This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (120 page)

Sheelo went out, and Tara used the opportunity to look around the room. All of Sheelo’s possessions were in that one room. Bricks were placed under the legs of the large charpoy to raise its height. There was another, smaller charpoy under it, and beneath that, two steel trunks. Clothes hung from pegs on the walls, and were slung over a line. In a corner were empty kerosene oil canisters for storing wheat and lentils, and on top of them, some wilted vegetables. A few pots and pans were stacked to one side of the large charpoy. A wall shelf showed two tins of baby food, and several containers of spices and other kitchen items. In another corner was a brazier made by lining the inside of an old bucket with clay, apparently unused since the morning.

After a while a young boy brought some food in leaf cups and wrapped in newspapers, with a chunk of ice. Sheelo made ice water in a lota. She served the food on a thali that she took from the stack of utensils, and put it in front of Tara on the charpoy. She sat beside Tara and invited her fondly, ‘Have something. The chickpeas are still hot.’

‘You also have something. I said yes only because you couldn’t have eaten since this morning. I wasn’t really hungry.’

‘You know I couldn’t eat until my husband had eaten first. Who knows if he has or hasn’t?’

‘You deserve a good slap in the face! You stupid idiot!’ Tara was infuriated, ‘To hell with your
sanskaras
and conventions! He torments you so much, you are repulsed by him, and yet you’re willing to go hungry because of him! Why should you give a damn?’

‘But he’s my husband. This is my fate!’ Sheelo took a deep breath, and bowed her head.

‘If you won’t eat neither will I!’

‘You know how it is. I can’t eat anything.’ Tears welled into Sheelo’s eyes.

Tara left without eating, fuming at Sheelo’s attitude.

Tara received another letter from Narottam on her return from the office next day on Monday afternoon. Reading it after the previous day’s events put her in a better frame of mind. Narottam had been transferred first to the Kanpur Ordnance Factory as works manager, then to Calcutta where he had been for the past three months as the assistant deputy director. His letters,
a page and a half long, arrived regularly, with news of his activities and amusing anecdotes. Tara would write back, ‘Don’t invent all these stories and don’t keep writing that you miss me. Poor Neelam is on tenterhooks waiting for you. I hope you have not lost your heart to some Bengali lass. Don’t do anything foolish, or else! But I have every confidence that you are being a good boy. A real good boy.

‘You must have met new people in Calcutta. There you can go to cinemas, clubs and theatres. I had only two friends, you and Mercy, and you went away. I will make you answer for it when you come back. So don’t just pretend that you miss me.

‘Anyway, how can I complain if you have to be in Calcutta because of your job? What else can I write, but we shall have a real good chat when you are here. The pressure of work keeps me busy in the office, but Sundays become boring without you. Well, everything seems boring these days.’

In his most recent letter Narottam had written, ‘I owe you a lot for what has happened in my life. I have been posted to New Delhi as the liaison officer with the Ministry of Defence. Look, you made a wish and I got the transfer. Why did you not make that wish earlier?

‘I will reach Delhi on Friday. I am longing to hear what you have to say when we meet face-to-face, or perhaps you will just smile as usual and say nothing. And if you speak, will it be what I am waiting to hear. Because if you don’t say it I will have to say it. But I am not sure I would be able to do it properly. I am just an ordinary person who knows only how to deal with clumsy ungainly things such as machines, not with fine and subtle points of language like you.

‘I feel as if I am already in the train that will take me to you and the train has taken wings…’

Narottam showed up on Friday evening. Mercy was at home, and she and Tara warmly welcomed him. He stayed for about two hours, but spoke very little and mostly smiled. With thoughts of Sheelo tugging at her heart, Tara was not very talkative either. When he was leaving Tara said, ‘You wrote that you had so much to talk about, but you’ve hardly said a word. We are meeting after five months. Now you must come every day.’

Mercy was at home again when Narottam came the next evening. This time also he did not say much, but had a faraway look, as if all his new responsibilities were weighing on his mind.

Mercy said lightly, ‘What’s the matter. Why’re you both so quiet? Tara
is angry that you left her alone and went away to Calcutta. You have to make it up to her.’

Narottam asked as he was leaving, ‘Tomorrow’s Sunday. If it’s convenient, I’ll come around ten o’clock.’ He knew that Mercy had to go to work for an emergency.

Tara had decided to go and see Sheelo, but she agreed, ‘Have lunch here.’ She could go to Shakti Nagar after midday, she told herself.

Tara had once made paranthas stuffed with potatoes for Narottam, which he had greatly relished. On Sunday morning she told Chimmo to get together the ingredients for the same dish. Mercy said as she was leaving for the clinic, ‘I’ll be back before lunch. Wait for me.’

Narottam arrived at 10.15. Tara was in the kitchen, dressing lady’s finger for another spicy dish. Although working in the kitchen had left some stains of turmeric on her dhoti, she decided not to change into a clean one. She had put a few mangoes in ice water intending to serve them as desert after lunch. Now she asked Narottam to have a seat, sliced a mango and putting the plate in front of him, said, ‘Taste this. I’ll be back in a minute. Just want to make sure that Chimmo doesn’t mess up the okras.’

Narottam had not touched the mango when she returned. When Tara insisted, he ate one slice and wiped his hands on his handkerchief. He had not said a word.

‘Why’re you so quiet? Thinking of Neelam? Have been to see her yet?’ Tara asked with a smile. When he made no reply, she felt awkward and kept silent.

‘Do you really think that I’m a useless good-for-nothing?’ he asked.

‘I’ve had no reason to change my mind,’ Tara replied, pursing her lips, then frowned and added, ‘You seem to have developed a taste for flattery now that you’re a high official. Do you want me to butter you up to your face?’

‘No, I don’t want you to sing my praises at all. I don’t think I deserve it. Perhaps everyone finds me insufferable. Anyway, nobody can be aware of his shortcomings.’

‘Well, what do you want then,’ she asked, without looking at him. She felt an urge to laugh at his seriousness and the effort to suppress it caused her face to flush

‘Promise me that you’ll listen to what I have to say.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Tara tried to keep a straight face.

‘You’ve known me for some time, and quite well.’

‘I think so,’ Tara said earnestly.

‘Please tell me any faults that you may have seen in me,’ he asked gravely.

Tara bowed her head, thinking, ‘What’s wrong with him today!’

‘Why don’t you say something?’

‘There’s one fault you have,’ she pretended to be solemn, her eyes on the floor.

‘What?’

‘You ask silly questions just to annoy me.’

‘I had no intention of annoying you. When have I annoyed you deliberately?’

‘Don’t be an idiot? Would I keep asking you back if you were really annoying me?’ she avoided eye contact to keep up her pretence,

Narottam said nothing.

Rising to her feet Tara said, ‘I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to check again on Chimmo. She’s so clumsy.’

Tara had a suspicion that the young man had something bothering him. Deciding to drop the pretences, she said as she returned from the kitchen, ‘Why, what happened? Did Neelam find anything wrong with you?’ Thinking she might have asked too much, she blushed.

Narottam’s face also became flushed. Clearing his throat and leaning forward, he said in English, ‘That Neelam business has turned into a problem. Rawat said something to daddy about announcing our engagement. You know how I really feel about her.’

Without looking at him, she asked, ‘How
do
you feel about her?’

‘You know very well that I don’t want to marry her. But to tell a father that I don’t like his daughter can be a bit hurtful.’

Tara said sympathetically, her gaze still averted, ‘You’ll have to tell the truth sometime or other.’

‘That hurtfulness can be avoided if I own up to another truth,’ Narottam’s tone became even more sombre.

‘Which truth?’ Tara asked in a confiding tone as if to show her willingness to share a secret.

‘I need your permission before I admit anything.’

‘Do you suppose I want to add to your problems by keeping you from confessing the truth? Why wouldn’t I give you my permission?’

‘I’ve a great regard for Neelam, but in all honesty I must confess that
I’ve made up my mind… to declare my love for you.’ Narottam had to summon all his courage to utter these words.

Tara felt as if a live electric wire had touched her. She sighed deeply, got up and went towards the kitchen, but instead went to her bedroom through the veranda. She lay down on her bed as if completely exhausted. Her mind was in turmoil, ‘What’s got into this young man?’ Then she realized, he must be sitting all alone. She got up, washed her face, and poured some water into her hair to cool her head. She combed her hair and changed into a fresh dhoti. She had a drink of water, then sat and thought for a while. Then she went back into the living room, sat in the chair beside Narottam, and said in English, ‘Nottan, have you lost your mind? Why would you say a thing like that? What have we been to each other? Don’t you remember that once you had said I was like an elder sister to you and Dolly?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Narottam said, looking flustered. After a moment’s silence, he added, ‘If what I said has pained you or has offended you, I take back my words for now and forever.’

‘Nottan, it’s not a question of feeling offended. I’m really honoured by your affection for me, but that’s all. Don’t talk like a child. I’m very fond of you, but what you have in mind is neither possible, nor acceptable or proper. The only people I have in this world are you, Mercy and an unfortunate cousin of mine. That is why I always want to stay fond of you. You should have at least considered the difference in our ages. You’re still only a boy. After what I’ve been through the hands of men, I’ll fear and hate them all my life. I’ve been able to feel some fondness and respect for you because I didn’t see you just as another man, but more as a brother. I still want to go on feeling that way. You’re really a good young man. Just forget this foolishness of yours and I’ll forget this incident.’

His head lowered, Narottam said, ‘I’m really sorry. Forgive me, I think I’d like to go now.’

‘Let’s forget what’s just happened. You neither need to feel bad nor ask for forgiveness. But don’t go yet. Mercy said she’d be back for lunch. If you’re willing to forget everything, why can’t you stay?’

‘My dear sister, I will forget it. And I’ll always stand by your side, but I’m not quite myself at the moment. I won’t be able to face Mercy in this condition. I’ll come again.’

Tara let him go.

When Mercy came back she found the plate of sliced mango on the table
swarming with flies. Yelling at Chimmo in a mixture of Hindi and English, she sent the plate flying, and it broke, ‘She wants us to die from cholera! This wretch has no
sharam
. The angel of death is dragging her towards her fate, and she wants us to go with her.’

Lying on the bed in her room, Tara heard Mercy shout, then Chimmo’s explanation, ‘Chhoti bibi had cut up the mango. Why blame me?’

‘Did both of them eat lunch?’

‘Nobody ate. The sahib left.’

Before Tara could get up Mercy came into her room, ‘Why did Narottam leave? I tried to get back
jaldi
…’ Her anger had calmed down after smashing the plate.

‘He said he had to be somewhere at one o’clock.’

‘We’ll eat if you’re very
bhookhi,
otherwise I’ll have a quick wash. I’m all sweaty.’

They sat across from each other at the table for lunch. Mercy kept staring at Tara, then said, ‘Why, what’s wrong?’ She reached out to feel the pulse on Tara’s wrist, ‘How do you feel? Did you two have a quarrel while I was out?’

‘No! What ideas you do get into your head! You were out in the loo, maybe the heat has affected your mind.’

Tara was forcing herself to eat. Since they had their meals together every day, Mercy noticed that Tara was only pecking at her food.

‘So, my little one, are you trying to fool me,’ Mercy laughed as she rolled a parantha around a stuffed okra and a whole green chilli, ‘My dear girl, I know how to treat romantic as well as physical disorders. The truth is written all over your face.’

‘Take care of your own heart and body,’ Tara replied, keeping her eyes on her plate.

‘I’ve been expecting something since the day before yesterday. You both were so quiet, unable to speak to each other.’ Mercy took another bite at her rolled-up parantha and gave a meaningful smile, ‘I know the truth. He must have proposed. You, my little one, must have been thrilled to bits, but you’ve had to pretend to be shy and embarrassed.’

‘Didi, please talk sense,’ Tara said irritably. ‘Think of his age, and mine. He’s like a younger brother to me.’

‘Hai, just look at you grandma!’ Mercy raised her eyebrows in surprise, ‘How old are you? Twenty?’

‘Why not say twelve? I’ll soon be twenty-two.’

‘And he’s what … eighteen?’

‘He claims to be twenty-four. He’s so childish, just like a boy. Well, I’ve no plans to get married.’

‘Achcha, if he did propose, it’s to your own advantage because he’ll stay young longer. If you don’t catch him now you’ll be sorry later. Yours is the right age to get married, otherwise you’ll be too old like me…’

‘Don’t talk nonsense, didi,’ Tara again said angrily. ‘You marry him.’

‘How many men can I marry? I wish my old boy was back. Well, Tara, I’m warning you that you’ll be sorry. We have a saying: If a man proposes to a girl when she’s young, she frowns and demands, “What are you?” When she grows older, she asks the man, “Who are you?” When she’s past her prime, she screams in desperation, “Where are you? Where are you?”’