This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (21 page)

Puri had guessed right. He said, ‘You’ve probably killed a few other Dauloos. We don’t know who killed Dauloo mama. Now they’ll come to take revenge.’ He took a deep breath and changed the subject, ‘It’s not the average man like Dauloo mama who wants Pakistan.’

‘Bhaiji, we can’t let our throats be cut in silence.’

‘Jaggi! Tara!’ Babu Ramjwaya called from below.

‘
Pairipaina
, tayaji.’ Puri greeted Babu Ramjwaya standing at the foot of the stairs, cutting short his reply to Ratan. He told the others inside the house, ‘Tayaji is here.’ Ratan too turned towards Babu Ramjwaya and touched his feet.

Hari went and told Masterji who was resting on the roof.

It was the second week of April. Masterji had less tutoring work now
that the exams were over. This year the exams were being held at irregular intervals because of the rioting. After he returned from his year-long tutor’s job at the mansion of Seth Gopal Shah, Masterji had gone to lie down in the open. He came down as Usha pulled a charpoy into the room. Tara was studying in the veranda on a mat near a table lamp, she shut her book.

When Babu Ramjwaya had something to say to Masterji, he sent for him to come to his house in Uchchi Gali. He came to Masterji’s house only if there was some special reason. His visits to his younger brother’s home always created a stir, as it had done two months ago when he came to talk about the proposal from the Khosla family for Puri’s engagement.

‘Ratan, son, I must talk to you,’ Ramjwaya said to Ratan as he came up. ‘Lala Sukhlal has sent a message for you.’ He looked left and right for a place to talk, then said, ‘Come, let’s go up to the roof.’

Puri had some inkling of what his tayaji, wanted to say to Ratan. Tayaji had sent for Ratan on two occasions before this. Once Puri was surprised to see Ratan come home for lunch with a suitcase in his hand. On another afternoon, Puri was working at home when the ink in his fountain pen ran out. There was no ink in the house, so Puri walked to Ratan’s side of the house with his pen in his hand. He saw Ratan holding a rifle and explaining its mechanism to Bir Singh. Ratan had had some arms training in the University Cadet Corps. Puri did not want to be a party to all this, so he did not ask any questions.

Puri figured out the mystery on his own. Ratan had been very busy at his uncle’s agency that cleared goods and consignments from the railway’s parcel office and warehouse on behalf of the city’s businessmen and traders. Babu Ramjwaya was a clerk at the parcel office. Puri had heard rumours about the shady dealings between Lala Sukhlal and Babu Ramjwaya. Sometimes parcels sent by railway to and from Lahore would get lost. Lala Sukhlal would get the claims for such parcels settled after taking his cut.

Lala Sukhlal also helped to bring in consignments of goods that could not be shipped through official channels. Such parcels disappeared from the parcel office without a trace. These contained arms and ammunition smuggled into the city from East Punjab. Ratan helped out in this dangerous work as his duty to the community, and as a service to the cause of saving Hindus from Muslims, and to ensure the death of Pakistan.

While Babu Ramjwaya talked with Ratan, a sheet over a
khes
were spread for him on the charpoy in the room below. Masterji sat at the foot
of the bed, leaving the head for his elder brother. Sitting in the kitchen, Bhagwanti covered her head in respect for an elder person. Haridev ran off to the bazaar to get a paisa’s worth of ice to make a cold drink of water for his uncle.

Ramjwaya finished his talk and came down. Masterji got up from the charpoy and greeted him with a namaste. Bhagwanti came from the kitchen and squatted before him to touch his feet. Puri took his usual stance nearby, his back to the wall.

Ramjwaya greeted everyone with ‘Bless you! Have a long life,’ and sat down. ‘Everything’s okay,’ he asked. ‘Is Munni asleep? Did she cut another tooth?’

Bhagwanti called to Usha, ‘Get the fan. Tayaji must be feeling hot.’

Ramjwaya said, ‘No, no. There’s no need. It’s not that warm yet.’

Usha waved a fan at him.

Ramjwaya told her, ‘No, stop. Girls are not supposed to do such things. Girls are like goddesses. Let go,
beta
.’ He scolded Haridev affectionately, ‘What’re you doing, you idiot? Grab the fan.’

Haridev took the fan from his sister. He began to wave the fan vigorously, as if to blow his uncle away.

Ramjwaya seemed somewhat worried, and in a bit of a hurry. Bhagwanti said in a quiet voice, ‘Have a chapatti. I’ll serve you a hot one.’

‘No, no.’ Ramjwaya refused her offer. ‘I have no appetite yet. Had some milk when I returned from the office. Went first to Lala Sukhlal before coming here. He’d sent a message for me.’

Tara stiffened silently and looked at her feet at the mention of Sukhlal’s name. Puri too was alarmed. Ramjwaya went on, ‘They must be waiting for me at home for dinner. Well, you haven’t told me what your plans are, what preparations you have made? Will you do that at the eleventh hour, when the groom’s party is on your doorstep?’

‘We’ll do whatever you tell us.’ Masterji said timidly, in an apologetic voice.

‘But when will you do it?’ Ramjwaya asked. ‘Your daughter was engaged two years ago. She’s twenty years old now. And you’re waiting for me to say when? Did you ever ask me?’

Masterji kept silent. Tara turned her face towards the wall. Puri crossed his arms on his chest to brace himself for what was coming.

Ramjwaya went on, ‘The wedding should have taken place long ago.
Because of that nonsense about his exam, Lala Sukhlal had sent his son somewhere to what’s-it’s-name, Lucknow or Kanpur. He’s back. Lala was asking for a marriage date in late May. I begged him with folded hands, we’re poor people. We’ve nothing in the house, we have to make all the arrangements. Give us some time. He has agreed for some auspicious day in the month of sawan.’

Tara felt as if she had been struck by a heavy blow. Masterji said hesitantly, ‘We weren’t ready for so early a date.’

‘You call that early? My dear soul, the girl is past nineteen, almost twenty years old. She’s two months older than Sheelo; isn’t she? Does a girl that age stay with her parents? God has already given Sheelo the gift of a boy. Have you no fear of your religion and community? What’s wrong with you? You’re behaving like angraizi-Christians.’

‘She has to pass her exams. There was a notice in the newspaper that the exams will be held late because of the riots,’ Puri said.

‘What exam? She needs to get married not sit for her exam,’ Ramjwaya raised his voice. ‘I thought she wasn’t going to college. I’d told her not to. The boy’s not passed the BA exam, and she wants her BA degree! What nonsense! No exam, as I said before.’

Tara lowered her head.

‘Tayaji, how can we arrange a marriage at this time?’ Puri spoke politely. ‘I have no job. There’s a severe strain on our finances as it is. I’m trying for another job. She’s done her studies; let her sit for the exam. The exam isn’t far off. The marriage can take place after that.’

‘I said, her in-laws don’t want her to have a BA degree. Do you follow me or not?’ Ramjwaya was now angry. ‘What if they refuse to accept the girl in marriage?’

‘They can do what they like,’ Puri said what he thought was reasonable.

‘I don’t want to get married.’ Tara mustered enough courage to mumble in support of her brother.

‘Don’t want to get married?’ Ramjwaya was dumbfounded. ‘What do you want to do, spend all your life as an old maid and a burden to your parents?’

‘I want to pass my exam,’ Tara replied, her head bent.

‘Don’t interrupt!’ Tara’s mother scolded her. ‘Go and sit outside. Usha, go and make chapattis in the kitchen.’

Tara wiped her tears and went out of the room with Usha. She sat against the veranda wall, with her head on her knees. She could hear her uncle’s angry voice from the room, ‘You people have your noses in the air! You’re acting like those angraizi-Christians, trying to imitate people of Gwal Mandi and Model Town. You don’t realize your limits. As the old saying goes, when the horses were being shod, a frog held out his foot and said, fix a horseshoe on this too.’

Puri again tried in a polite tone, ‘What I was trying to say is that it’d be easier for us once I have a job.’

Ramjwaya said scornfully, ‘What about your job! If you were that concerned about your job, about your family, you wouldn’t have talked back to your boss. You would’ve listened to me. I offered to get you a job. My son Kishor’s got a job. He brings in sixty-five rupees with his monthly salary and fifty–sixty extra on the side. But you wanted to be a leader, give lectures. If you were that concerned about your parents and family, you’d have listened to me. Who knows what Fate has in store for you? The Khosla family of Hira Gali was offering a dowry worth ten to twelve thousand. Were willing to transfer the ownership of the house to the grandchildren. All that property is worth more than forty-five thousand. They have only one daughter. Wanted the property to remain in the family. What could’ve been better than that, tell me? They were ready to give
shagun
to seal the engagement. What could I do when you lost your job? Had you followed my advice, the poor master would have seen some reward for his lifelong toil. You sank your ship, and now you want to drown your sister too. You don’t have a paisa to your name, how can you take responsibility for somebody else?’

Puri said, looking down, ‘I’m not sitting idle, I’m trying to work from home. I can only do what I know how to do. All I said was that Tara’s not a baby. We must listen to what she has to say.’

‘Not a baby! Wait a bit longer and she’ll be an old woman by then.’ Ramjwaya looked at Masterji, ‘Are you ready to keep your daughters as old maids? Willing to feed them all your life?’

‘No, bhaiji. They’re your daughters too. I’ll do what you say. All I want is to somehow get rid of this responsibility that God has given me,’ Masterji said in a guilty voice.

Ramjwaya lowered his voice, ‘I was shocked to hear something. Someone spread the rumour that your family doesn’t like Lala’s boy. That you said
the engagement might be broken. You don’t know Lala Sukhlal. If he gets mad, he can have you given a shoe-beating right in the middle of the bazaar. He would go after even the last person in our family. I touched his feet and swore to him that some enemy of ours was behind that gossip.’

‘Who doesn’t know the truth about Lala’s boy?’ Puri said in spite of himself.

Ramjwaya shouted at him, ‘Shut up, you shameless good-for-nothing. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’

Masterji also shouted at Puri, ‘Why don’t you shut up. Who’s asking for your advice? Why do you want to shame us?’

Ramjwaya continued to fume, ‘And this is the talk of a so-called educated person! You want the girl to be married twice. What’s the difference between an engagement and a wedding? When the decision is yours, do as you wish. We arranged this engagement and we’ll arrange the marriage too. Don’t you dare talk back to me!’

Tara sat in stunned silence. She heard the sound of the door to the stairs opening, and someone going up. Her brother had gone to the roof in defeat, she guessed. She stuffed a corner of her dupatta into her mouth to stifle her crying. Ramjwaya and Masterji were quietly discussing the marriage arrangements and about the disposal of their modest ancestral property in Naroval village. When Ramjwaya left at nine, Masterji went with him up to Uchchi Gali.

Usha came from the kitchen and said to her mother, ‘I’m done making chapattis.’

Munni had gone to sleep on the mat. Bhagwanti said as she transferred the baby to the charpoy, ‘Serve you brothers and sister before your father returns.’

Usha said to Hari, ‘Call bhaiji.’

Puri came down in response to Hari’s call and said he wasn’t hungry.

Usha called Tara, who replied with a whimper, ‘I don’t feel hungry. I won’t have anything.’

Her mother too retorted in anger, ‘Usha, she doesn’t have to if she’s not hungry. Serve Hariya. You too eat.’

Puri went to Tara who sat weeping in the veranda. He felt himself responsible for her grief. Had he been employed, his right to speak on behalf of his sister could not have been ignored. Tara’s desperation and tears were an insult to him, and he felt disgusted with himself. He said to Tara in English,
‘What’s the point of crying? The exams are at the end of May. The date of the marriage would fall some time in late July or August. The situation may change before that. I have a good offer of work. Let’s wait and see.’

Her brother’s words lacked conviction.

Bhagwanti thought that by refusing food and speaking in English, her son and daughter were showing their resentment and conspiring against the elders of the family. How much it would pain their father to see such defiance! He had devoted his whole life to them, and all he got in return was pain and suffering. She had high regard for her grown-up, highly educated children, but she had to say something in disapproval of their unreasonable behaviour, ‘You’re both venting your anger, but you don’t realize that you shouldn’t have talked back to Tayaji. You’ve no respect for your elders. What’s the use of being educated?’

‘He showed no respect for me when he called me worthless and good-for-nothing! I didn’t ask him for anything.’ Puri shot back in anger.

‘He’s the eldest of the family and that’s his right. Whatever he said was proper, and for your own good.’ His mother stood her ground. ‘You shouldn’t have barged into the conversation. He was talking sense.’

‘How can you say that? It doesn’t make any sense not to let her sit for the exam,’ Puri tried to silence his mother.

‘I don’t want to get married. I’ll sit for the exam,’ Tara said in support of her brother.

‘
Phitemunh
! Quiet! You talk like a shameless hussy that everybody will spit on. I gave you birth so that you may blacken my womb!’ Tears came to Bhagwanti’s eyes. Even in her anger she was careful to speak in a low voice so that her neighbour Meladei might not hear. She looked at her son, ‘We don’t want her to sit for the exam. What’s the use? She should be married off.’ She pointed at her daughters, ‘Don’t you see them, the fruit of our karma, these three millstones around our neck? Your father is wasting his life worrying how to save his honour and dharma. You’re the oldest, most responsible of my children, yet you’re ruining all our efforts. What do you know? You were in prison. For a whole year I massaged the feet of my sister-in-law and slaved away for her so that my daughter might get married. You want to throw all that away?’ She began to weep.