This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach, page 129
‘No, no. Literature runs in your family. Narottam told me that your brother is a well-known writer, a weekly’s editor and an MLA. Your family is a cradle of art and culture.’
‘My brother is certainly a well-known writer. My bhabhi is also a good writer, but I don’t have much knowledge of literature. I was a student of economics.’
Kapur moved from discussing literature to a discussion of films. He said, after a slight hesitation, ‘If you have no other engagements and it’s not inconvenient for you, let’s go to see the 6.30 show of Madame Bovary.’
‘No, no inconvenience and it is a wonderful idea, but I am expecting a friend later this evening.’
At 6.45, Kapur apologized profusely for staying for such a long time. He told Tara that he was living in the Officers’ Mess. After saying goodbye politely and expressing the hope of having the pleasure of meeting Tara at the club or at his sister’s house, or being permitted to visit her again, he left.
Kapur was a handsome and strapping fellow. Tara liked his company, but she also found it stressful to respond correctly to his all too polite behaviour.
Tara had just returned from the office when the telephone rang.
‘Is Taraji at home?’ the caller asked.
‘Namaste, Mrs Khanna. I am speaking.’
‘I’m going to be informal and call you Tara. I’m older than you. You can call me Nimmi didi if you wish.’
‘Sure, didi.’
‘I’m going to Connaught Place for shopping. You had really spoiled Raja the other day. Since then he has been asking repeatedly for Tara Aunty. Can’t forget you and wants to meet you again. Can we come over by seven o’clock?’
‘Do come, didi, I’ll be waiting.’
Mrs Khanna came with her son Rajeshwar. Tara welcomed them warmly and lavished the boy with hospitality. Raja was engrossed in his new mechanical merry-go-round, but Mrs Khanna spoke to Tara very amiably. When the guests were leaving, Tara said out of politeness, ‘Do you have to go? Have dinner with me, whatever simple and plain dinner there is.’
Mrs Khanna said, ‘You’re alone here. Why don’t you come along and have dinner with us? I’ll have you dropped back by ten.’
‘Some other time, didi.’ said Tara. Mrs Khanna then invited her with such genuine affection to accompany them on a picnic to Okhla next Sunday that Tara could not refuse.
On Saturday, 1 October, Tara came back from her office, had some tea, and lay down to rest and read the morning newspaper. She got up when the clock showed 6.15. She said to Purandei, ‘Bua, I’m going to stay with Mrs Khanna in the cantonment, and will return tomorrow morning. Don’t bother cooking for me. Make whatever you want for dinner.’
Mrs Khanna was to pick her up at seven o’clock. She had pleaded to Tara, ‘Stay overnight. I’ll be all alone. You’re off tomorrow.’
Col. Khanna had gone to Lucknow for four days, but Kapur was expected to join them for dinner. Tara was a little uneasy at the thought of staying overnight at another place, but she liked to walk in between the flower beds and sit in the cool of the lawns around Mrs Khanna’s bungalow. ‘What’s the difference,’ she thought, ‘here I’ll be with bua, there with Nimmi didi.’ She began to quickly pack a dhoti for nightdress and a change of clothes in an overnight case.
The telephone rang. Tara answered, ‘Hello.’
It was Nath at the other end. Tara felt a thrill of joy.
Nath asked, ‘How are you? I returned the day before. I’m leaving my office now. Will you be home?’
‘Ji, yes,’ slipped out of her mouth. She thought, ‘I hope Nimmi didi doesn’t arrive immediately.’
Although Tara knew that Nath sent for a cup of tea between four and five from the office canteen, she gave instructions to put water for tea on the boil. Nath arrived in ten minutes. He again carried in his hands a bundle wrapped in tablecloth, its size and shape showing the contents to be two or two-and-a-half seers of apples. He looked in better health after spending time at a hill town.
Tara accepted the bundle and sat down cradling it in her arms.
Nath asked, ‘How have you been?’
‘Absolutely fine. Narottam told me several times that Mr Agarwal was asking about you. Your brother had come from Sonwan and had stayed with Mr Agarwal.’
‘Which brother? Brij Kishor or Radha Krishna?’
Tara had no idea. She complained, ‘This time you didn’t write even once!’
‘Hmm. And you?’
‘Doctor sahib, what was there to write about? I’d have wasted your time for nothing.’
‘Aren’t you bright!’
Tara felt shy and kept quiet. Then went to get tea.
After asking about Mercy, Chaddha and Mathur, Nath said, ‘This was the best time to be in Simla, but too cold for Doctor Solis. We also needed to talk to the minister.’ Tara knew that Nath’s office was working on the Second Five Year Plan.
Tara heard Mrs Khanna toot her horn, and looked out of the window. She said to Nath, ‘Excuse me for a minute,’ and went downstairs.
Tara said to Mrs Khanna, ‘Didi, please come up for five minutes. Doctor sahib is with me. We’ll leave shortly.’
On reaching upstairs Tara said, ‘I was a student of Doctor sahib in Lahore. My older brother was also his student.’
Nath rose to welcome Mrs Khanna. He said in Punjabi, ‘She was my student in name only. It was her father who first taught me to write the alphabet on a patti. He was my guru. I know her whole family.’
Mrs Khanna complained, ‘We never meet except at the Punjabi Association dinner.’ She said to Nath that he must visit her house in the cantonment.
Nath realized that Mrs Khanna had come to collect Tara. He said after a few minutes, ‘I’ll take leave of you. Hope to see you again.’
Apprehensive about the gossiping nature of women from the galis, Tara had pointedly told Purandei and Sita not to disclose how the report that she had perished in the fire at her in-laws had reached Bhola Pandhe’s Gali. And that she ever had a husband or a sasural. Purandei had hidden that secret like a woman hides her nakedness. Purandei had interpreted Tara’s instruction as that when the time comes, Tara would get married and go to her sasural. In Purandei’s mind every woman had to have a sasural. Therefore she was excited about tayee’s proposal of her nephew’s marriage with Tara.
Tara had not liked the talk about tayee’s nephew in the first place. When her Kanak bhabhi had come to visit just for two hours and Purandei and tayee had brought up the subject, Tara had been annoyed. Although Kanak had been more sympathetic and affectionate towards her than she had expected, Tara still had been embarrassed by such talk before Kanak. ‘Why are these people spreading such rumours when I have no intention of getting married,’ she thought.
That night, Tara called Purandei to her bedroom after Kanak had left and told her quietly but firmly, ‘Bua, have you lost your mind? You were talking all that rubbish before my bhabhi. She knows everything about me. She’ll think that I’m on the lookout for another husband and sasural.’
Purandei replied in a whisper, ‘Ashes and dust on to heads of your sasural people. Who can call you married? We don’t have anything to do with your sasural family anymore. God didn’t want you to live there, that’s why the god of fire appeared in their cursed house and saved you. What happened to them and where they are, who knows. You, of course, will have another sasural soon.’
‘Bua, why are you after my life? Why do you feel that you have to get rid of me? I am warning you that you must not talk to anyone about my marriage. Tell that also to tayee.’
When Purandei tried to enlist Sheelo’s support in this matter, she said, ‘Wah bua, have you gone crazy! How can we say yes when neither we know the man, nor have we ever seen him. Tara will get married when she wants and where she wants.’
Purandei reassured her that tayee was willing to invite her nephew for a couple of days.
Sheelo objected even more vehemently, ‘Wah, you could only find a widower for my sister! Is he a prince or what? My sister’s salary is over one thousand and she has her own car. That clerk in the Forest Department gets at the most 700 if not 600. What if he makes extra money by taking bribes? Tara won’t marry anyone who takes bribes. Then he has a seven-or eight-year-old son. No matter how much you love and care for someone else’s child, a stepmother remains a stepmother. One can never do enough for a child born out of someone else’s belly.’
Purandei understood that Tara won’t marry a widower. Tayee asked again after a few days, ‘Any letter or news from Tara’s bhabhi? How are things at Jalandhar?’
Purandei replied, dropping her voice, ‘You know there’s no shortage of marriage proposals for her. Her parents tried to fix her marriage many times, but what can they do if she doesn’t listen? This girl has given up all thoughts of marriage.’
Tayee’s visits to Tara’s flat became less frequent. When she came, she did not bring up the subject. Tara had just breathed a sigh of relief that the matter was over when another problem cropped up. The portents of the second problems were felt about three months ago, but she thought she had handled the situation well. The storm clouds on the horizon had appeared to have blown away.
It was bitterly cold. The fog was so dense even at 8.30 in the morning that the sky seemed overcast. Tara had taken a bath with cold water as was her habit, and was sitting wrapped in a blanket reading an article from the magazine section of the two-day-old Sunday paper when the phone rang. That irritated her because she didn’t want to remove her arm from the blanket to answer it. Who could this be? There was little possibility that a senior officer would call so early in the morning to discuss some official matter. It could be Ratan or Mathur. Mathur always called Tara in the morning if he wanted to come over in the evening. He had not visited her for several days.
Her irritation turned into joy on hearing Nath’s voice. ‘Namaste, Doctor sahib.’
‘Why does everyone take me to be your guardian?’
Tara’s heart filled with pride. ‘I think they are right,’ she said.
‘They are right? Well, will you be home this evening?’
When Tara replied yes, Nath said he’d explain what he meant in the evening.
Tara was curious: What problem could be that pressing? Could anyone have said something bad against her to Nath? She tried to guess, ‘Mrs Agarwal must have complained to Doctor sahib that I had appointed Shyama to the Women Welfare Committee.’ Narottam had told Tara that Mr Agarwal was building a friendly relationship with Nath through his contact and business dealings with Nath’s brothers. Nath had been invited to the lunch that Mr Agarwal had given for the minister of industry.
Nath said to Tara, ‘You consider me your guardian, and now some others have asked me to play the role of your guardian in a matter concerning your marriage. Tell me, how can anyone take a decision about the marriage of someone with your intellect and high standing?’
Tara was silent, her eyes downcast.
Nath said in a voice full of laughter, ‘Achcha, if you’re too shy to answer that, at least tell me what answer I should give to Mrs Khanna?’
Tara blushed with embarrassment. She said slowly in a quiet voice, eyes still downcast ‘At present there is no question of that happening. When the time comes you’ll give me the right advice.’ She could barely raise her eyes and look at Nath.
‘There is no question?’ Nath said with surprise. ‘Col. Khanna had invited me for lunch on Sunday. Seems that Mrs Khanna thinks that you like her brother. Kapur must have said that he likes you, that’s why she was so enthusiastic. I met Kapur for the first time that day.’
Tara denied the allegation, ‘No, Doctor sahib, it’s not true. Her impression that I do is totally unfounded.’
‘You think it to be unfounded. They have taken for granted that you’d agree. I said that it’s you who’ll decide about your marriage. If you and Kapur have decided something, it’s all right.’ Nath went on, ‘What surprised me was that outwardly they are very modern in their outlook, but orthodox and conservative at heart. Mrs Khanna said, “It’s fine if the boy and the girl like each other, but a love marriage won’t be a good idea. If they start loving each other before marriage, what’ll they do after they get married? Marriages should be arranged by the family.” Mrs Khanna is really fond of you.’
Nath raised his eyebrows to express surprise, ‘They like you very much, but don’t think it proper to broach the subject of marriage with you. I am your family’s well-wisher and trusted friend. I have met the boy. The boy and the girl agree to the marriage. Therefore I should write to Masterji that you two make a good match. I expressed my inability to do that. I said, “I don’t interfere in these matters even in my own family. Besides, I don’t have Masterji’s address. I’ll have to get it from Tara. Why don’t you ask her for the address?” I also said, “Of course, if Tara was willing and Masterji didn’t agree, and Tara asked me to speak with Masterji, probably I will.”’
Nath seemed lost in thought as he lit a cigarette. He did not say a word till he had smoked half the cigarette, as if he was in his own house and there was no need to make polite conversation. He finally said without looking at Tara, ‘Kapur, by temperament, appears to be a serious person. I think he’s a decent sort of a chap. Perhaps after knowing him for some time…’
‘Doctor sahib, I’ve met him several times,’ Tara said in English. ‘His behaviour is very mechanical. He seems to have a superiority complex that he is from the upper class. It’d have been better if he had left the country with the British.’
Nath nodded to indicate that he understood what she meant.
Encouraged by Nath’s empathy for her, Tara opened her heart to him, ‘Doctor sahib, the Khannas have a peculiar lifestyle. I have twice stayed overnight at their place. Everyone gets up late after sunrise, but the servants begin doing household chores much before that. The husband is in a hurry to report for duty. The orderly readies his uniform. Memsahib has her breakfast at 7.30. It’s the ayah’s responsibility to look after the children. When sahib leaves for his office after breakfast, memsahib gets dressed, puts on some make-up and goes to the neighbour’s house to play mah-jong. Then has her lunch. After that it’s siesta time. Tea is taken at four. Then either she has some visitor or she goes to visit someone. All they talk about is their promotions and transfers, or about furniture, shikar and films. In the evening they go to the club. Don’t they get fed up of such monotony?’
Tara went on, ‘The other day Narottam began discussing the student movement in UP at the colonel’s house. He said that the University of Lucknow was an autonomous body, and the governor’s interference in the affairs of the students union was illegal.
‘The colonel cut him short, “Excuse me, but we are not concerned with politics. We stay away from discussing that subject.”
‘Narottam asked, “What subjects do you talk about?”
‘The colonel said, “We talk about everything but the army’s rule is that we cannot discuss religion, politics and women.”’ Tara began to laugh, ‘Narottam asked, “What’s left to talk about?”’
Nath nodded in approval, and said, ‘What do women do in most families? The same work that servants do in well-to-do families!’
‘No, Doctor sahib. Why do you say that? I observe the women who are now my neighbours and since my childhood I had watched women who were my neighbours in the gali. Women don’t only do chores, they are the homemakers. It’s not possible to run a family without their contribution. I think their work is productive labour.’
Nath lit another cigarette. He again nodded his agreement, and asked, ‘Don’t you ever want or wish for a family life?’
Tara said after a brief silence, eyes cast down, ‘I don’t see myself in either of these roles.’
‘What do you think your role is?’ Nath asked.
‘Never thought about it.’
‘Why? It’s natural to think about it, unless there is a reason for not doing so.’ Nath said in a frank and sympathetic voice as someone who was speaking to Tara in her own interest.
‘One’s way of thinking changes according to one’s circumstances.’ Tara did not look at Nath.
‘What do you mean by circumstances?’
‘What had to happen has happened.’ She bent her head a little more.
‘That’s nonsense. That was an isolated incident. It’s not rational to blame yourself for a crime committed by somebody else or because you were a victim of circumstance. Forget all that and have a positive attitude so that you have greater fulfilment and satisfaction in your life.’ Nath said as if preaching to her.
‘I think I’m happy in my present state.’
Nath thought for a moment, drawing on his cigarette, then asked in an even tone, ‘Any news of Asad?’
Tara shook her head, then said as she remembered, ‘Yes, I had read in the newspaper two years ago about his arrest by the police in Lahore. His wife had applied for his bail.’ She too spoke in an even voice.
‘Yes, yes. I remember.’ Nath again lapsed into silence.
Tara felt a huge surge of relief for handling a difficult question well. She suddenly broke into a smile.
‘Why, what is it?’ Nath asked.
‘No, nothing,’ she said bashfully.
‘What did you want to say?’ Nath leaned back in his chair and asked with eyes half shut, as if he wanted her to go on.
‘Why don’t you think about the same thing?’ She said shyly, and then realized that she had spoken to Nath as if he was her age.
‘Me?’ Nath replied with a question. ‘I think I told you. At the time when my bhabhis had made it impossible for you to tutor the children… Didn’t I tell you?’
Tara shook her head, ‘No. Told me about what?’
‘The story of my circumstances. That old dispute about inheritance of the property. How my bhabhis plotted to make sure that I didn’t get married. You know all that. My father wanted the same thing, but he kept quiet about it. My grandfather had died by the time I returned from England. I fell in love with someone, a teacher at the Lahore Convent School. We decided to have a civil marriage. This was around 1944 or 1945. I told her about the dispute in my family. She insisted that I should claim my share of inheritance. We had long heated arguments. She had a strange personality. She could be very generous and unselfish, and at the same time very cold-hearted. We had an intimate relationship, but she said that she’d marry me only if I promised to claim my part of the family property. One day the situation worsened to the extent that she called me a coward and a wimp and whatnot! I lost my temper and said to her rather angrily, “Do you want to marry me or my property?” She also said some nasty things, “You are afraid to fight for what is rightfully yours! You are afraid to stand up to injustice. You are not man enough!” I thanked my lucky stars we did not get married. I don’t know what I would have done if she had behaved like that after marriage.’
