Mahashweta (14 page)

Seema and Vasant had been classmates in college. Seema was an ambitious girl who had always had a soft corner for Vasant. Once, she had even expressed her desire to marry Vasant, but on condition that he settle in America. When she had perceived his true bent of mind, she had changed her mind quickly, married someone in the US, and settled there. Vasant had never mentioned this to anybody. He felt that Seema had made the right decision.

They stopped outside his department. ‘Vasant, when will I see you again?’

‘When I come to your sister’s wedding.’

She was not sure that he would come and, sensing her thoughts, Vasant said, ‘If I could come to your wedding, I can come to your sister’s wedding as well. Can I go now? My patients are waiting.’

Seema smiled and waved goodbye before heading off.

When Vasant returned to his room after finishing with his OPD patients, he was surprised to see Satya lying on the bed. Normally, he would not have been in the room at that time. When he looked at him keenly, he was surprised to see that Satya’s eyes were red and his face swollen. When he touched his forehead, it was burning hot.

‘Satya, what happened? You have fever!’

Instead of replying, Satya started crying.

‘Satya, is there any bad news from home? How are your parents?’

Still, Satya did not reply. His eyes were focused on the table. On it was a beautiful wedding invitation with letters etched in gold on a red velvet background that seemed to exude affluence. It was Vidya’s wedding card.

Vasant was surprised. He had always thought that Vidya and Satya would get married. Now he could understand why Satya was in the state he was in. Nothing Vasant said would bring Satya any consolation.

‘When did this happen?’ Vasant asked gently.

‘Today. She invited everybody, including me.’

‘Satya, do you think she is getting married under family pressure?’

‘No. I don’t think so. The boy is a doctor. His parents are also doctors in the US. A good catch. And nobody can force Vidya to do anything, let alone get married.’

‘But how could she do this to you?’

‘Vasant, I’ve been impractical and emotional. Vidya is definitely more calculating. She has thought things over. What assets do I have—a small house in Mysore, the responsibility of getting my three sisters married and of educating my brother?’

‘Did you discuss all this with Vidya?

‘Yes. She’d said it wouldn’t be a problem. But then, she met this boy who is far more eligible. I suppose she was just biding her time till she found the right match.’

‘Satya, there is no point in brooding over this. It is good that it ended when it did; far better now than being hurt after marriage.’

For the next few days, Satya hardly ate anything. He was depressed and did not talk much. One day he began vomiting, and when this continued for a while, Satya grew worried. A blood test confirmed that he was suffering from jaundice.

The diagnosis further lowered his spirits. Though it was not a critical disease, the patient would require good food, care, and rest. Satya did not want to go to Mysore, but he did not have any close friends or relatives in Bombay either with whom he could stay. The hotel food that he had been eating all along was definitely out of the question.

Vasant came up with a suggestion. ‘Why don’t we ask someone who can cook to send you a dabba so that you can have home-cooked food while you’re recovering?’ By this time, Vasant had begun to attend Anupama’s plays regularly, at different locations in Bombay; and he also visited her library quite often. Their casual acquaintance had now turned into a deep friendship. He had no doubt that she would be able to help him now. After all, she had a large network of students and friends.

‘Satya, I have an idea. I’ll ask Anupama to look for someone who can cook a “diet” meal and send it here. We will pay for it. I’m sure Anupama will be able to help us.’

Without waiting for Satya’s reply he immediately called up Anupama.

After hearing him out, Anupama replied, ‘Vasant, I have another suggestion. My maid, Sakkubai, stays with me; she is a good lady. If Satya doesn’t have any objections, he can come and stay in our front room. I can cook a suitable meal for him, and Sakkubai will look after him day and night. Of course, I won’t insist on this. If you still want the food to be sent across to your room, I will make enquiries and find out someone who can supply the food.’

Vasant had never expected such a generous offer and said, ‘I will get back to you after speaking to Satya.’

Satya was hesitant about accepting the offer. ‘Vasant, I don’t know her as well as you do. How can I impose on her like this? I can pay Sakkubai, but what about Anupama? I feel very awkward about accepting this offer.’

Satya, the extrovert, had become more serious now. The shock of Vidya’s defection had changed his outlook.

‘Come on Satya. She is our friend and, as far as I can see, this is the best option. You won’t be staying there forever, and we can always return the favour in some form to Anupama. As far as I know, she is not the sort of person who expects anything in return.’

Satya agreed to move from Bombay Central to Anupama’s Bandra house. She had kept the room clean and tidy. She had spread a printed sheet on the bed and placed a vase with some fresh flowers in a corner. There was a world of difference between Satya’s room and this one!

Anupama looked after Satya as if he were a part of her family. Once, his temperature went up very high and she stayed awake by his side the whole night. Another day, Satya vomited all over Anupama, before she could help him to the basin. The stench filled the room and Satya felt extremely embarrassed. But Anupama showed no sign of being disgusted or upset. She cleaned the floor and came back freshened after a bath.

When Satya apologized for what had happened, she said, ‘Satya, don’t feel sorry. A patient is like a child. . .dependent on someone. When I broke my leg, you, Vasant and the nurses did everthing possible for my recovery. I am not doing anything different.’

Satya was supposed to stay for a week but he postponed his departure. During his stay there, Satya had been observing Anupama. He had always thought of her as a beautiful but unfortunate woman; and he had pitied her. But now he felt differently. He saw that she was invariably cheerful, and always ready to help; she did not seem the least bit bothered about the white patches on her body that spoiled her beauty.

Satya began comparing Anupama and Vidya, subconsciously. For Vidya, material comforts and beauty were very important. Helping others was something she would consider a waste of time. She had always been self-centred.
Was
Vidya
devoid
of
the
softer
sentiments,
he wondered again and again. How could she change her mind so casually, as if she were changing a dress, and marry someone else, whereas he had been ready to face all opposition from home to marry her?

Anupama was aware that Satya had become quieter and more sober because his relationship had ended abruptly. So she spent time talking to him about all sorts of things, to take his mind off his broken affair.

‘Satya, in spite of being a doctor, why are you so worried about a common illness such as this?’

‘Anupama, sometimes, ignorance is bliss. But we, as doctors, know so much about disease and sickness that we cannot help feeling apprehensive occasionally. My sisters in Mysore will not understand all the implications or worry about them as much as I do. You know, Anupama, whenever I look at you, I think of my sister Sandhya—she would have cared for me like this.’

‘Satya, I have helped you the way any human being would help another; nothing more and nothing less. I don’t like being caught in relationships of convenience. I don’t want to be anyone’s ‘sister’ or ‘aunt’. When two men can be friends and two women can be friends, surely a man and a woman can also be just friends.’

Satya was taken aback by her blunt answer. It was very uncharacteristic of her. He looked at her and realized that someone had deeply hurt her at some time in her life.

It was Satya’s last day at Anupama’s house. After that, he would go back to his untidy room and eat the oily food served at Lakshmi Bhavan. He could see the Bandra seashore from his window, as he thought about Anupama. He knew nothing about her—whether she was married or unmarried, or whether she had any relatives. During the two weeks he had been in her house, only her students and friends had visited her. He knew she was from Karnataka, nothing more. Sometimes he thought about talking to her of her past, but he had never been able to bring himself to do so.

Anupama came and sat beside him. She looked at Satya and said, ‘Forget the past, Satya, think about the future. Start a new life. ‘

Satya smiled unhappily and said, ‘Anupama, you and Vasant do not know what it is to fall in love and then lose the person you love. Love is a precious emotion and when it is wasted on the wrong person, you tend to become emotionally reticent. Only people who are very fortunate fall in love with and marry the same person.’

Anupama did not reply. After some time she said, ‘You’re wrong about me, Satya. I know what it is to lose in love. I was once in love with someone. We got married, but later, my husband abandoned me.’

Satya was taken aback.

Anupama continued. ‘When I was in college, I acted in a play called
Mahashweta.
Anand saw me on stage and fell in love with me. Despite the differences in our status, we got married. I am from a poor family and my mother-in-law was indifferent to me from the beginning. A few months after our wedding, Anand went abroad for further studies, and I was about to join him when I developed a white patch on my foot. My mother-in-law’s indifference changed to cruelty as she accused me of having had this affliction before marriage. She said I had deceived Anand and tricked him into marrying me, and cast me out of the house. I wrote several letters to my husband but he never replied. He had loved Mahashweta as a heroine. But when in real life I developed this white patch, and became a real Mahashweta, the White One, he couldn’t handle it. This Mahashweta was not acceptable to him. Just as you throw away old clothes and buy new ones, my in-laws got him remarried. Up to this day, nobody has bothered about me. Your life is definitely better than mine. You must thank your stars that you have only failed in love, not in marriage. Marriage is a lifelong commitment, and I know only too well the pain it causes when someone fails to honour that commitment.’

Satya felt as if he had been listening to a story. But, unfortunately, the white patch on Anupama’s hand belied the feeling.

Anupama continued. ‘Anand has a sister. Girija had a clandestine affair that only I knew about. But today, she is married to a person of wealth and status. Who says life is fair? It is better to understand the vicissitudes of life and solve our own problems in the manner we find appropriate. I have learnt that repeated success makes a person arrogant, while occasional failure makes an individual more mature.’

‘Anupama, who taught you all this philosophy?’ Satya asked.

‘My experiences have taught me this. I have come to realize that courage and confidence are the real wealth in life. Education can improve your chances of success, but ultimately you have to face life all alone. I don’t depend on any guru nor do I read any philosophy. My conscience is my guru and it guides me well.’

Satya picked up courage and asked, ‘Anupama, I will ask you a personal question. If you do not want to answer, I will not mind. But I am curious—do you think of Anand often?’

‘I do sometimes, but I want to forget him. It is better to concentrate on things that give me confidence and happiness. I like history, literature and drama. I am extremely fond of my students as they are of me. I believe that when students love the teacher, they learn to love the subject, too. A teacher is forever young at heart. History has taught me a great lesson. People who built forts and won many kingdoms are not remembered today. I don’t do my work so that somebody should remember me; I do it because it gives me satisfaction and contentment.’