A Life Incomplete, page 17
Reminded of the earlier night at his place, Saroj lowers her head, embarrassed.
‘That Saroj is gone for good, Bhapa ji. I’ll spend the night here.’
‘But don’t you have to inform your home about your absence?’
‘That’s not a problem,’ she replies determinedly.
‘And how many houses will you stay in, Saroj? As Sheikh Farid said, there’s a fire in every house, that I can see from my vantage point. There are many persons in this locality itself who have death hovering over their heads. And think of the number of other similarly godforsaken localities in this town. How many souls will you be able to assist? You can fulfil your desire another day. We have so many other houses to visit today. Let’s go!’
As they plunge deeper into the neighbourhood, word about their arrival spreads like wildfire. Men, women and children, a small crowd is soon following them as they make their way through a narrow alley that leads into a clearing. An old pipal tree stands in the middle of the clearing. No sooner have they stopped under the tree than someone produces a cot on which Saroj and Waryam Singh are asked to sit. The residents assemble in a tight circle around them, their eyes filled with a kind of reverence. The two of them are twin angels who have descended from the sky and landed in their midst.
Opening his bag, Waryam Singh starts to dispense his wares. If it is eardrops for one, it is eyedrops for another and an anti-pyretic for a third. He moves from taking the pulse of one patient to peering into the eyes of a second and examining the festering wound of another. The crowd around him continues to swell.
It takes him about two hours to attend to the needs of the crowd before they visit the homes of those who are critically ill, who have no one to look after them and who crave for nothing more than the healing touch of a warm-hearted soul.
By the time they finish their house calls and make their way back to the bazaar, it is close to six in the evening. In the midst of the bustling bazaar, Saroj senses a strange kind of calm envelop her. The visit has opened a new window into her innermost self, giving her a glimpse into hitherto unknown parts of her soul. She has actually seen and experienced the ‘hell’ that people only speak about. And she has also experienced heaven, not somewhere distant in the skies but right here on earth, in her own town. She has discovered that the road to heaven passes through the hell that she has just visited. This hell, she concludes, is the real doorway to heaven and the attainment of heaven is possible only by serving these wretched souls, giving them love and receiving their blessings and good wishes.
A few months back, she had witnessed a small miracle at Waryam Singh’s house. It had given her an insight into the greatness of this unassuming man. But today, she has seen the full spectrum of his nobility, and seen too that his soul is riddled with the pain of those around him. She marvels at the influence this has on her. Earlier in the morning, she had felt rejected, worthless. And yet, all of that seems so distant and trivial. She feels a deep sense of contentment that stays with her even after she returns to her own home.
28
Kuldeep is discovering a whole new bed of flowers in his garden of paradise as his mind returns to earth after a long and exhausting flight in the land of renunciation. In the lush green branches of a tree in his garden, he spots a chirping nightingale. Upon catching his eye, the bird flutters its wings and settles down next to him, preoccupying itself with building a new nest.
Gian Kaur, meanwhile, is desperately trying to come to terms with the transformation of Prakash from a maidservant to a daughter-in-law who is rapidly assuming total control of the household.
Kuldeep is completely smitten by her good looks and by the ever-flirtatious sparkle in her eyes. His months of penance and meditation, his desire for renunciation of the material world have all evaporated into thin air. And what about Satwant, who had spent two years with him, whose simplicity and devotion had given him so much joy? Are mere simplicity and devotion enough to make a woman an exceptional wife, he reflects. Or does she have to intoxicate her husband with every action, with every gesture, with every move that she makes? Does she have to be a woman whose eyelashes can create a flutter in the man’s heart, whose words are like the lyrics of a song, whose charm unsettles a man from head to toe, whose smile makes him heady, whose passionate embrace can make him lose his self-control and even his senses. Satwant, Kuldeep reflects, had none of these attributes. She was a simple, honest, devoted and even a beautiful woman. But that was it, no more and no less.
And what does the world think of his marriage to Prakash? Kuldeep has no time for such matters. The comments are unsparing. Hasn’t he displayed undue haste? How could he think of a wedding while the embers of his father’s funeral pyre are still warm? Kuldeep, though, is in his own world. To his friends, he sells the yarn that he married Prakash because of his own idealism and his desire to bring about social reform. As for his mother’s unhappiness, he reasons that this is entirely Waryam Singh’s fault. That man, indeed, is his worst enemy in the world. So evil that even Prakash has developed a dislike for him and tends to avoid him wherever possible. Kuldeep’s mind occasionally flirts with the idea of revenge, relishing the thought for a while before setting it aside.
Their room, meanwhile, has got a fresh coat of paint and Kuldeep’s old habit of buying new things and throwing away old ones resurfaces. A new sofa has been ordered, along with a revolving chair, a dressing table and beds with the newfangled spring mattresses. He has left the selection of these items to Prakash.
They have been married for little over a month. It is January and winter is at its peak. It is about nine in the evening and the newly weds are chatting away in their room upstairs. Much of the conversation is about themselves – about their love for each other, their hope that it would endure forever, their admiration for each other’s virtues and about their own beauty. Silently, though, another issue is brewing in Kuldeep’s mind. His curiosity about the relationship between Prakash and Waryam Singh remains undimmed. He had wanted to ask her about the matter on the very day she had arrived, and with each passing day, the desire to get an answer becomes more intense. If he has held back until now, it is only out of fear that it might unduly provoke her, make her angry.
Tonight, though, he finds it impossible to restrain himself. Bringing up an oblique reference to the object of his ire, he asks, ‘So how long have you known Waryam Singh, Prakash?’
‘Not for very long,’ she replies, looking closely at him as if to read his mind.
‘But how did it come about?’
‘He saved my life,’ she says. Her thoughts go back to those horrible days. She hasn’t allowed recent developments to obliterate those memories.
‘And how did he do that’? There is an urgency in Kuldeep’s voice.
‘I had this really terrible boil on my back. I was lying by the roadside, fighting for my life. He carried me to his home.’
‘So how long did he treat you at his home?’ Kuldeep’s voice betrays a hint of nervousness.
‘Just for a night. He had me admitted to the hospital the following day.’
‘And did he apply medicine to you and bandage you all by himself?’
‘No. He had sent for another girl to assist him. But she didn’t stay very long. I think she couldn’t bear to see the ghastly state I was in at that time. In fact, he had to go out again to escort her to her place.’
‘Who was that girl?’
‘I didn’t know her but I think Bhapa ji called her Saroj a couple of times.’
Kuldeep’s mind goes back to that eventful night. ‘And when did this happen?’ he asked.
‘About five months back, I think.’
It all falls into place as Prakash explains how the poor girl was completely drenched when she arrived after braving torrential rain. But she had barely stayed for an hour. Bhapa ji had pleaded with her to stay the night because he had a single woman at his home. But she didn’t agree. She was feeling sick and wanted to get back to her house.
Kuldeep remembers the downpour that night and Prakash’s narrative leaves no room for any further doubt. A wave of repentance flows through his body, numbing every nerve as it travels from head to toe. He had suspected Waryam Singh and Saroj without knowing the entire story. And worse, he had then taken it upon himself to slander them in every street and locality of their neighbourhood.
Keen to hide his feelings from Prakash, Kuldeep goes downstairs and sits in the kitchen for a while, pondering over his own actions. When he returns to his room, his face is pale and suffused with an air of gloom. ‘Nothing to worry,’ he responds to Prakash’s solicitous inquiries. ‘I seem to have an upset stomach. It has been hurting for a while but seems to be better now.’
He remains depressed and guilt-ridden for several days. He wants to go across to Waryam Singh, place his head on the man’s feet and beg his forgiveness. But an act like that needs courage, which he is unable to muster.
Kuldeep had taken little interest in business during his father’s lifetime. On more than one occasion, he had attempted to start a small retail establishment for general merchandise or other products but the enthusiasm had only lasted for a short while. Most ventures would survive for a month or two before being closed down with some accompanying losses to the family. Only because Sadhu Singh had prospered from his bulk trading in sugar and gur could Kuldeep indulge in his half-hearted ventures. As of now there is no dearth of money in the house and the gold and other ornaments owned by Satwant and by his mother alone would be worth ten or fifteen thousand rupees. Yet, fired by the new zeal in his life, Kuldeep now wants to do something productive. Textiles, he thinks, is the answer. He wants to set up a shop to retail textiles and fabrics. Spurred by the idea, he decides to make an early trip to Amritsar to acquire stocks from the wholesale market there.
Gian Kaur’s life, meanwhile, has taken an unexpected turn for the worse. Long used to supervising the running of the household through her maidservant and daughter-in-law, she is trying to cope with all the responsibilities that have suddenly been thrust upon her. Prakash, who had earlier taken it upon herself to look after every little thing in the house, refuses to touch anything at all. She has even abandoned the care of the child, leaving it to a young boy who has been hired for this purpose. One by one, Kuldeep has handed over to her all of Satwant’s belongings, including her valuable clothes and ornaments. Some items of gold jewellery that Prakash regarded as old-fashioned have been taken to the town’s main jeweller to be melted down and shaped into fancier designs. New clothes are also purchased on a regular basis so that her besotted husband would see her decked up in the most alluring colours and fashions. Seeing her like this drives Kuldeep giddy with desire. She resembles a fairy straight out of paradise, enchanting him with her airs and graces.
The couple spend much of their time in their room on the upper floor. Prakash has made it a habit to have their meals brought up to the room by the boy. He also brings up her tea whenever she needs it. Gian Kaur longs to spend time with her son but such moments are few and far between. It isn’t long before she starts making the inevitable comparisons between Satwant and Prakash. She remembers the way she would chide, rebuke and even abuse Satwant but she would take it all with dignity and without ever reacting in anger. If she wanted to buy anything, even if she wanted to spend just a rupee, she would first consult her mother-in-law. With the benefit of hindsight, Gian Kaur starts to regard Satwant as an angel when compared with Prakash, who considers it below her dignity to talk properly to her mother-in-law. Expensive garments and jewellery are being bought without so much as a by-your-leave. Taking an elder’s permission has become an extinct ritual; even consulting the elder is deemed unnecessary. Having run the house with an iron fist for much of her adult life, Gian Kaur can see the steady erosion in her authority. She cannot help feeling suffocated and uncomfortable in her own home.
She recognizes that her predicament is the result of her own desire for the health, happiness and longevity of her son. That desire had clouded her judgment and caused her to turn a blind eye to the dangers that she could see so clearly. She had allowed Kuldeep to go ahead with his plans even though she could perceive the havoc they might wreak on their household. Waryam Singh’s common sense and wisdom could have provided some succour at this critical juncture but he has steadfastly avoided coming to their house since the day of the marriage.
Kuldeep has rented a shop but his plans to visit Amritsar to purchase stocks are yet to fructify. Each time he plans the journey, Prakash says something that causes him to defer the visit. How can he go when she speaks so lovingly, ‘Oh, Kuldeep! I can’t live a day without you’ or ‘Please don’t go yet. Or take me with you if you have to go.’
Several days pass in this indecision. Meanwhile, things at home have deteriorated rapidly. Obsessed with his wife, Kuldeep neglects his mother. Clashes between mother and son on relatively minor issues are a daily occurrence and Gian Kaur is seldom shy of deploying her famous temper and colourful vocabulary. The troubles escalate sharply when Prakash begins to jump into the fray. Her willingness to match her mother-in-law’s decibel level and trade insult for insult sees everyday conflicts spiral into full-fledged battles of attrition. The mother is abused in the presence of her son, but Kuldeep couldn’t care less about her plight. Instead of restraining Prakash, he often ends up upbraiding his mother.
Gian Kaur could have probably acted with greater wisdom. Instead of wading straight into danger, she could have taken a detour and tried to avoid strife. But she is one of those cantankerous old women who derive pleasure from splitting hairs, from pursuing the ‘why’ and ‘why not’ of every issue until it has been exposed threadbare. There are times when she rants or weeps right through the day, and then some more at night. And at other times, when a spell of peace appears round the corner, Prakash seems quite willing to pour oil on troubled waters and even light a match to it to keep the fires burning.
The incessant strife is taking its toll on Kuldeep. He knows that his mother is incorrigible and any attempt to reason with her runs the risk of aggravating matters. Thinking that he may stand a better chance of success with Prakash, he tries his hand at gentle persuasion. ‘You are so kind, Prakash. Be a little patient with Bey ji. She is already in her seventies, you know…’
The tactic fails and, on occasion, even backfires. Prakash, he discovers, could be every bit as loud, as voluble, as tempestuous and as unreasonable as his mother. The discovery comes as something of a shock. He has regarded her as the epitome of love, even of perfection. Her harshness and her unwillingness to listen to reason are annoying. Repeated complaints and arguments introduce a new dimension into the relationship – periods of sullen silence when they avoid talking to each other.
That’s the strange thing about love. When it blossoms, lovers look at each other through spectacles specially made to block out anything that appears dark or unpleasant. The view they get is of a beautiful, unblemished world that is bright and sparkling. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if things remain that way, that the spectacles become a permanent part of their lives? But that’s not how the real world works. With time, the specs start to lose their power and reveal things that were inconceivable earlier. The sparkle begins to dull and dark spots appear on the surface of objects that used to be perfect. How long do the glasses retain their power? Funny that nobody has the answer. It can vanish in a matter of days, or endure for years.
Or you could say that when lovers start their journey, it is like a walk in an enchanted garden. But as the journey continues, the terrain becomes uneven and after a while, the gentle walk turns into an arduous uphill ascent. The clearest sign comes when lovers start blaming one another, erecting barriers in communication that impede the flow of love and start polluting it with elements like suspicion, jealousy and anger.
Are they spending too much time too close to one another, Kuldeep ponders. Maybe he needs to go away for a few days so that they can re-ignite their passion. It is time to go to Amritsar, he decides. Prakash protests, as she had done in the past. But this time Kuldeep is more determined. Her pleading still affects him but fails to dissuade him from his objective. With bedding, a small bag and about two thousand rupees in his pocket, he boards the night train to Amritsar.
The line between agreement and disagreement can be so fine that it can only be measured through the eye of a needle. Take a step forward and the disagreement turns into an agreement. Move a step back and the reverse happens.
29
Alighting from the train in Amritsar the next evening, Kuldeep finds himself in two minds. His spiritual guru, Sant Prem Singh, lives in Amritsar and shouldn’t he first go to pay his obeisance and seek guru’s blessings? Or should he just go about his business? A porter picks up the holdall and leads him to the exit. A tongawallah calls, ‘Anyone for the Golden Temple, for Baba Sahib Chowk? I have place for one passenger!’
The guru lives adjacent to the chowk, in the vicinity of the Golden Temple. Kuldeep takes a few steps towards the tonga and pauses, assaulted by a new set of thoughts. How can I show my face to him? He had such expectations from me! And look what I have done! Alas! Those days when my mind was immersed in the nectar of his blessings! Thanks to his sermons, every waking moment was bliss, my thoughts directed only towards Him. This material world was no more than an illusion. I had found the real meaning of life in His Name. Nothing else mattered. I turned down numerous proposals for marriage. I even declined Saroj’s love. And now? How do I carry this accursed face of mine before him?
And yet, the pull to pay his respects to his guru is irresistible. The guru is blessed with infinite kindness, he reasons. He has thousands of devotees and surely there will be some who are still tied to the material world, who have sinned and still receive his blessings. I will lie at his feet and ask for his forgiveness, acknowledge that I have failed to live up to his expectations, allowing myself to get trapped in the web of family life. I will ask the guru to show me the way…show me how I can remain committed to my family and yet follow the path of righteousness. I am sure he has the key to this problem.
