This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach, page 125
Heeran and Chaila quickly got to looking after their master. Chaila had somewhat learnt the correct way of doing things, but Heeran, even after working three years for the family, had not learnt to make tea properly. Heeran had no one else in the world but Kanak and Puri. Kanak could trust her with the keys to various cupboards in the house. But Heeran did not trust Chaila, and kept the keys tied to the waist cord of her salwar.
Puri had a bath, and waited to be served a meal. He was angry and bitter: How hard he worked, how many responsibilities he had taken on, so many successes and so much praise he had earned, some people were even envious of him, but he did not amount to much in his own home! It seemed that everyone was involved in this web of deceit. This was the result of his generous and unsuspecting nature. Urmila’s words echoed in his ears. He thought of her tempting, irresistible body which was now a poisonous snake that he should have crushed, but that had escaped and slithered away into the grass. Trust a woman! She wants nothing but gratification, and deception is her only weapon.
Chaila brought food for Puri in a thali. Puri had not eaten anything that day, and was hungry. He began to eat absent-mindedly, going over Urmila’s deception in his mind, ‘She had such a strong sex drive. Would she have stayed all this time without sex? Never! She turned out to be a deceiver! I was lucky to have escaped from her clutches.’
He did not feel like going out. He thought of the sleep he had missed, and lay down. To drive the thoughts of Urmila out of his mind, he began to think, ‘I’ll have to speak to Kanak. What if she is too stubborn to admit that she was wrong?’ If Gill or Raks had done something similar, he would have fired them, but Kanak’s name appeared as the editor–manager of Nazir. To avoid any inconvenience during his absence from Jalandhar, Puri had changed all bank accounts to operate under Kanak’s signature in March before going to attend the session of the assembly. But it was still he who owned the weekly and the press.
Puri used to temper his feeling of Kanak’s antipathy towards him by overlaying it with the memory of how Urmila used to dote on him. Now when that remedy had slipped out of his hands, Kanak’s antagonism became increasingly intolerable for him. In his mind he went through the history of his affair with Kanak, ‘Her family’s bitter opposition! I was penniless and without a job! Would anyone believe that she came to meet me in the police lock up? She invited me to Nainital. She came to Jalandhar without caring for the good job she had in Lucknow. She found me in that compromising situation. She saw a snake with her own eyes, but believed me when I told her it was a rope. She put up with so much, trusted me so much, and accepted my right over her.’ A feeling of gratitude for Kanak swept over Puri. Then another thought crossed his mind, ‘That was because of my handling of the situation. I really managed it well. But this bitterness between us, where did it come from? She does not find me desirable anymore. Is this a loving relation between a husband and wife, is this how married people live? How did this happen?’
Puri thought with intense concentration, ‘The reason is her wilful attitude, her conceit. She used to be so full of love and unrestrained passion for me, used to wake me up if I was asleep. She’s not like that any more. Perhaps she has exhausted all her passion. Perhaps her womanliness has been suppressed because she works like a man. Why does she have to involve herself so much with Nazir and the press? Can I call this place my home? What hasn’t she done for the business? Few could have been more devoted than she had been. I must stop the situation from deteriorating.’
It was 2.30 when he woke up, feeling better after a nap. What was on his mind before falling asleep came back to him: He had to defuse the situation. He continued to lie down for some time. When he could not stand doing nothing, he got up and telephoned Kanak at the office.
Kanak said with surprise, ‘Which train did you take? I had called the railway station at eight o’clock to inquire. None of the trains was running late.’
‘Thanks,’ Puri said with gratefulness. ‘I woke up after the train reached Amritsar. Arrived here at 10.30 from there.’
‘You should have telephoned me. Did my not being at home cause you any difficulty?’
‘You would have come all the way from the office. It’s you who’d have been inconvenienced.’
‘Why are you talking so formally?’
‘No, no. I had no inconvenience. Took a nap after lunch. Now I am going to visit Gyaniji in Vikrampura. I may come to the office, but don’t wait for me after five o’clock. Tell Gill to come over.’
Kanak and Gill left for home after waiting for Puri till 5.15. Puri reached home about ten minutes after they did. During their casual conversation, Puri explained that the Transport Advisory Committee had recommended running state-owned buses on more routes in Punjab, which, in his view, was a pragmatic approach to the nationalization of the transport system. He explained that the privately owned buses would have to provide better service in order to compete with other carriers, and that would generate revenue for the government. The private carriers would be phased out. Then he brought up the topic of the editorial in Nazir.
Puri began by accepting the responsibility for an editorial published in the weekly. He said, ‘There’s nothing objectionable in that editorial. It’s only an emotional take on the economic condition of the society and the country. There’s no conflict with the fundamental policy of the Congress, and Pandit Nehru has the same point of view in the matter. But someone has filled Soodji’s ears against the editorial. Soodji’s behaviour has become very mechanical. All he thinks about is the affairs of the Congress Working Committee, who could be in the council of ministers, and about the next elections. He has nothing to do with ideological issues any more. He doesn’t want to hear a dissenting voice. I’m in a quandary. I can’t say to him that the weekly is none of his business because I have always considered him my elder brother.
‘There’s no question of being intimidated by Soodji, or by anyone else. You both know how I gave up my job for the sake of my principles when I was even worse off. Of course, I can’t be disrespectful to Soodji. He may be sharp-tongued, but he’s a good person at heart. I don’t see anyone as unselfish as he is in the whole Congress party. Without me at his side, self-serving people will have him in the palm of their hand. He’s surrounded by yes-men as it is, and his supporters have given him a swollen head. All newspapers want to get on the right side of the government for the sake of advertisements. We sometimes do raise our voice in Nazir against the government, but what’ll we do if others connived to destabilize our weekly? We should try and avoid, at least for some time, getting on the wrong side of such people. If we don’t remain active on the progressive front, these yes-men will bring ruin on the entire party. Both of you manage the weekly. All I can say now is that if we want to achieve something solid, we should avoid radical opinions or sensationalism just to attract more readers as others are doing. We should rather aim at fostering a deep and insightful outlook in the public.’
Puri spoke without looking at Kanak or Gill. His tone bespoke the responsibility that rested on his shoulders, and a feeling of dejection and frustration. Kanak thought: Perhaps he is a little weary after being away for so many days. She remembered the way Puri had spoken to her on the telephone. She thought, ‘Soodji and other people must have complained about my editorial. Why doesn’t he come out with what’s bothering him. Perhaps he’ll tell me later.’
‘There was no criticism of the government policy in the editorial. It simply expressed another point of view,’ Gill said in support of Puri.
Puri did not reply, but continued to sit, as if exhausted.
Kanak asked Jaya to sing a song she had learnt at the nursery:
‘Chhun karti aye chidiya
Daal ka dana layee chidia…’
Kanak urged her daughter on, ‘Bravo! Sing the whole song for your papa.’ Jaya sang eagerly, but Puri sat silently, without paying her any attention.
Seeing Puri rather uncommunicative, Gill got up and left. After spending the day at the office, Kanak always had something to attend to when she got back. Around 8.30 Chaila informed that dinner was ready. Kanak called out to Puri as she went towards the dinning table, ‘Come and have dinner. It’s on the table.’
‘Have it sent to me here.’
Kanak peered into Puri’s room and asked, ‘Why, what’s the matter?’
‘All right, I’m coming.’ Puri said, getting out of his bed.
Puri said little during the dinner. Kanak tried to begin a conversation, ‘Simla must be very cold and deserted at this time of the year.’
Puri just grunted in reply.
After dinner, Kanak asked Heeran to move Jaya, who had gone to sleep in Kanak’s bed, to her crib. Then she gave her instructions for making yogurt. Before going to her own bedroom, she went into Puri’s room to check if his bed had been made.
Puri’s bed was ready, but he was sitting in an easy chair, with a blanket around him and hand cupping his chin.
Kanak said, ‘Don’t feel like working? Go to bed if you are tired. Would you like to drink some milk?’
‘Thank you,’ Puri replied, without looking at her.
‘What’s the matter?’ Kanak asked. ‘You were so formal on the telephone earlier today.’
‘What’s formal in this? If you do me a favour, I must thank you.’ Puri said politely, as if overcome by a feeling of gratitude.
‘What do you mean by doing a favour? Every woman does these things in her home. There’s no need to give thanks for such small things.’
Puri sat silently.
‘What’s behind your anger?’ Kanak asked without sitting down. ‘That editorial?’
‘Forget that. I already said what I had to say.’
‘Then what?’
‘You don’t have to take so much trouble for me.’
‘You don’t want me to do all this for you any more?’
‘I didn’t mean that. I’m already so obliged to you.’
‘There’s no need to feel obliged. Let it continue as it had in the past. What’s the need to feel obliged today?’ Kanak turned around to go.
‘I’ll tell you if you sit down for a minute.’
Kanak sat on the edge of Puri’s bedstead.
Puri said in a choked voice, ‘You gave me the right to expect all this from you because we were husband and wife.’
‘What else we are now?’
‘Hear me out. We had to face many obstacles and problems because we wanted to get married, but are we living like a married couple?’
‘How else are we living?’
‘You know the natural urge of life, the relationship between husband and wife, we don’t have it any more. Doesn’t that mean a breakdown of a relationship? Isn’t it unnatural to live together like this?’
Kanak lowered her head and looked into space beyond the open door. She said after a brief pause, ‘One child is enough for me. I’d be happy if I took good care of her.’
‘You mean that the relationship between couples is only for the purpose of having children, or that it inevitably ends in having children. Were we attracted to each other only so that we could have a child?’
‘Well, I can’t help if I don’t want to have that kind of relationship. I’m sorry,’ Kanak said, her head bowed.
Puri asked, ‘Is it unreasonable or abnormal for me to have such a need?’
Kanak was silent.
‘At least give me some reply. Have I said anything wrong?’
‘I didn’t say that, but it’s not possible for me to do anything about it,’ Kanak said without raising her head.
‘Will you have any objection if my need became so compelling that I have to fulfil it somewhere else?’
‘Do as you wish. There’s no need to discuss such things with me,’ Kanak rose to her feet.
‘And I should continue to suffer if I consider cheating on you as wrong?’
‘I’m very sorry.’ Kanak said, and went out of his room.
Whenever husband and wife clammed up after a quarrel, Chaila and Heeran also became glum and Jaya too became morose. Kanak thought such an atmosphere to be a bad influence on the child, and she would force herself to act in a way as if nothing had happened.
Next morning, she herself brought Puri his morning cup of tea, hoping to put an end to the disgraceful show. Puri did not speak to her. Kanak put his bath things in the bathroom, took out his clothes. She sat at the table when he ate, but he did not say a word. After he had finished he asked Chaila to get him a rickshaw, and left alone for the city. Kanak too went to office at her regular time.
It was the same on the morning after next. That day Puri came to the office at 3 p.m., looking very busy and serious. He went straight into the press manager’s room and sat there checking the accounts for quite some time. Then he came to the editorial section. Ignoring Kanak, he asked Gill about the matter for the next issue of the weekly, and read all of it. He discussed a few office matters. Then he stood up, gave Kanak a sudden smile and said, ‘How long will you stay? I’ll go to Adarsh Nagar before going home.’ He looked at Gill, ‘Will you come over to Model Town? Do come.’
Puri had done something he had never done before—insulted Kanak by ignoring her in presence of others. This was his punishment for Kanak for not remaining subservient as a wife. In the past he had kept their differences hidden from others. Anger was boiling up in Kanak. She could neither write a word, nor read what was in front of her. She could not think of an excuse to go away from the office. She said after ten minutes, ‘I have to go to my sister’s place for some important work. I’ll finish off the rest of the work tomorrow.’
Kanak returned home, told Heeran that she had a headache, and went to bed. Jaya wanted to cling to her mother whom she had not seen since morning. Kanak, in a foul mood after the insult she had received, wanted to keep away from her daughter. She called Chaila over and said, ‘Your work can wait. Take Babli out for a stroll up to the roundabout.’
Chaila carried off the child who was wailing in protest.
Heeran came with some ghee in a katori, ‘Let me massage your head with this.’
‘Let it go, mausi. Stop bugging me,’ Kanak covered her face with her aanchal.
‘Hai, crazy girl, you’ve burned your brain out by drinking all those cups of lal tea. You use your brain all day, so what else will you get if not a headache!’
Heeran continued to stand with ghee in her hand. She said after a few moments, ‘No, puttar, one does not cry over such matters. You are smart enough to know how to flatter and win him over. What else can a woman do? You are a good person. God forbid, he never hit you even with so much as a flower. Mine used to break my bones. Men are bound to get angry.’ Kanak listened quietly from under her aanchal.
Heeran went away dejectedly and got busy in other chores.
After about an hour, Gill’s voice came from the veranda, ‘Babli!’ Then he called, ‘Chaila!’
Heeran came and said to Kanak, ‘Babli’s taya has come.’ Heeran had been addressing Gill by that name.
‘I don’t know if I can get up. I’ve a headache,’ Kanak said irritably.
‘No, puttar. Get up. That’s a good girl,’ Heeran said lovingly.
‘Achcha, ask him to sit.’
Kanak had to get up. She combed her hair, changed her sari. She knew her eyes would betray her mental state, but could do nothing about it.
‘Puri’s not back yet?’ Gill asked.
Kanak shook her head and took a chair next to him.
‘So?’
Kanak was silent.
‘Why don’t you say something?’ Gill said. Kanak kept a stony silence, as if stopping herself from saying anything.
‘Don’t want to talk about it?’ Gill asked sympathetically.
Kanak took a deep breath, and said, ‘Impossible!’
‘What is impossible? It’s not possible to tell me?’
Kanak sat staring at the floor. She took another deep breath, then said, ‘To go on living here.’
Gill said, arching his eyebrows, ‘Kanni, you are being stupid.’ He continued gently in English, ‘You must be more tolerant. I have explained it to you so many times.’
‘What more should I tolerate? Am I a prostitute?’ Kanak spitted out the words, then covered her face in embarrassment. She went back to her room and fell on the bed. She wept for several minutes, trying to muffle the sound of her sobs. A feeling of shame filled her, and she thought, ‘What have I said!’ Then she corrected herself, ‘But I was right. Must I put up with all this shit just to be able to live in his house, to be considered his wife? What else does a prostitute do but that! Am I not an individual? I won’t ever accept his demands, tolerate his behaviour. I don’t want to live only as his wife.’
She heard Puri’s voice from near her bed, ‘Kanni, come outside. Gill’s waiting.’
Kanak remained still.
Puri said irritably, ‘Can’t you behave yourself at least in front of others?’
‘No, I can’t. How did you behave at the office?’ Kanak snapped back in a choked but angry voice from under her aanchal.
Puri went back, and said to Gill, ‘Kanni’s not feeling well. She often gets these terrible headaches. It could be her blood pressure. I’ll consult a doctor.’
‘Yes, she looked very tired during the day. You must consult a doctor,’ Gill said sympathetically.
Chapter 13
TARA WAS ANGRY WITH NATH.
In the last week of April, on the way back from the kothi of Agarwals, Tara had replied to Nath’s question by saying that she had no sasural. Her answer had taken Nath by surprise, and he had wanted her to explain why. It had not been easy for Tara to describe the few hours she had spent at her in-laws, and what had happened to her after that. Tara had said briefly and haltingly in English, her head bowed, ‘He found out that I didn’t want to marry him, and seemed to be harbouring a grudge against me. He knew that I was alone and helpless, and he tried to take revenge by humiliating me. I resisted and he became violent. Shortly after that a Muslim mob attacked the house and set it on fire. I managed to escape by jumping on the roof of the house next door.’ The truth about what had happened to her had come out of her lips for the first time, but she felt much lighter after doing so, just like a boil when lanced gives relief after the initial pain.
