leans over and whispers in her ear, ‘Saroj, do you know who is getting married this morning?’
