This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (111 page)

Kanak hung her head in response to this outrageous insult. Without looking at Sood she replied in English, ‘What has all this got to do with you anyway?’

‘I’ve told you that it does concern me. Panditji is an old and respected member of what’s-its-name the Congress party. I am concerned about his reputation. Puri is like m-my what’s-its-name brother. I’m bothered about his image being smeared. If what’s-his-name Panditji wants the pair of you to get married, you’re a part of my problem too.’

The way Sood silenced Kanak by stating his authority over her made Kanak feel that her brother-in-law Nayyar had appeared in a more belligerent avatar. She sank her head even lower and had difficulty in breathing. She wanted to look at Puri for support.

‘Bhaiji,’ Puri said boldly, ‘I used to visit her house in Lahore and she also came to our place.’

Kanak gave a sigh of relief.

Sood rebuked Puri, ‘Did Panditji allow you to be alone together before getting married? Don’t be silly. Why don’t the two of you just get married?
Panditji wants it and you both want it. Why are you both bent on blackening his name and mine?’

Puri said nothing.

Kanak covered her eyes with her aanchal to hide her tears. She could not bear to deal with such a situation in front of a person like Sood. If her brother-in-law had rebuked her in this way, she would have replied, ‘All right, just get us married off!’ But what to say to a stranger asserting rights over her?

Pointing to Kanak in tears, Sood said to Puri, ‘This won’t serve any purpose. I’ll write to what’s-his-name Panditji today to arrange your marriage without delay and stop all this nonsense. Also she can’t stay here. Let her go off to her sister’s. You can go and what’s-its-name visit her there.’

Sood crossed his arms over his chest and let out an angry hiss to show that his decision was final and irrevocable. Turning to Puri he asked quietly, ‘Where’s the other one?’

Moving like a puppet, Puri went towards the aangan to check. Urmila was sitting absolutely motionless in the aangan, her back to the wall and her head on knees clasped between her arms. Puri stood looking at her for a few moments. He could not bring himself to ask her to face Sood in such a state. He went back inside, and pointed to the door to the aangan.

Sood stood uncertainly, then went out into the aangan. He stopped in front of the motionless figure seated against the wall and spoke in a serious tone, ‘You don’t really want to get married, y-y-you want to be independent, so what’s the point in staying here?’

Without waiting for her reply, he continued, ‘You should learn some skill. Go to the Normal School, train as a nurse or get some kind of a job. If you want to go to college or take some kind of training, your expenses will be taken care of. There’s no sense in your remaining here.’

Urmila, head on her knees, seemed too stunned to reply.

Sood asked, ‘You want to get to the Normal School or the nursing school?’

Urmila still remained silent and motionless.

Sood thought for a moment, then said, ‘Achchha, the nurse from the hospital will come to get you.’ He walked towards the stairs, and Puri followed him.

Puri saw Sood off at the main entrance to the press. Sood got into the tonga waiting in the gali without saying a word, and the tonga drove off.
Puri did not have the courage to face Kanak and Urmila together. He sat downstairs in the office and thought about what he could do next. He felt trapped and could see no way out. Where could Urmila go? She was in no way to blame. How could he let her down? But he could not let Kanak down either. He was equally guilty in the eyes of both.

Rikhiram came and asked him something. Without knowing what he was asked, Puri blew up, ‘Am I supposed to do everything here? Don’t I have to get the weekly ready?’ He pulled himself together, and his voice took on a tone of authority, ‘Should I attend to Soodji or listen to you? You had your own press once. Can’t you make decisions for yourself?’

Rikhiram replied politely to this rebuke, ‘I’m doing what I can, but it also makes sense to check things with the boss.’

Resentment rose in Puri’s heart. Sood’s sly manipulation was demoralizing. Why should he put up with it? ‘Why should Soodji interfere in my affairs? I alone am responsible for my actions. I am prepared to deal with it and face the consequences, even at the cost of my life. What had happened in those abnormal circumstances could not be judged according to regular standards. It would take unusual considerations to find solutions. I myself will have to bear the consequences, not someone else. I simply cannot send away either woman. The problem concerns the three of us, no one else should interfere. But where would I be without Soodji’s goodwill? The house and the press belong to me only through his generosity. The three of us just cannot leave the house and be out on the street.’ The storm of protest in his mind subsided.

Puri realized that Urmila had been the victim of great misfortune, which he was unable to ward off. The unbearable agony of his helplessness made him want to tear out his heart with his own hands. He had nothing to offer as a solution. What, then, was the point of facing Kanak and Urmila again?

In that fit of impotent anger and frustration he felt caught in the trap of the press, the house and
Nazir
. How could he break through the strong invisible mesh that entangled him? How could he have got into all this trouble without the bait of a press and a house? Wouldn’t a job as a helper and dishwasher at Chandan’s dhaba have been better than this humiliation?

The clatter of machinery stopped and he realized that it was one o’clock. Noticing that he had forgotten to wind up his watch that morning, his fingers absent mindedly wound it up. He still could not muster the courage to go upstairs to his apartment.

The work resumed after the lunch break. His eyes went to his watch. Half an hour had gone by. He asked the peon for a drink of water.

There was a rattling at the lock chain at the main entrance to the press. The peon went to check and came back with a middle-aged woman who looked like a servant. The woman handed Puri an envelope addressed to him. It was a letter from the civil hospital. On Sood’s order, the hospital ayah had come to get Urmila.

Puri felt he was being turned into an unfeeling machine, that he was being forced to do something wrong. He sat idle for a few moments more.

The ayah reminded Puri, ‘Babu, call the girl. The ambulance is waiting in the gali. The driver will be upset.’

Puri summoned all his strength to get up. ‘I’ll call her,’ he replied, and went upstairs.

Since Sood had left after pronouncing his decision, Urmila had remained sitting against the wall in stunned silence. After a few minutes the realization dawned on her, ‘They’re throwing me out! Where will I go? What refuge do I have in this world?’ Tears ran down her cheeks. She felt like screaming and crying, but how could she let that saut, that other woman, hear her wailing? She calmed down, and with her head bent, wept in silence. Her ears were alert for any sound of footsteps. If ‘he’ came, she would clasp his feet in her hands and beg, ‘Don’t throw me out into the street. I’ll do anything you say, I’ll stay in some corner and keep out of your way. Or give me some poison and kill me, but don’t make me leave.’

But when nobody came, the suspense made her ever more miserable. Her tears had dried up. The sun climbed up and was now overhead, leaving a yard-wide strip of shade at the base of the wall against which her back rested. She had not moved from her spot. Then she heard footsteps. At last, it was Puri. She rose quickly. Puri’s eyes were red too.

‘The woman from the hospital is here to take you with her. Don’t worry. I’ll come and explain everything to you. Take some clothes. The ayah’s waiting downstairs.’ Puri spoke almost in a whisper.

She bit her lip to choke back her tears, and begged him with her palms joined, ‘Don’t make me leave. I…’

‘Don’t be upset. Just go now,’ Puri said in the same tone of voice, and quickly went back downstairs. He found it hard to stop himself from crying.

Urmila held her head in her hands and leaned against the wall for support.
Then she sat down again. After a while she heard someone call her name from the stairwell. It was a woman’s voice.

Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to get up. Without bothering to hide the noise, she threw open her tin trunk, and took out a salwar-kameez suit and a dupatta. She knew that the other woman was sitting on the chatai in the next room. To avoid looking at her, Urmila walked past with her eyes averted. The ayah was waiting on the landing. Urmila followed her down, holding on to the side on the stairwell for support.

Puri was waiting in the doorway of the press. As Urmila went past him with her head bent, he held out his closed hand and said, ‘Take this, you might need it.’

Urmila ignored his extended fist.

Puri stood in the doorway and watched Urmila walk behind the ayah as they went through the gali towards the bazaar. The driver opened the door of the van and the ayah helped Urmila climb in, and then got in herself. The driver shut the door.

Unable to hold back his tears, Puri went towards the lavatory at the back of the press. He returned fifteen minutes later, washed his face and hands at the water faucet, and sat down in the office. A few minutes later he slowly went upstairs.

When he had gone before to get Urmila, Kanak had been asleep covered with her blanket, her face towards the wall, and he had gone through the room without making any noise. Now he called, ‘Kanni, are you asleep?’

Kanak sat up, ‘I fell asleep after you left. Hadn’t slept last night. Oh, its three o’clock. Where have you been?’

‘Kanni, you went to sleep without eating anything. I’ve been occupied with a few things. I had to make some arrangement for that poor girl.’

‘Has she left?’ Kanak asked with some relief.

‘I’d talked to Soodji about her. She hasn’t passed even her matric exam. She wanted to train as a nurse, but until she becomes self-supporting, I have to do my duty by her.’

Ignoring Puri’s mention of his duty, Kanak said, ‘This brother of yours, Soodji, has a strange way of talking. How is it his business if I stay here?’ Her cheeks became crimson with embarrassment. To hide her shyness, she shot him a reproachful look, and laid her head against his shoulder. She said, looking into his eyes, ‘Did I come all this way only to be put through this?’

Taking her in his arms, Puri said, ‘Even pitaji would agree with Soodji’s arrangements.’

‘Who does this Soodji of yours think he is anyway? When I went to Delhi in December, pitaji brought up this subject himself. He wants us to get married soon,’ Kanak said a little smugly, and nuzzled his chest.

She asked about the launch of
Nazir
, and then told Puri the story of how she had got her job and how Awasthi had mistreated her. ‘You didn’t send for me, but I’ve arrived at the right moment to help you.’

Kanak thought it prudent to spend that night at her sister’s. She had Nayyar’s address from his letter. Puri took her to the address in Mandi Bazaar. He didn’t want to go in uninvited, but changed his mind after Kanak’s insistence and in consideration of his future relationship with her family.

Nayyar and Kanta realized that Kanak had come to Jalandhar after getting the news from Nayyar’s letter, and thought that Puri had known in advance about her arrival and must have collected her at the railway station. No doubts remained in their minds about the purpose of her coming. They still asked affectionately, ‘Couldn’t you have informed us also about your arrival?’

Kanak sidestepped the question by saying, ‘Didn’t my sudden appearance please you even more?’ Pretending to be busy playing with Nano, she quickly changed the subject.

Nayyar’s family had to make do with limited living space. Their house, although not very old, consisted of two rooms opening on to a small aangan, a bathroom, a tiny kitchen and an even smaller bunker for storing coal. The room overlooking the bazaar served also as a living room, with just an ordinary desk and three kitchen chairs and a small takht pushed against the wall. At night a charpoy was put in the room for Nayyar’s mother to sleep on. Nayyar chatted with Kanak until after nine, and then turned to the study of his next day’s court cases. Kanak had to share a bed with her sister. Kanak could not help remembering the style and comfort in which Nayyar had lived in his Model Town bungalow in Lahore, but there was no point in mentioning it now.

After Sood had taken the matter of Puri and Kanak into his hands, he had wanted to resolve it quickly as he did everything else. He asked Puri for Nayyar’s address, and invited him to a meeting. The letter Kanta and Nayyar
wrote to Panditji made no reference of any misconduct, and merely asked Panditji to give his blessings to Kanak for a happy and successful married life.

Puri decided to consider his actions as indiscretions committed in a state of mental confusion caused by the turmoil in his life. In order to go on with his life in a straightforward and honest way, he saw it as his duty to accept responsibility for his past mistakes.

On his way back home after seeing Kanak off on the train to Delhi, he stopped by at the civil hospital.

Urmila came out on being told she had a visitor. Seeing Puri, she bowed her head and stood in silence.

Puri again told her not to worry and that he would help her in every way. He asked if she needed anything.

Urmila did not look back at him. She turned to go back, without saying a word.

Puri went back three days later, but was told that Urmila had been sent to Ludhiana to train as a nurse.

SEVERAL UNEXPECTED PROBLEMS, IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE DEATH OF
Gandhiji, had kept Home Secretary Rawat very busy. Overburdened by the demands of his position, he had little time for himself, much less to think about fulfilling his promise to Tara. One evening, exhausted by a day’s work at the office and needing a change of scene, he went to the club. When he met Mr Agarwal there, Rawat was reminded that he had neglected to invite the Agarwals to dinner.

The inclusion of Tara in the invitation displeased Mrs Agarwal. Her misgivings about hiring Tara were proving well founded. ‘Rawat, Dey, sahib, Narottam, they can’t seem to tear their eyes away from Tara. How Shyama had taken Tara’s arm and made her sit beside her! She’s always encouraging Tara unnecessarily. And Rawat chatted with Tara as if he had known her for years. Doesn’t he realize that Tara is the same age as his own daughter!’

For the dinner at the club, Mrs Agarwal had worn a Benarasi sari with real gold and silver embroidery, and her
navaratna
jewellery. No one paid any attention to her expensive outfit. Tara had gone in a simple white voile sari with a wide black border, a black blouse, and two thick black glass bangles. Mrs Agarwal was put out at being ignored in front of her employee. She thought, ‘What do men care about fine jewellery and silk? All they fancy is young woman, a new one everyday.’

Madam had taken care to give Tara as little opportunity as possible of coming into contact with her husband or men who came to the house as visitors. She had had bad experiences with Miss Edwards, and with her own widowed younger sister, but young women, it seemed to her, just couldn’t resist the chance of parading before men. Narottam had been hovering around Tara from the moment he laid eyes on her. Since the evening of the party in the upstairs drawing room, sahib too had begun to pay a lot of attention to Tara. His hair was turning grey, but his old habit seemed to be dying hard. He’d send for Tara for such trivial tasks as finding the newspaper. Filled with resentment towards Tara, Mrs Agarwal did not feel like speaking with her, but as the mistress of the house she could not always avoid it. Her irritation would often make her scold Tara.

The feeing of contentment and of having found a refuge at AA gradually disappeared from Tara’s mind. Which woman cannot sense the jealousy eating away at another woman’s heart, and the feelings that men harbour towards her own self? She knew that she was a mere employee, and as such could not ignore others in the family. She was well aware of the reasons for madam’s resentment, however overblown, and found them embarrassing. She felt madam was taking advantage of her helplessness. Even the slightest attention from sahib bothered Tara. The kindness shown by Rawat gave her heart, but she had reservations about his sympathy too.

Tara’s application for a government job had been submitted. Narottam drafted the application, had it typed up, and got Tara to sign it. The application stated that Tara was an MA student. She was uneasy about stating such an untruth, but Narottam insisted, ‘Both mummy and daddy told everyone that you’re studying for MA Rawat said the same thing when he telephoned the director of the Rehabilitation Department to recommend you. You want them all to be proven liars? You’ll be hired first as a temporary employee. If someone demands a proof, we’ll deal with it later.’

Narottam filled Tara in about Rawat, ‘He’s forceful and good at heart, but people say women are his weakness. His wife’s dead, his son’s a deputy collector in Bihar. There’s nobody else in the family except his elder sister and the boss-lady, his daughter Neelam.’ Neelam was a student of Miranda College, and had failed once in her BA exam. Rawat wanted to marry her off before his retirement and, for that reason, was particularly warm-hearted towards Narottam. Mr Agarwal was willing to be broad-minded about Rawat being from a different caste, and turn down offers of a substantial dowry from other families. However, Narottam was unwilling to marry anyone as vain as Neelam.

Tara’s tribulations increased in March 1948. Mrs Agarwal’s manner was becoming increasingly brusque, and the assurance that Tara felt by Narottam’s presence in the house had ended. Although it was Tara who was seeking a job, it was Narottam who received an offer. Despite the disapproval of mummy and daddy, he accepted the position of works manager (under training) at the Shaadpur Ordnance Factory. He left on his motorcycle for the factory at seven in the morning, and did not return before 6.30 in the evening.

One evening Mrs Agarwal was away from home. Tara was with the
children at their dinner when sahib came home. He first inquired about madam from a servant, then sent for Tara. He said, ‘I’m going to the club. Do come along. Rawat Sahib was asking after you.’

Tara did want to remind Rawat about her application for the job, but she said, ‘Bahinji’s not home. Without her permission…’

‘Arey, you come along. Change your sari if you like. I’m waiting,’ he commanded.

Rawat was in the Billiard Room. Mr Agarwal and Tara went in. Rawat saw them, and gestured to them to wait, and continued his play.

After the round was over Rawat escorted his guests to the lounge. Mr Agarwal promptly ordered two whiskeys and a pineapple juice for Tara. Rawat broached the subject himself, ‘Did you hear from the director of rehabilitation?’

Tara gave Rawat a forlorn look, and shook her head, ‘Ji, no.’

‘What?’ Rawat exclaimed and summoned the butler. He lighted his pipe and giving the butler a telephone number, said, ‘Call this number and let me know.’

The butler came back shortly to inform him that the call had gone through. Rawat, pipe in mouth, went to the telephone,

When he returned, he questioned Tara, ‘Why didn’t you go to meet Mittal, I mean, the director of rehabilitation?’

‘Ji, I know nothing about it. When was I called?’

‘You silly girl,’ Rawat said, chewing on the stem of his pipe. ‘He’s been waiting for you to fill the vacancy. He says that he had someone call your place.’

‘Ji, I don’t understand.’ Tara said apologetically.

Rawat feigned anger at Mr Agarwal, ‘Why,
lala
, what’s up? You don’t want to let the girl slip through your fingers?’

‘Sir, how could I be so bold,’ Mr Agarwal laughed. ‘How could I compete with you?’

Tara did not appreciate being the butt of a joke, but to humour Rawat she lifted her eyes to him and smiled shyly.

‘Look at her!’ Mr Agarwal spoke up. ‘She blushes only when you’re around. She doesn’t even smile for me.’

Tara gave him a weak smile also, just to restore the balance.

Rawat raised his finger in warning, ‘Miss Tara has to meet the director of rehabilitation day after tomorrow at eleven. Don’t forget!’

‘Sure. The car will drop her there at quarter to eleven.’

When Rawat finished his drink, Mr Agarwal said, ‘Have another. Or would you like me to order dinner?’

‘No, no. No dinner,’ Rawat said to Mr Agarwal. ‘Have you ever eaten
ghurarh—
mountain deer? Chandola sent some from Ranikhet. Have dinner at my place.’

Tara wanted to go back to AA, but could not refuse Rawat’s invitation.

On reaching the drawing room in his home, Rawat summoned a bearer. ‘Serve dinner,’ he said, nodding at Tara and Mr Agarwal, ‘Two guests. Bring us whiskey and soda for now.’

Rawat and Mr Agarwal sipped their drinks as they waited for the dinner to be served. Tara picked up a photo album and was browsing through it when the curtain over the door to the next room swayed gently. From a strip of a sari visible under the curtain she knew that someone had peeped in.

It was 10.15 when Mr Agarwal and Tara reached home. Madam came out of the drawing room, but said nothing. In anger her large fleshy face looked even more puffy. Mr Agarwal went to his room upstairs. Tara was going towards her room at the back when she heard madam’s stern voice, ‘Come here!’ She returned to the drawing room.

‘Where have you been?’ Madam demanded.

‘Sahib took me to the club. Rawat Sahib had asked for me.’

‘Did you come here to work or to have a good time? Who gave you permission to go there?’

‘I told sahib that I should get your permission, but sahib said…’

‘Why bring sahib into this? Are you here to work for me or become a saut? Do you think I’m blind? If you feed milk to a snake a thousand times, it’ll still bite you.’ Madam continued to abuse her in a harsh voice. Tara stood with her head bowed.

Jugal came and said quietly to madam, ‘Sahib’s calling you.’

‘All right. I’m coming,’ madam replied sharply, and continued to shout at Tara. ‘You’re not needed anymore. Go back to the camp tomorrow.’

‘What’s going on?’ Mr Agarwal came into the room.

Tara turned immediately to leave. As she was going out she heard sahib shouting angrily. She quickly went to her room and closed the door.

Seething with anger and humiliation, she spent the night in a state of panic ‘Why can’t I die if a peaceful life is not my destiny.’

The children were woken at 6 a.m. Tara would have a wash, change her clothes and be ready before that time. That morning she had not slept a wink, but got dressed as usual after looking at the small timepiece in her room. Instead of going over to the children’s bedroom, she sat and waited. She had been told to go back to the camp, and she did not want to stay a moment longer. She did not want to have to face anyone after being treated rudely the previous night. She decided not to go back to the camp, but find out Shyama’s address and go to her. She had 175 rupees of her own, enough to rent a room somewhere. Tomorrow was her interview with the director, and she had every hope of getting that job.

Shivni called her name from outside the door, then came in, holding Lalli’s school uniform. She said, ‘Bibiji, what’s wrong? Are you not well? Can Lalli wear the same tunic again, or should I get out a fresh one ready?’ Shivni spoke in a normal voice, as if nothing had happened.

‘Let her wear the same one.’

‘Will you come, or do you want me to give the the kids their breakfast? Do you want me to bring you some tea?’

Shivni’s manner conveyed no hint of disapproval, thought Tara. She replied, ‘I’m coming.’

Narottam was having his breakfast when Tara shepherded the children into the dinning room. He had been having his breakfast regularly at 6.30 in order to leave early, sometimes even before the children arrived. He asked Tara in English, ‘What was all that hullabaloo last night?’

‘Nothing.’

‘There was a row between mummy and daddy. I could hear it in my room.’

‘How would I know?’

‘Mummy hit the roof when she found that daddy took you to the club. She questioned everyone. They went at it hot and heavy last night and I suspect mummy ended up in tears. Quite a messy situation.’

Tara had to explain. She said, ‘I’m leaving today.’

‘How can you leave? Where will you go? You’ll have to make some arrangement before that.’

‘So I should let myself be humiliated? Or get thrown out?’

‘Who can humiliate you and who’ll throw you out? Going to the club was no crime. Daddy took you, it was his responsibility.’

‘Mrs Agarwal has ordered me to leave this house.’

‘She talks nonsense at times. If you must leave, it can be only after proper arrangements are made.’

‘What if she comes and orders me away again?’

Narottam was silent for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll stay. I won’t go to the factory. I’ll telephone.’

Tara insisted, ‘No, go to work.’

Narottam ignored her protest and dialled 281, his factory’s number.

Mr Agarwal was in the drawing room with two visitors who had come at 8 a.m. He ate his breakfast at 8.30, and sent for Tara before leaving for the office.

Tara stood with her head bowed. Sahib asked in English, ‘Is anything troubling you?’ Then added, ‘You don’t have to worry about anything.’

On hearing that sahib had sent for Tara, Narottam stayed within earshot. Sahib said when he saw Narottam, ‘You didn’t go to the factory today?’

‘I couldn’t. My motorcycle’s spark plug is giving trouble. I’ve informed the factory.’

‘Why don’t you get a small car for yourself? Okay, you’re free today. Miss Tara has to go to her job tomorrow. If she needs clothes or anything, you take care of it. Give the bill to me, understand?’

Madam hadn’t come out of her room. The household chores were done as usual, only the sound of madam’s voice was missing. When maaji inquired about her daughter-in-law, Shivni said, ‘She has a headache.’

Spending the night being angry left Tara tense and edgy. She sat with the children for lunch, but could not eat. After sending the children off to their rooms for a siesta, she asked Shivni, ‘Would you know where sleeping pills or the headache medicines are kept? Bring me some. Give me a cup of tea, or just hot water with it. I’m going to lie down.’

Shivni brought her tea and the medicine. She sat down on the floor next to Tara’s bed, and said kindly, ‘Do you want me to rub your head with oil or massage your temples?’

Tara said no, but Shivni remained sitting near her. She muttered under her breath, ‘Madam didn’t eat anything. She’s sulking. She got a real dressing down last night. She talks far too much. Gets a good thrashing when she does that. She asks for it. The same thing happened when her sister was here. She’s from the bania caste, not from any sahib or officer-type family. Families of upper-class people don’t behave the same way as we do being poor, low-caste people, where a woman can’t speak or joke with men. She
herself is always sucking up to her guests. I’ve seen thousands of women and wives from upper-class families. I’ve spent my life in their service. I’m not saying this only to please you, but, bibiji, I’ve never seen anyone as sensible and even-tempered as you are. Everyone praises you.’

‘I want to sleep. You also get some rest too.’ Tara turned her back to the maid.

Shivni left, but Tara could not sleep. She was thinking: Is it a curse to be born as a woman? Is that all there is to being a woman? Such a rich
sethani
, mistress of a mansion with so many servants, a mother, who owns jewellery worth a fortune, has high social status and prestige, but her husband can still beat her whenever he wants. The incident on her wedding night came back to her mind. A woman is at the mercy of menfolk all her life.