Murmur of the Lonely Brook (7 page)

Pravin considered the offer. The rats were a real nuisance at Raju’s place. Also, Kishen’s house was near the construction site. He could save time and money in traveling every day. Plus, the food was good.

“But then, I want to share some of the cost.”

Kishen took that as a confirmation. He patted Pravin on the back and said, “We’ll see.”

Raju was waiting at the stall. He had finished his daily chores and had his dinner. “Aaté, you are late. I hope you have good news.”

Pravin felt bad but he broke the news. Raju took it sportingly. “We can always meet on Sundays.”

“I can never forget you. I will come whenever I get the time.”

They left for the storeroom. Raju fell asleep soon but Pravin remained awake. He felt a strange affection for this young boy staying alone and away from his family.

In the morning, both got up and Pravin picked up his bag. He took out a hundred-rupee note and pressed it into Raju’s hand.

“Be well and take care,” he said and left in a hurry.

***

Anil asked Pravin to look after the stock—loading, unloading, storage, safekeeping, issue of materials, everything. He had to stand by the trucks and keep a count of the goods and the labor involved, and then arrange the storage of everything in the basement. The first lot that came was cement and soon he was covered in dust. By evening, he looked like a ghost and went on coughing and sneezing. He splashed water on his face and got some relief. He noted everything with proper care and handed the book to Anil. Anil was happy with his work.

“It seems I have a good hand. Go home and rest.”

Pravin reached Kishen’s house and found him waiting. “It seems you need a shower.” Kishen laughed when he saw him. Pravin’s head was still gray from the cement dust.

Kishen’s wife came in hiding her smile behind the saree pulled across her face. She set down a bucket of water and soap. Pravin moved to one corner of the terrace and removed his shirt and trousers. He wrapped a towel and sat near the drain and cleaned himself. He felt better. Both sat at the cot and Kishen’s wife served dinner. The hot food refreshed and revived him.

Pravin slept on the cot where Kishen’s wife had set a bed sheet, a pillow, and a jug of water. It was the first time he had noticed that she was much younger than Kishen. While Kishen was in his fifties, she looked thirty. She was of medium height and was not like the women in his village. She did not have an athletic build but was healthy. She was neither fair nor dark. She spoke very little and mostly stayed inside the kitchen. Pravin removed the blanket from his bag and wrapped himself in it. He looked at the stars. He knew his village was below the same stars and that his family must be worried. But it would be some time before he could go back. He decided to ask Anil for extra work, which would allow him to earn a bit more. And then he slept.

The next morning, he got up early with the sun and looked around. It was an old neighborhood with adequate spacing between each house. He could see the green fields at a distance. A few carts loaded with breads were being pushed along the path and a newspaperman threw papers rolled and tied with string. A few dogs slept curled up on the footpath. Pravin heard the sound of bangles and looked around. Kishen’s wife was up; she set a cup of tea near the bed. Kishen woke up shortly.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well,” he said smiling.

“Yes, bare bhaiya, I did.”

Both had their tea and Kishen took a short bath. Both had their breakfast and Kishen put on his uniform.

“I will leave early but you can leave later.” Pravin’s site was just a short walk away.

Kishen left and Pravin watched him walk down the road. He then went back and sat down on the cot. Kishen’s wife was in the kitchen. She came out after a while and set another tea next to the cot, then went back and stood at the kitchen door, her face half covered with her saree. Pravin knew that in many places it was still a custom to keep the veil on in front of outsiders. He did not mind. He silently had his tea and got ready to leave. All along, she stood silently at the kitchen door watching him.

There were already two trucks waiting at the site, one loaded with bricks and the other with iron rods. Pravin counted the laborers and noted their names. Once the material was unloaded, he took stock and entered the count. He saw Anil and asked, “Can you give me extra work?”

Anil looked at him and said, “Extra work is laborer work. If you can handle that, I will see where I can fit you in. Give me some time to think.”

Pravin left feeling better with the new prospect. On the way back to Kishen’s house, he purchased some samosa and jalebi. Kishen was not yet home. Pravin walked up to the kitchen and left the packet inside near the door. Kishen came back soon. He was jovial and smiling and was carrying a small bag. Every Saturday he indulged in a few drinks as the next day was a holiday. He smiled at Pravin.

“I got some good fish. Tonight we will have good food,” he said jovially.

“And, I got samosas for you and bhabi.”

“That will be great! Let’s have it with tea.”

They had tea but Kishen left with his cup unfinished. He changed and came back with two glasses and a bottle of rum.

“I don’t usually drink, but I will have little to give you company,” Pravin said.

“Will we get the fried fish?” Kishen asked turning toward the kitchen.

There was no reply but Pravin could make out the smell of the fish cooking. Kishen poured himself a large glass. Fish was served and after two drinks, Kishen broke out in a folk song native to his place. After another two drinks, his wife came and removed the bottle.

Dinner was served but Kishen was in no condition to eat. He tried a few times to find his mouth and dropped half the food on his shirt. Kishen’s wife came and helped him inside. Pravin could listen to her scolding. After some time, the sound of loud snoring floated outside. He finished his food and cleaned the cot. Kishen’s wife came and removed the plates and left his jug of water. Pravin stretched and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was a holiday for him. He decided to meet Raju at the stall.

After about an hour, he woke up. He had the feeling of being watched and did not move. He looked around but saw no one. Inside, Kishen was snoring out loud. Slowly, he sat up and picked up the jug of water and heard the faint sound of bangles and a door closing.

Chapter 7

The sky had been overcast since morning. Diwakar woke up to the baritone bleat of the baby lamb accompanied by the kid. Parvati and Nisha were already up. Nisha was making pancakes.

“Let’s cut and bring in the buckwheat before it rains,” Parvati said.

“Yes, Aama,” said Nisha as she served food for all.

“I am worried about Chotu,” Parvati said. Even if she did not like his temper, she always felt concern for her children.

“Don’t worry, Aama, he should be fine,” Nisha said.

“Yes, I have full faith in Aaté,” added Diwakar.

Nisha looked at Diwakar affectionately—she knew that this man also had the same conviction about Pravin and her confidence increased. Everyone in the house saw that Nisha prayed with folded hands and closed eyes every morning in front of the Devta’s photo. But what she prayed for was anybody’s guess. The one and only thing she prayed for was Pravin’s success—she knew that her well-being depended on his finding employment. She also knew that she had done nothing wrong in her life for the gods not to be pleased with her and not to grant her wishes. Her life centered around him, and he was her universe.

Parvati folded a big plastic sheet and passed it to Diwakar. She took a big strainer and a few sacks. Nisha packed lunch, tea and biscuits, and soon they left the house.

Ria was awake but still in bed. These days she looked forward to her school trip. It was the only thing that meant anything to her. The night seemed longer; the class periods seemed longer, as if they would never finish. She sat dreaming all day and looking out the window. The grass, the clouds, and the trees all came with a new meaning and everything seemed beautiful. She anxiously waited for those few minutes after school when Jeet, whose name she got from her friend, would come out and they would exchange that short glance sometimes coupled with a smile. Nowadays she did not look the other way but returned his smile.

This happened after Fulaich. On the last day of the festival the villagers danced on the road and people came out of their houses with gifts—a packet of biscuits or a chocolate or even a bottle of liquor. Ria was standing near the door when the dancers passed. A group of boys followed them and Jeet was in the team. He smiled at her. A few moments later a small child came running to her and gave her a bar of chocolate.

“Why are you giving me this?” Ria had asked.

“It’s not from me. Your friend said to give this to you,” he said, pointing to the group.

Ria looked and Jeet turned back and waved at her. She blushed and ran inside. She would not eat the chocolate; this was the first gift from her love. She kept it in her small box of bangles. At night, she slept with the chocolate bar under her pillow.

***

The clouds came from across one peak and floated behind another. Sometimes the sun was able to break through. It was the harvest season and the fields were full of all kinds of vegetables. Potato fields with bright white flowers, green peas with fat pods ready to burst, radish, gourds, garlic, cabbage, all different shades of green. The buckwheat stood out among them with its bright pink blossoms. The birds flew from one field to another. The pines stood proudly with young green cones while the oaks and poplars nodded with the occasional winds.

Parvati took out the plastic and all three laid it in a rough square in one corner. Diwakar brought the dried buckwheat plants in bunches and beat them against the plastic. The wheat separated from the plants. Nisha set them in a pile while Parvati set the rest of the plant, now dark brown in color, in another lot. These would be tied later and kept on the rooftop for further drying. During winter, these served as food for the cattle. Once the pile of wheat was large enough, Diwakar moved a bit and started another.

Parvati came over with the strainer and waved at Nisha. “Please help me here.”

Nisha squatted down and, filling the strainer, passed it on to Parvati, who was standing. Parvati shook it to remove the dirt and husks, then set the cleaned wheat in another pile.

She made a grim face and said, “We will have hardly three sacks this time.”

“But we have Fapra (wild buckwheat) too, don’t we, Aama?”

“There won’t be much of that either.”

This went on until the lot was cleaned up. Then both women put the husks in a sack for the cattle. Diwakar had moved farther down, making piles of wheat in a row. The kid and the lamb showed no interest in the buckwheat but jumped around the greens in all their youthfulness.

Working in the field was new to Nisha, as in her village her father could afford to hire laborers. But she was enjoying every bit of it. She remembered Pravin telling her how he hated farm work and how desperate he was to run away from the village. She wondered if he would ever come back except for a few days in a year and whether he would ever take her along with him. She left it to the gods to decide.

***

Ria decided to make a card for Jeet. She would draw something attractive on the cover and write a message inside. She took a piece of white paper and folded it. The first thing she tried to draw was a range of peaks with the sun. But soon she filled up the whole paper. She wanted to put in a few more things but there was no room left. She erased and tried again with no luck. She decided to ask Nisha to help her. She would decide later what to write inside but it should not be too obvious. Just a plain wish or some nice words. She was dying to meet him alone. She had so many questions.

She went to the kitchen for food. She saw the pancakes but wasn’t in the mood for them. Instead, she took out the packet of noodles Nisha gave her. She loved maggi too. She decided that after marriage they should have maggi once a day stuffed with onions, tomatoes, and chilies.

***

Shevak sat with a few others at Lalaji’s shop. Everyone was worried. This year the offers received for the apples were very low, a mere three hundred per crate. This was mostly due to the heavy rains, which spoiled the harvest and caused a few of the orchards to fall to disease. Apples were the main cash crop in this region.

“In Sangla they are getting five hundred per crate,” Naresh said.

“That is because they have a better crop,” said Balbir.

“In the city they sell these crates for two thousand and more!” said Shevak.

“We will never get a good price,” grumbled Naresh.

“Yes, as long as the thikedars (brokers) rule the trade. They know the greedy among us who take advance orders and agree to such low rates!” said Shevak angrily.

“We can’t stop the thikedars, nor the fools among us,” said Rajaram, who had been listening to this exchange.

“I have plucked my apples and been waiting for the past five days. If needed, I will take my apples to Delhi. The price is always better and I have taken them to Delhi before,” said Shevak.

“That’s a better idea. But my apples are few and infected. Maybe I will use them all for liquor this year,” Balbir said.

Everyone laughed and Naresh ordered tea for all.

“Some years we get good rates and some years low. We have to live with this,” he said.

***

Parvati started filling the sacks. Four and a half sacks resulted from her effort, her sweat, and her labor. There were three bags of husks that took even more space. “This load is quite big. Diwa, go and ask your father to send two laborers. They should carry most of these,” she said.

“Okay, Aama.”

Diwakar set off in a light jog. Parvati and Nisha collected the hay and started making bundles, tying them with vines. The bundles had to be carried back and placed on the roof for drying. But that could wait, as the sky was dark.

“I will have to go home. The peas and spinach all need to be put inside. You wait for Diwa. The laborers will carry most of it,” said Parvati.

She picked up a sack of husks and tied it to her back with her shawl. The kid and the lamb followed her.

Diwakar came back with two Nepali men. Meanwhile Nisha had tied all the hay and was sitting on the grass. Both of them helped the laborers pick up the sacks and Diwakar told them to drop the sacks at home.

He smiled at Nisha and said, “I am tired; let’s go to the stream.”

Nisha joined him to walk to the stream. It was late evening with an overcast sky and a gentle wind blowing. They crossed the field and took a narrow path through boulders, bushes, and wild grass until they reached the stream. The ice-cold water from the glaciers was nearing its journey to meet the river that flowed down through the gorges below. Both sat on a big rock. Diwakar looked at the peaks, the pines, and the deodars standing tall, kissed by clouds.

Without looking at Nisha, he said, “I want to build a small house in those hills.”

“And then?”

“Then run away with you.”

“They will surely find us,” Nisha said laughing.

“We will sit by the river, eat fruits, and sleep in the trees.”

“And sometimes on the grass below the trees,” Nisha said, looking at him. He was dreaming but she was sharing his dream.

“I will light the fire every evening and you will dance.”

“I don’t know how to dance.” Nisha smiled and tried to visualize his dream. She liked his innocence.

The air stood still while the clouds came down and covered the valley. In a few moments, a few white dots hit the ground. Diwakar looked at Nisha and said, “It’s snowing.”

Nisha looked in wonder. She extended her palm and tried to hold on to the snow. Tiny dots of white floated, crisscrossing each other in the air before they came down. The peaks disappeared in a mystic fog. The first few flakes melted on the ground. The snow fell on the trees and made a pitter patter sound on the leaves. It was getting cold. Diwakar moved closer to Nisha and put an arm around her. She did not move. She looked at the stream where the snow formed tiny ripples and smiled. Diwakar looked at the dimple forming and kissed her on the cheek. It was an impulse. She shivered a little but did not move. While Diwakar was lost in her beauty, Nisha was enjoying his innocence and the warmth of love. She moved closer. The mountains sent a stream of emotions with the melted glacier engulfing them. Both sat still.

After a while, Nisha said, “We must go, it’s getting late.”

Both got up and walked, clasping their hands like two children. The light snowfall continued for a while and then stopped. When they reached the fields, it was over but the clouds remained.

***

Shevak was worried, as were many others. This untimely snowfall was not good. It spelled bad news for the crops. But he was relieved when it stopped. He ordered a tea, lit up a bidi, and tried calling Pravin. But Pravin’s phone was still switched off and Shevak felt restless. He was more worried about Parvati, who nagged him constantly. He remembered last night. Parvati was waiting for him when he entered the room.

“Did you get any news of Chotu?” she had asked.

“I will tell you when I do.”

“Did you call him up?”

“Yes, I did, but his phone was turned off,” he replied angrily.

“Only God knows where he is, and whether he is eating and sleeping properly,” she sighed.

“Now don’t start nagging! He is old enough to take care of himself,” he said, raising his voice.

“You can always call Anil and ask him to look around.”

Shevak lost his temper. He was not someone to take advice from a woman.

“Why don’t you shut up, you old junk? You don’t have much inside your head except cow dung! Let me do the thinking and let me decide whom I should call. Don’t bother me, just let me sleep.”

Shevak thought for a while and called Anil at Peo.

“He is in Solan and working somewhere,” Anil assured him when Shevak asked about Pravin.

“Do you have a number?”

“Not at the moment, but I will get a number for you soon.”

Shevak had a feeling that Anil was not telling the truth. He said he would call again and disconnected.

***

Nisha and Diwakar reached home, each with two bundles of hay on their backs.

“Aama, I am hungry. Please boil some potatoes,” Diwakar said.

Parvati placed a few jacket potatoes in a vessel of water and set it on the bukhari. She took out a garland made of almonds and walnuts. Such garlands were given and worn during festivals and celebrations like marriage. Everyone kept them for use later. Parvati removed the nuts and crushed them with a stone pestle. She mixed some garlic, chilies, and mint leaves and made a hot dip. She knew her son loved it. Nisha sat next to the fire to take the chill off. Parvati took out a few potatoes and placed them on a plate. Diwakar removed the skin and passed the plate to Nisha.

“Aama, you go, and I will clean the plates.”

Nisha cleaned the plates and then sat next to the fire watching Diwakar fiddling with his phone. Diwakar looked at her and smiled. He came and sat next to her. Both sat next to each other trying to read the silence. After a while, Nisha got up.

“Now you sleep.” She smiled at him and left.

In the room, Ria fiddled with the card she had made and wondered what she should write inside. She saw Nisha coming and passed her the card and a pencil.

“Please draw something.”

“What is this?”

“A card for someone. Please help me,” she pleaded.

Though Nisha was tired, she smiled and sat down with Ria.

“What do you want me to draw?”

“Anything… hills, rivers, sun, clouds, whatever you can.”

Nisha drew some peaks with the sun between two of them. She never had any drawing lessons at school, but Ria was impressed.

“You draw so well. Please draw some trees, houses, and…and a few flowers.” Nisha complied. She looked at Ria and asked, “What else?”

Ria thought for a while and said, “Why not put in our baby goat too?”

“But I don’t know how to draw a goat.”

“Please try. You can do it; you draw so well!”

Nisha drew the head but she was unable to do the rest.

“I will help you,” Ria said.

Ria bent down with her hands and knees on the floor and burst out laughing. “Okay, hold it for a while, I’ll try.”