This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (10 page)

Her eyes moist with sympathy, Basant Kaur said, ‘May Guru Maharaj destroy everything belonging to such cruel people.’

Gyandevi went on, ‘The Committee is sending cash, clothes and provisions to help the Hindus. You all should help by doing what you can.’

Meladei sighed deeply to show how pained she was, ‘Yes, bahenji, why wouldn’t we help our brothers and sisters? They’re no strangers. Their honour is our honour! We’ll do what we can.’

Some other women too dabbed at their eyes.

Gyandevi explained, ‘Women of Bengal don’t wear shalwar or lehanga. They wear dhotis, dhotis are needed for them.’

Usha, younger daughter of Bhagwanti, asked in bewilderment, ‘Even young girls go to school wearing dhoti?’

Bhagwanti scolded her, ‘Shut up, don’t interrupt when elders are talking. Every land has its own customs.’

‘Yes, it’s a matter of custom,’ interjected Basant Kaur. ‘In Rawalpindi, where I come from, such a revealing dress would never be tolerated. No woman can dare to be seen outside her home or in the bazaar in a dhoti or a sari.’

Meladei said in a worried voice, ‘The price of dhotis is sky-high right now. A dhoti that used to cost three rupees is now sold for thirteen. Well, I’ll see what…’

Kartaro waived her hand to attract attention, ‘Fine-quality dhotis won’t do. The women from the East don’t wear a petticoat under the dhoti. I saw them in Haridwar. I could have died of shame.’

Gyandevi wound up the discussion. ‘You collect cash and clothes from your gali. Make a list of who gives what. The Committee’s representative will collect it from you and give you a receipt. You should organize a defence committee in the gali. We’ll soon face the same threat here.’

Meladei said, ‘Bahenji, rest assured. We have many educated girls in the gali. There’s Pushpa, and Tara, they can read the newspaper in English. Our parents didn’t let us study. Letting us get past the eighth grade was considered more than enough; now most of the girls pass high school. Pushpa has studied up to the twelfth grade, Tara’s in her BA.’

Gyandevi said, ‘Where are those girls? Call them! Girls like them are needed.’

Bhagwanti was always careful to keep other people from saying that Tara’s parents had sent their daughter to college because they wanted to imitate rich people or put on airs. She said, ‘Sister, what can we do? We’re poor people. When you look for a match for your daughter, they ask about the girl’s education before they talk of the engagement ceremony. Times have changed.’

Gyandevi repeated, ‘Call the girls.’

Bhagwanti turned towards the window of her house on the upper storey and called, ‘Tara, come down here for a minute.’ She turned to the other women, ‘The poor dear hardly finds time to study. She tries to catch up in the afternoon when it’s quiet. Today her cousin Sheelo has come from her in-laws’ place. She must be with her.’

Meladei called at another upper storey window across the gali, ‘Pushpa! Come out for a minute. One should sit with their neighbours once in a while.’

‘She won’t come,’ said Kartaro, ‘she’s angry. Quarrelled with her hubby this morning.’

Basant Kaur put her hand to her lips as if she had been rendered speechless, ‘Oh dear, too bad! Hardly eighteen months have passed since their marriage, and tiffs and arguments have already begun!’

‘Yes, what else!’ said Kartaro. ‘Just look at these young educated kids. Believe me, these educated girls don’t know a thing about taming a man. Soon after the marriage, they open up, show every inch of their body. Going out with their hubby to the bazaar, going to the cinema with him, he’s had his fill in a month. We’d let months or even a year pass before we showed him half of our face.’

‘What is it, mother?’ asked Tara as she came down the stairs. Sheelo was with her.

‘Shut up!’ Meladei said to Kartaro. ‘Watch your language before grownup girls.’ She lifted a corner of the mat where she sat, took out some change and spoke to Kartaro’s ten-year-old daughter Peeto sitting nearby, ‘Child, run and get two anna’s worth of hot sweet
boondi
from Mohan and two anna’s worth of eggplant pakoras from Iqbal. Get a paisa’s worth of ice, too.’

‘No, no, no! That’s not needed, sister!’ Gyandevi raised both her hands in protest.

‘No bahinji, its nothing,’ said Meladei. ‘You have to have a glass of cold water. You’ve come this far in such heat.’

Peeto took the eight-anna coin from Meladei’s hand and flew off like a swallow, her chunni trailing behind her.

Gyandevi looked at Tara and Sheelo, ‘Come, girls, sit here. Girls like you should take on the task of organizing the women of the gali.’

Kartaro attempted to explain on behalf of Gyandevi, ‘Listen, girls, bahenji was telling us how in the Bengal of Calcutta, the Muslims have killed ten thousand of our Hindu people. They also stripped our Hindu sisters and mothers naked in front of everyone in the bazaar, and hundreds of rotten Muslims took turns.’

‘Be quiet! May your tongue fall out! Shame on you!’ Meladei hissed at her. ‘Don’t wag your tongue before young girls. Bahenji was asking us,’ she said to Tara, ‘to collect donations of cash and clothing from the gali. You can make a list of what we get.’

Tara had bowed her head demurely on hearing something that was not supposed to be said in her presence. She said to Gyandevi, ‘I’ll keep a record.’

Gyandevi said imperiously, ‘Sure, you can do that. You must have seen in the newspapers …’

Kartaro could not stop herself, ‘It’s her brother who works at the newspaper.’

Gyandevi continued, ‘The Muslim League declared open war on 16 August in Bombay on Hindus. Those damned people say that they want Pakistan, want to carve half of Hindustan into Pakistan. Want Punjab to be a part of Pakistan. Will throw Hindus out of here.’

Basant Kaur said, ‘Throw us out! Punjab is not their father’s property; it has always belonged to Hindus and Sikhs! The rotten Muslims ruled in Delhi, Agra and Lucknow. Punjab was always ours.’ She was the wife of the postal clerk Birumal, and had studied up to the tenth grade.

Ishwar Kaur shook her clenched fist, ‘Punjab belongs to us and to keep it ours we must fight the Muslims. You all saw the huge procession that the Muslims marched in on 16 August. The battle has begun in Bengal, now it will begin in Punjab too.’ She lowered her voice conspiratorially, ‘The rotten Muslims are preparing for war. They’re making gun barrels from water pipes. Their women now carry daggers and knives. We’re still asleep. You all should tell your men to go to
akhara
s to exercise and train,
ask them to learn to fire a gun or use a sword or a club. How else will you save your belongings?’

Jeeva chipped in, ‘What is there in a wretched Muslim’s home? Four earthenware pots, one hookah and a burka! That’s why these hotheads are all so keen!’

Gyandevi tried another explanation, ‘We should be strong enough to protect our religion and guard our properties. The Hindus have turned into a mimosa plant that closes up when touched. All we know is how to earn money, then lose it and remain compassionate. We sisters should be ready to defend ourselves. Anyone tries to molest you, slit his stomach open. Look at the Rani of Jhansi and at Padmini, and look at us! All girls and young women should carry a kirpan.’ She showed a kirpan strapped under her clothes, and challenged, ‘I dare any one to lay his hands upon me!’

Tara’s younger sister Usha and Meladei’s daughter Dammo were thrilled, ‘We too will carry a kirpan!’

Tara said lightly, ‘Who would you use it on, stupid?’

‘Use it to cut off their husbands’ noses,’ answered Kartaro.

‘Hai, may everyone keep safe and healthy! What do kids have to do with kirpans and daggers,’ said Purandei sorting out her skeins.

‘Sister, such talk turns children into cowards,’ Gyandevi told her.

‘Bahenji, it’s the British who are causing all this strife.’ Tara began in a quiet voice.

Ishwar Kaur at once contradicted her, ‘But why do the damned Muslims fight us at the urging of the British? They don’t have to.’

‘The Hindus too can be instigated,’ Tara said boldly. ‘We were just talking about preparing for war.’

Gyandevi, Kartaro and Basant Kaur all spoke together, ‘It’s the Muslims, may they die childless, that start the fight. Poor Hindus don’t. Who wants to fight? If someone attacks us, won’t we fight back? We’ll drink their blood!’

‘Auntie, you’ll drink their blood?’ Tara again said quietly. ‘You don’t even drink water from their hands!’

Kartaro threw aside all decorum in the rage to express her loathing. She brought her foot forward and stamped it on the chabutara, ‘My shoe will drink water from their hands!’

‘You called, bahenji?’ Pushpa said coming down the stairs. She looked sullen and everyone noticed it. She sat next to Kartaro on the chabutara.
Meladei mentioned the Hindu–Muslim conflict, and then said, ‘What happened, girl? Why this dour face?’

Kartaro answered for her, ‘Fought with the doctor.’

‘Stop it!’ Pushpa turned her face away.

‘Everyone look at that lying face!’ Kartaro pointed at her. ‘Listen, what do you want to hide from your gali neighbours? Look at these educated girls! Sister, it’s your neighbours who hold your hand when you’re in trouble. Husbands are useless at such a time!’ She felt Pushpa’s abdomen, ‘Mare in foal yet?’

Pushpa’s face flushed with embarrassment. She shrank back.

Peeto brought sweet and savoury snacks in two leaf cups, and a chunk of ice tied in the corner of her chunni. Meladei handed the ice to her daughter Dammo, ‘Go and make ice water and fill four glasses. Bring two plates too.’ She turned to Pushpa, ‘So, what was the quarrel about?’

Pushpa had to confess, ‘Auntie, nothing much. He leaves early for the hospital. I got up late today. Was having a wash. The servant lad made paranthas and served him on a dirty plate. He threw away the plate in anger, and left without eating. He could have called me.’

‘Hai! Hai!’ Kartaro put her hands on her head in mock dismay. ‘You ask your servant to feed your husband? See what education does to you! Hey, these are the ways to keep your man hooked. Even a dog obeys the person that feeds it.’

Basant Kaur said, ‘My friend, a husband-and-wife tiff and clouds in the month of October don’t last.’

Tara said to Gyandevi to change the topic, ‘Bahenji, the Hindu–Muslim conflict is nonsense. Where will the two go if they fight one another? Their country is one! Our real fight is with the British oppressor.’

Ishwar Kaur replied vehemently, ‘Don’t be so simple, beti! The Muslims are the ones behind the demand for Pakistan. What’ll we do with the country if we lose our homes and native land? For the British, Hindus are the same as Muslims. Since Khizr and Sikandar formed the ministry in Punjab, can a Hindu get a job in any department? It was unheard of for a Muslim to work as a babu in some office. They used to work as peons, drive tongas or do other menial jobs.’

Gyandevi intervened to end the argument, ‘There should be an iron gate at the entrance of the gali. You all should be ready to defend yourselves.
Whatever donations are received for Bengal, these girls will keep a record. The Committee will issue a receipt for all donations.’

Tara began to get up, ‘Whatever needs to be recorded, Pushpa bahin will do it or I’ll do it. I have to go to my tutoring job, I’ll be late.’

‘Yes, sure, beti, you go ahead.’ Meladei said, ‘Let the menfolk return. Let Masterji, Ratan’s father, Jaidev come back, doctor sahib and Sardarji too. It’s proper to ask the men before making any decision.’

Sheelo climbed the stairs with Tara to her house. Tara went to a corner of the room, washed her face over an area that led to the drainpipe, and removed her neatly folded clothes from a rope slung across the side of the room. She closed the window that opened into the gali.

‘Oh, it’s hot!’ Sheelo said. ‘You shut off the air.’

‘I’ll open it; let me change my clothes first.’ She said. ‘That stupid Biru peeps at me through the window. He’s just a pup, but has learned all the bad ways of a goonda. I haven’t told anyone yet, I feel so embarrassed. But if I do blurt it out someday, I know the gali people will thrash the idiot. We only have one room. It’s very inconvenient to change clothes when father and brother are at home. Sometimes the dupatta slips off the shoulder without one knowing.’

Sheelo was looking hard at Tara’s breasts and at the bra that covered them as she changed her clothes. She said, ‘Your body is no good. Look at mine, it’s imported. I’ll give you mine, you can sew one like it yourself.’

‘No baba no, what I have is fine for me. As it is, mother is always nagging me about wearing such tight clothes,’ Tara said. ‘What do you care? You’re married, you can do what you want. Listen, I’ll be back around half-past-six. Mother will find someone to escort you.’

‘I’m not leaving yet.’ A sparkle came to Sheelo’s eyes and she turned her face away, ‘I have to go back to my in-laws the day after tomorrow. Now that I’m here, let me see Ratan just this once.’

‘You always say,’ Tara took a deep breath, ‘that Mohanji is such a good person. That he really treats you well!’

‘So what! What if he does treat me well?’ Sheelo said. ‘Old infatuations die hard. Can’t one have one’s own wishes and desires after marriage? At home my husband is always after me: don’t eat this, this won’t suit you, you’ll get a cold, your stomach will be upset; where did you spend those four annas? He neither laughs nor shows anger.’

‘Aren’t you scared?’

‘When I should have been, I wasn’t. Now that’s history. Ratan’s the real father.’ Sheelo smiled.

‘What do you mean?’ Tara gasped.

‘It’s his.’ Sheelo said, lowering her gaze.

Tara felt so disgusted that she could hardly breathe. She managed to ask, ‘How?’

‘Don’t you remember, I was once here around noontime? When you came back from the college in the evening, you went to drop me off at Uchchi Gali.’

Tara was speechless. She felt faint at the thought of Sheelo and Ratan committing such a sin in her house.

‘When does he get back?’ Sheelo asked.

‘How should I know!’ Tara said angrily.

‘Save your anger!’ Sheelo said. ‘We’ll see when your time comes. You don’t care for that Somraj either. Sister, such things are ordained by fate.’