This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (159 page)

Tara turned her back shyly, and stood holding on to the frame of the bathroom door.

‘What are you doing?’

Tara stood silently.

‘I’m very sorry. Achcha, come away from the door,’ Nath said in a gentler voice.

Tara did not look at him. She said with her head bowed, ‘I won’t speak to you.’

‘What was the need to do all this?’

Tara continued standing with her back turned, scratching the doorframe with her nail.

‘You come here!’

‘I won’t speak to you,’ she said, feigning anger.

‘At times you do things to an excess. Come here.’

‘I don’t want to speak to you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you didn’t telephone me!’

‘But why did you do all this?’

Again silence.

At a loss what to do, Nath grabbed her elbow and pulled her away from the bathroom door.

Tara could not keep her footing when pulled by a strong and healthy man. She tried to hold herself back, but stumbled and fell into Nath’s arms.

Never before in her life had Tara endured such emotional turmoil and anguish. In the past painful and traumatic things had happened when she was in a state of shock and was barely conscious. But the turmoil and agony she was undergoing now was happening when she was very much alive and her mental faculties sharp.

The tragedy that had struck the country and divided it into two parts was all but over, but the trauma she had suffered during that calamitous event had left a indelible mark on her. ‘Whatever I suffered was in my fate, but how can I knowingly ruin someone else’s life!’ Sometimes she felt as if she was going through hell, at other times, seventh heaven. Both hell and heaven seemed to be pulling her in opposite directions and break her into pieces. And she wished that her body would break into thousands of pieces, and those pieces would blow away like dead leaves in a wind storm, and become dust under Nath’s feet.

What Nath had said next was not totally unexpected, but on hearing his words she had merely bowed her head.

Nath, with much awkwardness and hesitation, had proposed to her, ‘You had said that when the time comes, you’ll let me decide whom you will marry. If you don’t find me too old for you, would you agree to marry me?’

Later, when Nath was at her place they had sat facing each other, silent like two statues. Feeling awkward in the silence between them, he had asked tenderly, ‘Won’t you say anything?’

She had broken down and wept bitterly, then had gone to her bedroom to control herself. In trying to suppress her tears and to be able to answer Nath, she had not realized how much time had passed. Finally she had steadied her nerves and had come out of her room, only to find that Nath had left. She looked out of the window and saw that the lights had come out in the streets and in other houses.

Tara was mortified when she realized her impoliteness. She thought that she should telephone Nath immediately and ask for his forgiveness. The moment her hand touched the telephone, her eyes filled with tears. Afraid that she would not be able to talk coherently, she pulled back her hand.

At 10.30 she shut the doors of her living room with a firm resolve and dialled Nath’s number. She clenched her lip between her teeth when tears again flowed down her face.

She said ‘It’s me, Tara’ and had a hiccup, but managed to blurt out in the same breath, ‘Forgive me, I am in no condition to marry anyone.’

Tara did not want to continue, but Nath quickly asked, ‘What do you mean? Why do you say that?’

‘I’m telling the truth. I am in an unfit condition. Please forgive me.’ Although Tara tried to hide it, Nath knew she had been crying.

‘Put the receiver down for now. We’ll talk when I come to see you tomorrow.’

Tara went back to bed, covered her face with her aanchal, and wept. She wanted life to drain out of her body in the same way as the tears flowing out of her eyes.

Purandei was alarmed, ‘What is wrong with this girl? Must be suffering from something very painful.’ Tara didn’t want to eat anything. When Purandei came again and again to ask her how she felt, Tara began to get increasingly irritated and shut the door to her bedroom.

The next day Tara was feeling so miserable that she had to take the day off. Her thoughts were continually in turmoil: What would she tell Doctor sahib? The only way to answer him was to be open and forthright.

Nath rang at eight o’clock on Sunday morning. He said tenderly in a voice filled with concern, ‘Tara, can I come over if it’s convenient for you? I am very anxious to hear you say yes.’

‘Doctor sahib, mine won’t be the right place to have a talk,’ Tara replied in a clear and calm voice. ‘I’ll come to your place by nine or 9.30.’

Seven years ago, Tara used to think often about committing suicide. She would also condemn herself for the thought, ‘Why should I kill myself like a coward. I won’t be afraid to die when the time comes.’ On her way to Nath’s bungalow, she told herself, ‘The time has come.’ She tried to remain calm and in control.

Nath was shocked to see Tara. The constant smile on her lips was missing. Her face was devoid of any colour; she looked like a wax statue, like someone walking in her sleep.

Instead of sitting in the living room Nath took Tara to his office, sat her down, and took a chair next to her. Tara sat with her elbow on the armrest, chin cupped in her hand and eyes downcast.

He gave her time to settle down, then asked softly, ‘What did you mean by saying you were unfit for marriage? Tell me now.’

Tara replied, eyes downcast, ‘I have a disease.’ She had prepared herself to say those words.

‘What do you mean by disease? What disease?’ Nath asked, two deep wrinkles forming at the bridge of his nose.

Tara continued to sit as before. She said without hesitation, ‘I had told you about it. I’ve never lied to you, never hid anything from you.’

‘What did you tell me?’ Nath asked with a note of surprise.

‘I had told you,’ Tara said, swallowing hard, ‘how I escaped the fire at my in-laws’ house in Banni Hata,’ she swallowed again, ‘and a goonda abducted me from the gali.’

Nath was lost in thought. He took a deep breath, ‘Is that possible? So many years have passed since then. How did you think of it now?’

Tara’s head was bowed. She said haltingly, with a determined effort, ‘I sometimes feel a slight irritation.’

‘If it was so, why didn’t you take medicine?’

‘When I was living with Mercy in 1948, I didn’t know what it was. I tried to explain to her, but she refused to believe me, “It’s not possible. A virgin can’t have that kind of infection. You must be mistaken.” Everyone thought I was still a virgin. How could I explain my problem, how could I ask for its treatment and face humiliation and shame? Mercy had also said that such infections could remain dormant for years until they flare up one day. I had decided that I’d kill myself than face all that shame and humiliation.’

Tara had resolutely done what she had decided to do. She wanted to get up and leave, but her legs failed her. Whatever determination and courage she had been able to muster, she had used it up.

Nath stared silently at the floor. After a brief pause, he raised his eyes, looked at Tara and said with conviction, ‘All right. A virgin cannot catch a certain disease, cannot ask for the treatment for that disease, but I have the right and an obligation to have my wife treated for any disease. Mrs Nath will get the medical treatment for…’

Tara’s body trembled and her elbow slipped from the armrest.

Nath got up and put his arm round Tara’s shoulder to steady her. She had hid her face in her aanchal. Nath’s touch made her shiver uncontrollably.

Nath, thinking his touch had bothered Tara, removed his hand. After a moment’s thought, he said with the same conviction, ‘You won’t ever have to live with me if you don’t want to, but you will be Mrs Nath until you are completely cured. If you feel uneasy about getting treatment here in Delhi, it can be arranged for you to be treated in Bombay. If you don’t want it there, I can take you to England or to Vienna. From this moment onwards, you are Mrs Nath. You had accepted me as your guardian, and this is the order of your guardian. We can have a court marriage or a traditional wedding next week or whenever you want.’

Nath sat down and was deep in thought for several minutes. Tara had not removed the aanchal from her face.

Nath asked, ‘Is there anything you want to say?’

Tara rose to her feet and crumpled to the floor near Nath’s feet. He stood up to help her. She wrapped her arms around Nath’s knees, pressed her face to his legs and broke into sobs.

AFTER SEVERAL DAYS’ DELIBERATION, PANDIT GIRDHARILAL AGAIN WROTE A
letter to Mahendra Nayyar in March 1956 about the complexities of Kanak’s marital problems. Panditji summarized what Puri had written in his last letter, and conceded, ‘Barkhurdar, Puri so far has been very patient, but it seems unlikely that Kanak would ever return to Jalandhar. Therefore, he cannot be faulted if he wants to go his own way. Kanak also does not want to stand in his way. We should accept what Puri wants as the will of God and agree to let them legally end their marriage. Since that is the only way out of the problem, it must be done with the utmost goodwill. Son, who else but you can carry out a responsibility as grave as this!’

Nayyar was sorry to see his father-in-law tormented by Kanak’s problems to add to the hard times he had been facing since the Partition. Kanta had already told him about the reasons behind her sister’s marital troubles. He also knew that Kanta had felt compelled to give her father a hint of the acrimony between Puri and Kanak. He came to the conclusion that Panditji had failed to convince Kanak to change her mind. Nayyar realized that Kanak could not be bound hand and foot and packed off against her will to Jalandhar, and that an annoyed Puri may have threatened to file for divorce. Panditji was feeling harassed and wanted this long and messy business to end, and Nayyar could guess how traumatic the whole affair was for Panditji.

Nayyar was concerned and he wrote back, ‘If something cannot be helped, we must accept it as a vagary of fate, yet I’d like to consider different aspects of the problem and to meet Puri one more time. He at present is in Chandigarh to attend the session of the assembly. I shall speak to him after his return and write to you.’

Several conjectures formed in Nayyar’s mind about Kanak’s marital breakdown. He realized that Kanak would probably never return to Jalandhar and that Puri could not afford to ignore the possibility of his divorce and his second marriage causing a scandal. He had some inkling of the cowardly side of Puri’s personality. At times Nayyar thought, ‘Perhaps that girl, Urmila, suited Puri so well that he became obsessed with her
and cannot forget her. Either he wants her back with him, or thinks of her in reaction to the disgust shown by Kanak at his boorish behaviour. In such a situation Puri may refuse to listen to reason. But what is the harm in sounding him out once?’

Nayyar was also angry with Kanak. She had seen Puri’s duplicity with her own eyes, but still had agreed to get married to him. That was definitely foolish of her! Why did Puri agree at that time to throw Urmila out? Both Kanak and Puri are at fault and they should accept that they will have to learn to live with the consequences. How would they face people when the word gets out about the break-up of their marriage? A scandal will not only damage their reputation, it will bring shame on their families and relatives. One must learn to tolerate an incurable and lifelong disease.

Nayyar telephoned Puri on his return, ‘Do you keep very busy? We should meet every once in a while. I got another letter from pitaji. I’d like to see you this evening or whenever it’s convenient for you.’

When Puri was told about the letter from Delhi, he was genial and polite, ‘Jijaji, I returned only four days ago. There was a huge backlog of work. You have a busy schedule, so I thought that I’ll look you up and also get a bite to eat at your place. You know well how little furniture I have. The house looks as if it is haunted by ghosts.’

Nayyar’s sympathetic attitude encouraged Puri to talk about himself frankly, ‘Jijaji, how can I even think about getting a divorce. The stress of politics and public life can age a man in advance of his years. People begin to gossip if you so much as burp or sneeze. I’ll lose face if the word got out that my wife does not live with me. I don’t have to hide from you that malicious gossip about her blackens my name first. You know more than me that she can be stubborn, but I am ready to give in to her if I must. She knows that our house is in her name. I also have told her that I won’t interfere any more in anything, and that we should maintain our prestige and reputation in the eyes of society.’

‘My impression of Puri was correct,’ Nayyar thought as he mulled over the reasons for Kanak’s estrangement from Puri, and the best way to resolve their differences. ‘How would she be able to live with Puri unless a solution to their problem was found?’ Nayyar and Puri were of the same age group, their wives were sisters and they could frankly discuss even confidential matters. Avoiding Puri’s eyes, Nayyar said in English, ‘It sometimes becomes difficult to live with sexual incompatibility.’

Puri’s face turned crimson with embarrassment when he caught the drift of what Nayyar had said. He too protested in English, ‘I don’t quite understand. We have a daughter. There would have been more children if we hadn’t taken precautions.’

‘No, no. I meant something else,’ Nayyar said to reassure him. ‘I was talking in general about the probable causes. You know people talk about such personal matters in a roundabout way. May be Kanta was guessing or it was only her imagination.’ He continued dispassionately without looking at Puri, ‘It’s a psychological fact that some women for whatever reasons develop a fear of sex. They look normal and healthy, but they lack the sex drive. For them sexual intercourse becomes intolerable.’

Puri quietly waited for Nayyar to finish.

‘Such reluctant and uncooperative behaviour from a wife would feel terribly unfair to any normal, healthy husband,’ Nayyar continued, ‘but what can the wife do if she’s not her normal self, or if she’s sick or in rather poor health. What I mean is that the husband should make some concessions on account of the wife’s condition.’

Nayyar waited for Puri’s reply. He had to twist facts in order to make Kanak and Puri reach a compromise.

Puri took a deep breath, ‘Jijaji, I’m willing to leave it up to you to decide. I won’t say no to anything you tell me to do. You know I’ve never considered her to be a chattel or a servant. Don’t you already know my views on these matters? I’ve always left everything in her hands. I’m willing to suppress my feelings if that will make her feel better. I’ll never ask her to go against her wishes. She should come and take charge of her house. I’m worried about my daughter more than anything else.’ Puri’s eyes filled with tears.

‘You know, her absence from our home gets noticed more than my being away from home. I haven’t told anyone here that she’s doing a job in Delhi. All I say is that she’s in Delhi for the sake of Jaya’s education and because of her father’s illness. That our main place of residence is Delhi and this house in Jalandhar is meant only as a stopover. I’ll be spending most of my time away from home. The elections will be held in the beginning of 1957 and I won’t have a moment free. You do what you think is right. I leave the decision to your discretion.’

What more could Nayyar expect from Puri? He was satisfied that he had found a way to resolve the problem. He felt sorry for both Kanak and Puri, but there was nothing else he could do.

Puri came several times to Nayyar’s house. He would linger after dinner and discuss many things. He told Nayyar, ‘Soodji has the fate of the Congress candidates for the next election in his hands. He’s the Congress Parliamentary Board’s head honcho. The Akali Dal has made an electoral pact with the Congress. The communists do not really matter. The Jana Sangh appeals mainly to small business owners and shopkeepers and that too only in the cities. The influential Jana Sangh leaders have lent their support to Soodji. The capitalists and big industrialist are nervous about the implications of the new Plan, but who else can they depend on if not the Congress? Even a scarecrow will get elected if Soodji told the public that it was a Congress candidate. The main question is who’ll get the Congress ticket? To widen its sphere of influence, the Congress will also allow some independents to contest on the Congress ticket.’

Nayyar said in agreement, ‘Yes, that’s right. The Congress must widen its base.’

Although Nayyar had a different opinion, there was no point in arguing with Puri on this subject. That very morning he had overheard the ground-floor tenants complain about the present administration: Wheat was selling for two seers a rupee. One could get it at three rupees a seer from the control shop, but it was out of stock there. Nayyar knew that the owners of the control shops sold their quota of wheat in the black market, but nobody could bring them to book. Sood had asked all shops that received the government quota to make a donation of one thousand rupees to the Congress election fund. The shop owners had to cover their loss. What was the point of giving the Congress one thousand rupees if one could not make a profit of five thousand rupees? In Nayyar’s view, the excesses and corrupt practices of a ring of people who had benefitted from their contacts with Sood had alienated the ordinary people.

Nayyar wrote to Pandit Girdharilal at the end of May to put Panditji’s mind at rest, ‘Probably Puri wrote to you in a fit of temper. I had a long talk with him. He’s very conscious of his social status and afraid of what people would say that he won’t do anything that would give him a bad name. He’s willing to make any living arrangement which would be acceptable to Kanak. In view of Jaya’s future and his social prestige, he has even agreed that Kanak may live alone in the house here.’ In Nayyar’s and also in Kanta’s opinion it was proper for Kanak to live in her house in Jalandhar.

On reading Nayyar’s letter, for two days Panditji sat hand on forehead or circled around the aangan brooding over Kanak’s future. On the third day, when Kanak returned home, he said to her, ‘Beta, there’s a letter from Nayyar and Kanta between the pages of
Deewan-e-Ghalib
. You also read it.’

Kanak had brought some cantaloupes for Jaya. Jaya was clinging to her mother. Kanak fed her two cantaloupes and finding her body drenched in sweat, wanted to have a quick wash. But she could not suppress her curiosity and first read the letter. What she read made her sit down and catch her breath. She sat quietly for a few moments, and then had a wash. After dinner she could not bring herself to circle around the aangan with Panditji, and went to lie on her bed.

Panditji had seen Kanak read the letter. Next morning when she was going to work, he asked, ‘Beta, have you read Kanta’s letter? Where did you keep it? I’ll reply to her letter today.’

Kanak dropped her eyes and said, ‘Jijaji is wasting his time. I’ll never go back to Jalandhar.’

What Panditji wrote in his second letter took Nayyar by surprise. He was piqued that Panditji didn’t clarify his position in his first letter. He found himself in a quandary because his talk with Puri was based on a different premise.

Panditji had written, ‘
Chiranjeev
, may he have a long life, Puri has a lot of patience and that is praiseworthy, but he had previously agreed that the relationship between him and Kanak had become devoid of meaning and substance. It would now be sheer hypocrisy to pretend otherwise. You can deceive others, but you can’t deceive yourself. It seems unlikely that the two would be able to bear each other and live together. Puri is willing to curb his feelings and make compromises in order to meet his obligations or for the sake of his prestige, but such an arrangement would be a complete sham and not amount to much. If life has gone out of a relationship, if feelings have died, the carcass of that relationship will rot and the putrid stench will permeate the lives of their families. To cover up or hide that stink will be harmful for one and all. What Puri had felt earlier about ending the meaningless relationship was spontaneous and exact. That is also what Kanak wants. In my view if they had made a mistake earlier by getting married, their mistake may be forgotten and something should be done to relieve their unremitting mental strain.’

Nayyar couldn’t help notice the words ‘That is also what Kanak wants.’
He said irritably to Kanta, ‘If pitaji had made his position clear, I would have kept quiet and not talk over Kanni’s problem with Puri. If anyone needs to be brought around, it’s her. But what’s the point if pitaji is in agreement with her!’

Before Nayyar could vent his spleen on his wife for her sister and father’s vacillation, Kanta used a housewife’s common sense to give a different explanation, ‘Kanak can never behave sensibly. First she shamed the family by insisting on getting married to someone for stupid reasons, and now she wants to divorce him. I don’t know what’s wrong with pitaji. Maybe he’s consumed by pity for his unlucky daughter. He wants her to live in peace, but how would she if that’s not her fate? Will she get married again? What explanation will we give to Masterji, how will we show our face to him? Pitaji doesn’t think about all this, all he cares for is Kanni. She’s always been so cheeky! I’ll write and ask her to come here, and have a talk with her. Why is she making a nuisance of herself?’

What more could Nayyar say? He stroked his eyebrows in a thoughtful silence, then said, ‘Kanta, say what you want, but I have respect for your old man. What he’s saying is fair and just. We’re worried about losing face, but he has his daughter’s best interests at heart. He was a revolutionary in his younger days, but his ideas are still revolutionary. Whenever you choose justice over self-interest and fear, it’s the beginning of revolution. You cannot fight for justice and fairness without first being selfless and fearless.’

Her father’s praise pleased Kanta, but she could not bring herself to support the rather impractical suggestion he had made. She shot back, ‘So you want them to get a divorce? That’s how you want to start revolution?’

‘Well, what I can do and what I’ll do depend on how much courage I have of my convictions,’ Nayyar replied fingering his eyebrows. ‘But one can have the right idea in head.’

Kanak was not at all enthusiastic about going to Jalandhar, even if it meant going only to her sister’s home there. She didn’t want to show her face or meet anyone in that city. Although it was difficult to take time off from her busy schedule in Delhi, she couldn’t refuse when her sister and jija asked her to come to Jalandhar. Alienating them would have caused another problem for her. Kanak explained her predicament to Gill.