Murmur of the Lonely Brook (12 page)

Pravin nodded. He understood his reason but wondered how he could abandon his childhood dream so easily.

“I am tired, we will talk tomorrow.” Pravin yawned and left.

Diwakar went back to his TV program. Now that he was alone he could enjoy the movie.

Nisha was seated on the bed when Pravin came in. She was tired and it was late. She got up and closed the door.

“So finally you have time for me,” she said with a smile.

“I had to talk with everyone, especially Aau and Diwa. Aau had a lot of questions.”

Pravin changed and stretched on the bed. He looked at her. He saw the transformation from a college girl he met at Peo to a housewife. When he was here he could only see her as she was, as a wife and friend. But living away he saw only the family from a distance. He saw them as a unit and she was very much part of the total picture. And this was what he wanted. He wanted her to blend with the family. More than his wife he wanted her to be known as Nemsha (bride) of Shevak’s family. That was the way of the village.

“I also have something to tell you.” She wanted to say all the things she thought of and all the things she couldn’t say on the phone.

“What? Do you have a problem with Aama?”

“No no, she is good and loves me very much. I could not have asked for more.”

“Then?”

“I don’t have any issues. Everyone is good and treats me well. I just miss you all the time. Maybe it would have been much better if you stayed at home.”

“I also miss the family life. But you know that I have to work. I have to support the family. And there are no options in this village. But I will try to come more often.”

“I understand,” she said and snuggled close to him inside the blanket.

Pravin put an arm around her and held her close. Nisha enjoyed the warmth of his strong embrace.

“You must be tired. You better sleep now,” she said.

Pravin was exhausted from the long journey and soon fell into a deep sleep.

It was early morning when Pravin woke up from his dream. He was sweating profusely. In his dream he had felt Kishen’s wife holding him tightly and pressing against him. And then he realized it was Nisha. She was sleeping peacefully. He sat up and got a glass of water. He came back and woke her up. He was already aroused and made intense love with her. She responded with equal passion. After a while both fell asleep again only to wake up with Parvati knocking at the door.

It was Dawa who came to chant the sacred hymns. The Lama from Sangla only came for bigger events like naming ceremonies. The villagers would send Balbir or some other to bring him and also take him back. But this was a regular household event. Dawa sat on a sheepskin and took out his book of hymns. The red flag was kept folded in front beside a twig of pine, a small trishul (a three headed iron spear) and a few flowers, which Diwakar brought early in the morning. Parvati kept the poltus in a plate along with some wheat, rice and a bottle of liquor. Dawa’s nephew, the chotey lama, also accompanied him. Dawa read the hymns while his nephew sprayed the flag with the twig, dipping it into the liquor after each chapter was finished. The family sat in a row with folded hands praying to God to save them from storms and other natural disasters.

After about an hour, Dawa finished reading the hymns. The flag was then tied to the long pole especially procured from Kishori, who excelled in cutting and collecting such pieces from the forest. Dawa tied the trishul and the twig on top of the pole. A final hymn was recited and the flag was raised on the eastern side of the house. Shevak gave a five hundred-rupee note to Parvati. Parvati gave it to Dawa with one hand while the other touched the elbow. She packed some poltus, biscuit and nuts and handed it to his nephew.

The family sat together for breakfast. Today was a special day and poltu was a delicacy. Parvati passed on the leftover meat, but it was mostly curry.

“I will not have meat today. I will go to the temple for puja and cook halwa,” Pravin said.

Cooking the halwa was a form of service to the Devta. Normally, people carried the ingredients and firewood and, with some help from friends and relatives, cooked at the temple and served the gathering. But this was restricted to the men folk only. By custom, women were not allowed to go in front of Devta or to take part in any form of puja.

“You will need to buy the sugar,” Parvati said. She was happy that her son had not forgotten the rituals and had faith in Devta. She had heard that many people change once they start living in the big cities.

“Nisha, help me pack the poltus. Diwa will go out and distribute it.” She got up and Nisha followed.

Both started making small packets of poltus with newspapers and soon Diwakar left with a bag. He would have to go to fifteen houses in the village, which included those of his uncles, aunts and the village chief.

Pravin left soon for the temple and Ria pulled Nisha to her room.

“I need your help again.”

“What for?” Nisha asked.

“I want to make one more card. And this time it will be easy.”

“Is it for the same friend?” she asked.

“I will tell you later. Will do it?”

“Yes, but not now. I have a lot of work to do. I need to wash your Aaté’s clothes, cook, and then, if I have the time, I will do it.”

“Okay, let’s do it when I get back from school.”

Nisha nodded and Ria left singing a popular Hindi number. She was in high spirits.

Chapter 12

Pravin reached the temple with two of his friends and found a small crowd outside. The Devta was speaking through the Gur. He informed Pravin that he was unclean. The Devta can be unclean for many reasons. He then informed him that it was Amarchand who had come the day before after eating eggs. It was forbidden to come to the temple after having eggs, fish, or chicken. And the Devta was always correct. The crowd went to confront Amarchand. Either he had to provide a goat for sacrifice or pay the cost for the sacrificial goat. Only such a sacrifice would sanitize the Devta.

Pravin left with his friends. He decided to perform puja the next day. They crossed the river and went down the riverside. Pravin looked at the changing terrain. The poplars by the side of the road were loaded with grass bundles for drying, which wrapped around their branches and looked like the old saints with uncut beards. The naked white branches spread against the turquoise sky and shivered with the wind that blew across the valley searching for the few leaves that still clung to them. The sunburned stacks of buckwheat hay stood quietly in solemn remembrance of the poor yield. The potato fields that survived the snowfall awaited excavation. The river still flowed, nestled between the peaks that stood in silent solitude adorned with pines, deodars and the bhujpatra. The sound of the river overlapped the noise of the dead leaves dancing in the gusts of wind.

This was his village, his home and this was where his roots lay. They crossed the bridge and climbed the narrow path toward the new mobile tower. They reached a clearing and stopped. Pravin sat down on a large rock with his friends. He breathed deeply and glanced around. From his vantage point he could look out over the whole village. He could see the road and women moving with bundles of grass, hay and firewood on their backs. He could see children going to school, little boys rotating their books on a finger above their heads, little girls swinging their pigtails, stray cows browsing for grass, and alpine choughs moving in flocks across the village sky. And then he saw their own patch of land. From a distance it looked small. The few stacks of hay indicated the pitiable harvest. He felt worried. A division of this field between him and baya would result in disaster. Neither of them could survive on such small pieces of land. He was more concerned for his baya. He himself had a job and was confident he could move on. But Diwa was young and had not seen much of the world. He could only sustain himself with farming. And then there was the cost of extending the house once he too got married. True, the apple orchard was there. But it only provided for cash expenses and the huge winter ration to sustain the family for six months. He realized that this was a serious issue and maybe this was why aau was worried most of the time.

***

Shevak looked around for Sonu, another local driver who had a bigger car than Balbir. He would need Sonu if he had to carry the apples to Shimla. He walked down to Lalaji’s shop and saw a small crowd there. Dayawanti was creating a loud commotion. It was a common scene except this time she was abusing some invisible victim. In the morning she had left a bundle of notes, about two thousand rupees, on the counter and had taken a short break. While she was gone the money had disappeared. In the village there was virtually no theft except for a few singular, rare incidents. No one locked their homes; they just shut their doors. Lalaji was furious.

“You are careless and an idiot too! You should be more careful as there are a lot of laborers nowadays.”

“No laborers would dare touch my money. And they don’t come so early in the morning.”

“Then my dead father came and took it!” he said sarcastically.

“I don’t know who took it, but I will find out within a day.”

“You better do that; it’s my sweat and labor.”

“As if I sit here all day skinning nuts!” Dayawanti was visibly offended with his selfish remark.

“I will be going to Chitkul tomorrow morning and meet the Deviji.”

The Goddess at Chitkul was known widely for her power in tracing out thieves and stolen goods. Everyone was afraid of her power and took her help when in trouble. The crowd dispersed, agreeing that this was the right decision. Soon the news spread across the village and many came to the shop to console her. Such things were rare and considered inauspicious.

***

Diwakar came back from distributing the poltus. He still had most of the day ahead of him and wanted to spend it with his aaté. The temple was closed awaiting sanitization and he thought aaté would be home.

“Do you know where your Aaté is?” Nisha asked him the moment he entered.

“No, I thought he was at home. The temple is closed and he is not there.”

“Then he must be with his friends.”

Nisha went back inside. Both the women had taken the day off from the fields. While Parvati was knitting a sweater for Ria, Nisha was cooking Gucci (cauliflower mushrooms). Gucci was a rare delicacy found in the higher reaches at certain times of the year. The young boys went in groups to collect it during the monsoon. It commanded a very high price and though most of it was sold the villagers dried and kept a few for themselves.

Diwakar watched her cook with some packed spices.

“I can smell something good,” he said with a smile.

“I saw this spice on TV and got it from Lalaji.”

Parvati wondered why any of them needed to buy spices when she had enough stock of garlic and red chilies. She used them in most of her dishes and everyone liked it.

By evening Dayawanti got the money back. The crook, whoever it was, had simply dropped the bundle on the shop floor in one corner. He must have come with the crowd and slipped it in when no one was noticing. Dayawanti was ecstatic.

“Look at the power of Deviji! Just one mention of her name and we got the money back.”

“You better be careful next time,” Lalaji said.

Dayawanti ignored his comment and went on to treat everyone to free tea. Lalaji sat back and smoked his bidi.

Nisha drew the pictures for Ria and she was happy. Drawing the dog was the difficult part; it looked like something between a goat and a cat. But that was okay. The drawing was finished with colors, the trees green, the birds orange, and the dog blue. The boy and the girl were stick figures; the boy in red trousers, the girl in a green skirt.

“I have one last request,” Ria said. “Please write the word ‘picnic’ at the bottom.”

Nisha smiled and complied.

“So, you want to meet him during the picnic?”

Ria looked at her and blushed. She smiled and ran away with the card.

Shevak met Sonu late in the evening when he came back from Peo. “I am thinking of taking the apples to Shimla.”

“No problem, Uncle. Tell me when you want to go.”

Sonu was about thirty, and by relation, Shevak was his distant uncle. But they were more like friends. “How is the road?”

“Okay except for a small block at Kuppa.” Kuppa was six kilometers from Sangla and due to heavy erosion had suffered frequent landslides.

“How much delay in crossing it?”

“Not much, about an hour. The PWD (Public Works Department) men are working on it.”

“Fine, maybe I will leave in a day or two. I will let you know.”

“Will you come back the same day?”

“We will see, maybe we will spend a day there.”

“No problem. I know Shimla well and I will take you around.” Sonu smiled. Sonu had been brought up outside the village. He lived with his father at Johuri, a place beyond Karcham, while his mother took care of the farm at the village. He traveled a lot and was happy and content with his work.

It was late and getting dark. Shevak got up and left for home.

Pravin came back and saw Diwakar playing a song on his mobile while Nisha stood near the window. The TV was on but no one was watching. Diwakar stopped the music and smiled at his aaté.

“Why did you stop the song?” Nisha turned and saw Pravin.

“Where have you been all day?” Nisha asked. “He has been waiting for you all afternoon.”

“I had to meet many people,” Pravin said and sat down.

“I will make some tea,” Nisha said.

“Have you stopped going to school?” Pravin asked his brother.

“We have a holiday now before our finals. But tell me about Solan.”

“There’s nothing much to tell about Solan. It’s just another city. There’s a temple, a big garden, and a market. But my site is a bit far away, and I only get time off on Sundays.”

“Can I come and stay with you sometime?”

“Not yet. I don’t have a nice place to stay,” he lied.

And then he remembered Gangaram, Rampur, and Raju. He decided to make a call to Ganga Bhaiya. Nisha came in, served tea, and sat down with them. Pravin told them about his experience in Peo and then about Solan. He told them how difficult it was for a Kinnauri. He did not mention his short stint at the restaurant but told about his work, his extra shifts, and about Raju.

“I can see it’s a difficult life. Maybe you should stay here,” said Diwakar.

Pravin looked at him and knew his concern was genuine. “But we only have a small piece of land and it’s not enough for the family. Soon you will get married and the family would grow.”

Diwakar was a bit startled. He blushed, looked up at Nisha, and then looked down.

“I will not marry.”

“We will find a beautiful girl for you,” Nisha said.

“No need, I am happy as I am.”

“Everyone needs to marry. If you don’t, who will take care of you in your old age?” Pravin asked.

Diwakar once again looked at Nisha but only for a split second before he turned toward the window. He wanted to say that she would be there. “I can take care of myself.” He did not like this discussion. He had no plans to marry; his dream was something different.

“I am hungry,” Diwakar said and left the room.

“I hope you are taking good care of him,” Pravin said, looking over at Nisha.

“He is nice and adorable,” Nisha said and smiled.

At dinner, the men and Ria sat first and Nisha served the gucci with pancakes. She waited anxiously for comments.

“It’s great! I will have extra pancakes tonight,” said Diwakar.

Pravin ate silently. His mind was working on many things. Gangaram was at the top of the list. He knew he had to break the news sooner or later to his aau.

“Aaté, how do you like the gucci?”

“It’s okay, but has too much spices. I like the way Aama makes it.”

Nisha was half in tears. She turned her face and looked away. Diwakar looked at her and realized she was hurt.

“She made it especially for you with great care.”

Pravin did not realize what was wrong with telling the truth. “I said it’s okay.”

He continued with his food and had an extra pancake. After dinner, Shevak and Pravin left for the other room. Nisha and Parvati ate silently, though Nisha had just one pancake and fiddled with her food. Parvati finished and left for her room.

“I know you are hurt, but please don’t take it to heart.” Diwakar saw two drops roll down her cheeks. He felt sorry for her. “Aaté is like that. He speaks without thinking. But he loves you. Please calm down.”

Nisha wiped her face, got up, and washed the plates.

Shevak watched news on TV while Pravin sat on one side. Nearly everyone in the village watched news and had a lot of fun discussing the headlines the next day at Lalaji’s shop. Mostly it was the news on corruption running into billions that provided the greatest amusement. Politics and other affairs could not touch the poor villagers and except for a couple of them, no one had any savings or money either. There was no newspaper and no one felt the need for one.

“I have a job offer from Rampur.”

Shevak looked at Chotu but remained silent. He knew more would be coming.

“The money is better and it’s closer to home.”

“Think it over and decide for yourself. One of you needs to work outside. I don’t mind if both of you work. We will then stop farming and get rid of the cows.” Pravin knew this was not from his heart. At heart, his aau was a farmer like all the other villagers and it ran in his blood. Shevak stubbed his bidi, stood up, and left for his room.

Parvati was awake. She also felt bad for Nisha but knew that Pravin was like his father. Shevak never thought before he spoke. He said whatever came to his mind. She remembered her initial days after marriage when she felt hurt on many occasions. She even stopped talking for a few days. But then she realized he was like that. At heart, he was good and took care of everyone. But he had a rough and arrogant approach to everything. She thought maybe it was the harsh conditions of survival that made him like that. The only solace was with her children, spending time praying and chanting hymns.

Pravin found Nisha sleeping with her hands folded and covering her face. He shut the light off and stretched out beside her. Nisha turned to her other side, putting her back toward him. He glanced at her and prepared to sleep. He had many things moving around in his mind. He knew she was upset but it was not in his nature to say soft words. For him, a wife or a woman was just a helping hand in the family. He thought about his new assignment at Rampur for a while. And then he slept.

Nisha stayed awake for quite some time. She realized she was over enthusiastic with the cooking. She should not have tried something new. She hoped that he would at least talk once. She did not expect him to say he was sorry or anything. Just a touch or maybe a few words. And then she heard him breathing deeply and knew he was asleep. And then she slept.

Shevak was up early as usual. He wanted to pack the apples. It would take a full day to pack them and then another to seal the boxes. He woke up Diwakar.

“Call Chotu. We need to pack the apples. I wish to leave day after tomorrow.”

Parvati and Nisha made pancakes.

“I will finish the puja at the temple and join you,” Pravin said.

The three had breakfast and Shevak and Diwakar went to the orchard. On the way, Shevak stopped to inform Sonu.

They walked down to Dongri, their winter home. The road was cut across the hills, which rose just beyond the village. It went downward and after crossing the village, the entire valley opened up at the bend. The river ran below on the left across the gorge bouncing over and splashing against large yellow and brown rocks. A few boulders even had trees growing in the cracks while a few others were covered with moss. Barbets, wagtails, and red and green finches crowded the gorge and chirped and chattered merrily making a symphony with the roar of the river. The boulders caused the river to break up into streams that again reunited after a few yards and continued their downward journey across the valley.