This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach, page 24
Tara stared at the floor as he spoke. She wanted to ask him: What’s the good of speaking out and why would anyone listen when it’s too late? Why not say it now? She also thought: He knows it’s not fair to me. If he can’t tell the family, he can help me in some other way. With my brother willing to help, everything is possible. She told herself: He’ll solve his own problems in the end, but then Kanak’s people are liberal-minded, and not so orthodox in their outlook.
For the next three days Puri worked on the textbook in the morning, and at the translation in the afternoon. On the evening of 30 April, a messenger came from the Communist Party office, with a letter for him from Comrade Manzoor. It was a request for him to speak on communal harmony and goodwill at the May Day rally the next evening.
Tara went to the rally with her brother. Asad too was present. This was their first meeting in a month, but what could she tell him in the midst of so many people and with her brother nearby. There were only five other girls and all of them were asked to sit on the dais behind the chairman of the rally. Surendra had not been able to attend.
Tara’s chance came when Puri got up to speak. Asad came up behind where she sat. His eyes held many questions.
‘I can’t say anything now,’ she said to him in a hurried whisper.
‘What’s up?’
‘It’s a matter of life and death!’
‘How do we meet?’ Asad asked.
‘I can come to Surendra’s.’
‘When?’
‘Soon. I’ll try next week.’
Puri was a good speaker, and always spoke brilliantly on the issue of civic peace. Asad, Manzoor, Narendra Singh and others too congratulated him on his speech.
Tara asked Narendra Singh, ‘Bhaiji, couldn’t Surendra come?’
‘She has fever again,’ Singh replied. ‘It’s malaria. She won’t take quinine, so what can anyone do?’
Tara spoke rather loudly so that her brother could hear, ‘Tell her that I’ll come to see her for sure in the next couple of days. First I couldn’t go out because of the unrest, and also I barely get time away from my studies.’
On 5 May, Tara said to her brother as she began to read aloud to him, ‘Bhaiji, I’ve given my word that I’d go and visit Surendra today. Are you going in that direction around 5 o’clock, or should I go by myself?’
Puri said, ‘Help me finish twelve pages by five o’clock, and I’ll get through a hundred pages of the translation. After that I’ll go with you, or you can go on alone.’
They managed to finish by five. Puri said, ‘Everything seems normal up towards Gwal Mandi. You go to Surendra’s. I’ll go and show what I’ve done on the history book to Ghaus Mohammad. I want to be sure that he’s satisfied; he might want to have the manuscript checked by someone else.’
Tara got what she wanted. She said to her mother, so that she would not object, that her brother knew that she was going alone to Surendra’s for an hour or so.
Puri left. Tara had begun to put a waist cord in a laundered shalwar, when she heard Usha’s excited voice, ‘Ma! Tara! Sheelo bahin is here. She’s brought her baby too. Hai, he’s so cute, rosy just like a doll. Has lovely round, blue eyes.’
Usha called her sister, who was four years her senior, ‘Tara’ like everyone else. Sheelo was three months younger than Tara, but Usha had begun to call her Sheelo bahin or bahinji out of respect to her married status.
Tara flinched; the shalwar fell from her hands. A sinking feeling washed over her. Sheelo had come to her house for the first time with her son. She could not leave now. She had to jump up and show her delight by holding the baby to her breast and kissing him over and over.
In the month of March, when the rioting was at its peak, a son had been born to Sheelo. Masterji, Bhagwanti and Tara had gone to visit and congratulate her in-laws. It was not safe to take the usual route through the bazaars, and they had to pass through Hindu areas to reach the house of Sheelo’s in-laws in Sheesha Moti. Forty days after the baby’s birth, Babu Ramjwaya’s daughter was allowed to go to her parents’ house. Everyone from Tara’s family had gone to visit her there too. At that time, as she held the baby, Tara had said to Sheelo, ‘Hai, he’s really pretty, much more than you.’
Making sure that no one was around, Sheelo had replied. ‘Why wouldn’t he be? Just think of the seed that produced this fruit. I’ll come to your house and show Ratan his son. I’ll see how he can ignore me then.’
The gali women began to gather at Bhagwanti’s house as the news of Sheelo and her son’s visit spread. Sheelo’s body had filled out. Everyone noticed the glow on her face and the sparkle in her eyes. Her old clothes had taken on a nice, snug fit, but there was hardly any difference in her waistline. Kartaro said teasingly, ‘Your body always blooms after the first birth. Wait till you have more.’
Tara dropped her gaze to show her embarrassment. Bhagwanti swore at Kartaro, ‘Aren’t you ashamed to talk like that when there are unmarried girls present. Think of your own daughter.’
Kartaro did not shut up. She nodded towards Tara, ‘Her time has come too. How long now, three months if not two.’
Bhagwati said angrily, ‘Phitemunh! Shut up!’ Kartaro laughed even louder.
After the women left, Sheelo said to her aunt with a grim face, ‘Chachi, there is something else. When my husband came to see me yesterday from Sheesha Moti, he was very upset. He had run into Somraj somewhere in the bazaar. They both were classmates, you know. Somraj said to him: I heard that your sister-in-law tells everyone that she doesn’t like me. Tell me if that’s true. If it is, tell her to forget about marrying me. But before that, I’ll take her by her braid and teach her a lesson right here in the bazaar. I know how to handle the likes of her, these college students.’ Sheelo gave Tara a worried look, ‘Did you go to some kind of meeting at Mori Gate? Somraj probably saw you there somewhere.’
Bhagwanti cringed when she heard this, then broke into a litany of curses, ‘These gossip-mongers, these bachchepitte, randichadne, may they be without sons for seven generations. My daughter never uttered a word. She’s so quiet that you’d think she had no tongue in her head.’ She said to Sheelo, ‘Daughter, you tell your husband to make sure that Somraj knows the truth. There are mean people in this gali, who can’t bear to see anyone happy. God save us from such neighbours. May they burn in hell for seven generations! When your husband comes again, call me; or maybe I better go with you to Sheesha Moti to see him.’
Tara sat with bated breath, pretending not to hear. She was not supposed to have a say in this matter. Her mother turned to her and said, ‘Stay home from now on. And don’t dare take a step out of the gali.’
Pushpa called to Tara from her window, ‘Bring your cousin over. She and I are in the same boat. We’ll chat for a while. You come too.’ A daughter had been born to her at the end of February, just a few days before Sheelo gave birth. The two of them had become pals. Pushpa sent her servant to the bazaar for some mithai as a treat for Sheelo.
Seeing Tara silent at Pushpa’s house, Sheelo said to her, ‘Arrey, why such a long face?’ She told Pushpa about Somraj’s anger and began to console Tara, ‘Don’t you see why he gets angry with you? Why, it’s because he loves you. He’s no man unless he flies off the handle and gets angry with you. You have to knuckle under him. If he can’t scold you, he can’t love you either. A quick temper is becoming in a man.
‘My man is just a lump of dough. Always afraid of getting sick, of catching something. I wish that sometimes he’d shout at me so that I could sulk and then he’d have to butter me up. As things stand now, I may stay in a huff and not eat anything the whole day, but he won’t guess a thing. All he will have to offer is to ask me to eat something or I’ll get a queasy stomach.’
‘Arrey, what should I tell you about my doctor?’ Pushpa asked with a meaningful smile. ‘First he makes me cry, then does such things to humour me that I just can’t tell you.’
Pushpa talked about her husband, and Sheelo told ribald tales of her elder brother and his wife. They both laughed loud and hard. Since no elder was around, Tara did not need to act coy. But she wasn’t listening to them either. Once or twice she just spread her lips in a smile.
Sheelo looked out of the window at the sky, and said, ‘Let’s go back to your place.’
Tara caught the hint. She too said, ‘Yes, let’s. I have to help my mother in the kitchen.’
When they went back, Tara’s mother fondly told Sheelo, ‘You can’t leave just now. Have dinner with us, then I’ll send you home with someone to keep you company till you get there.’
In the month of May in Lahore, it is bright on the rooftops till 7.30 or 8 o’clock in the evening. Sheelo said, ‘Chachi, the baby will be uncomfortable in the heat down here. I’ll take him to the roof.’
‘Yes, sure,’ Bhagwanti agreed, and called out to Usha, ‘Go up on the roof, girl, and spread a dhurrie on a charpoy for the baby.’
Usha did so without complaining for the sake of her newborn nephew, and came back downstairs. Lying on the bed on his back, Sheelo’s forty-five-day old son gazed at something invisible up in the blue sky, his tiny toothless mouth letting out gurgles of joy. He waved his chubby feet and hands around, filling his mother, and Tara too, with joy and pride.
Sheelo said, looking at her son, ‘Say, isn’t he cute? Would Ratan be able to resist holding him? Why won’t he speak to me?’
They heard Vijay calling Ratan from his side of the house, ‘Bhappaji, sister Sheelo’s here. She’s brought her baby too.’
Tara rose to go downstairs, leaving Sheelo alone on the roof. She heard Ratan speaking to his mother on the other side, ‘Jhhai, I’m ready to eat if you’ve made the chapattis.’
His mother replied, ‘I’m almost finished. But first, go and look at Sheelo’s little boy. Your sister has come for the first time with her baby.’
Ratan came to Tara’s side and called, ‘Auntie!’
His eyes met Tara’s. She said, ‘Sheelo is upstairs in the fresh air with her son.’
Ratan climbed the stairs with slow, measured steps, as if in no hurry.
Tara went and lay down in the veranda. Once upon a time, Ratan used to fly to Sheelo’s side at the mere sight of her, or at the sound of her voice, she thought. It’s not the same now. But he did ask Sheelo to elope with him. And why hadn’t she, if she really loved him? Her love should have given her courage. Why put up with someone for whom she has no feelings? She’s being dishonest to both men, Tara thought.
Soon she heard Ratan’s steps coming back down. Tara had been appalled by Sheelo’s duplicity, but she was also curious to know what Ratan might have said to her. She went to the roof and saw Sheelo wiping away her tears.
‘What happened?’ Tara asked gently.
Sheelo burst out crying.
‘Tell me,’ Tara insisted.
‘He refused to listen to me,’ Sheelo whimpered. ‘He didn’t even touch my baby.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said, “Come away with me.” Said that he’ll be responsible for whatever happens; he will do whatever he has to to support me. He accused me of giving his child to another man, of letting him down. He said that that’s not true love, that he and I should be willing to bear the consequences of our love.’
‘He’s right,’ Tara blurted out.
‘Sure, you can say that. Because it’s not you who’s had to deal with the problem.’
‘What problem? Why put up with someone you don’t love?’ Tara said. ‘He’s right. If one’s really in love, one must face the consequences, come what may.’
‘Isn’t that what I’ve done?’ Sheelo cried angrily. ‘It’s me who comes running to see him. He’s the one running away scared.’
‘It’s you who’s scared!’ Tara declared flatly. ‘You love him, you bore his child, you should be with him. You’re turning love into something sinful.’
‘You’re talking nonsense!’ Sheelo said in irritation, ‘The dharma of love is one thing, and the obligations of family and marriage another. There’s a time and place for both. Love happens just like that. The ancients did the same. Lord Krishna had Radha as his beloved. He loved her milkmaid friends, the gopis too, but did he leave his wife Rukmini for them? No! Neither did he desert his family when he went to stay with Kubja. Heer and Ranjha did the same, despite their legendary love for each other. If you run off without any thought for your own people, you bring shame on the families. That is not the thing to do. If God gives you a slice of happiness, you should be content to accept it as your share,’ Sheelo sighed deeply during her little speech to Tara. She had never spoken with such seriousness.
Sheelo’s sermonizing did not convince Tara. There was no point in arguing with her simple-mindedness. She decided to be bold and ask something that Sheelo would understand, ‘If you don’t like Mohan, why do you let him make love to you?’
‘It’s not a question of like or dislike. That’s his right.’
‘To hell with such a right!’ Tara touched her ears in a gesture of penitence. ‘If you care so much for his rights, then why are you involved with Ratan? Let him go!’
‘You’re talking a load of rubbish again! You don’t fall in love of your own free will. Arrey, love can overcome anyone, even the gods; not to say anything of us mere mortals? Don’t get me talking, my dear. I don’t know about you, but can anybody claim to be without sin? I know all about my father, my mother too. After a while, they all act innocent. That’s sinful. It’s not love but some kind of game. That’s not for me. I’ll be faithful to him all my life. What do you know about me?’
Tara was returning home with Usha and Haridev after dropping Sheelo off at her parents’ house. She thought with a heavy heart: Deception and loving someone on the sly is the dharma for Sheelo. I can’t live like that. I’d have decided my future today, but Sheelo spoiled everything by showing up at the last moment.
When Puri reached home about 8 o’clock, Tara had not yet returned. His mother said, ‘Sheelo came round with her baby. I gave her two rupees in shagun, as a good omen for her son’s first visit here. I did the right thing, huh?’ Bhagwanti had begun to tell him lately about such family matters.
‘You know better. All that’s for the women to think about,’ he replied.
His mother also told him what Sheelo had said about Somraj’s threats. She said, ‘I let Tara go up to Uchchi Gali because Sheelo insisted, but I’ve been shaking with fear since I heard that.’ Bhagwanti was still talking when she heard the sound of someone climbing the stairway. Tara was the first to come into the room.
Their mother wanted Tara to hear what she was telling her eldest child, ‘I’ve told her that there’s no need to go out of the gali. She’s not a child anymore.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Puri interrupted her. ‘She’s in her own home. Who’s he to object to her coming and going? If Tara wants to go somewhere, I’ll go with her. I’ll see who dares to stop her in the bazaar.’
‘If they don’t like my ways, why are they after my life? Is there no other girl for them in the whole wide world?’ Tara asked angrily, without looking at anyone, and sat down with a scowl on her face.
Bhagwanti gaped at Tara, horrified. Muffling her voice with her hand, she scolded her, ‘Is she in her right mind? Just listen to what she’s saying.’
Puri said nothing beyond asking his mother to give him his dinner.
Puri had another reason to object to Somraj’s high-handed manner. On the evening he had stayed out late with Kanak in Lawrence Garden, she had made him swear, when they parted, that he wouldn’t torture her by not meeting her. ‘If you don’t want to come to my house,’ she had said, ‘we can meet at the same spot on Nisbet Road. I’ll write to you if I have another place in mind. You send me a letter in a sealed envelope, and I’ll come whenever you tell me.’
One evening he had wound up his business at Adayara Munavvar by 6.30 and reached Nisbet Road for his appointment with Kanak. He waited at the meeting place, then went from one end of Nisbet Road to the other, and then retraced his steps. She was nowhere to be seen.
This was the second time that she had failed to keep a date with him. Once he had written and asked her to meet him on the Mall Road on Tuesday morning at 11 o’clock. Then he had sent a letter to tell her to come to Nisbet Road on Friday evening between 6.30 and 7. She had not replied or written to him about any change in her plans. He had begun to suspect that she was somehow prevented from meeting him. With her renewed assurances of love for him, he had once again begun to trust her. In his frustration he thought: How unfair to put such constraints on a free-spirited young woman.
His reply that night had silenced his mother, but had also sown the seed of doubts in Tara’s mind. Tara’s ears pricked up as she noticed how he had changed his way of talking. ‘She’s in her own home,’ he had said. What had happened to change his declaration that her parents did not have to worry if Somraj’s father broke his son’s engagement to Tara?
Thoughts whirled around in her mind as she lay down to sleep: These were all excuses to make it easier to get her out of this house. She remembered Masterji’s intention of selling his part of the ancestral village house, and taking a loan against his provident fund. Her parents were apparently willing to sacrifice everything of their own to ensure her destruction. ‘Why do they see me as a burden on them? Now that I’ve given up on my brother, I must do something for myself, and do it at once.’
When she woke up the next morning, the thought of changing her circumstances was still on her mind.
Puri too was frantic with apprehension after his two failures to meet Kanak. He desperately wanted to go to her house to know the reason, but thought it below his dignity to go there without a plausible reason. He looked for a credible excuse to pay a visit. He thought that it would be better to translate half of the book and take it to show to Panditji. If Panditji could give him 100 rupees as advance payment, he reasoned, he might also hand over half of his final fee, another forty rupees. Even if he didn’t, he would see that Puri had already completed more than one hundred rupees’ worth of work.
