This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (96 page)

Tara’s work of supervising the children was made even more difficult. Out of loyalty to her employer and as a conscientious tutor, she did not consider it right to bribe the children or to make empty promises. She considered this an unsophisticated approach, and did not want to set a bad example by lying to them. The governess before her had left behind some books on education and the rearing of children. Tara went through them. But she realized that if she followed the scientific method and taught the children according to proper techniques, this might bring her into a conflict with her employers. She would fret inwardly: How do I bring to line in a few days children spoilt over years? In order not to appear a failure before madam, she sometimes had to resort to unscientific and unsound teaching techniques.

At 7.30 in the morning, Puttan and Lalli left in the bus of their convent school, and Bhupi and Dolly in another school bus. Sahib and madam would still be in their bedroom upstairs at that time. They usually came down for breakfast at 8.30. Tara sat in a wicker chair in the veranda glancing through the morning newspapers. She looked up when she heard the sound of footsteps. Narottam, a dressing gown over his striped nightwear, was coming towards her.

Tara rose from the chair, said namaste, and held out the dailies to him.

‘No, no. I’m sorry if I disturbed you. There’s no hurry. You finish with them first,’ Narottam said courteously.

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll read them later. You can have them,’ Tara said out of deference to the chotey sahib.

‘No, no. Please continue,’ Narottam pointed to the dew drops shining on the grass. ‘Just look at the dew. The weather has changed, but the sun is
still hot during the day. You go on reading; I can read the papers later.’ He smiled and nodded at her, turned around and went back.

Their first conversation had amounted to only a few words, but Tara already knew a lot more about him from his mother.

Mrs Agarwal had given Tara some blouses that were not altogether to her liking as their tailoring was defective. Tara had altered them to her size, but felt a little uncomfortable wearing blouses cut high according to the fashion. She had never before worn anything so stylish. She had seen Dr Shyama and many other women in Delhi wearing similar blouses. When madam saw how expertly Tara had altered the blouses, she said, praising Tara’s skill, ‘Those damned tailors charge five rupees for each blouse, and ruin the cloth in the bargain. I feel so uneasy when they take my measurements. I have so many blouses that I don’t wear.’ She got the blouses out, and put them on to show to Tara how badly and loosely they fitted.

Mrs Agarwal had put on weight around her waist. Tara pointed out that blouses were badly cut, and offered to sew her a new blouse.

Mrs Agarwal immediately asked Shivni to get a piece of cloth from her trunk. As she sat with Tara, discussing various styles of blouses, she began to express her disgust at the new fashions the young girls were following.

Dolly had bought a pair of jeans the day before, imitating her neighbour Mukta Sapri, and had gone to Mukta’s house to play badminton wearing them. Mrs Agarwal complained, ‘What’s this fad for jeans! If she were a child, it would be another matter. Such tight-fitting clothes don’t look good on grown-up girls. Hips, thighs and calves all stand out in them.’

Tara agreed, ‘Yes, such styles are not very proper.’ But thought to herself about the complaints madam had made about her own blouses not fitting well.

Mrs Agarwal grumbled on, ‘If I say anything, the girl sulks, and if I don’t, my husband scolds me for not being strict enough. Even if I care for and treat those two a thousand times better than my own children, the two of them will always regard me as their wicked stepmother.’ She raised the subject of Narottam, ‘I swear by the children I gave birth to if ever I made the slightest bias against either of them, but they never regard me as their mother. Fifty thousand rupees went on paying for his engineering studies in England. But he’s holding out for a government job. Engineers in our office get paid a thousand a month, and he wants to settle for something that pays only five to six hundred!’

Such an introduction to Narottam made Tara think of him as someone eccentric, and rather conceited and arrogant, but she did not give it any further thought. She had no desire to get involved in the squabbles of her employer’s family.

The grandmother thought of Tara as a decent person, and more so when she heard that she was a vegetarian. The old woman remembered her first daughter-in-law with affection and was critical of the second, ‘That poor dear never stepped out of this house. The menfolk could eat anything they wanted, but she never allowed onions and garlic into her kitchen. The kitchen for meat dishes was kept totally separate. This one sits and eats with all kinds of men, doesn’t observe purdah, and has no sense of decency. She’s hardly ever at home. When Narottam’s grandfather had built this mansion, he named it “Agarwal Ashram”. These people have renamed it in the Christian style, something like “a a”. What kind of name is “a a”? But what difference does it make to me; my life is nearly finished. They can do whatever they like.’

After Narottan returned to his room, and while he was shaving, he remembered that his first impression of Tara was that mummy had found a refugee as an inexpensive replacement for her children’s tutor. He had not been sure if she would measure up. Now he found her to be cultured and well-spoken.

That same evening he was going through the hallway towards the staircase to his room. Puttan and Lalli saw him and called out, ‘Bhaiyyaji’s back.’

Narottam slowed down on seeing Tara in the dining room with the children. He asked, ‘May I join you?’

‘Please do,’ Tara said politely.

Narottam put the two magazines he was holding down on the dining table. He took a chair, and said, ‘You’re very punctual. You turn up for dinner every evening at the exact time. I feel rather hungry today. Didn’t have any tea in the afternoon. If it doesn’t disturb you, I’ll have my dinner with all of you.’

‘Of course. Please join us. Would you like me to bring you something?’

Shivni was serving Tara and the children. Narottam asked her, ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘Huzoor, Jugal hasn’t prepared the regular dinner. It’s what he made for the children, just soup, vegetables, daal.’ Shivni said apologetically.

‘Bring me whatever’s ready.’ Narottam picked up the magazines and
turning towards Tara said, ‘Do you read the
Literary Digest
? Here’s the latest issue.’

‘Haven’t had a chance to see it for several months. My brother used to get it often. I like it, but I find that the articles in it are a bit biased. Maybe that’s because I’m not very knowledgeable,’ Tara said hesitatingly, as if she was being too forward.

‘You’re quite right. I totally agree with you. But they’re well-written pieces, that’s why I get it.’

‘Ji. Those anecdotes at the end of the articles can be really amusing.’

‘Absolutely. They’re excellent, but even those aren’t free of bias. Well, you can keep this issue for now. I have
Life
magazine to read. There’s a good piece in it on Mexican Indians.’

Tara was using knife and fork to eat dinner with the children. She had to get up in the middle of what Narottam was saying to adjust the napkin tied around Lalli’s neck.

Jugal brought Narottam’s dinner in a thali.

‘Excuse me, but I’ll just use my fingers for eating,’ Narottam apologized to Tara in a well-mannered way.

‘Of course,’ Tara thought Narottam’s apology was directed at her use of knife and fork. ‘You’re not a child. That rule is only for the children.’

‘As I well know.’ He tried to make amends for his remark, ‘Mummy’s great ambition is that her children learn European ways. I was in England for five years, and I like using a knife and fork, but that depends on the type of food. It feels like a punishment to eat Indian food with a knife and fork. What do you think?’

‘You’re right.’

After that Tara and Narottam began to talk to each other if they happened to meet. Tara did not find him, as madam had said, to be conceited or arrogant, but more like a young man well-behaved for his age.

In the second week of November, life began to take on a faster rhythm at the villa. The annual convention of the All-India Congress Committee was to he held in Delhi. Prasadji promised Mr Agarwal that he would be one of the five vice-presidents of the Welcoming Committee, and extracted a cheque for one thousand rupees from him as a donation. Since the takeover of the government by the Congress, Mr Agarwal and other big businessmen of Delhi had become increasingly interested in the affairs of the party.

Prasadji asked Mr Agarwal to provide hospitality to two leaders of the
Congress party. A reception was also to be held for over one hundred delegates at the AA villa.

Madam pulled Tara into this whirlwind of activities at her house. Tutoring the children was put on hold. It was a matter of some relief that Narottam, to maintain the family’s prestige, was also lending a hand.

There were two motor cars at the villa. One was used by Mr Agarwal, the other was for madam as she went around with Prasadji to make various arrangements. She had no time to shop for things needed at home. She called at sahib’s office, and asked for one more car to be put at her disposal. She then dictated to Tara a list of things to buy, and gave her some cash. Tara had been wearing the same clothes that Madam had given her, and those now looked quite shabby. Madam gave Tara an extra fifty rupees to buy whatever clothes she wanted for herself, and told Narottam, ‘Go with Tara. She doesn’t know much about the best places to shop. Advise her on what kind of linen to buy.’

Narottam agreed to accompany Tara on her shopping trip.

Since her arrival at the villa, Tara had been to Connaught Place twice. Once Dolly had taken her along for shopping, and in the previous week madam had asked Tara to accompany her when she went to buy woollens for the children.

When they reached Connaught Place, Narottam asked, ‘So, what do you have to buy?’

Tara said, ‘Bahinji’s list includes table covers, towels, bed sheets, dried fruits and a few other things. I want to get some white voile for dhotis for myself, and some wool, if possible.’

Narottam took Tara to a large cloth store. She asked to be shown some voile, and when she found a quality that she liked, she asked for some white lawn cloth for petticoats and white poplin for blouses. She mentally calculated the length of material she needed, and inquired its price. It came to more than she could afford, so she asked to be shown some less expensive voile. She did not like the quality, but told the sales assistant to cut a length for her.

‘No. Cut some from the bolt you showed us first,’ Narottam said to the assistant.

Tara protested, ‘No, I want the second one.’

Narottam motioned to her to keep quiet, and asked the assistant for the more expensive voile. Tara did not say anything for fear of creating a scene.

When they were shown the tablecloths, towels and bed sheets, Tara wanted to check that the material carried the seal of genuine khadi.

‘The seal of genuine khadi can be found only on cloth sold at the Gandhi Bhandar cloth store,’ she was told.

‘The Gandhi Bhandar wants to keep the monopoly and profits from khadi to themselves. That’s what the East India Company did,’ Narottam said jokingly.

The sales staff smiled to show that they understood the joke. Narottam picked up the packets of Tara’s purchases, and said, ‘Let’s go to the Gandhi Bhandar.’

As they came out of the store, Tara complained, ‘Why did you do that! I only had fifty rupees for myself. I had to use some of bahinji’s money.’

‘The voile that you picked out was of inferior quality. I’ve enough money. You don’t have to worry.’

‘Wah, why should you pay for my clothes?’

Narottam looked at Tara with mock surprise, ‘Are you a disciple of Gandhi?’

‘Why? What do you mean?

‘Don’t you get it? You’ll be rewarded with a cup of coffee if you find the answer to this riddle. Whenever I come to Connaught Place, I have coffee at the Blue Nile. Let’s go there.’ Narottam was making fun, just like Tara’s friends from the Student Federation in Lahore.

There were many other restaurants in Connaught Place, but by sheer chance Narottam had invited Tara to the Blue Nile. She had been once before to the same restaurant with Prasadji, at about the same time of day. Tara remembered her desperate need to find a job. That day also, a sari had been forced upon her. By coincidence, Tara was wearing the same sari today. She sighed inwardly at the painful memory. Today instead of feeling desperate, she was laughing and joking.

Tara said in the same spirit of fun, ‘I didn’t solve the riddle, so I shouldn’t accept your coffee.’

‘Well, you have to accept it because you couldn’t solve it.’

‘First tell me the riddle.’

‘It’s simply that you believe in non-cooperation.’

‘Non-cooperation? With whom?’

‘Well, you used the money that I had on me. Tomorrow if I’m short, I’ll naturally ask you.’

‘That means it’s a loan,’ Tara said.

‘With interest, if you insist.’

Tara said with a smile, ‘I don’t ask for any interest, but I’ll accept a commission for safekeeping.’

‘Well, your insistence on genuine khadi showed that you believe in Gandhi’s philosophy. But what if mummy doesn’t like this genuine khadi?’

‘She’s the one who asked for it.’

‘Really?’ Narottam’s eyebrows went up in surprise, ‘Is that so? She actually asked for it just to show off in front of the Congress leaders. Do you know what she used to do during the war? I was in the UK then. I came home for two months, and saw that mummy used to go to the Knitting Club.’

‘Which club?’

‘The Knitting Club, a club for knitting woollens. They used to get together to knit sweaters, socks and suchlike as a show of their support and admiration for the soldiers at the front. Or you might say, to show their loyalty to the British. It was a nice hoax. The vicerene would invite wealthy society ladies once a week, sometimes to the bungalow of the chief secretary, sometimes to Government House to knit for the soldiers for about an hour. The Club had a session at Chausia Sahib’s bungalow, so mummy had to organize a party at her own house. About thirty to thirty-five ladies showed up. The party must have cost her between a hundred fifty to two hundred rupees. How much they could have knitted in one hour, you can well imagine.