Greatest Short Stories (7 page)

‘Then she might talk to you… Though, I hope she does not say too much… The neighbours will know everything…’

For now that she was here, she wanted her return, somehow, to remain a private occurrence. She knew, of course, that everyone in a small place knew everyone else’s business. And she had no hope of escaping censure from the tongues which had wagged when, before her marriage, she had played openly with boys of her own age, and seldom cared to cover her head with her dupatta because she did not want to look like a ghost. All the elders called her ‘Man Lajo,’ while the boys called her, ‘Meena Kumari’ after the film heroine she resembled. She wanted as she sat there, to know what was in her father ’s heart — whether he had understood her mysterious will, and the instinct which had inspired her always to do the odd things. He had always told her that he was sorry he had named her Lajwanti, which means sensitive plant, because she has lived up to her name. Indu pushed a cup of water into her bird’s cage. And lo! the Maina began to talk.

‘Lajo, what does she say?’ the boy asked.

Lajwanti smiled, even as she looked at the torrid sky.

After her father returned from the well, he tied the buffalo and put what cattle food Indu had chopped up before the animal. As the boy had not cut enough, he took the chopper and began to prepare more. He was not the kind to scold anyone, and least of all did he want to blame his son for getting excited about his elder sister.

When the buffalo had been looked after, he proceeded to soak the lentils for the evening meals and proceeded to light the fire.

‘I will do all that, Bapu: Lajwanti said.

‘Daughter, it does not matter,’ he answered and stubbornly went on with the chores. And, turning to his son, he said,’ ‘give your sister a mat to sit on.’

Imperceptible as were his feelings behind the mask of his calm, wrinkled face, she saw a pallor on his lips as he said this, and she knew that she was not wanted. That mat was only given to guests.

The courtyard was filled with shadows long before the fire in the sky became ashes. Lajwanti could see the clouds tinted red as though the world had witnessed some gruesome murder.

And, frightened of her own self, she tried to hold her breath.

‘Sister, I have brought you a pitcher of water to bathe with, ‘Indu said.

Before Lajwanti could answer, Moti had been disturbed by her brother’s voice and awakened, whining.

Lajwanti leaped forward to her and embraced the child, consoling her.

‘Lajo,’ her father said, ‘The children want a mother. And I would have kept you here and not given you away, if people had not begun to talk about you…’ He paused after this statement for a long time, and then after blowing at the hearth fire, he continued: Now, I am both father and mother to them… and, as for you, I will take you back to your parents-in-law’s house. I shall fall at their feet and ask them to forgive you. The disgrace of your widowhood without your becoming a widow is unbearable… They will only call you ugly names here… They do not know that you are ‘sensitive plant’…

Two days later, a post card came addressed to Shri Hari Ram, father of Lajwanti, written by Jaswant, on behalf of his father, saying, that as Lajwanti had run away, without permission from her husband or her parents-in-law, the clothes she had brought on her wedding were being returned and that no one in Delhi was now willing to see her ‘black face’.

Old Hari had already been trying to arrange for someone to look after his buffalo, his son and his daughter, so that he could take Lajwanti back to her parents-in-law. He had sent for the midwife, who had delivered all these children, from Pataudi proper, because he did not know anyone in the small village, who would oblige, without the payment of some cash.

Fortunately, the midwife Champa, arrived on the same morning after the post card was received. And she was more than willing, to take on the job of looking after the household.

‘Why,’ she said, ‘I had hoped to see our Lajo with belly. And I had waited to be called to her bedside, so that I could deliver her of a son. And, now, my loved one, you are here, without a sign in your eyes of the coming of the happy event. If only for the sake of the soul of your dear mother, go, hurry back. And come soon with your lap full of a child…’

‘I am putting my turban at your feet,’ said old Hari Ram to Chaudhri Ganga Ram, literally removing his enormous crown of cloth from his head and placing it on the shoes of his daughter’s father-in-law.

“Oh, come and sit here with me;” answered Chaudhri Ganga Ram, brushing the beadstead with his left hand as he smoked the hookah under the shade of a neem tree.

Lajwanti crouched a little way away, with her face covered by her head cloth and averted her gaze from her father-in-law towards the torrid fields; Her heart was in her mouth, lest her brother-in-law, Jaswant, might suddenly appear form the barn, or even her mother-in-law, come on the scene suddenly before the father-in-law had forgiven her. At the same time, she knew that there would be no forgiveness, but only a reluctant nod to indicate that she could stay.

The nod of approval was, however, long in coming. For Chaudhri Ganga Ram kept silent, after having lifted Hari Ram to sit by him, and only his hookah spoke a little agitatedly.

Meanwhile, Lajwanti felt the sweat gathering on the nape of her head and flowing down her spine. And she looked at her blessed Maina in the cage to see if the bird was not dead. The journey had been easier this time, because they had come by bus from Pataudi to Gurgaon and then caught the connection from Gurgaon to the bus stop half a mile away from the little village of her father-in-law. And as the bird seemed still, she spoke to her in wordless words:

‘My Maina tell me what will happen now? My heart flutters, as you often do when you are frightened of the cat coming to eat you. And I do not know if Jaswant will relent and not pursue me any more. But perhaps now that my father has brought me back, I will allow myself to be eaten. Only the humiliation will be complete now. Oh if only I had warmed to him and not thought of my own man who would never have known! I am really defeated. And even words are no use… And yet within me there is desire, and there is life — a river of feelings like the ancient Saraswati river which has gone underground and disappeared from the surface… How shall I control those feelings, those prisoners, trying to burst out…’

She opened her eyes to make sure. The vision was real.

Involuntarily, her eyes closed and a sigh got muffled into the folds of her headcloth. Sparks like stars shot out of the darkness of her head, and the agitation of nerves pushed up a copious sweat all over her. She knew that the constellations in the sky above her were ominous.

‘So the dead one has turned up!’ the mother-in-law ’s voice came, as the old woman returned from the well with one. pitcher on her head and another one on her left arm. The heavy breathing of the woman, forced to fetch and carry and do all the chores in the absence of Lajwanti, accented her voice with bitterness.

‘She is your daughter,’ said old Hari Ram to appease the woman. In his innocence he imagined that the proverbial mother-in-law had become the cause of his daughter’s flight. ‘I have brought her back… the midwife, Champa, said that the girl has made a mistake…’

‘To be sure,’ answered the mother-in-law. ‘There was no question, since Balwant has not been back from Kalej for more than a few days at a time…

Unless she has cast the spell of her grey eyes on someone else… Jaswant says he has seen her winking at the visitors on the roadside…’

‘We are respectable people,’ said Chaudhri Ganga Ram to reinforce his wife’s speech.

‘I… what shall I say, Chaudhriji,’ answered Hari Ram meekly. ‘I wish fate had made her not so good looking… But,’ now, I have brought her back. And you can kill her if she looks at another… Here is a ring for my son Balwant. I could not give much dowry. Now I will make up a little for what the boy did not get…’

From the wearisome acceptance of her fate, there swirled up incomprehensible violent urges of truth in Lajwanti, so that she shook a little and was on the point of telling them the horrible facts. And she was mad at her father for effacing himself and bowing before her in-laws. But the tremors in her entrails ended in choking her throat. And the lofty flights of anger only befogged her brain.

‘Jaswant! Jaswant!… Come over here…’ the mother-in-law called her eldest son.

The scarecrow in the field turned round. Then he lifted the palm of his hand to see. He understood. And he began to walk back.

In the silence of doom, Lajwanti quivered as though the demons of hell had let loose snakes and scorpions on her body. And, in a fit of crazy abandon, she felt herself borne form the underworld, on a bed, by her heroic husband, his arms wrapped around her… Actually, beneath the trembling flesh, she knew Balwant to be a coward, who dare not even raise his head to look at his elder brother.

‘She has come back!’ Jaswant ground the words in his mouth, throwing the white radishes away on the ground near the outdoor kitchen.

‘She could not tell you that she wanted to see the midwife,’ old Hari Ram said. ‘It was a false alarm.’

‘ There are mid-wives here also!’ Jaswant answered pat. ‘Why there is the Safdarjung Hospital!…’ Do no be taken in by her stories, Uncle. She has looked at more than one before her marriage… She is just a bad girl!… The way she insulted me when I went to fetch her back,… She sat, there, answering back! And allowed that Afsar ’s wife to slap me on the face!… Prostitute!…’

‘Bus! bus! Son!’ Chaudhri Ganga Ram said to restrain the boy.

‘Take that for having me beaten!’ Jaswant said and kicked Lajwanti on her behind, ‘Lajwanti quivered, then veered round, almost doubled over, and uttered a shrill cry before beginning to sob.

‘You deserved a shoe beating!’ shouted Jaswant, towering over the girl like an eagle in a malevolent glee of power, his arms outstretched as though he was going to hit her again.

‘Come away!’ shouted his father.

‘Let him punish her if he thinks she has done wrong,’ said Hari Ram. And let her fall at his feet… My daughter is pure… After saying this he felt pangs of remorse at his own cowardice and he was caught in the paroxysm of a dry throated cough, and water filled his eyes.

‘Maina, my maina,’ Lajwanti said under her breath, ‘I cannot bear this…’

‘Deceitful cunning wretch!’ Jaswant said and he turned away towards her father. ‘Take her away… We have no use for her here! After she has disgraced us before the whole brotherhood’

‘Not so many angry words, son!’ Chaudhri Ganga Ram said. ‘You have punished her enough!’

‘Son, let her get up and work!’ mother-in-law said.

‘Bless your words of wisdom’ said Hari Ram. ‘I knew you would be merciful… And now I leave her in your care. Kill her if you like. But don’t let her come to me without her lap full of son. I shall not be able to survive the disgrace if she comes again…’

‘Maina, my maina, who will talk to you, if I go away forever?’ Lajwanti asked the bird in the cage even as she washed her with palmfuls of water from the bucket.

The bird fluttered wildly evading the shower.

‘Will you shriek if I drown you in the water, my little one?’ Lajwanti asked.

The bird edged away as though in answer.

And she sat down on the ledge of the well, away from the surging waters which were all around her dizzy brain.

If she stopped to think, she felt she would never do it… It was now or never, when there was no one on the well except herself and the Maina. The village women had finished fetching the water for the evening. And soon it would be dark.

From where she sat, a tilt — that would do it. But no, She must not wait any more.

And with a jerk of her torso, interrupted by her indecision, she forced herself into a heave.

The fall was ugly. Her left shoulder hit the stone on the side before she fell sideways into the well.

For a moment, she was limp.

The impact of the fall took her full-length into the water. But, in a second, she felt her body rising up as though from its own momentum. Unfortunately, for her she was a swimmer. She could not decide to let go of her breath. And, now, her hand pushed up above the water. And she found herself using her arms, to keep afloat.

Still there was a chance.

Rising from the torso, she ducked down, with her nose tweaked between her fingers.

She stayed under the water for a minute and then tried to drown herself by letting go of her hand from the tweaked nose.

The head rose above the water, panting for breath.

‘Lajwanti! Lajwanti! Bad one come out! her mother-in-law ’s voice came, in a shrill appeal. ‘ This is not the way of respectable people…’

There was no way by which Lajwanti could put her head into the water. Perhaps she really did not want to die. How had the old woman turned up? Because, left to herself, she would have gone under with a second or third try. Not even in the darkness, was there an escape… Above the well, life would be worse hell than even before…

Gently, she let go. And then water began to fill her nostrils and her mouth. And she was submerged.

Before she had lost consciousness, however, she felt herself lying down in the slush near the well.

They were pressing her belly. Some one was sitting on her. And the spurts of water oozed from her nostrils and mouth. The rancid tastes of stale air was on her palate-the taste of life’s breath.

And as she lay dissolving under her heavy eyelids, the bitterness of her breath seemed to lapse, and sleep shaped her eyes into a fixed stare.

And yet, within a moment, more water had come up through her nose and mouth.

And, within her, she could hear her foolish, tormented heart pounding away.

And then the drowsy eyelids opened. And she could see the Maina bird in the cage by her.

‘Alas’ She said in wordless words, above the ache of the head and the thumping of the heart, ‘There is no way for me… I am… condemned to live…’

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From
Lajwanti and Other Stories
.