This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach, page 21
Kanak seethed in frustration. She returned to her room, thinking over what she could do. She went back to her father after a few minutes, ‘Pitaji, I have to go to Shanti Bhasin’s place. I shall be back by lunch time.’
‘What, beta, when there’s such trouble outside?’ He moved his eyes from his papers to her.
‘It’s not so bad on Nisbet Road, Pitaji. I’ll be back soon.’
She changed into her going-out clothes and hired a tonga in the Gwal Mandi bazaar and gave directions for Bhola Pandhe’s Gali, inside the Shahalami Gate.
The tonga could not wait for Kanak’s return near the entrance to the gali in the narrow bazaar of Machchi Hatta. She noted its serial number, and asked the driver to wait in the Rang Mahal square just a few paces ahead.
Children skipping and playing hopscotch in the gali ran ahead of Kanak and showed her the stairs leading to the house of Jaidev Puri and Tara.
The heated words between Puri and Babu Ramjwaya about Tara’s marriage two evenings before had left everyone quiet and gloomy in the family. Their sadness did not last long in the aftermath of the pandemonium caused by the attack on the gali. But Tara, the focus of the family row, could not forget her woes like everyone else. The suggestion of her taya lay open before her like the jaws of a trap whose clutch would finish her off. Her only support so far had been her brother; but he too had failed to stand his ground that evening.
Puri had again reminded Tara not to fall behind in preparation for her exams. She lay on a mat next to the wall in her home, trying to concentrate on the book in her hand, but her mind was elsewhere. Girls normally wear ordinary clothes when at home. With her small wardrobe, Tara wore indoors what was not fit to wear outside. She looked even more dishevelled in that distracted state of mind, with a slight ache in her body and head, her hair and clothes tousled. Since no male was present, she had no dupatta around her shoulders. She kept thinking of Somraj being caught cheating in the exam, and of him staring at her on her way to college. Then she heard Asad’s words and his face came up before her eyes: ‘Would you be able to cross the deep gulf of faith, community and religion?’ And her answer: ‘Yes, if you hold my hand.’ She desperately wanted to meet Asad and ask him about what she should do in the face of all that had happened.
She heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Must be Pushpa or Sita coming to see Ratan’s mother, she thought. Then she heard someone call, ‘Tara bahin!’
Tara turned her head as she lay on her back, and saw Kanak peeping from behind the landing door.
For a moment Tara was left paralysed at the embarrassment of being seen in such an unkempt condition, by her brother’s girlfriend on top of that. Then she sprang up from the mat. ‘Come on in,’ she said.
Kanak stepped in with a friendly smile.
‘Wait a second, I’ll get you a stool to sit on.’ Tara said, afraid that her guest’s clothes might get dirty and wrinkled from sitting on the mat. Kanak’s clothes still smelled freshly laundered and ironed.
‘No, no. It’s all right.’ Kanak held Tara’s hand, sat down on the mat against the wall, and made her sit next to her. Tara felt guilty at this exposure of her poor living conditions as if the family’s financial hardships were her fault. At that moment her mother came in to hang some washing she had done in the kitchen on a clothes line beside the veranda. Her mother was wearing only a petticoat and a blouse. Tara felt even more embarrassed. She said to her mother, ‘You’ve done enough. Time to stop.’
Kanak said namaste to Tara’s mother, and said, ‘My mother too does all sorts of chores the whole day. Housework demands so much time.’ She turned to Tara, ‘Today there was some news about an attack in your gali. We all felt anxious when we read the newspaper. Surendra and Zubeida too wanted to come for a visit. I’d come to meet the Chaddha family outside Shahalami and thought I’d look you up. There were reports of a bomb explosion and of houses being set on fire. Hope no one was hurt.’ Kanak also told her of another report of a death and nine injuries in a bomb blast in a gali near the Mochi Gate bazaar.
Tara couldn’t but tell her, ‘The boys from our gali were the ones behind the bomb attack at Mochi Gate. Bhai tries his best to discourage them. What else can he do?’ She briefly described the incidents of the other night. She also described their dilemma, ‘Bhai is working so hard for peace and communal harmony, but we had to defend ourselves. Three men from the gali are in police custody. Bhai and several others have been trying since this morning to get them out on bail.’
‘He…’ Kanak began.
Tara looked at her.
Kanak gathered her wits and changed the subject, ‘Yeah, how are your preparations for the exam?’
‘What preparation!’ Tara said unhappily, biting her fingernail, ‘The exam has been postponed once. Who knows if it will be held at all? If it is, I don’t know if I’ll be able to show up for it.’
‘Hai, how can you say that? Everyone tells me that you’re one of the best students.’ She asked, ‘You’ll join the MA programme, yes?’
Tara’s face fell, ‘That’s not my kismet.’
‘How so?’ Kanak said. ‘When students like me who pass in the third division can do an MA.’
Tara hung her head as if to hide her humiliation, and replied, ‘No such luck for me. My parents won’t agree…’
‘But your brother will definitely support your studying.’ Kanak said with assurance. She wanted to hear about Tara’s brother.
‘How can he?’ Tara took a deep breath. ‘He has his own troubles. He lost his job; I’m sure you know about that. We were hard up even with his salary. Bhai had got some translation work from a publisher, but he had to choose between doing the translation and spending time helping in the peace efforts. He still manages to work whenever he can. He had done translation worth one hundred and fifty rupees for the manuscript he got from Adayara Munavvar. He was paid only half the amount, and this only after repeated visits to the publisher.’
Tara wanted to praise her brother in front of Kanak. She said, ‘Bhai has been very upset ever since he lost his job. The editor of Pairokaar held back his last month’s salary. Bhai isn’t one to beg. That’s his way; he may suffer in silence, but he won’t take insults from anyone. You know, all kinds of things happen in a home. In his present state of mind, he feels very hurt when someone from the family criticizes him. You know how intelligent he is, but when there’s no opening for him what can he do?’
Kanak felt proud about Puri leaving his job for the sake of his principles and honour. She had paid him tributes in her heart for his uprightness too, but she had never thought about the monetary aspect of the job; as if Puri was working only to satisfy his creative urges and his bent for writing. Tara’s words brought home the enormity of his situation, along with a feeling of guilt for not thinking about it before and for not helping him.
Tara suddenly remembered, ‘Do you want some lassi? Or would you rather have tea?’
‘No, no. Nothing.’ She put her hand on Tara’s shoulder to stop her from getting up. ‘I had a late breakfast. But I could have a glass of water.’
Tara called Usha to ask, ‘Where’s Hari? Can you get some ice?’
Usha too was not in her going-out clothes. Tara told her, ‘Ask Vijay, or call Peeto from across the gali.’
Kanak protested, ‘Don’t bother about the ice. My throat is a bit raw. Plain water would be just fine.’
Usha went to the kitchen to ask her mother for a paisa for some ice. Bhagwanti first asked about the need for ice, then said, ‘There are some coins wrapped in a handkerchief on the top shelf of the cupboard. Take one paisa.’
Kanak heard all this and the evidence of their adversity sent a shiver down her back.
Kanak took up the thread of the conversation, ‘Pitaji frequently remembers him … Puriji.’
Tara’s ears picked up the first inadvertent reference to her brother and she liked it. Kanak went on, ‘Pitaji is full of praise for Puriji’s writing. He asked about him several times, and said that he hadn’t visited us for some weeks.’
Tara said, ‘Bahin, my brother has no time. That Urdu publisher too wanted him to do something soon, but he…’
‘Wah!’ Kanak cut her short to complain, ‘He went to Surendra’s. Zubeida and Surendra both told me. Neither of you has time to come to my place. Very well! I know I’m not an important person or a leader, but my house is right on the road to Surendra’s. So when will you both come to see me?’
‘Hai, don’t say that.’ Tara felt Kanak’s desperation. She said, ‘Bhai is not as fond of anybody else as he is of your family. It’s just that he’s got too much on his hands with the peace committees. You know the unrest in the city. I don’t go out at all. Bhai definitely has to go in your direction tomorrow. Ibrahim from the Railway union sent a message for him earlier today. They want bhai to be at the party office tomorrow at three o’clock.’
Kanak looked at her wristwatch and got up, ‘I’ll go now, the tongawallah must be wondering what’s happened to me. Bahin, you must sit for the exams. Give namaste to Puriji from me, and my father’s message that we haven’t seen him for some time.’
Pandit Girdharilal gave Kanak twenty rupees and Kanchan fifteen every month as pocket money. Kanchan thought it unfair, but her father would affectionately wave aside her complaint, ‘But beta, you’re three years younger than Kanak.’ Kanchan often borrowed small amounts from Kanak, and her father had to make up for that too. Panditji never said no to his daughters if they wanted to buy clothes. Kanchan still liked to save up her money and buy something special for herself.
The sisters had got their pocket money for April ten days before. Kanak had few places to go to now, with the growing unrest in the city, and had seventeen rupees in her purse. Her sister Kanta had come the evening before and had left Kanak fifteen rupees to buy fine lace borders for Kanta’s white voile saris. Thirty-two rupees still did not amount to much. Kanak pondered over the problem until the following afternoon, and, with some trepidation, went to see her father. His assistant Vidhichand was also in the office. She quietly asked her father to come to the living room.
When Panditji came in, Kanak told him with a grim expression of regret, ‘Zubeida gave me seventy rupees for safekeeping. They had received the amount as donations for the peace committee. I seem to have lost the money when I went out.’
‘Oh! How did that happen, beta! You shouldn’t have accepted it for safekeeping, and if you did, you should have been more careful. You must realize your responsibility. When did it happen?’
‘The other day when I went out with her.’
Panditji searched his memory for the day, and said, ‘That was a while ago, why didn’t you tell me before? How do you know you lost it outside? Are you sure?’
‘I wasn’t carrying my purse that day.’ Kanak said, and pointed to the neckline of her blouse, ‘Just kept it here. Never lost anything before.’
‘That’s bad, it’s really bad.’ Panditji said regretfully. ‘When Zubeida comes next time, ask me for the money to give to her. And take care in future. You should learn to look after money.’
Kanak said looking at her hands, ‘I bumped into Zubeida yesterday on my way to Shanti Bhasin’s place. I promised to give her the money today. She also wants to talk to me.’
‘Achcha, I’ll give it to you now.’ Panditji returned to his office, withdrew a key from his desk drawer, and asked Vidhichand to take out seventy rupees from a safe. He handed the money to Kanak repeating his lecture about handling money carefully. He said, ‘Let me know after you’ve paid Zubeida back. All right, beta!’
Tara had told Kanak that Puri had been called to the party office on Tuesday at 3 o’clock. It was difficult to guess how long he would stay there. Kanak left home at 2.30 in the intense April sun on the pretext of meeting Zubeida. The bazaars were deserted in the heat of the afternoon sun. The owners dozed off behind the partly closed doors of their shops. Driven by the burning rays of the sun, the shadows too had sought refuge under the shop awnings and in foot-wide strips at the base of walls. The cries of street vendors hawking sugar cane pieces, watermelon slices and iced sherbet drinks had been quieted by the scorching glare. The tarred surface of the roads had softened. Kanak walked along leaving the imprints of her sandals on that softened surface, hoping to catch Puri on his way to the party office.
The office of the Communist Party was near the intersection of McLeod Road and Nisbet Road. Anyone coming towards the office from the direction of Shahalami would come along Nisbet Road. Kanak had set her mind on meeting Puri. She wanted to pour out her heart to him.
She walked through Gwal Mandi to the square in front of the Medical College. It was twenty-five to three; she was in two minds about what to do next. She decided to hire a tonga and go along Nisbet Road to McLeod Road. If she did not see Puri on the way, she would then go towards Shahalami. Kanak was about to hail a tonga when she saw him coming towards the square.
Puri seemed lost in thought. Kanak called out when he came closer, ‘Namaste. Where’re you going? Trying not to see me?’
Puri was startled by her call, ‘Oh, it’s you! Namaste! Why wouldn’t I want to see you? I was going to the party office.’
Puri knew about Kanak visiting his home. He had asked Tara minutely about where Kanak had sat, what she had seen and what she had talked about. He felt naked and exposed now that the truth of his situation had been disclosed.
He said again, ‘I’ve to be at a meeting soon.’
‘Come with me first.’ Kanak insisted.
‘Where?’
‘I want to talk to you.’
‘Very well. Let’s walk together and talk.’ Puri agreed.
‘No, let’s not walk. Look at the sun! Let’s take a tonga.’
‘The sun is hot…’ Puri began awkwardly. He felt in the pockets of his wrinkled trousers, ‘I just walked out. Seem to have forgotten my wallet at home.’
‘How can you say that?’ Kanak asked with a loving reproach. ‘What’s this!’ She showed him the purse in her hand.
‘All right.’ He acknowledged timidly. ‘But I have to be at the meeting. It was me who had asked for the meeting to be called.’
‘Whatever. But come with me for a bit. I’ve been waiting here for you.’
Puri could not say no. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Anywhere you want. How about the Standard?’
Puri again averted his eyes in embarrassment, ‘I told you, I don’t have…’
‘What’s the matter with you? This purse is yours.’ Kanak said tenderly.
Puri was defeated. He called a tonga and they both climbed into it. The tonga went towards Mall Road.
Puri said to the tonga driver, ‘Go towards McLeod Road.’ He looked at Kanak, ‘We’ll go to the Venus on McLeod Road. It’s nearer to the party office.’
Kanak nodded her head. ‘What’s happened to you?’ She again asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why are you so formal with me? Wait till we reach the restaurant, then I’ll explain.’ She grabbed the arm support on her side of the tonga to control herself. Puri, holding on to the post on his side, was thinking about a plausible justification of his behaviour.
They sat in a booth at the Venus restaurant. Kanak said, as they sat down, ‘Order some tea.’ Puri told the waiter to bring tea.
‘What’s happening to you?’ She repeated her question.
‘Why?’
‘Did you think I was dead? Is this what you meant when you held my hand and promised never to break your promise to me? Why have you been avoiding me for a whole month and half?’ Her tears fell on the tabletop.
Puri did not know what to do. The waiter could come back at any moment. He said nervously, ‘Kanni, take a grip on yourself. Think of the waiter.’
Kanak took out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.
‘Kanni, consider the situation from my position, my point of view.’ He tried to reason with her.
‘Consider what? Why didn’t you tell me? You didn’t think I was worth anything, worthy of your trust!’
‘Please, first wipe your eyes.’ Puri said. Kanak had left nothing for him to say.
There was the sound of the waiter approaching and the tinkle of cups on the tea tray. Kanak opened her purse and began searching for something to hide her tears.
The waiter placed the tea and a pastry stand on the table and went out.
Tears were still rolling down Kanak’s cheeks. Puri choked back his own, and said, ‘You thought I was ignoring you? You don’t know about my suffering, about the agony of being away from you. Think of my position. The ladder I had begun to build to reach you has been knocked down. In the eyes of the world, I’m just another person without a job, now an object of derision because I’m striving to scrape together a living.’
Kanak interrupted him, ‘Why do you say that? Who doesn’t know the truth? You left your job for the sake of truth and justice. Everyone respects you for that.’
Puri said stirring his tea, ‘Whether I left my job or I was made to leave doesn’t matter. If some woman drowns herself in a well to escape being raped, will that be considered as an escape? The result of being unemployed is just the same, irrespective of my principles. It is also true that, maybe, I can earn more now, but by remaining anonymous. Is that any less painful?’
‘To make sacrifices for your ideals is no light matter.’
‘What ideals? I’d been working all this time for my ideal of communal harmony, and last week I had to fight off a mob to defend myself, and defend the people of my gali. My hair stands on end when I think of it. I also know that my own gali people were at fault.’
‘But you weren’t thinking of yourself when you gave up your job.’
‘That’s my weakness, my disadvantage. You have to be self-seeking to earn respect from people and keep a position in society.’
‘What are you saying? Everyone is all the more respectful of you because of your self-sacrifice. I consider it an honour to be the dust under your feet.’
