This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach, page 11
Nath motioned him to listen, ‘I am an advisor on economic affairs. I cannot offer unsolicited advice. The governor too knows that the Unionist ministry won’t last. The results of the recent elections clearly show that. The governor had asked me to report on the economic reasons for the current unrest among the farmers of Punjab. He knows that the farmers are seething for a change in the current land distribution system. The Unionist ministry cannot keep them quiet. Any administration depends on the prevailing system of land ownership and distribution. The way to make farmers forget their dissatisfaction with the government is to get them enmeshed in some sectarian nonsense. If the League and the Congress don’t continue to fight each other, the administration can’t keep either of them down. Jenkins wants to prove to the Cabinet Mission that Indians are not fit to have the government handed over to them. If the League and the Congress can work together, what’s the point of having a Britisher as the governor?’
As they sipped tea, Nath expanded on his views, ‘The British are now eager to divest themselves of the burden of ruling India, but the British bureaucracy in India is not in touch with the international situation and the crisis in Britain’s economy. The bureaucracy does not want to give up being the rulers of India.’
When they finished their tea, Asad looked at Tara to see if she was ready to leave. Tara faced a dilemma: she wanted to leave with Asad, but she also wanted to know more about the message given to her by the servant.
Asad asked for Nath’s leave. Nath guessed Tara’s dilemma and said to her, ‘Tara, stay behind for five minutes if you’re not in a hurry. I want to ask something about the kids you tutor.’
Tara could not say no. Asad left without her.
‘You wanted to leave with Asad,’ Nath smiled. ‘I asked you to stay. Hope you’re not annoyed.’
Tara was disconcerted that her secret was out. She had not even acknowledged this secret to herself, not so plainly and unequivocally. She was at a loss for an answer.
Nath did not wait for her to answer. He said in English, ‘When Puri was here the other day to ask about your tutoring job, he mentioned that your father’s elder brother had gotten you engaged to some oaf. Did you both not oppose it?’ Tara sat quietly, with her head bowed.
‘You like Asad, he’s a good chap. Do you believe in social restrictions?’
Tara was silent.
‘To be in love is a pleasant feeling. You feel alive. You’re what… nineteen? Twenty?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘Stay in love all you want, but marry only after finishing your studies.’
She regarded Nath with respect. Hearing him say these words caused her a lot of embarrassment.
Nath shifted in his chair, and said, ‘This is your final year of BA. You probably waste too much time in tutoring the children.’
Tara was alarmed with the possibility of losing her job, ‘No, there’s no such problem.’
Nath thought for a few moments, ‘You were hired for three months. You’re owed that much; you mustn’t lose any salary. If you’ve been told not to continue, you won’t feel like working either.’
‘That’s true,’ she lifted her eyes, ‘but I’ll accept salary only for the time that I’ve worked.’
‘That wouldn’t be fair!’ Nath said with irritation, ‘You’re not leaving of your own free will. We should have given you notice, or you ought to be paid the rest of your salary. It wouldn’t be proper.’
‘We don’t need legalities in this case,’ she said out of politeness.
‘The atmosphere of this place is not suitable for you.’ He averted his eyes. ‘Do you know why you were given that message through Chaitu? Maybe you guessed, it was because by mistake I praised you before the women.’
Tara looked at him in surprise. Nath was looking away. He went on, ‘They think I am attracted to you, and that perhaps I’ll marry you.’
Tara bowed her head again. How could he say such a thing!
Nath continued, still not looking at her, ‘You’re nineteen, I’m thirty. These women can’t imagine why a nineteen-year-old would consent to marry a thirty-year-old middle-aged man. But is it their fault? They can’t imagine that a woman can have a say in whom she marries or what she wants to do. They can’t see either that I can like you without any thought of sex.’
Every fibre in Tara’s body quivered. She was glad that he was looking the other way. Nath continued, ‘But can we blame these women for such thinking? The poor souls don’t know anything beyond sex and marriage. Aren’t the women of their class—the class whose status rests on wealth—valued only for sex? Servants and maids do the housework for them. Men have all the freedom to get sex wherever they want; women of the family serve only as begetters of undisputed heirs for the property. Their dharma, their mission in life, is to obey and follow their husbands. They’ve been taught not to think beyond that. For them, the only capable woman is one who doesn’t let her man slip through her hands. They are not envious of your mind; they are jealous of the attractive woman in you.’
Tara listened in amazement. What is he saying? She knew Doctor Sahib was expressing his own annoyance and hurt, so there was no question of impropriety or indecorum. What he had said had shaken her, but the feeling was not unpleasant.
Tara stole a glance at Nath. She had always looked upon him as a scholar and a person of distinction. For a university student, he was the epitome of all the prestige, position, success and money that could be had. She had always felt obliged and beholden to him; now she felt sympathy for him.
‘You can’t possibly imagine the reason, the story, behind all this,’ Nath said in an agitated voice. ‘The reason is not any concern for me, but a concern for the ownership of this house and property. My grandfather had willed this part of the house to me, but if I want I can legally claim half of the entire family property, and the other half will go to the rest of them. All this fuss is about property.’
Tara looked again at Nath. There was anger in his eyes. He said, ‘The truth is that my grandfather regards me as his grandson, but my mother’s husband—my grandfather’s eldest son—does not want to accept me as his son. He left my mother here with his family. He used to look after the family business in Kashmir. He kept a mistress; therefore, my mother could not be taken there. I am in truth the child of my grandfather’s second son. My grandfather’s eldest son was angered by my birth, and he married for a second time. My grandfather’s second son had only daughters from his marriage. If my grandfather wants to divide the family property between his two sons, then I am the sole heir of one of the sons, the same property mess again! My grandfather’s eldest son is the legal heir to the property. The eldest son had two wives: I am the sole offspring from the first. The second wife had five sons. My mother’s husband did not want to share his inheritance with me. All this quibbling saddened my grandfather. He didn’t let the secret out, for the sake of the family’s prestige. I may not be the son of his eldest son, I was still his grandson. He was very fond of me. I was his first grandson. If he had not made me sleep in his room, my stepmother or even my own legal father would have murdered me so as not to share their inheritance. I was poisoned once while my mother was still alive, but I was saved. Here, look at this.’
He showed marks below his ear and on his arms, ‘These are burn marks from my childhood. They tried to finish me off by pouring boiling water on me. As long as I stay a bachelor, they are assured that the property will remain in the family, that after my death the mansion too will go to my brothers or to their offspring. If I marry, my children will be able to claim the half of the whole property.’
Tara had not asked for her previous month’s salary. She would collect for all three months together, she had thought. She wanted to have a winter coat; she was the only student in the college without one. Not having a coat was not her fault, but she still felt the embarrassment of her poor circumstances. Nath handed her a hundred rupee note for her three months’ work. It was ten rupees more than what was owed to her, but she did not know how to tell that to a person as eminent as he was.
Nath looked at her fondly, and said again in English, ‘Don’t get me wrong. Hope we’ll meet again.’
Nath was on Tara’s mind as she walked back to her home, he too is miserable and helpless, he too is constrained by the concern for his family and bound by the mores of society. He can, but will not fight back. She remembered how he had so casually said, ‘I like you.’ He’s really a gentleman.
The thought led to the other things Nath had said about Asad. Nath’s words echoed in her mind and pierced her heart like an arrow. What she felt in her heart made her flush. How deep this secret was buried in her heart! She had never admitted it, not even to herself.
Tara tried to reason: What could Doctor Sahib have seen in her behaviour to guess her secret? Could others suspect the same? But what’s wrong with that? Nothing immoral, like the Sheelo–Ratan affair!
She stopped in her tracks. Lost in thought, she had walked past the entrance to her gali. She turned round, and went back.
When she reached home, her mother was alone and busy in the kitchen. Tara asked, ‘Has Sheelo left? Did you escort her to her home?’
‘No, she’s still here,’ said her mother. ‘It’s hot down here. I told her to sit on the roof, in the open air. You go and drop her at Uchchi Gali. Change your clothes after you return.’
The sun had set. As Tara began to climb the stairs, she was uneasy that Ratan might be there too. She climbed with noisy steps, and cleared her throat near the top. When she came out into the open, Sheelo was lying on a charpai staring into the sky. Usha was there too, with Munni in her lap, showing the child the kites the neighbours were flying.
‘You’re still here,’ she asked Sheelo, and sat beside her on the charpai. Sheelo looked sad. Her eyes were puffed up from wiping away tears. Tara forgot her anger of two hours ago, ‘Hai, what happened?’
Sheelo’s mouth quivered. She bit her lip and covered her eyes with her aanchal. She let out a deep sigh and turned her back.
Tara did not want to question her in front of Usha. She said to Usha, ‘My good sister, take one paisa from mother and get some ice. I’m really thirsty. Sheelo too would like a glass of cold water.’
Usha went down. Tara put her hand on Sheelo’s forehead and asked, ‘Tell me, what happened?’
Tears flowed from Sheelo’s eyes and she dabbed them with her aanchal. ‘He’s angry with me.’
‘Why?’
‘When I told him that the child was his, at first he kept quiet. Then said: If that’s so, let’s go away from here together. I said: I can’t do that! I may be married, but I am still yours. He said: Wah! My child will be someone else’s. I won’t accept that!’
Tara and Usha were returning after dropping Sheelo off at her house when they came across Ratan on his way to the bazaar. Usha inquired, ‘Bhai, where are you going?’
‘Nowhere, just walking around,’ he said briefly and kept going.
Tara was quiet too. She had felt that Ratan’s face was pale with a shadow of worry and anxiety. After what Sheelo had told her, Ratan did not seem as bad a person as before. He is not so shallow after all, she thought. Asad too came to her mind, but he is totally different, she thought.
Chapter 6
THE COLD HAD TURNED BITTER. A FOG DESCENDED SOON AFTER SUNSET, HELD down the smoke from kitchen fires and covered the city like a canopy. Frost nipped at ears and noses. Puffs of steam rose from the mouths of the pedestrians in the bazaars and on the roads. Breath from the nostrils of horses straining to pull the tongas looked like jets of steam from boiling kettles. Eyes smarted from the smog. But the bright lights of the stores in Anarkali penetrated the smog and lit up the people thronging the bazaar.
Every evening the bazaar also saw people taking part in processions, shouting: ‘Allah-u-akbar! Muslim League zindabad! Down with the Khizr government! Long live Quaid-e-Azam! We want the League government! Hindu–Muslim unity zindabad! We must have Pakistan!’ The processions were thin, some volunteers of the Muslim League, a few Muslim students or a handful of Muslim youths from middle-class families carrying green flags.
Hindus in Lahore were uneasy worrying about what turn the rising League movement might take. Editorials in the Hindu press and in the Congress party newspapers cautioned the administration to keep watch on the situation. Puri had written twice in Pairokaar, ‘A storm of sectarian-inspired politics and of sectarian violence and hatred is gathering on the horizon. This storm will end civic peace and security. No one will remember these sermons for Hindu–Muslim unity when the storm breaks.’
Soon the League processions became larger. Railway workers began to appear in the processions, and they chanted slogans of a different sort: ‘Unite Hindus–Muslims! Down with the Khizr government! Down with the establishment! Hindustan zindabad! Pakistan zindabad! Long live Quaid-e-Azam! Install a democratic government! We want the right of self-determination! Workers of the World, Unite!’
Puri wrote in Pairokaar, ‘… The change in the mood of the processions will give some comfort to peace-loving citizens. We do not oppose a democratically constituted ministry or even a coalition of two political parties. Nonetheless, we want to warn the political parties involved in the movement that the demand for Pakistan is based on a sectarian division of the country. At the root of such a demand are religious intolerance, enmity and hatred for other communities. Such tendencies will neither foster unity nor bode well for civic peace.’
Zubeida and Gurtu met Surendra, Krishna, Sneha and Tara at Dayal Singh College and told them, ‘Narendra bhai has sent a message that a procession of Muslim women will march from Lohari Gate at four. If you all join in, it won’t appear just a sectarian show. We won’t let them shout sectarian slogans. Some Federation comrades will come along too.’
Surendra agreed and asked Tara to accompany her. Tara knew how her brother felt about such marches, so she said, ‘I’ll accompany you to the Lohari. We’ll see after that.’
In front of Lohari Gate, where Railway Road intersected Anarkali, Narendra Singh, Asad, Pradyumna, Zuber and Dhanpat were waiting along with several others from the Student Federation. Some communist workers were present too. On one side, encircled by the volunteers of the League, were twelve Muslim women wearing burkas and another five without burkas about to march in the procession. Surendra, Zubeida and Gurtu joined them. Seeing Sneha and Tara hesitate Narendra Sigh invited them, ‘Comrades, you come along too.’
Tara saw that Asad was looking at her. He said, ‘The more Hindu women, the better.’ As Tara walked towards the group, Sneha joined her.
The girls from the Student Federation were at the head of the march. They began to walk, chanting: ‘Reinstate civil liberties! Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs unite! We want democratic government! Long live Congress–League unity! Quaid-e-Azam zindabad! Mahatma Gandhi zindabad!’ The girls shouted the slogans in their high, female voices, and their colleagues and the comrades repeated them in a loud and powerful unison.
The procession had gone only about 100 yards on Ganapat Road when a scream from a woman was heard.
With the scream came shouts of ‘Grab him! Hold him!’ Narendra Singh, Zuber, Pradyumna and some League volunteers ran after and caught a man in a white Gandhi cap, and gave him several punches.
The man in the white cap yelled, ‘Save me! The Muslims are after me!’
Another shout was heard, ‘The Muslims are attacking! Come on! Hit back!’
From one side someone called, ‘Come on! Kill the bloody Hindus!’
In the melee, some rushed forward to fight and most others turned to run away. Lathis were brandished. On Anarkali Road shops were owned both by Hindus and Muslims. The bazaar rang with the sound of running feet.
Zuber could raise his voice like a megaphone. He shouted, ‘Friends, this is no Hindu–Muslim riot! Some goondas have created this mischief!’
The office of Pairokaar was at the junction of Anarkali bazaar and Ganapat Road. Many office workers came out of the building at the sound of the commotion. Puri too climbed down the stairs. He saw that several League volunteers and Student Federation members were holding a man by his arms and shirt collar. The man was trying to wriggle free, saying, ‘Watch out! Don’t you dare touch me! I’ve done nothing! I don’t know anything!’
Puri said with surprise, ‘This man is police constable Waheed! He used to escort me from prison to the court!’
The uproar grew. The burka-clad women began to beat their chests in syapa style and curse, ‘Police dogs hai-hai! Kizr government hai-hai!’
Puri went into the crowd and said to Tara and Gurtu, ‘What’s this nonsense! You’re marching to support the demand for Pakistan?’ He knew Gurtu from the time of the 1942 Quit India movement.
‘Bhaiji, this is…’ Tara began to say when Asad jumped in, ‘We are marching to demand the reinstatement of civil liberties. And for democratic government and Hindu–Muslim unity!’
‘That’s not right!’ Puri shot back in English, ‘In a procession of Muslim women yesterday, there were calls of “We must have Pakistan! Don’t forget the carnage of Muslims in Bihar!” Do you want me to show you the Siasat and Zamindaar newspapers?’
‘Others were behind what happened yesterday,’ said Asad. ‘We won’t allow any slogans asking for the break-up of the country.’
‘You communists support the creation of Pakistan! Isn’t that breaking up the country? This march is a front for that demand!’ Puri said forcefully.
‘We oppose any partition of the country!’ Asad replied equally forcefully. ‘What does the demand for Pakistan mean? Only that there would be a Congress ministry in one province of Hindustan and of the League in another province. This is a demand for self-determination! The Congress is willing to accept the break-up of the country. We oppose that.’
‘The Congress has been driven into a corner!’ Puri conceded. ‘Otherwise, the League won’t allow an independent government anywhere.’
‘We only want to impress upon the people and the politicians that the Congress and the League should join forces.’
