This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (107 page)

‘Miss Dutta, forgive me,’ Gill said in English, taking a deep breath. ‘I got carried away and lost track of time.’

‘Won’t you come again? I feel so lonely. I know hardly anyone here,’ Kanak said earnestly.

‘I take this road going to my work. If you need any help let me know. I stay at the office even in my free time. There’s nowhere else to go. Our telephone number is 893.’

‘Do come around if you have time. I’m in room seventeen. What time do you get back?’

‘I get off at an awkward time, 2.30 or three in the morning. May I come tomorrow after midday?’

‘Sure. I really enjoyed the walk today. I was so fed up with having nothing to do.’

Next day Kanak opened the door to Mrs Pant’s room and sat behind the bamboo curtain, reading the newspaper, then a book as she waited for Gill, and thinking absent-mindedly, ‘Such a nice man, and what he had to go through.’

Girija Bhabhi came by after her lunch around two o’clock, cleaning her teeth with a toothpick. She invited Kanak to her room to ask about the job interview. She lay down, asked Kanak to sit beside her on the bed and began to talk. Lahore had a sizeable Kashmiri community, and many of Bhabhi’s relatives lived there. Bhabhi was very fond of the city. Kanak could not get away for nearly an hour.

Gill had not arrived by sunset. The room seemed to close in around her as she waited for him. She decided not to wait any longer, went to the front veranda to call his number, and asked for Gill.

Gill said, ‘I went to room seventeen between 2.15 and 2.30. The door was shut. I’ll come tomorrow at the same time.’

Kanak was dismayed. Her thoughts returned many times to their conversation.

She waited impatiently the next day, as if waiting for someone from her family or an old acquaintance. She wore a suit of salwar-kameez and dupatta instead of a sari, in order to be able to walk more comfortably.

Gill said, ‘The other day your speech indicated that you were a Punjabi, but in a sari you looked a bit foreign to me, and older. Today you look more natural.’

Kanak gave a satisfied smile.

That day they walked in front of the Council House and past the bazaar of Hazaratganj, through the lawns and parks beyond, crossed the bridge over the Gomati River and went up to Faizabad Road. It was pleasant to walk under the winter sun on wide, deserted, tree-lined roads. Kanak spoke of her days in Delhi, the incident at Durrani Gali, Syed’s complaint to Gandhiji and the intervention by the police.

Gill spoke briefly about his journey on foot from Rawalpindi to Ferozepur.

Wanting to be frank with Gill, she told him about Aseer, the managing editor of
Sardar
, and Sinha, her stupidity of accepting the drink, and how she resisted their advances. She felt greatly relieved after opening her heart to Gill.

To fill a pause in the conversation, Kanak asked, ‘How did you meet Saraswati?’

Gill told her everything in great detail.

On the way back, Gill was still deep in his story as they crossed Hazaratganj. On reaching the Coffee House, Kanak said, ‘We must have a coffee.’

As they sat over their coffee cups, Kanak remembered, ‘What a blessing that bore Alok is not with us.’

Gill failed to turn up the next day. After waiting until sunset, she telephoned anxiously.

Gill said that the proofreader on the afternoon shift was sick, and he had to fill in for him.

Gill could not come for the next two days either. Kanak felt lonely and even more miserable than she had the week before. Mrs Pant said when she returned that evening, ‘Give me some mithai, here’s to celebrate your letter of appointment. You have to join tomorrow.’

Kanak’s heart brimmed with joy. With the dearness allowance added, her salary was going to be 235 rupees per month. She thought of telephoning Gill at once and telling him, ‘You stood aside to let me have this job, but will I be up to it? I’ve so much to learn.’

Kanak got back from her first day in the office after being there from 10 to 5. She had not done any real work, but spent most of her time sitting at a desk receiving training. She felt tired and entitled to some rest; so she lay down and covered herself with a shawl. The short winter day was fading into dusk. Feeling lazy and to give her eyes some rest, she did not turn on the light. She thought she would overcome her fatigue before telling Gill about her first day on the job.

‘Is Pant in?’ She heard Awasthi’s voice from outside. She straightened her sari and got up. Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, she went to the door, ‘Please come in.’

Awasthi entered with a laugh, ‘What are you doing? Thought I’ll come and congratulate you.’

Kanak said shyly, ‘It was all due to your kindness. You deserve the credit. I thought I’d go and thank you tomorrow during the lunch break.’

‘Come and sit down. You have nothing to thank me for,’ he said, sitting on an armchair between the two beds. ‘You’re right. It was my responsibility and you were so unsure of yourself. Come sit here, why don’t you.’

Kanak was about to switch on the light.

‘Arey, let it be. You’re not going to do any embroidery, are you? My eyes are tired after pouring over those files all day. Let me rest them a bit. Sit down.’

Kanak sat primly on the edge of the bed near the armchair. ‘Would you like me to send for tea?’ she asked.

‘Arey, who wants tea.’

‘I’d like to have a cup.’

‘You can have it later. What’s the rush?’

Kanak was sitting with her legs together, and her clasped hands around her knees. Awasthi took one of her hands into his, and said with a smile, ‘Are you happy now?’

She pulled back her hand, and wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders, said, ‘Thanks. You really helped me.’ Her tone became serious, and she moved away a little.

‘Are you thanking me or throwing stones at me? Let me congratulate you properly. Come here.’ Awasthi’s paan-stained lips spread in a peculiar smile. He tried to grab Kanak’s elbow.

Kanak got up from the bed and moved towards the door. She said, her brow creased in anger, ‘What are you doing? Speak out whatever you want to say.’ She switched the light on.

‘What do I have to say? That’s a fine way to show your thanks and gratitude!’

‘If that’s what you think, I don’t want this job. I can go back to Delhi.’

The bamboo curtain covering the door was raised. ‘What’s going on?’ asked Mrs Pant as she entered, then exclaimed in delight, ‘Aha, Awasthiji! When did you come?’

She looked at Awasthi, then at Kanak. ‘Why, what is it?’ she asked with curiosity mixed with surprise, her eyes again going from one to the other.

Awasthi, his face grim, sat in the armchair without moving. He gave Kanak a hard stare, ‘What do you mean by this? Who do you think you are?’

‘What has happened?’ Mrs Pant asked uneasily.

‘Whatever we do for her, she’s never satisfied,’ Awasthi said from the chair, his eyes hard and glaring.

‘What happened,’ Mrs Pant asked again.

‘Ask her,’ said Awasthi as he went out into the veranda.

‘Why don’t you say something? What happened?’

‘I don’t like all this,’ Kanak replied, her eyes downcast.

‘If you don’t like it then take your things and get out! What is it that you don’t like?’ Mrs Pant asked in a harsh voice.

Kanak’s body and mind burned with rage. She flashed a piercing look at Mrs Pant. Then bowed her head and biting her lip, stood silently. She felt like walking out then and there, but where could she go?

Mrs Pant admonished her again, ‘Why don’t you speak up? What is it that you don’t like? Didn’t we do everything we could for you? If you’re used to such fancy living, why don’t you find a place in the hotel across the street?’

‘No, bahinji, that’s not the reason. I’m much obliged to you as it is,’ Kanak said meekly.

‘What is it then? What else do you want?’

‘I don’t like being pawed,’ Kanak tried to explain that her anger was not directed at Mrs Pant.

‘Oh sure! Aren’t you the last of the touch-me-not maidens! It was you who was chasing Awasthiji. You used to go after him in Nainital, now you’re here from Delhi. Aren’t you ashamed of smearing his reputation? Everybody knows about his status and high position,’ keeping her voice low, Mrs Pant accused Kanak of improper behaviour.

Kanak, her head still bent, said quietly, ‘Bahinji, you weren’t here. What can I tell you? Believe what you please. Where can I go at this time of night? I’ll leave tomorrow.’

‘Don’t do me any favours. Do whatever you like.’ Mrs Pant continued to mutter disdainfully as she changed into an ordinary sari. ‘So it’s come to this! You do someone a favour and they snap back at you. Doing a good turn earns you a bad name.’

Mrs Pant went out of the room. Walking towards the dinning hall she called out in her normal tone, ‘Arey Bechu, be kind enough to serve me a couple of chapattis.’

Kanak stood motionless, wrapped in thought for several minutes. Then she went out resolutely, shut the door without locking it, and went towards
Girija Bhabhi’s suite. She tapped gently at her door with her finger. Bhabhi asked in a growl, ‘What is it? Who’s it at this hour?’

Kanak pushed the door open, went in and said, ‘It’s me, mummy.’

Girija Bhabhi had a suite of two rooms. She lay on her bed in the inner room, reading the morning newspaper in the light of a bedside lamp. She held the paper at arm’s length.

‘What are you doing here at this hour of the night?’ Bhabhi asked removing her reading glasses. Her tone changed when she saw Kanak’s expression, ‘What’s happened? Come here.’ She moved aside to make room for Kanak.

Kanak could not speak for a while as she sat on the bed. Bhabhi put her hand consolingly on her back and asked, ‘Why, was that mua Thakur bothering you?’

Kanak bit her lip to choke back her tears, and briefly told about Awasthi’s behaviour and Mrs Pant’s harsh words. Then she said, ‘Mummy, where can I go at this time of night? I’ll go back to Delhi tomorrow. I don’t care to have such a job.’

‘Hah, just look at this stupid girl!’ Bhabhi scolded her affectionately in her typical throaty voice. ‘This so-called job was not a charitable gift from what’s-his-name Awasthi! You are now a government employee, entitled to your salary. Is this what you mean by your so-called resolve to stand on your own two feet? Listen, if you cry I’ll give you a slap. What can that bastard do to harm you? If he dares, I’ll go straight to the CM. Such scoundrels give the Congress party a bad name. When these no-goods had nothing and were jailed for taking part in political movements, they were fine. Reaching public positions has gone to their heads. Common decency is too rich a dish for curs like them to stomach. And if that creature from Nainital bothers you again, tell her to speak to your mummy. Such an uncultured, stupid female. Are the likes of her worthy of being members of the assembly? Don’t worry, I’ll make some arrangement for you. I had my suspicions since I first saw you with her.’

Feeling no appetite, Kanak didn’t even think of dinner. Rage over the indignity meted out to her was making her feel hot even under a single blanket. Feeling light-headed, she dozed off thinking, ‘The fear of being humiliated makes a woman so vulnerable. Men can treat other men like slaves, profit from their labour, take away their money and demand bribes from them, but women they only want to humiliate.’ She cried quietly,
thinking of Puri, ‘Where are you? Have you forgotten me? Didn’t you hear my radio message? What else can I do? I can’t go back to being a burden on my father. What if Gill and not Mrs Pant had come at that moment?’ Kanak saw in her imagination Gill punching Awasthi in the face. ‘Gill is so nice, but why do I always need a male to defend my honour? Why can’t I defend myself? Mummy was right, what harm could Awasthi do? It was he who got snubbed. I can belong to no one but Puriji. Where is he? There’s no point in losing heart. Look at Gill. What he has not been through. Maybe I’ll see him tomorrow.

Girija Bhabhi made arrangements for Kanak to stay with a respectable Kayastha family on Cantonment Road near the Councillors Residence. Munshi Shankar Saran was a retired school headmaster, who had rented out half of his house to supplement his pension. He had married off his three daughters, but the eldest became a widow and came back with her six-year-old daughter to live with her parents. She had managed to pass the teachers training exam after her husband’s death, and was now teaching at a girls’ school.

Munshiji rented out Kanak a room in his half of the house. A charpoy fitted into one end of the room without leaving any space at the head or foot. A small cupboard was built into the wall. Between the door and the bed was just enough space to fit another bed. Munshiji put a cheap rattan chair and a low three-legged stool in this empty space so that the room could be considered ‘furnished’. With a window overlooking the street and another on the adjoining wall, the room could be said to be ‘cross-ventilated’. Out of his respect for Girija Bhabhi, Munshiji had accepted Kanak as a paying guest at 75 rupees per month.

As Kanak had to change her residence in a hurry, she could not tell Gill about it immediately. Girija Bhabhi had been very supportive, but Gill was of her own age and from Lahore. He was someone she could speak to freely to her heart’s content. A couple of days later she telephoned Gill after work, to tell him about her new address.

She changed from sari to salwar-kameez upon reaching home. The street lights were on. She looked onto the street through her window, and seeing Gill approach, quickly left the house. Their eyes lit up upon seeing each other.

‘I thought that you had forgotten about me,’ she said, pretending to pout, giving him an accusing look.

‘Wah, every time I came this way, I passed in front of room seventeen of the Councillors Residence. How would I know that you changed your address? I asked Mrs Pant yesterday when I saw her. She replied brusquely, just like a UP-wallah, “What do I know? She’s left this place.”’ Gill added, ‘I’d have been worried if you hadn’t phoned me.’

Their eyes met again. Kanak’s heart filled with satisfaction that there was someone who cared for her, someone she could lean on.

‘What’s this? You’re not wearing anything warm.’ she said with concern. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She had left her heavy woollens in Delhi, and had brought along only a shawl and a cardigan when coming to Lucknow in November.