Land of Five Rivers (5 page)

She beat her breast with her fists and wailed, ‘Now I am taking him to the hospital to have his knees treated.'

I looked at Boota. His once shield-like knees were now puffed and bulging.

He looked at me with his animal eyes. His lips opened like a freshly ploughed furrow and he said, ‘The doctor is treating me with electric instruments. In a week my knees will be healed and I shall be able to run. Then sir, I'll go to London and run a hundred miles race...'

The rickshaw slowly crawled along and I stood there watching the mother and the son till they were lost in the distant curve of the road.

t
he night of the full moon

Kartar Singh Duggal

        N
o one believed that Malan and Minnie were mother and daughter; they looked like sisters, Minnie was quite a bit taller than her mother. People said, ‘Malan, your daughter has grown into a lovely woman!' They never stopped gaping at the girl. She was like a pearl and as charming as she was comely.

When Malan looked at her daughter she felt as if she was looking at herself. She too had been as young and as beautiful. She hadn't aged much either. And there was somebody who was willing to go to the ends of the earth for her even now.

Why had her mind wandered to this man? He must be a dealer in pearls because every time she thought of him pearls dropped from her eyes! Her daughter was now a woman; it was unbecoming of her to think of a man. She had restrained herself all these years; why did her mind begin to waver? She must hold herself in check. Her daughter was due to wed in another week; she must not entertain such evil thoughts — never! never!

‘My very own, my dearest,' he had written only yesterday ‘do not forget me.' But every time he came to the village she sent him away without any encouragement. She shut her eyes as fast as she shut her door against him. He had refused to give her up. She was his life; without her he found no peace. He had spent many years waiting for her, pleading with her, suffering the pangs of love and passion. An age had passed and now the afternoon shadows had lengthened across life's courtyard.

Malan knew in her heart that he would come that night. Every full moon lit night he knocked on her door. And tonight the moon would be full. The night would be cold, frosty and still. She had never unlatched her door for him. Would she tonight? She recalled a cold, moonlit night of many years ago. She was dancing in the mango grove when her
duppatta
had got caught in his hand. She had come to him bare-headed with the moonlight flecking her face with jasmine petals. He had put the
duppatta
across her shoulders — exactly the way it lay across her shoulders now. A shiver ran down Malan's spine.

Minnie came down the lane, tall and as slender as a cypress. Fair and fragile, she looked as if the touch of a human hand would leave a stain on her. Modestly, she had her
duppatta
wrapped round her face, and her eyes lowered.

Minnie was returning from the temple. She had prayed to the gods, she said softly to her mother, to grant her wish. She had prayed to the gods to grant everybody all their wishes.

Malan smiled. Something stirred her fancy. If her wish could be granted, she thought to herself, what would she ask for?

‘Father has not returned!' complained Minnie.

‘He is not expected back today; it will be a thousand blessings if he gets back by tomorrow. He has a lot of things to buy. At weddings and feasts it's better to have a little more than to run short,' explained Malan.

Minnie took off her sequined
duppatta
and spread it on her mother's shoulders. She took her mother's plain
duppatta,
instead and went into the kitchen.

The light of the full moon came through the branches and sprinkled itself on Malan's face. The full moon always did something to her. It made her feel like one drunk. In another four days women would come to her courtyard to sing wedding songs. They would put
henna
on the palms and the soles of her daughter's feet. They would help her with her bridal clothes; load her with ornaments. How would her daughter look in bright red silk? And then the groom would come on horseback and take her to his own home and make love to her. He would kiss the
henna
away from the girl's palms and the soles of her feet.

It wasn't so very long ago that all this had happened to her, Malan. But Minnie's father had not once kissed the soles of her feet, nor ever pressed her palms against his eyes. He always came home tired; he ate his meal and fell fast asleep. Only the desire to have a son would occasionally arouse him at midnight. And then it was over so quickly that Malan had to spend hours counting the stars to cool down and get back to sleep. These midnight efforts had produced a daughter every year. The girls came to the world uninvited and departed without leave. Only one, Minnie remained. She was the replica of her mother; like the fruit of a tree that bears only one. Minnie had large gazelle eyes — the eyes of Malan. Her long black hair fell down to her waist. And she had a full-bosomed wantoness which often made Malan think that all her frustrated passions had been rekindled in her daughter's body.

Minnie scrubbed the kitchen utensils, bolted the door of the courtyard and went to bed in her own room. Malan was left alone.

It was late. The moon was so dazzlingly bright that it seemed to be focussing all its light in that one courtyard. Was it cold? Not really. Just pleasantly cool. Malan asked herself why she sat alone in the courtyard under the night of the full moon. Was she expecting someone? Minnie had gone to bed and her father had gone away to the city. Why was he away on a night like this? On full moon nights she used to keep herself indoors away from temptation. But tonight she had her daughter's sequined
duppatta
wrapped about her face. The sequins glistened in the silvery moonlight; it seemed as if the stars were entangled in her hair; they twinkled on her eyelashes, on her face and on her shoulders. A night-jar called from the mango grove:
uk, uk, uk.
It would call like that all through the night —
uk, uk, uk.

Her thoughts carried her with them. Her daughter would be married in a week's time. Then she would be left alone — all alone in the huge courtyard. A shiver ran through her body. The empty courtyard would terrify her. She would have to learn to live by herself. Her husband was too occupied with the pursuit of money; his money-lending and debt-collecting. He came back late in the evening only to collapse on his charpoy. She had often asked him why he involved himself in so many affairs, but it had not made any difference.

Malan went indoors and saw her daughter fast asleep — as dead to the world as only the young can be. Her red bangles lay beside her pillow. Silly girl! She had only to turn in her sleep and they would be crushed. Malan picked them up to put them on the mantlepiece. Before she knew it, she had slipped them on her own arms; six on one, six on the other. They glistened even in the dark. They were new; her daughter had only bought them the day before from the bangle-seller.

Malan came out in the moonlit courtyard — the sequined
duppatta
on her head and her arms a-jingle-jangle with bright red glass bangles. She felt like a bride — warm, lusty. Blood surged in her veins.

There was a gentle knock on the door. It was he. It was the same knock — a nervous, hesitant knock. He was there as he had written in his letter he would be: ‘On the full moonlit night of December, I will knock at your door. If you are willing, open the door; if you are not willing, let it be. I will continue to knock at your door as I have always done.'

Knock, knock, knock — very soft, very sweet, a very inviting knock. Who could it be but he! The prowler in the moonlit nights. Suddenly the moon went behind a cloud and it was absolutely dark.

In a moment, Malan's feet took her across the dark courtyard. With trembling hands she undid the latch. Another moment and she was in his arms. Their lips met; their teeth ground against each other. Passion that had been held in check for over twenty years burst its banks and carried them on the flood.

Malan did not know how they went to the bo tree outside the village. She did not remember how they went into the field beside the bo tree — nor how long they stayed there. She was woken by the train which passed by the village in the early hours of the dawn. She extricated herself from her lover's embrace, covered her face with her
duppatta
and hurried back to her home.

She slipped off the bangles from her arms and put them back beside her daughter's pillow. She folded her daughter's sequined
duppatta,
took her own back and went to her charpoy. She fell asleep at once and slept as she had never slept before — almost as if she were making up for a lifetime of sleeplessness.

When she woke, the sun was streaming into the courtyard.

‘How you slept, like a little babe!' teased Minnie. Minnie had swept the rooms and the courtyard and cooked the morning meal. She had bathed and was ready to go to the temple. She had tied jasmine flowers in her
duppatta
to offer to the gods.

As soon as Minnie left, Malan stretched herself lazily on a charpoy in the courtyard. She was filled with sleep and her head was filled with dreams.

A soft breeze began to blow. Warm sunshine spread in the courtyard. Malan felt like a bowl of milk, full to the brim — with a few petals of jasmine floating on it. It was a strange heady intoxication. Her eyes would close, open, and then close again.

‘O Malan! Where's that slut?' cried a voice suddenly. Malan felt as if someone had slapped her face.

‘Never heard of such goings on!' said another voice, ‘and only four days to her wedding!'

‘What has my daughter done?' shrieked Malan rising up in anger. ‘She is as innocent as a calf.'

There were derisive exclamations. Then someone sneered, ‘Your little calf has been on the dung heap all night.'

Malan's body went cold, her life-blood draining from her veins; a deathly pallor spread over her face.

Lajo, her neighbour, was speaking. ‘It was barely dark when the bitch walked off with a stranger. I had got up to relieve myself when I saw them go away into the fields, with their arms entwined around each other's waists. I didn't get a wink of sleep. We have to watch the interests of our daughters. I've never heard of anyone blacken the faces of her parents in this way.'

Malan sat still as if turned to stone. She did not seem to hear what was being said.

The village watchman took up Lajo's story.

‘Sister-in-law, Malan,' he said trying to attract her attention.

‘What is it, Jumma?' Her voice seemed to come out of the depths of a deep well.

‘Bhabhi,
this is not the sort of thing one can talk about easily. An awful thing happened in the village last night. My hair has gone grey with the years I've been watchman of the village, but never have I known such a scandal. Your daughter blackened her face with someone under the bo tree. Twice I passed within ten paces of them. There they were locked together, limb joined to limb; oblivious of all but each other. I kept guard over your house. I said to myself “The wedding is to take place in another four days; the house must be full of new dresses and ornaments and the door wide open!” I left at dawn. I don't know what time your daughter came back after whoring. If she were my child I would break every bone in her body.'

Malan gazed at the watchman, stunned.

Jumma was followed by Ratna, the
zemindar
. He was in a rage.

‘Where is that slut?' he roared. ‘Couldn't she find another field for whoring?' Ratna leapt about as he spoke. The neighbours came out of their homes to watch and listen. Ratna continued. ‘I was on my way to the well when I saw her come out of the field with her face wrapped in the sequined
duppatta.
I thought that the girl had come out to ease herself; but then her lover emerged from the other end of the same field. I saw them with my own eyes.'

At that moment, Minnie tore her way through the crowd. She had heard all that had been said about her. ‘You are lying, uncle!' she shrieked.

‘You dare call me a liar, you little trollop! You ill starred wretch! And how did a broken red bangle happen to be in my field?' He untied the knot in his shawl, took out a piece of red bangle and slapped it on Minnie's palm. Minnie ran her eyes over her arms and counted the bangles; there were only eleven. The world swam before her eyes and then darkened.

The women exchanged glances. They had seen Minnie buy the bangles. Yes, there were ten and then two more. And she had specially asked for red ones.

The courtyard was full of babbling men and women. Minnie's fiancee's father edged his way through; his wife was behind him. They flung all the presents they had received in front of Malan; clothes, money and rings. The crowd gaped. Women touched their ears; young girls bit their finger nails. This was drama indeed. A broken engagement was a broken life. What would Minnie do, now that she would never find a husband? It served her right, shameless harlot!

Over the sound of their angry droning, there was a loud splash. For a moment the crowd was petrified. Then someone shouted, ‘The well!' and understanding dawned.

Minnie was nowhere to be seen. The gentle Minnie who never raised her voice against anyone, who was as pure as the jasmine she wove into garlands. Minnie, who never tired of praying to her gods for the happiness of everyone she knew.

Suddenly sobered, people ran to the well. Only Malan sat where she was, numb with horror, unable to move. Her courtyard was empty — emptier than it ever had been, as empty as it always would be now.