This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (50 page)

Since the reading of Panditji’s letter, there was discussion in the family at least once or twice every day about the desirability and necessity of Nayyar going to Lahore and making some arrangement about his property. Nayyar was willing to go, but Kanta could not just ignore her father’s warning. She could not let Nayyar walk into a place so full of danger and death. In the end, her argument was always that Nayyar would not be able to look after himself without her. Inwardly, she wanted Nayyar to realize the importance of her accompanying him.

Kanak had written to Puri on the twenty-first. There was no reply until the twenty-seventh. Anxiety and suspense began to gnaw her heart. Would she have to go to Lahore? Should she accompany her brother-in-law? When the subject of Nayyar going to Lahore came up again, and Kanta repeated her objections, Kanak asked, ‘Should I go with him?’

‘Achcha!’ Nayyar said and looked at her very meaningfully.

Because of Kanak’s determination and their mutual disagreement, she and Nayyar had been speaking very little to each other. The teasing and joking of the past had completely disappeared. In the agitation of fighting for her rights, Kanak had not felt this lack as much as Nayyar had. Six days before, she had told him about her intention to write to Puri, which for him had amounted to the breakdown of all polite exchanges and a declaration of war. He could not agree with her because of his high-mindedness and the stand he had taken. But that did not mean that he did not miss the warmth of a friendly relationship with her. He found this treatment to cure her disease even more unpleasant than the disease itself.

He took Kanak’s offer to accompany him as her invitation to put an end to the bitterness between them, but for Kanak it was only a means to achieve what she wanted. To answer his meaningful ‘achcha’, she asked, ‘Why?’

Nayyar dropped his pretence of seriousness, ‘Will I be looking after my properties or standing guard over you?’

‘Am I your property?’ Kanak shot back. She thought he was harking back to the antagonism of their past disagreements.

‘Look, it’s not a matter of your being my property, but if someone in
Lahore wanted to whip you away like a piece of property, would he be frightened off if I just shouted at him?’

When Kanak found that she had misunderstood his meaning, her anger melted away and she too could not resist a joke in reply, ‘That’s all the confidence you have in your manliness? I agreed to go with you just to make sure you were properly dressed, like any other little boy, and keep your buttons sewn on. If you don’t like that, very well!’ She wiggled her thumb at him to show her defiance.

For the next two days they continued to banter and joke as in former times. Nayyar would say, ‘Our ancestors said that the goddess of wealth was a woman whose name was Lakshmi. And Lakshmi means “property”.’ He would call out, ‘Kanta, when do you want me to leave for Lahore? What’s the danger now that I have a bodyguard?’

On the twenty-ninth Kanak was waiting for the postman, her eyes on the gate of the cottage. At 11 o’clock she went inside, lay down on her bed and pulled the blanket over her head to be alone with her disappointment. She had explained everything in her letter, and was thinking, it would be unfair if Puri continued to be angry with her.

‘Kanak, listen,’ she heard Nayyar’s unhappy-sounding voice. What now? Kanak thought, he seemed normal only ten minutes ago.

‘Yes?’ she said, uncovering her face.

‘Letter for you,’ Nayyar said gravely in English. He laid the unopened registered letter beside her pillow, and went out without saying another word. The envelope was marked ‘personal’, and the word was underlined. He had obviously brought it to her to show that he knew about it.

Kanak was so happy and excited at receiving the letter that she did not care about Nayyar’s displeasure. On the contrary, she was piqued, ‘If he wants to be angry, let him. What harm am I causing anyone? Didn’t he marry the woman he wanted? Didn’t he write to her on the sly before their marriage? It was I who used to pass their letters, from one to the other! The question of the family’s prestige has come up just because Puri doesn’t have any money. Once we both find jobs in Lucknow and begin to earn salaries, everything will be fine. If he still doesn’t want to talk to us, that’s his problem. We can get along without his help.’

At midday on 30 July, the newspaper vendor brought the copies of the dailies that came from Delhi, Lahore and Lucknow. He handed a copy of the
Statesman
and the
Tribune
to Nayyar. Kanak came forward for the paper,
but said nothing. Nayyar spoke up, ‘Look, I’ve been saying all along that there’d be no reason why Hindus wouldn’t be able to stay in Lahore. Look at these statements by the League and Congress—that the minorities in both countries will have the same civil rights as the majority, as well as full freedom to practise their culture and religion. Nainital is in Hindustan. What danger are the Muslims facing here?’

Kanak did not agree with him. She said, ‘Jijaji, the situation is different in UP. The Congress is in power here. Congress was always against partition because it wanted to please the Muslims and have their support. Congress has never said that Hindus and Muslims were two different peoples.’

There was no immediate need, Nayyar decided, to go to Lahore. This fresh news was bound to be the main topic of discussion at the New Club. Nayyar reached there a little later than usual. As he walked into the club he met Pandey, a lawyer from Nainital, holding a whisky and soda. Pandey was a Congress supporter, but he often criticized its policies. He wore suits of khadi wool, but often took Gandhi to task. He called out to Nayyar in English, ‘Nayyar, now you’ll surely go back to Lahore. Jinnah has given his assurances.’

Nayyar had always been opposed to any transfers of population. He admitted, ‘Of course we’ll go back. Where else would we go?’ He added, ‘The Muslim League leaders are fearful of Hindu domination. Once they have a chance to form the government, that complex will vanish by itself. Then they’ll stop feeling threatened.’

A Sikh in an expensive, well-tailored suit, his pomaded salt-and-pepper beard carefully groomed around his face, stood next to Pandey. He removed his whisky and soda from his lips, and raising his index finger and holding himself erect, said loudly in English, ‘No, no. How can you say that? Jinnah’s statement is nothing but empty words. Muslims have a deep-seated loathing of Hindus and Sikhs. Tell me, did the Muslim ministers in the interim cabinet in Punjab have any less rights than the Congress and Hindu ministers? But the Muslim League never let the ministry function. They created problems every step of the way.’ His voice rose even higher, ‘They don’t want to cooperate, under any circumstances. All they want to do is to lord it over us. Gandhi himself eventually had to come round to the realistic ideas of Nehru and Patel.’

A local
pahari
man, wearing a long achkan jacket and tight, narrow pajama trousers, stepped forward. He said in support of Nayyar, ‘But
Hindus and Muslims cannot forever remain in a state of war, ready to kill each other. Even after Hindustan and Pakistan are formed, they would have to live together in peace or the guns would start blazing on both sides. If Muslims remain in Hindustan, in principle, Hindus should be allowed to live in Pakistan. That would be politically necessary. Gandhiji has said the same thing.’

‘What about Gandhi!’ the Sikh interrupted him excitedly. ‘Gandhi was against the partition to start with. He had said, “Partition over my dead body.” He’s had to eat his words, hasn’t he? For you he’s a god. Others think he’s a devil. How can those who regard him only as a cunning old man believe what he says?’

Nayyar said without paying any notice to the Sikh’s excitement, ‘If the Congress and the League leaders have adopted a policy for any practical reasons, why should we doubt them?’

Pandey calmly took a couple of sips of his drink before replying, ‘The League holds a different view. They treat Hindus and Muslims as two different nations. If they wanted to have peaceful coexistence, why would they have taken up that stand? And demanded a separate Pakistan?’

Nayyar said, ‘But some of us don’t consider them as two separate peoples. We want to prove that it’s the nation and not the community that matters most. Punjab is my place of birth, and it’s my motherland too.’

Pandey tilted his head back to show his disagreement with Nayyar, and replied, ‘Don’t be silly, Nayyar. Didn’t the German Jews consider Germany as their motherland? Didn’t Hitler get rid of them all? Listen! Pakistan will come into existence on 15 August.’ His voice rose to a shout, ‘Tell Gandhi to go to Pakistan after that, and try to change people’s minds there!’ Pandey waved his fist to emphasize his words, ‘Jinnah is certain to forbid him going across the border into Pakistan, and if anyone enters his country in spite of his ban, then Jinnah’s having him shot will be justified under international law. You may then repeat Gandhi’s favourite chant
raghupati raghava rajaram
that God is compassionate as much as you want, but you’ll have no grounds to take any military action.’

The Sikh said with apparent satisfaction, ‘Yes, there you are.’

Nayyar straightened his back before arguing, ‘International laws were drawn up by human beings. They don’t offer an ideal solution to anything. The trial of Hitler’s gang for their widespread acts of genocide has set new standards of international justice. I have faith in the goodness of human
beings. Gandhiji would, I hope, be able to convince Jinnah of his good intentions.’

‘Never! Never! Impossible!’ the Sikh shouted.

Pandey lifted his hand as a gesture for the Sikh to listen, and asked Nayyar, ‘Give me just one example where Gandhi was able to convince Jinnah of his good intentions.’

‘It may be too early for me to reply,’ Nayyar said with confidence. ‘It was only after his death that Jesus Christ prevailed over his enemies.’

‘Ho, ho!’ Pandey roared with laughter. ‘That, my friend, only happened one thousand years after Christ’s death, and for who knows what social, political and religious reasons? The religion of Christ was spread by the might of the sword, not by turning the other cheek, that much you will concede. How many Christians today believe in turning the other cheek? How many times have the British offered their other cheek to us? But I do sympathize with your idealism.

‘Oh,
aabkaar
!’ Pandey turned towards the bar and called out to the barman, ‘One large whisky for Nayyar sahib.’

‘One for me too,’ the Sikh said, and drained his glass in one gulp and handed it to the waiter.

Nayyar settled his feet and hips into a comfortable stance, and thrusting his hands into his pockets, said, ‘Believe me, Pandey, all this quarrelling, violence and hatred won’t last for long.’

A crowd had gathered around them. When it no longer seemed possible to have a one-to-one talk, they walked towards the bridge tables.

Kanak had written to Puri that she would make arrangements for his stay in Nainital. ‘I’ll put him up in a hotel,’ she thought. A large number of visitors from Punjab had taken up long-term residence in hotels. At the club she had heard that most hotels were packed to full capacity. Indian hotels were packing in guests in addition to the places already filled, and were charging two and three times their usual rates, sometimes even more than the European hotels. European-style hotels were expensive, but they had neither increased their rates, nor did they admit more guests than their accommodation permitted. After Kanak received Puri’s telegram indicating his arrival, she went to the post office and telephoned the Astoria Hotel to ask for a single room.

The answer was, ‘Nothing available today. Nothing before tomorrow.’

‘All right, please reserve it for tomorrow.’

The hotel stipulated that room would have to be vacated before 20 August.

Kanak accepted the condition and made a reservation in the name of J.D. Puri, saying that the guest would arrive by lunchtime the following day.

Any time that Kanak left the house, Rajendra would offer to go with her. Kanta’s sister-in-law Swarna had never had such freedom to roam around in Sargodha. She too would get ready to accompany them. To avoid them, Kanak left the cottage early that day, long before the time when the bus from Kathgodam was due and sat waiting at the library, halfway to the bus terminus. Thick clouds had covered the sky like an impenetrable canopy since morning. The rain fell gently but steadily, slackened off for a while and then came back in a short downpour. One could see raincoats and umbrellas all around.

Kanak sometimes smiled inwardly at the two different faces of Nainital. When the skies were clear, streets teeming with tourists in colourful clothes looked like flowerbeds full of petunias and phlox. With pedestrians covered with raincoats and umbrellas during the rain, the same roadways looked as if they were full of mushrooms.

Kanak had an umbrella and Kanta’s raincoat with her, but it would have been unpleasant to stand at the terminus in the rain. To keep Puri from feeling lost in an unfamiliar place, Kanak wanted to be at the terminus before his bus arrived. She wanted to see him the moment he stepped out of the bus from Kathgodam. She knew that the train reached the Kathgodam station at 10.30 in the morning. At twelve by her watch, wrapped in her raincoat and with umbrella held aloft, she left the library for Tallital.

The rain began to fall more heavily when she arrived at the terminus. She took shelter in the corner of a shed with a corrugated iron roof, next to the ticket counter. A thick cloud of smoke had gathered under the ceiling of the shed. A gaggle of
dotiyaal
s, coolies who carried heavy loads on their backs, sat hunched over a smoky fire, in rain-soaked woollen clothes. Seeing Kanak standing there, they moved away from her, to the other side of the fire.

The smoke made Kanak cough. The coolies looked at her fearfully, and tried to contain the fire by covering it with small stones. Whether they moved away from her in fear and tried to smother the fire because it was making a lady cough, or in obedience to some regulation, Kanak did not know. The coolies themselves were not aware of any such regulation, but
their experience of life had taught them to be wary of the rich and the well dressed. Although the coolies had moved farther away from her and had tried to put out the fire, the thick smoke and the stench rising from their damp, unwashed and sweat-soaked clothes became unbearable for Kanak. She looked around and saw that others had taken shelter on the veranda of the post office. She walked over. The rain had stopped, except for some stray drops, and she hoped it would hold off for an hour, until Puri got to his hotel.