This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (161 page)

‘You couldn’t imagine it because you knew it’d be impossible. Deep in your heart, you must have wanted it,’ Nayyar said rather coldly.

‘Absolutely not. I never thought about it even in my dreams as long as I regarded him as my husband,’ Kanak protested, her head erect.

‘Listen, you got married to someone you wanted to marry. How many more times is a girl supposed to get married?’

‘You all used to tell me that my marrying him was a mistake. If I made the mistake, don’t I have the right to start a new life?’

‘You must think of your situation, your relatives and about the future of your daughter even if you have the right,’ Nayyar said softly.

Kanak was getting agitated, ‘If you want to sacrifice me for the sake of avoiding an embarrassment to the family or a possible scandal, think of me as dead. Neither will I look to you for help, nor will my daughter be a burden on any of you.’

Kanak went to an inner room, threw herself onto a bed and covered her face with her aanchal.

After a while Nayyar called out to Kanak, and said to her when she came, ‘Kanni, I know exactly how you feel. My heart goes out to you. It’s good that you don’t want to keep the pretence of being married and deceive people into believing things that are not true, but I won’t be able to help you no matter how much I would like to. There are laws governing the divorce procedure. By law you may divorce your husband if you can prove that he is either impotent or has been violent and physically abusive or has had extramarital affairs or has some incurable disease that may be life-threatening to you or has deserted you for another woman or has turned you out of the house. And there’s no way you could prove any of these charges.

‘Puri, on the other hand, can have several valid complaints against you. For example, your unwillingness to live with him, and that he has never denied you the right to live in that house. The argument that you find it impossible to live with him has no legal significance. Puri’s weird tendency, about which Kanta told me, surely could be intolerable for you, but it cannot be proven and therefore cannot be used as evidence in the court. The court can accept only verifiable information as evidence. Therefore, it might be useless for you to think of divorce.’

On her way back from Jalandhar, the thought that she had nothing definite to tell Gill filled Kanak with consternation.

AFTER HE HAD TAKEN ON THE MINISTERIAL RESPONSIBILITIES, THERE HAD BEEN
a gradual change in Sood’s lifestyle. It had no longer been possible for him to manage with one room on the first floor of a small house in Mandi Bazaar. How could the minister’s bodyguards and security personnel be accommodated in such a small place? And where would other government ministers and high officials sit when they came for consultation with Sood? A space large enough with furniture suitable for those visitors was needed, and a waiting area for those who came in the hope of meeting the minister with their grievances and petitions. These hopefuls came in such large numbers that, except for a few in Sood’s inner circle, they sometimes had to wait two or three days before being able to see him. Sood had been given accommodation and an official car with the state flag on the bonnet in accordance with government regulation. A handful of guests would always be staying in his residence.

The residences of the ministers of the Government of Punjab had been in Simla in the beginning. After the capital was moved to Chandigarh, Sood had begun to spend most of his time in the new capital. There had been no marked change in his personal habits, despite his living in a big and grand residence. He had no time to wash his clothes any more, but his dress remained the same combination of thick khadi kurta-pyjama or kurta-dhoti with a Gandhi cap stuck over his closely cropped hair, and a pair of chappals for footwear.

Sood received his visitors in the mornings and evenings and on Sundays dressed in a vest and a pair of shorts. He would sit, knees drawn up, in the same attire on a large sofa in the living room running his hand through his hair or scratching his eczema, and talk with his visitors or berate secretaries and commissioners of various government departments. Bureaucrats, who saw themselves as the privileged class, had to bow their heads before this representative of the ordinary people of the country.

Sood had not built any bungalows or mansions for himself, and his bank balance was not worth talking about. He may not have cared to build a fortune for himself, but those who had been devoted to him had benefited
greatly from their loyalty towards him, and continued to be confident and hopeful of doubling and tripling their gains. The recipients of his benevolence were not afraid of the law or of their actions coming under governmental censure. Big capitalists and industrialists, even those outside Punjab, acknowledged his power and influence, and were eager to become his friends. These magnates were willing to hire anyone at a monthly salary of one or two thousand rupees at the merest suggestion made by Sood.

Sood may not have amassed a fortune, but he was not unaware of the power of money in political and social arenas. He was at the helm of numerous organizations, which had accumulated over two crore of rupees in their coffers over the years. Sood was the only person with the authority to disburse these funds. Those employed at the schools and hospitals run by the organizations and those who sat on the management committees had to pledge allegiance to Sood, or fear being fired without due formality. A great many people hired in businesses and industries at Sood’s recommendation or suggestion were loyal to Sood rather than to their employers.

Sood’s nature and his behaviour, like his dress and rather spartan life, had remained unchanged: same straightforward manner, rigid political dogmatism, and an inability to accept or see the other side of an argument. As his power and influence increased, so did his arrogance and his bossy manner. He began using his strengths and abilities to defeat and destroy any political threat to his power. His intensity of purpose soon turned into intolerance for differing opinions and a desire to hear an echo of his own views. What he suggested or recommended was considered more important by government officials than an order from the chief minister. He was not yet the chief minister, but people called him the ‘minister-in-chief’; everyone knew that Sood could become the chief minister whenever he wanted to.

When things grow bigger, so do their shadow. In the same way when the importance of a thing or the status of a person increases, so does the reaction to the increase in importance or status. Sood’s popularity had grown not because of his political savvy, dedication to the country and his outspoken behaviour, but because of the favours people hoped to gain from his ever-increasing influence in the state. The number of Sood’s supporters had grown, but even larger was the number of people hopeful of profiting through their association with him. Those who had not been able to—or had given up the hope of—gaining favours from him, had turned to criticizing
him and accusing him of nepotism. Since only sycophants and yes-men had Sood’s ear, he had little knowledge of such reactions against him.

If Sood showered riches on his favourites, he also made sure that those who opposed him bit the dust. He saw any disagreement with him as a potential threat to his authority and a ploy to dislodge him from his position as a leader of the party. Solis and Nath had ignored his suggestions to make changes in the Plan on the strength of assurance from the Prime Minister that they could count on his backing, and had retained the policy of large investments in the public sector despite the opposition from Sood and his group. The implementation of the Plan had begun in early 1956. Although big capitalists, business magnates and others alarmed by the growing menace of socialistic leanings of the Congress government were siding with Sood in numbers larger than before, eager to be in his good books, Sood had not forgiven Solis and Nath.

Sood’s influence over Punjab politics had considerably increased in the past eight years, which had made many of Sood’s political opponents and supporters of his rival Dr Radhey Behari join the Sood camp. Dr Prabhu Dayal had switched his allegiance to Sood in 1950. After the Partition, Prabhu Dayal had been appointed first as assistant surgeon in Ferozepur on the recommendation of Dr Behari. Since he was seen as Dr Behari’s man, he had been promoted soon after to the post of assistant professor in the medical college. After joining Sood, Prabhu Dayal had gone to England on a sabbatical in 1955 for six months to complete a professional course. He had his eye on the post of professor of medicine in a new medical college. There were several MDs senior to him aspiring to the same post, but everyone knew that with Sood’s blessing, even ‘the lame could scale a mountain and the mute become garrulous’.

Sood had been suffering from eczema on his backside for a long time. He could not stop himself from scratching his bottom when it itched. The condition accentuated during the rainy season. A skin specialist from the medical college had got Sood’s blood, urine, stool and the scales from his rash examined. The specialist had concluded, after trying out several treatments on Sood, that the itch was caused by a physical allergy. The fungal infection had penetrated deep into the skin and as long as there was physical allergy, there would be itching. Sood was advised to avoid sitting on his backside.

Prabhu Dayal had been travelling to Chandigarh twice a month,
spending out of his own pocket, to treat Sood’s eczema. He would carry the newest medicines and an ultraviolet lamp. He would himself apply the medicines and expose the infected area to rays from the lamp. He would give prophylactic treatment as a precaution even when the itch did not bother Sood. If Sood was busy, Prabhu Dayal would hang around listening and participating in political chit-chat and wait until Sood was free.

In the first week of August Prabhu Dayal again went to Chandigarh to give Sood his treatment. Sood was looking through some important papers slumped on the sofa in the living room. Prabhu Dayal sat down and waited, thumbing through magazines and newspapers stacked on a round centre table.

Sood finished with the file and dumped it on the floor. He was removing his reading glasses when Prabhu Dayal held out an opened illustrated magazine, ‘Bhappaji, did you see this miracle?’

‘What?’

‘A girl who had died was found alive and became an undersecretary in the ministry of information. Doctor Pran Nath, member secretary of the Planning Commission got married to her.’

‘When? Where?’ Sood asked.

Prabhu Dayal said as Sood looked at the opened page, ‘Nothing short of a miracle. Tara Puri had died in a fire. Bhappaji, she’s the sister of our own Jaidev Puri.’

‘If she had died in a fire, is this what’s-its-name the photograph of her ghost?’ Sood said throwing aside the magazine.

‘What an odd coincidence, bhappaji,’ Prabhu Dayal insisted. ‘How can I not recognize her? I’ll bet anything that she’s Tara. Puri used to live across from our house in Bhola Pandhe’s Gali and Tara was a close friend of my wife. It was I who put the dressing on the wound on her forehead. She had got married before the Partition. I remember the date, 29 July 1947. She was married to Somraj Sahni, that Somraj from Jalandhar. You helped him get the contract to build the boundary wall of the secretariat’s garden. It was a Hindu marriage. You can ask Puri.’

‘Hunh!’ Sood said, picking up the magazine. ‘How come she got married to what’s-its-name Pran Nath?’ He peered at the photograph, brought the page close to his eyes to read the caption, and said in surprise, ‘The wedding was in Delhi, at the Naya Hind Press. Pandit Girdharilal owns what’s-its-name the Naya Hind Press! What is going on? Somraj is alive and well.’

Sood lay prone on the sofa. Prabhu Dayal continued to talk about the mysterious event as he applied medicines and then ultraviolet rays to Sood’s backside, ‘There was some rumour before Tara’s wedding that she didn’t want to get married to Somraj. He’s the same Somraj, who was involved in the Professor Deen Mohammed incident. Tara, in all probability, didn’t die in the fire at Somraj’s house and managed to escape. Poor Puri, he has no knowledge of all this. He and Somraj still think that Tara had died. Tara hasn’t contacted her family. She was a bright girl. Wonder where she was all these years. Bhappaji, there’s no doubt that it’s her photograph, hundred and one per cent Tara.’

As soon as the treatment was over, Sood summoned the peon and ordered, ‘Get Bahri Sahib.’ When his personal assistant arrived, Sood ordered, ‘Call Jaidev Puri at his house in Model Town in Jalandhar.’

Puri found it difficult to comprehend what had happened. Sood asked him to read the
Illustrated Weekly
.

Puri managed to find a copy of the weekly by afternoon. His brain reeled when he saw the photograph, ‘Tara getting married when her first husband is still alive! And that too at the Naya Hind Press! This was done deliberately, just out of spite. And they had to publish the photograph! They are all in this together! Kanak wants to do the same thing whether I divorce her or not? This was meant to be a direct challenge to me.’

Puri wanted to hurt Tara and Kanak in a frenzy of rage and frustration. Then the thought crossed his mind that by doing that he’d be hurting himself, he’d be cutting off his nose to spite his face.

It was not possible for Puri to disregard Sood’s orders. Sood gave an assurance to Puri and Somraj that it would be an official and completely confidential investigation. Doctor Pran Nath would be taught a lesson.

Puri felt a surge of anger and hatred towards Nath, ‘What an example of cultured and gentlemanly behaviour! Wouldn’t have been satisfied unless he had set his guru’s home on fire! He used to call Tara his “younger sister”. What a web of deceit he had spun to get Tara to come to his house and tutor.’

Nath and Tara wanted to get married in November 1955, but several things got in the way of their wedding. Nath had to go to England in the beginning of November with the minister of finance, as his advisor. Then he went to the USA with the minster of industrial development as his advisor. After that he and Tara could not find a suitable time before July 1956. Tara did not
like the dreariness of a civil marriage, of going through a formal procedure only to make their marriage legal. At the same time, both were reluctant to have a full-blown wedding or an ostentatious ceremony at their age.

Nath’s suggestion was to call a pandit or a granthi to his bungalow to perform the marriage rites, so that Tara could have the satisfaction of a traditional wedding. It was decided to have only twenty-five wedding guests, among them Dr Solis, Shyama, Prabha Saxena, Chaddha and Mercy, Kanak, Gill, Narottam and Kanchan, Sheelo and Ratan, and Mathur.

Kanak and Mercy were competing with each other to organize the ceremony. Both were against the wedding taking place at Nath’s bungalow. Kanak made the decision, ‘The bride will not go to the groom’s house to get married. Doctor sahib will take her to his home after the ceremony in accordance with the custom.’

The ceremony took place at the Naya Hind Press. Pandit Girdharilal gave away the bride and Mercy, in the role of Nath’s sister, welcomed Tara at Nath’s bungalow.

Nath and Tara had arranged for three months’ leave. They left for Switzerland a couple of days after the wedding. For Tara it was heaven on earth, and she wanted to enjoy her happiness and contentment to the utmost.

Tara had been back only for a week when the home secretary’s peon came to her office and asked her to personally sign for a sealed envelope. On the envelope were her name and the position she was holding. The envelope was marked Very Confidential, which surprised Tara. She was in the middle of dictating some memos and letters to her stenographer. She finished giving the dictation before opening the envelope.

What she read in that very confidential letter left her aghast. She sat staring into space with her forefinger between her teeth, stunned as if she had lost consciousness for a minute. She sighed deeply and began to read the documents enclosed with the letter. Every word was like a blow to the head and every page she read made her feel as if she were sinking into a dark bottomless pit. She put the documents and letter on the desk after reading them and grasped the armrests to steady herself, staring blankly at her desk.

Tara took several deep breaths to bring herself under control. Her mind slowly registered the documents and the telephone on her desk. Her hand went to the phone, but she pulled it back, unsure if it were the right thing
to do. Her head was flying off her shoulders. She clasped her forehead in her hands. In her agitation she wanted to smash her head against the desk. Memories of Banti banging her head on the threshold of her husband’s home flashed through her mind. Bracing her arms she pulled herself upright and began to pace the room.