This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (6 page)

Lala Badhawa Mull Narang’s son Jagdish Chandra had been Masterji’s pupil. He was never serious about his studies; Lalaji, therefore, often had Masterji as his tutor. Jagdish somehow got through his BA and took over his family business selling electric machines. His younger sister Urmila had given up her studies after failing the high school examination. Urmila’s mother, more than her father, wanted her to pass her matriculation exams. Times were such that parents of prospective grooms, especially from good families, wanted to know about the girl’s education. Urmila’s mother knew her daughter was playful and impertinent. She wanted someone she could trust to tutor her. Narangji personally came to speak with Masterji.

The Narang family had moved away from Khooh Tillian to Manso Gali three years ago. Manso Gali was a little far for Masterji to walk. Narangji offered to pay his tonga fare too; in all twenty-five rupees a month. Masterji taught the eighth grade students at school, but he could tutor students up to high school in all subjects except English. Narangji was willing to hire another tutor to teach English to his daughter.

Jaidev had been back from jail for only two weeks when his father came down with high fever; it lasted for three days. Masterji was not so much worried about being absent from tutoring jobs that paid ten or fifteen rupees a month as he was troubled by not being able to go to Narangji’s place. Her father wanted Urmila to appear in the September examination.

When Masterji had been Jagdish’s tutor, Jaidev had filled in for him on several occasions. Narangji had noticed that Masterji son’s was intelligent and diligent. When his father asked him, Jaidev borrowed Ratan’s bicycle and went to tutor Urmila. He found that Narangji, Urmila’s mother and Jagdish all knew about his work being published in reputed magazines, and were concerned about the time he had spent in jail. They talked to him
with affection and served him tea and snacks. During the week he tutored Urmila, Jaidev was mindful of his responsibility.

One day Urmila’s mother asked him, ‘Son, Jagdish told me that you also can teach English.’

When Jaidev said yes, Urmila’s mother spoke to him trustingly as if he were her son: Urmila’s father had not been keeping well. June had begun. The family wanted to spend the three months of summer at the hill resort of Murree. She was worried about her daughter’s tuition being interrupted. Urmila’s mother suggested, ‘You must have suffered during your time in prison, you too can do with some rest and change. Masterji cannot get away from his job at school. You can teach English to Urmila. You stay with us and eat with us too. For us, there’s no difference between you and Jagdish. Our Murree house is quite spacious. We will pay you fifty rupees per month. Once in a while, if you feel like it, you can tutor Urmila’s younger brother Praveen.’

To be able to spend some time at a hill resort and earn some money in the process did not seem like a bad idea to Jaidev. He had been whiling away his time in Lahore. He would be able to write in peace in the cool and quiet of Murree. His parents gave their approval, what objection could they have! Jaidev gathered his finished and unfinished writings, and went to Murree with the Narang family.

Urmila’s mother knew that her daughter was not fond of studying. She was going on eighteen, but her young, doll-like figure made her look sixteen. It was time for the girl to get married, but she wanted Urmila to finish high school. In Murree, she treated Jaidev like a member of the family. He was given one of the good rooms at the front of the house. She would ask him to come along when she went out for a walk. She had told Jaidev that he would have to be a little firm with Urmila, making sure that she studied the books and did the homework. Jaidev talked and behaved freely with Urmila, but became stricter while tutoring her.

In spite of being intelligent and talented, Jaidev had a short height. Up to the age of fourteen or fifteen, he could pass as a twelve-year-old and travel by paying half fare. His face was still soft as a boy’s. He was only half an inch taller than Tara, and they looked the same height when walking together. When he became aware of not being as tall as other boys of his age, he began to walk erect and to keep his back straight. That soon became his posture. To appear older, he began to grow a thin moustache. When he
sat with Urmila for her lessons in the dining room that was divided by a curtain, he kept his spine straight in an attempt to exude authority.

Urmila used to address him as ‘Masterji’, but the tone of her voice had gradually become intimate and friendly. Beyji, Urmila’s mother, was right, Jaidev found. He would ask her to concentrate on her lesson, but her chatter would not stop. When Jaidev would be explaining something from her study book, her attention would wander and she would begin to talk about a school friend or tell a joke or ask an unrelated question. Or remember an incident from last evening’s outing.

Jaidev would stop her, ‘Pay attention here.’ Or, ‘It’s time to study. We can talk about all that later.’

Urmila would insist, laughing, ‘No, first tell me this.’ Or, ‘Listen to this first.’ She would break into giggles when Jaidev tried to be strict. Jaidev had to make an effort to ignore the playful antics of this young and attractive girl. He was mindful of the respect given to his father and the trust placed in him by Urmila’s parents.

True to her name, Urmila was fickle like a wave. She could not be called beautiful, perhaps, in the classical sense. A round face over a short neck, a nose that was not shapely, but wisps of golden-brown hair surrounding her fair face and large, cowrie-like eyes gave her a look that was compelling. Her ordinary features were overshadowed by her ebullient youthfulness and her brash behaviour.

Jaidev was conscious of his position as her tutor. That did not stop him from noticing the invitation in her eyes, and he would sometimes return her glance. But it happened only when they went to the bazaar for a walk, or when Beyji’s back was turned. He kept his distance when they sat for her lessons.

They were studying algebra. She would not concentrate on the problem he was teaching her to solve. After asking her to concentrate for the third time, Jaidev was a little peeved, ‘I’ll tell your father that you don’t listen to me.’

On a previous occasion, when Jaidev had threatened her in the same way, she had replied, ‘Go ahead! You’ll no doubt enjoy it if I’m scolded.’

That day she shot back, ‘Why do you try to intimidate me by reporting to father or mother as if I were my younger brother? This is between you and me. What has father or mother to do with it! Can’t you speak for yourself!’

Jaidev lost his temper, ‘I’ll slap your face! Remember that!’

‘Go on! Slap me!’

Jaidev took a deep breath to calm himself. ‘All right, pay attention. a
²
+3a+2=(a+1)(a+2)=(a
²
+a)+(2a+2).’

‘Slap me first!’ She thrust her face forward.

‘I am sorry. Please pay attention.’

‘No, first slap me. Why did you threaten!’ She snatched the math book open between them, closed it with a thud, and offered her cheek to him.

Jaidev could not restrain himself. He hit her hard. The room reverberated with the sound. The imprint of his fingers showed on Urmila’s fleshy fair cheek.

Urmila was stunned; two heavy droplets appeared in her large eyes. She bit her lower lip to stop crying. She closed her eyes to collect herself. Both of them remained quiet for a few seconds.

Jaidev was filled with remorse. His anger melted away and his mind and body became taut with excitement. He wanted to hold her in his arms and to kiss her cheek to soothe her. Trying to compose himself, he said, ‘I’m very sorry. Let’s continue.’

‘Hit me again,’ Urmila thrust her face even further.

Jaidev accepted defeat. He got up and went to his room. He lay down, thinking: Everyone would notice that mark on her cheek. What now? What will they say? What have I done?

He heard loud noises from the room next to the one in which they had sat. Praveen was being reprimanded for hitting his sister, and he was shouting in protest. There was the sound of two slaps. The boy again protested his innocence in a tear-filled voice.

What a cunning, bold girl! What she can’t do! What am I to do!

In the evening Beyji was going for a walk to do some shopping in the bazaar. As usual, she invited him, ‘Jaidev, son, let’s go for a walk.’ Urmila was her usual self, talking and joking as before. The mark of the slap was all but gone.

They stopped at the fruit seller at the insistence of Praveen. As Beyji was helping the boy to pick ripe plums, Urmila looked into Jaidev’s eyes with affection and comfort. Jaidev breathed easy.

Next day Jaidev began the lesson with a serious face, ‘Did you write the paraphrase for the poem “Perfect Life?” Let me see.’

‘Slap me first,’ said Urmila.

‘Show me what you wrote.’

‘No, slap me first.’

‘I made a mistake. I won’t do it again.’

‘Why won’t you?’

‘That was not right.’

‘Then why did you do it yesterday?’

‘Because I was angry. I’m sorry. Let’s study.’

‘You’re not angry now?’

‘Not any more. Please study.’

‘How do you feel now?’

‘I don’t feel anything.’ Jaidev said impatiently, without looking at her.

‘You’re still angry.’ Urmila smiled.

‘I am not.’

Urmila recited a couplet she had heard somewhere, ‘He gets angry when I say I love you; I love him more when he gets angry.’

Jaidev took a deep breath and looked at her. Urmila held his gaze.

‘Don’t you want to study?’ He asked her softly.

She shook her head.

‘What do you want to do?’

‘Told you already.’ Urmila’s face was flushed crimson like the inside of a watermelon. Pulled by the passion of this young attractive girl, Jaidev lost his foothold on the rock of propriety. He felt himself being lifted into the air and carried away; his blood was surging to his face.

‘How?’ He asked.

‘Don’t you know?’ Urmila’s voice was hoarse with excitement.

‘No.’ Jaidev was holding on against being swept away.

‘Want me to tell you?’ Her throaty voice excited him even more.

‘Yes.’

‘Close your eyes.’

Jaidev pressed his knees together to hold himself back. With one hand he clutched the desk, with other he held his chin. He closed his eyes.

A kiss on his cheek made him open his eyes. Urmila’s breathing quickened; there was an irresistibly inviting a pinkish glaze of passion in her bright shining eyes. Jaidev used all his self-control to hold back, but his hand crept to Urmila’s arm.

‘Come here, Urmi!’ Beyji’s voice from the other side of the curtain hit them like a whip.

‘Damn it! She must have seen us! You go!’ Urmila whispered urgently and pulled away.

Jaidev could not move. Urmila went away, trembling with fear.

Jaidev could hear someone being slapped on the other side of the curtain. He got up and went to his room. He paced around his room in agitation without knowing what to do? He lay on the bed for a while, and then sat up. He went out towards the bazaar. When he returned in the afternoon he had made up his mind. He had found out the time of the next bus to Rawalpindi. He began to collect his few clothes.

He was packing his bag when Praveen came, ‘Masterji, Beyji is calling you for tea.’ The boy told him quietly, in a sad voice, ‘Sister got a good thrashing. Beyji beat her with the curtain rod. Don’t tell father.’

Beyji looked upset. She gave Jaidev a cup of tea and some snacks, and said, ‘Son, where did you go at lunchtime? Did you eat something?’ She could not hide the distress in her voice.

Jaidev was expecting a different reaction from her. He sat quietly for a few moments, his head down, and then said in an apologetic and guilt-laden voice, ‘I’m going back to Lahore in the evening.’

‘Why, son?’ she asked. ‘I said nothing to you, did not blame you. The fault lies with us; it’s our fate. Don’t say anything to her father. When he is angry or hurt, his blood pressure shoots up.’

Jaidev bit his cheek to stop tears welling up in his eyes.

He did not see Urmila for the next three days. Once he caught a glimpse of her back, but her head and face were wrapped in her dupatta. On the fourth day Praveen told him, ‘Masterji, sister is waiting for her lessons.’

Jaidev looked briefly at Urmila sitting at the desk. There was a dark welt on her forehead, below her golden hair. A bandage was tied round her left arm. Without looking at her, Jaidev said, ‘Read the same poem.’

‘You’re heartless. Don’t you want to see what happened to me?’ He heard.

Puri had decided to keep his cool. He said in stern voice, looking at the book, ‘You want the rest of your bones broken?’

‘I was beaten up; why are
you
scared?’

‘So?’ He looked at her.

‘Let them beat me again if they want. What’s to fear now? I didn’t take that beating for nothing.’

Jaidev closed his eyes and thought. His blood was racing again, a sour taste in his mouth. With his eyes on the book, he began to explain the meaning and context of the poem.

‘Won’t listen! Won’t study! Won’t listen!’ Urmila kept interrupting him.

Jaidev got up and went to his room.

Around noon there was a knock on his door. Beyji came in. Her eyes were swollen from wiping away tears. She held out five ten-rupee notes, and said, ‘This was owed to you.’ She gave him another note, ‘Here’s your fare.’

She was leaving when Jaidev said with some discomfort, ‘You didn’t have to. I could be of no service to you; only caused you embarrassment.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Beyji turned around and dabbed her eyes again with the aanchal of her sari, ‘I asked you. I should be sorry. Whom can I fault when our coin is tainted? Son, please keep all this to yourself.’

Jaidev’s family was surprised to see him return from Murree. People of the gali questioned him too. Jaidev said nothing, but he was full of bitterness. His thoughts kept turning back to Urmila. I wasn’t man enough … She was so pretty … couldn’t we get married? Beyji wouldn’t have objected. She was so passionate and intense. But I was their employee. Marriage is more than sex. My feelings for her were purely physical. She nearly caught me. She really forced herself upon me.