Difficult Daughters (10 page)

 

Next day but one.

Yesterday was busy with the College Students’ Association elections. I wonder, darling, whether any of your brothers unbent enough to tell you what happened in college ten days ago. Democracy in its most ‘popular’ form! A quarrel erupted between the two rival factions, which turned into fisticuffs before any of the staff could be informed. Very soon the whole central courtyard resembled the Kurukshetra battlefield. MM rushed to intervene and found himself in the pathway of a flying missile. Obviously throwing things at a principal will not do, even for the rowdiest boy, and this incident served to sober them up.

Next day, at assembly, MM gave the most spirited lecture I have ever heard him make. Talked about the microcosm mirroring the macrocosm, and if this was the Indian conception of elections, perhaps the British were right in declaring us too immature for independence.

The boys apologized profusely, and the elections were scheduled for yesterday, with all the staff on duty to ensure no mishap.

How are you, my dearest? I long for our separation to be over, to see you, touch you again. Till then, I lead a restless life. Family, teaching, friends, reading, nothing absorbs me for long. I write on, wanting, needing to share everything with you, despite the fact that there is no messenger, praying that some way will be found.

Wednesday, 15 November, 1939

 

 

D.!

There is a god who looks after lovers, there is! Kanhiya Lal came over to pay his respects. Normally I encourage my students to visit, but I was too depressed to talk much to him. As he was leaving, he asked me discreetly whether there was anything he could do for me. I hesitated, then took the plunge. I said I needed a letter delivered.

‘What am I there for?’ he demanded, clicking his tongue.

‘It is a complicated matter …’ I know he is friendly with your brothers, and wondered whether it was fair to put him in the position of go-between.

‘Any little difficulty, any problem, and I will consider it my privilege, my pleeyure …’ (I have not been able to make him say ‘pleasure’.) ‘I will come this evening,’ he ended impetuously and left without giving me a chance to say anything. He has a delicate perception that pleases me.

How was your Diwali, sweetheart? We saw the Golden Temple, wondrous with lights, its aquatic reflection adding to its ethereal beauty. It was so romantic, I missed you more than I can say, and the pain made me surly and bad-tempered with the others.

This Diwali was the most expensive I have ever known, though I didn’t like to stint on sweets or oil lamps, especially as I had called the usual number of people. If this continues we shall all be forced to tighten our belts. Ever since the war started, prices have risen at an alarming rate. The quality of goods has gone down, and fines have not helped the increasing adulteration.

Our old life recedes further and further away. Attempts are being made in Europe by the smaller countries, mostly Belgium and Holland, to bring about peace. After ten weeks of war, Britain remains strong, at least according to Churchill, and they might be successful in convincing Germany about a cease-fire. I hope this time peace will emerge as a result of these efforts. So far it has been a term bandied about by both sides, with how much sincerity the results show.

  Ever your H.

 

Moti Cottage
Saturday, 25 November, 1939

 

 

Love,

A feeling of depression pervades me. Money problems increase day by day. The war is said to be costing Britain six million pounds daily. The price of gold has gone up dramatically, and it is all the more imperative that I redeem my mother’s jewellery as quickly as possible. Some of it I have already done, she mortgaged it in stages you know, to finance my upkeep in England. It is only when I have fulfilled my responsibilities that I can consider myself a free man.

Kanhiya Lal came today. He said he had not known how hostile the opposition to our relationship was. (All this in a roundabout way. I think he is afraid of wounding my feelings!) He approached Kailashnath, who kept saying your parents and grandfather were grievously hurt, and in society one couldn’t go on thinking of oneself alone. The same thinking that perpetrates the most ghastly personal tragedies. What is society made up of, but individuals?

Finally, Kanhiya managed to persuade Kailash to let him see you – to make you see reason, he said. He reports you as silent, very silent, darling. He met you in the drawing-room, along with one of your younger brothers, your eyes followed the letter he managed to hide under the cover of the takht.

Kanhiya feels thrown into the role of both Machiavelli and Cupid. As I imagined, he is uneasy about having to deceive his friend. On the other hand he wants to serve the teacher at whose feet he has sat. (This is the way he puts it.) He cannot be accused of personal motivation, so that eases his conscience somewhat. Poor fellow! That my difficulties should involve my students! But it can’t be helped. My loneliness is so great, my desire for you so acute that these niceties get brushed aside.

Soon it will be my birthday. My thirtieth. At Moti Cottage, we will do a puja, and feed thirty brahmins. Any other form of celebration would seem callous disregard of the lives being lost. Not a day passes without some news of ships sunk, and aircraft shot down.

When I look back, I feel I have achieved so little of what I wanted! My debts are unredeemed, and my family’s ineptitude in matters of learning and self-improvement is as glaring as ever. When I see how eagerly my students learn, how they hang upon my every word, sadness comes upon me. Those who are my nearest ones are those whom I can help the least.
She
was the first with whom I tried, and the first with whom I failed.

The war drags on. Moral polarities become more evident to all, from Gandhi to Malik. How can the British claim to be sincere about defending democracy when they refuse to give up their control over India. Some in the staff-room feel that Britain is as much an imperial, expansionist power as Germany. Others feel there is a qualitative difference, and that notwithstanding our political disagreements, we should support Britain. Enriched or impoverished, we have been so interlinked these past two hundred years that the symbiosis goes beyond a simple definition of right and wrong. How can we turn our backs, and say the war is your business, not ours?

Malik, our economist, remarked yesterday that whether we turned our backs on Britain or not, we were going to end up financing this war, in one way or another. No country could afford to go on fighting on the scale Britain was. Sooner or later she would have to draw on her resources, and that was her Empire. Either through taxes (but Malik didn’t think the taxes would go very far, that would make her too unpopular) or through other means, we would be vitally affected. We could flatter ourselves with the illusion that we had a choice about support. The truth of the matter was that we had been involved since the moment war was declared.

We thought of the unprecedented rise in prices, and voiced no dissent.

It seems aeons since I heard from you, darling. Shifting from your aunt’s house has lengthened the distance between us, and made my heart more anxious.

  H.

 

Morning.

I was so surprised when Kailash brought Kanhiya Lal here to see me two weeks ago! I didn’t say much to him. We sat in the baithak, and I managed to take the letter he hid without anyone noticing. I fed upon it eagerly. Nobody here cares to discuss anything seriously with me.

They have moved me to the terrace. The godown was getting very cold. Before they sent me up, they asked me again if I would marry. I should be grateful, they said, for a decent man with a sound family background. Someone as fallen as I would not find it easy to get a home. My mother keeps saying that all my education has achieved is the destruction of my family. How I am supposed to respond, I don’t know.

After the godown, this is like a new life for me. I can breathe and think more clearly with the great sky above me. The sun feels soft and warm. At one end of the terrace is a neem tree, where I can sit when it gets too hot in the after-noons, almost in its branches. There is a little store in the corner that is used for keeping the charpais, bedding, mosquito nets and poles, and this serves me when I need a room.

This long period is the first time in my life I have been left completely to myself. Away from my brothers and sisters, away from household activity, I feel strange, one pea alone in a whole long pod, no use to anybody. I have to get used to it, for this is my fate.

All I have is your letters. They are the only sign anybody cares for me. My family tells me they are doing this for my good. I feel, since I have caused them so much grief, why don’t they just let me go away and never see me again. God will provide – there are things I can do. When I suggested this, they got very angry. They want nothing from me but an agreement to marry.

  V.

 

Moti Cottage
Tuesday, 12 December, 1939

 

 

Viru sweetheart,

You must write more. The frequency of communication is so limited that the volume of our correspondence has to compensate. And then darling, what is this curious habit of not addressing me?

Forgive this cavilling. I am disturbed and not hearing from you makes it worse. My family is putting pressure on me to leave Amritsar. They say even if I cannot find a job for three hundred rupees a month in Kanpur, the living expenses will be cheaper in the family home. My brother’s children also need me, there is no one who can guide them like I can, my mother will feel more settled, it will be easier to arrange my sister’s marriage, etc., etc.

Yesterday a huge demonstration was held at Jallianwala Bagh criticizing the Punjab Government for not controlling prices and checking profiteering. With so much agitation there is bound to be some positive outcome. Then they will have less reason to pressurize me to move.

My bua has arrived from Kanpur. Apparently my mother had asked her to get my horoscope read by a more learned astrologer than our pujari. Although I do not believe in all this nonsense, my horoscope has turned out to be an unexpected ally in our union! This my sister Guddiya told me, as she was giving me breakfast. Normally she just leaves the tray in the room and goes, but today she hovered around.

‘Guddiya?’ I said. ‘Is something the matter?’ I thought she might be having a problem with the last book I gave her to read.

She smiled. ‘Bhaiyaji, they were discussing your horoscope.’

‘And?’ I pricked up my ears.

‘The Moon and Venus are together in the seventh house –’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You don’t know, Bhaiyaji?’ she exclaimed. ‘Why, the seventh house is the house of marriage – among many other things!’

Even this ten-year-old girl knows such a thing. How we fill our children’s heads with rubbish!

‘So?’

‘So, in your case, they are inspected by the tenth aspect of Saturn, therefore two marriages!’ And she ran off giggling and looking very naughty.

Next day, next instalment.

‘Bhaiyaji,’ she said.

‘Guddo,’ I said, catching her by the arm, and holding her chin with my hand. ‘Let me see if you know how to give news. Imagine you are writing a composition.’

‘Who will read it? It is not like “My Favourite Book” or “My Holiday”, is it?’

‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘Compositions are supposed to teach you how to tell things clearly.’

She told me that she had heard (or made it her business to hear) Buaji tell Ammaji that even if she tried she could not stop my second marriage. Fate worked in strange ways, and she should accept whatever happened with good grace. Amma kept crying throughout but Buaji said that you were from a good family, how much worse would it have been if I had come home with an English mem? And she said I was doing my duty by the family, and trying to pay back my debts as fast as possible, even though no one had ever asked me for the money. If they tried to restrict me too much, they might end up losing me altogether.

I could not have put my case half so well! I told Guddiya that I was very satisfied with her powers of expression. She looked pleased and ran away.

 

Friday, 15 December, 1939

 

 

K.L. is coming tomorrow. I do not know how many more times he will be allowed to see you. Even this much has been an unexpected piece of good fortune.

Darling, you say your family is questioning your years of studying. One of the benefits of education is that it teaches us to think for ourselves. Even if we arrive at the same conclusions that have been presented to us, our faith in those beliefs are stronger for having been personally thought out. If, as sometimes happens, our education leads us to question some of the value systems by which we live, that is not to say that we are destroying tradition. The tradition that refuses to entertain doubt, or remains impervious to new thoughts and ideas, becomes a prison rather than a sustaining life force. Even the smallest one of us has a social function, but that function is not to follow blindly beliefs that may not be valid.

Do you know how an earthworm lives? It inhabits an extremely limited space, its whole life is spent within the darkness of the soil. It can neither feel nor see. Uneducated people are like that. We are being murderers towards ourselves if we do not develop our intellect. Any part of us that is not used will atrophy and die – the same is true of our minds. Remember, it was through your desire to learn that we were first drawn to each other.

Then Vir, consider, what is it that takes me away from the woman I live with? Apart from the planets in the house of marriage, of course! She is a good woman, runs the house to perfection, looks after my family as though they were her own. Despite all this, I am lonely, lonely, lonely. We have nothing in common. I once wanted to share my interests with my wife, felt her pain at my estrangement from her. But she will not change. Will not – cannot – I do not know.

Who is responsible for this state of affairs? Society, which deems that their sons should be educated, but not their daughters. Society that decides that children – babies really – should be married at the ages of two and three as we were. As a result, both of us needlessly suffer for no fault of ours. I cannot be an adherent to stultifying tradition after this, but Viru, you must make up your own mind about these matters. You are intelligent and capable.

This has been a very long letter – to make up for your very short one! Do not disappoint me again, in this respect, darling.

  All my love,

  H.