This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (110 page)

Kanak sat with her chin resting on her knee, her eyes fixed on his face. Avoiding her piercing stare, Puri tried to collect his thoughts as he slowly began, ‘Let me explain what brought me to this situation. When fate deals you a bad blow it knocks you senseless, without knowing where to find help or whom to turn to for help. Your reactions surprise you when you recover from the shock, but that leaves you even more helpless. Now, Kanni, only you can save me.’

He stopped to draw his breath. Kanak asked, with a stony glare, ‘Who is she? How did all this happen?’

‘Kanni, have I ever hidden anything from you? I’ve always told you everything.’

‘What did you tell me? When?’

‘I’ve told you about that incident at Murree, about the girl whose tutor I was there.’

Kanak recalled that two years before, when they had begun sharing their secrets to show their trust in each other, Puri had told her about an incident with Urmila at Murree, and how he was not attracted to just any girl, that physical beauty alone did not appeal to him.

‘How did she get here?’ Kanak wanted to know.

‘That was her fate!’ He replied, with a deep sigh. ‘The very same reason that brought me here. What I’ve been through makes me doubt sometimes whether I’m really alive. What a horrible nightmare this Partition has turned out to be! The train I took after leaving Nainital was attacked just before reaching Ludhiana. It was full of Muslim passengers who had got
on at Saharanpur and Ambala. Mobs bent on murder and bloody revenge didn’t want to leave a single one of them alive. Many spears and knives were thrown.’ He saw Kanak shiver, and continued, ‘but I was at the end of the compartment and a human wall of bodies saved me. The spears hurled by the attackers hit those on top of me and that saved my life. It wasn’t easy to crawl out from under the dead bodies. When it was over I could hardly believe I was still alive and that I hadn’t gone mad.’

Kanak shivered again, and took hold of his arm. Puri continued his tale of being robbed at dagger point on a dark road, his feeling faint with hunger and the futile attempt to sell his bedding, about washing dishes at the dhaba in return for a meal.

Tears welled in Kanak’s eyes. Puri went on speaking in a choked voice, lost in his recollections.

‘Puri bhaiji!’ Someone called from the stairway.

Puri got up quickly and went to the landing.

Rikhiram stood halfway up the staircase. He knew about Urmila living upstairs, and Raldu had told him that another woman guest had come, so he tactfully called without coming up all the way.

Seeing him still dressed in his pyjamas, Rikhiram asked, ‘Bhaiji, are you well?’ Usually Puri was in the office before the arrival of the workers at the press. By his presence he ensured that the staff arrived punctually, and began work without wasting time.

‘It’s all right. I’ve just got a headache. Tell the treadle operator to print the work ordered by Charan Singh. The litho-cylinder can finish printing the court job. I’ll be down in a few minutes.’

Puri went back inside. He leaned down and spoke in a quiet voice, ‘You’ve been travelling all night in this cold. A cup of tea?’

Kanak held his arm and made him sit down again, ‘That can wait. How did she get here?’

‘I haven’t told you yet how I got to this house.’

‘Still, tell me, where did you meet her?’

‘It’s a long and tragic story,’ he said in a pain-filled voice. ‘Her family had come to Jalandhar as refugees. This poor soul had been widowed in Lahore. Her father had lost everything. They were really in a bad way. Her father’s heart was giving him trouble. Her mother also was in a sorry state. Her young brother was with them as well. One day I went to their refugee camp and found that the family had left abandoning her. She had tried to
hang herself with her dupatta, but had fainted before she could kill herself. Both of us were going mad with the blows that fate had dealt us out. She tried again and again to commit suicide. Taking care of her took my mind off my own troubles, otherwise I might have done something to myself. I couldn’t treat her with the contempt and disgust I had formerly felt for her. I had to hold her in my arms so that she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself again while I was asleep. I had to make her believe that she wasn’t alone, abandoned with nowhere to turn. Right or wrong, just to help her out of her suffering I had to tell her that I loved her. I talked to her, even slept with her. I tried everything… it was a question of life or death. Even with my confused state of mind, I never saw her as my wife or of her replacing you. Call it infidelity if you want, but from the moment she got better all I intended was to make her capable enough of taking care of herself and then sending her on her way. As things were I just couldn’t write to you immediately after meeting Nayyar.’

Kanak, her head bent, listened in a stony silence.

‘Wait a minute, I feel a bit faint. Let me get us some tea.’ Puri opened the door to the bedroom so that the lock chain would not rattle, and went in.

Urmila was standing with her ear against the other leaf of the door. She had changed out of her nightwear and her dupatta was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her forehead still showed the smudged bindi and her face was white as a sheet. Puri knew that she had been listening to him and Kanak.

Puri was unnerved. He held Urmila’s arm and led her from the door to the other side of the room, and whispered, ‘I’ll explain everything to you. Don’t get upset.’

She let herself be pulled away, but did not look at him.

‘Did you make tea?’ Puri asked.

She stood in silence.

Puri looked into the kitchen. The stove had not been lit. He remembered that the milk delivered that morning had not been boiled. He put one hand on her shoulder and raising her chin with the other, said imploringly, ‘Don’t you worry. Trust me. Don’t panic and make things worse. This is your home. Treat her politely just like a guest.’

Urmila went into the kitchen without looking at him.

Puri went down the stairs and called the boy who worked as help on the treadle.

He gave the boy a rupee and told him to get a loaf of bread, butter and some snacks from the halwai shop.

Then he went back up and sat beside Kanak on the chatai, ‘Kanni, seeing the situation here must have hurt you, but I’m glad you’re here. I’ll need your help in working out this situation. I’ve already told you about her tragic and hopeless situation. I’ve already asked Soodji to make some arrangement for her to stay with a decent family and send her to school. But before that she must be treated in such a way so as not to be reminded of her earlier misfortunes.’

Kanak sat without saying anything, her eyes downcast. Puri told her about meeting Sood when working at the dhaba, and about Sood’s invitation to manage the press. In between he implored Kanak, ‘She’s going to bring tea. Please ask her to sit with us.’ He continued, ‘I wrote to you at your Nainital address at the first chance I got. When no reply came, I wrote again. When I got no answer the second time, I sent a letter by registered mail.’

He got up and took out an envelope from a cupboard, and presented it to Kanak as a proof of what he said, ‘I was really desperate when this was returned. Then one day I ran into Nayyar in the court. He told me about your father staying near Delhi Gate, but did not give me the full address. Because of my past experience of his rudeness I did not inquire anything further.’

‘What did jijaji say to you?’ Kanak was asking when there was a noise behind them and Puri turned to look. Urmila had pushed forward a thali with tea on it, but had remained behind the door.

‘Come in, come in here,’ Puri took the thali and said to Urmila.

Kanak could not say anything, but just turned her eyes away.

Puri put the thali on the chatai, then went inside and talked Urmila into sitting with them. Both women sat with their heads down not looking at each other. Puri offered bread and snacks to both. He brought another cup and poured tea.

Kanak and Urmila still sat in silence. Perhaps Kanak was seeing again in her mind’s eye the sight she had witnessed on entering the house and Urmila’s ears were ringing with the conversation she had overheard. Puri repeated several times without looking at either of them or using either’s name, ‘Do eat something, have this, drink your tea. It’ll get cold.’

He put a piece of sweet
barfi
in his mouth, but in his state of mind felt that he was chewing on a lump of clay. Kanak ate nothing, just sipped at her tea. Urmila sat motionless.

Puri could not think of anything to do or say. He was guilty in the eyes of both of them. By the time he finished his tea, an idea had formed in his mind: ‘Even if these two can’t stand each other, they should at least behave themselves. Why are they being so difficult? If they hold any grudge against me, they should take it out on me.’

He remembered hearing that his grandfather had two wives. ‘Why should this seem so terrible? Men often had two wives, and many still do. These two should at least stop behaving badly.’

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and they heard, ‘Arey Puri, how’re you? What’s the matter?’

Puri gave a start, and jumped to his feet. He was heading towards the landing when they heard, ‘Are you still in bed?’

The unlatched door opened to a push from outside. Sood came in and what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Behind Puri sat two young women on the chatai, their heads lowered, and looking upset. This sight so embarrassed Sood that he turned back and went downstairs without saying a word. Puri had begun to follow him when Sood called, ‘Puri, come downstairs.’

Puri found Sood and his peon Jagannath standing at the foot of the stairs. Sood’s face was flushed with anger. He asked the peon to go outside and sit in the waiting tonga, and led Puri into the office. He closed both doors to the room, and said, ‘What are you up to? You’ll blacken your name, and mine too. You pretend to be what’s-its-name sick, but are enjoying yourself with two different women. If such a thing doesn’t make you sick, what will? I told you to get married to what’s-her-name the first one, or to send her back to her family. And now I find that you’ve got two of them!’ Sood’s tone became severe, ‘Who do you think you are anyway? Some prince or raja that you need what’s-its-name a harem for yourself?’

‘Bhaiji, listen to me please. It’s not my fault. The other one arrived just now. What could I do?’ Puri tried to explain.

Sood cut him short, ‘Not your fault? You were sitting with them as if you were all married. And you have the cheek to lie to me!’

‘Bhaiji, go up and see for yourself. Raldu brought up her bag and blanket, that stuff is still laying beside the door. She didn’t warn me about her coming.’

‘How is it that a girl can show up without any warning? Have you been
up to these shady games before coming here? You think such behaviour will brighten up what’s-its-name the Congress image?’

‘Why do you think that, bhaiji! She is Kanak, daughter of Pandit Girdharilal. She saw the poster for the weekly, and came here.’

‘You told me that nothing had been what’s-its-name arranged between you and her. You lie about everything.’ His anger rose a notch. ‘If nothing was arranged, why did she come here? Why don’t you admit that you had what’s-its-name deserted her and were trying to catch another one? Is that any way to behave, luring girls from decent respectable families? If you want to do that, pack your bags and get out of here!’

‘Bhaiji, at least listen to my explanation.’

‘What explanation? Haven’t I seen enough with my own eyes?’

‘You told me to send Urmila away. Since then I’ve been trying to find some place for her…’

‘Why didn’t you ask me?’ Sood cut in. When Puri did not reply, he added accusingly, ‘You thought I couldn’t figure it out? Are you trying to fool me? Why are you playing about with what’s-his-name Girdharilal’s daughter? You want to have two at one time?’

‘Bhaiji, I don’t want anything. If there’s any proof that I called Kanak here, you can have me shot. Her brother-in-law Mahendra Nayyar is an advocate in Jalandhar. She might have come to visit her sister and dropped in to see me.’

‘She came with her what’s-its-name baggage and bedding here to meet her sister?’ Sood retorted angrily, ‘Why did you ask for my help if you wanted to behave like this? Why did you apply for the secretaryship of what’s-its-name the ward committee? You’ll drag your name, mine and the good name of the Congress party through the mud. How can you continue to be the editor of a weekly paper?’

How could Puri admit to himself that he was caught up in a web of his own making? He saw himself as the victim of circumstances. In response to Sood’s accusations, he wanted to shout back: ‘I don’t give a damn about you, nor do I care about the press and the paper.’ But he couldn’t. The accusations levelled against him were being taken as true. Feeling helpless he kept quiet, and Sood also remained silent.

‘Bhaiji,’ Puri said in a pleading voice. ‘A set of coincidences is making me look guilty.’

Obviously angry and concerned, Sood took off his Gandhi cap and ran
his fingers through his hair as he stood thinking. Then he pushed his hands into the pockets of his
bandi
jacket and looking at the wall, said, ‘Come on, let’s go back upstairs. This matter has to be cleared up.’

Sood was climbing the stairs ahead of Puri, but stopped halfway. Remembering that there were women upstairs, he said to Puri, ‘You go first.’

In the room, Kanak was sitting alone on the chatai.

‘Bhai Soodji is the parliamentary secretary,’ Puri said to Kanak.

In response to Kanak’s namaste, Sood asked, ‘You’re the daughter of Pandit Girdharilal of Gwal Mandi?’

Kanak nodded in confirmation.

‘Where is Panditji now?’

‘In Delhi.’

‘You came here with his permission?’

Kanak resented the question, but she replied, ‘I was in Lucknow. I came from there.’

‘Why did you come without telling him? That was not right.’

‘What is that to you!’ she lifted her eyes and showed her annoyance at his questioning.

‘Yes, this does concern me.’ Anger was making Sood stutter again, ‘You aren’t married yet.’