This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (14 page)

Masterji chewed his food slowly and said, ‘We both spoke to him the other day. Who knows what he wants? Let’s wait a bit longer.’

‘How can I wait? What can I say to bharjai? She had so many complaints against Jaidev. She wondered if he wanted to marry someone from the family of a barrister or a judge? The women from the gali don’t give me a moment’s peace. They all ask, he’s already twenty-five, so why won’t he agree to marriage? He probably has someone in mind, or wants to choose the girl himself. I can’t answer to everyone.’

Masterji chewed as he listened. He said, ‘What’s the harm if there is someone he likes? Has he said any such thing?’

Tara was quiet as she rolled the chapattis and cooked them over the fire. When Masterji would finish eating one, she would put another in his thali. She said, ‘Pitaji, ask Tayaji to speak to brother himself. Let brother answer him.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Masterji to his wife. ‘Say so to your sister-in-law.’

Masterji let out a resounding belch, saying ‘om’ at its end. He got up from his place, and went to lie down on a charpoy in the veranda, muttering ‘God, you are our protector.’

Tara found the opportunity to tell her mother, ‘Ma, don’t agree to any proposal from anyone. Brother won’t agree unless he has seen and spoken with the girl.’

Her mother replied as if telling a secret, ‘They don’t mind if he wants to look at the girl. She goes to the Rani Burdwan School. He can see her on her way. You too can see her.’

‘You call that knowing a girl?’ Tara expressed her dissatisfaction, ‘Neither a chance to speak to her, nor to ask her anything. What can one know in just one glance? Nowadays boys and girls meet several times and talk with each other before getting engaged.’

Her mother waved her hand in disgust, ‘Rubbish! That’s flirtation, not engagement! Such behaviour is fine for those who live in Anarkali, Mall
Road and Gwal Mandi. What would the people living in our gali think?’

‘Wah, what’s wrong with that! Brother will only consent to that type of arrangement,’ Tara said knowingly as she scraped the dried dough from the kneading tray.

‘You know something about this matter, don’t you?’ Her mother put her hand over her lips, and whispered to Tara, ‘Tell me, who’s the girl, what’s her caste?’

‘What do I know?’ Tara smiled. ‘The girl is pretty, she’s an MA student.’

‘What caste?’ Her mother lowered her voice even further.

‘Swear to me!’ Tara looked into her mother’s eyes. ‘Don’t let my brother know that I told on him. They’re very nice people, and well-off. They’re Duttas.’

‘Dutta!’ Her mother’s eyes rose in surprise to meet the furrows on her forehead. She placed her hand on her cheek and said, ‘Hai, Duttas are Brahmins. There is no match between Brahmins and Khattris! That can’t be!’

‘What do you know, Ma! The elder sister of the girl was married into a Khattri Arora family.’ Tara corrected her mother. ‘Hindus are getting married to Muslims nowadays. Mahatma Gandhi’s son married a Brahmin girl, and Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru’s daughter married a Parsee. What’s the difference between a Hindu and a Muslim and a Parsee? They’re all human beings.’

‘You think I don’t know all that?’ Her mother moved Munni from her lap to her shoulder, ‘Lala Harkishan Lal, of Peepal Bank, married a Muslim woman. Dewan Chaman Lal married one too. But, Tara, that’s another matter. They’re rich people. We cannot marry outside our community and our people.’

‘Different how? Do they have wings?’ Tara could not keep quiet. ‘My brother is equal to anyone.’

Someone was coming up the stairs. Tara recognized her brother’s footsteps, and fell silent.

‘Bhaiji, have your dinner. Eat while it’s hot,’ she said as he came into the room.

‘Yes, all right,’ Puri began to change from trousers into a lungi. He was careful not to spoil the crease of his trousers by sitting cross-legged on a mat. He wore that suit whenever he went to meet Kanak.

The loud, angry voice of Tikaram was heard from the gali below, ‘What’s
the meaning of such shameless behaviour! I’ll break your head open! You can’t insult the poor woman because she’s a helpless widow.’

Ghasita Ram, the hardware store owner, replied in an apologetic voice, ‘Look, you’re blaming me for nothing. I said nothing to anybody. I was…’

Tikaram’s wife Jeeva shouted in a voice shrill as a cicada, ‘Who are you to offer her daughter mithai and other sweet goodies? Your own daughter Dhanno is of the same age. Are you not ashamed!’

The voices of Mewa Ram and Doctor Prabhu Dayal were also heard.

Instead of sitting down on the mat, Puri went downstairs. Masterji too got up to investigate. Usha and Hardev looked out of the window. Bhagwanti said to the kids, ‘What’s that got to do with you! Tara, serve them too.’

Amidst all this clamour, Khushal Singh’s voice rose in a roar, ‘Lalaji, you don’t seem content with your black money. You have lost respect for others. Making passes at the girls from your own gali! Looks as if we’ll have to lighten the earth of your burden.’

Puri’s serious tones were heard, ‘Chachaji, what’s the matter?’

Ratan’s voice rose too, ‘Brother, Lalaji seems to be asking for some roughing up. He doesn’t act his age.’

Tara’s mother, Munni in her lap, went to her window and called, ‘Peeto’s mom, what happened? What did Ghasita bhai do?’

Kartaro replied from across the gali, trying to keep her voice low, but even Tara could hear her, ‘This scoundrel keeps giving mithai to Purandei’s daughter on the sly. Purandei has already beaten up her daughter a couple of times for accepting. What can the poor widow do except blame the gods for her misery!’

Pushpa too joined in, ‘What’s his idea in making a pass at a girl from our gali!’

‘But the girl is no child either. She’s not less than sixteen, if a day. Why does she accept anything from him? Doesn’t she understand!’ Basant Kaur objected.

‘You don’t know him, he’s such a bastard. He tries to kiss her cheek as he pretends to pat her head. What could she say to a man that old?’

‘She’s young after all! Even if she is greedy, shouldn’t this old geezer have some shame? His own daughter is as old as she is; he should treat Sita the same as his Dhanno.’

Tara pricked up her ears to catch the voices from the gali.

‘… If he wants to do some hanky-panky, why doesn’t the lout find someone outside the gali?’ asked Rampyari.

‘… He should show some respect for the daughters and sisters from our gali.’

‘Ghasita is bad all right, but…’ Basant Kaur paused before continuing, ‘you know the saying that when you keep a cat for catching mice, it will steal your milk too. She’s always at his house to borrow buttermilk. I know that she borrows money from Ghasita Ram. When he asks her to return the loan, she laughingly tells him, “You have enough, Lalaji.”’

Kartaro commented, ‘He’s a black marketeer. He’ll get the mother and grab the daughter in interest.’

‘Ram, ram, ram,’ said Tara’s mother. ‘Such a person will shame the whole gali. And we thought she was so helpless and poor.’

Tara heard all this as she cooked the chapattis and gave them to Usha and Hardev. She was thinking about her afternoon … ‘Let me finish my studies and escape from this gali.’

Kartaro again said, ‘Bahin, she must be hard up. If she wasn’t, she would not have settled for this Ghasita who looks like a sack of leaking molasses. She would have latched on to someone decent.’

‘Quiet, you loud-mouthed shameless hussy!’ Tara’s mother shouted at her and returned to the room.

That evening was full of quarrels and arguments.

Ghasita Ram hid in his house to escape the wrath of his gali neighbours. Masterji, Babu Govindram and Puri went back to their homes. Ratan bolted the gali door from inside before climbing the stairs to his side of the house. Puri was about to sit down on a mat in the kitchen for his dinner when the lock chain on the outside of the door was rattled and a call was heard, ‘Jaddi! Jaidev beta! Tara!’

Bhagwanti had put Munni to bed on Masterji’s charpai in the veranda, and was returning to the kitchen. She and Tara exclaimed simultaneously, ‘Bhraji! Tayaji!’

Bhagwanti said, ‘Hardev, run down and open the door.’ She walked back to Masterji’s charpai and told him about the visitors.

Usha pulled a charpoy into the room from the veranda and covered it with a dhurrie. Puri too came into the room from the kitchen.

Babu Ramjwaya’s visit to his younger brother was no small matter. Jaidev bent and made a gesture to touch his feet. The girls joined their palms and said namaste to him. Bhagwanti covered her head with her aanchal and touched his feet. Masterji too said namaste to him and directed him to the dhurrie-covered charpoy.

Bhagwanti said to Usha, ‘Bring some embers from the kitchen in a brazier and put it next to Tayaji.’

Babu Ramjwaya was wrapped in an expensive Kashmiri shawl. Tightening it again over his body, he said, ‘No, child, I don’t need it. It’s not so cold tonight. My shawl is quite warm.’ He asked everyone how they were getting along. Tara remained seated in the kitchen. Usha, Hardev and Puri stood beside him.

‘How about you, editor sahib?’ he said to Puri sarcastically. ‘I sent so many messages for you, but you had no time to come to Uchchi Gali. I thought, if sahib can’t come, I’ll go and see him.’

‘Tayaji, last week my office duty was from two in the afternoon to nine at night. Today is the first time I’m on my day shift.’ Puri said by way of apologizing. ‘I was thinking that tomorrow evening I would go and pay my respects…’

‘Well, yes, you’re an important person now. How can you have free time!’ Ramjwaya did not let him finish. ‘I wish that you have even more success. May your fame and reputation grow even greater. But you must also think about settling down. What do you have to say, master?’ He looked at Masterji for his yes.

‘Yes, Bhaiji is absolutely right,’ said Masterji.

‘So, tell me, what should we say to the Khosla family about that matter?’ Ramjwaya asked Masterji, but aiming the question at Puri. ‘Sheelo’s mother came to see you this afternoon. She says you people say neither yes nor no. What’s going on?’

‘When you’re handling this business, we don’t have to do anything. The boy’s in front of you. He says it’s been only a year since he found work. He wants to establish himself and get a couple of promotions first.’ Masterji turned towards Puri, ‘Speak up, son, answer Tayaji.’

‘The one who does anything is He.’ Ramjwaya raised his hand heavenwards. He said to Puri, ‘My dear fellow, there’s a time and right moment for everything. Sure, you’ll get promotions. Why Master, when we got married our salaries were thirty rupees a month. You are getting a
hundred now, but bhai, in those days twenty-five was better than a hundred now. Well, God will take care of everything. Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, showers her blessings on both husband and wife. If Fate has so decided, a hundred will become two hundred the moment the bride steps into this house. She’ll bring Lakshmi here, don’t you know!’

‘Tayaji, what’s the hurry, by next year…’

Ramjwaya stopped Puri, ‘What! Look at this crazy boy, he’s talking about next year. The girl’s parents will save her for you?’ He looked at Masterji and spoke a little more emphatically, ‘You have a daughter to marry off. I’m worried about her. Get him married, then get her married using what you get in his dowry. Otherwise what do you have as cash?’

‘That’s true,’ Masterji acknowledged, and Bhagwanti too agreed, ‘What Bhraji says is right.’

Ramjwaya spread out the fingers of his right hand to make his point, ‘I had to count out eight thousand for Sheelo’s marriage. Even if you don’t do much, for the ceremony’s sake you’ll have to put some ornaments on her wrists and neck, give her at least eleven or thirteen sets of clothes, receive and feed the groom and his relatives who come in baraat. Not less than four thousand in these days. We’ll have to do things in keeping with our family’s standing. Where will you get the four thousand?’ Ramjwaya asked. ‘You won’t find a better match than this. It’s his good luck,’ he pointed at Puri. ‘She’s the only daughter with no other siblings. Has a house in her own name. Her mother will give her all her jewellery and possessions, and they’re willing to give five thousand in cash. That’s why I’m trying so hard to fix up this match. You’ll be able to get your sister married properly.’

‘Tayaji, I can’t marry someone just to get a house and property!’ Puri leaned against the wall.

‘Oh, you want to marry some pauper’s daughter? How will your sister get married?’ Ramjwaya looked at Masterji, ‘Just look at what he says! Mister big editor sahib!’ He again addressed Puri, ‘When we educated you and brought you up to manhood, did we spend nothing? Or did you grow up on your own? Will the girl’s family not benefit from your abilities! If the girl’s parents want a good match for her, shouldn’t they contribute something towards making you capable so that you can keep her in comfort for the rest of her days? Did we give a dowry in Sheelo’s wedding or not? Your father worked hard all his life for this day, and you want to dash all his hopes? Do you have the key to the treasure of King Qarun? If you
do, why don’t you cough up thirty–forty thousand, eh? If my son Kishor Chand talked back to me like that, I’d break his jaw!’ Ramjwaya was livid with anger.

Puri clasped his arms to bolster his courage, and said, ‘You’re right, Tayaji, but it’s all about the girl. I don’t know her… how she looks, her nature.’

‘What rubbish you talk!’ Ramjwaya raised his voice a notch, ‘What does a girl look like! What’s there to know or see? You want to marry some girl from a decent family, or some slut working the streets of Anarkali or Mall Road? Who wants to know or meet the girl before marriage? It’s her family that matters, their status that’s of value. We’ve checked out all that. When it’s your turn, you see all you want!’

Puri again said, ‘How old is the girl? She shouldn’t be too young.’

‘More of the same nonsense!’ Ramjwaya said, ‘You want to marry an old hag! The younger she is, the better. Who knows anything about a girl’s character when she’s older? People search for young girls. She will stay young for you longer. Today she’s sixteen, tomorrow she’ll be seventeen, and next she’ll be eighteen. We married Sheelo off when she was seventeen. You’ve got a twisted mind.’