This Is Not That Dawn: Jhootha Sach (97 page)

‘Then we had Latif, our Muslim bearer. He’s gone to Pakistan. He would give wool to some poor woman and pay her a rupee or a rupee and a half to knit a sweater. Mummy then passed it on to the Club. Now it’s the turn of genuine khadi. Of course, when mummy goes to Gandhiji’s prayer meeting, she puts on a khadi sari.’

After going to the Gandhi Bhandar, Narottam said to the driver, ‘Take us to the dried fruit store.’

‘Huzoor, memsahib asked me to take you to the Khari Bawli bazaar for dried fruits. Here they charge double the price,’ the driver replied.

‘Well, now. She didn’t tell you to go to Kabul or Kandahar? It would be even cheaper there,’ Narottam glanced at Tara.

‘Let’s do as bahinji said,’ Tara suggested.

‘As you wish. What can I say?’ Narottam shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

The car drove towards Khari Bawli by way of Ajmeri Gate. On the left, alongside the fenced-in railway tracks, were row after row of refugees under shelters made of reeds and straw.

‘You see that?’ Narottam asked Tara. ‘The Congress government bangs the drum for Gandhiji’s ideals, but never listens to what he says. Gandhiji said that if the refugees couldn’t find shelter, they should be housed at the Viceregal Palace and in the bungalows of the government ministers. Lord Mountbatten agreed, either out of compassion or for diplomatic reasons, but the leaders of the Congress party refused to oblige.’

The car was crawling through the Khari Bawli bazaar because of the heavy traffic of handcarts, trucks and tramcars, and the crowds of pedestrians. The air was thick with the pungent smell of spices. Tara could not stop herself from sneezing, ‘I’m sorry.’ Narottam sneezed even louder, ‘I’m sorry, too.’

‘What are these queues for?’ Narottam asked the driver.

‘Huzoor, for sugar rations, from the government shop. Huzoor, in the morning the queue is sometimes half a mile long.’

Narottam said to Tara, ‘If there’s such a shortage of sugar, why don’t they forbid the use of sugar for non-essential use? Just one mithai shop uses up in one day so much sugar as might do for a whole mohalla. And only those people can afford mithai who are already overloaded with carbohydrates. Sugar substitutes could be used in restaurants. The price of sugar would automatically fall. The opposition to price control is only to protect arbitrary price fixing and profiteering.’

‘But Gandhiji is against price control,’ Tara said.

‘Why should he be? If there was no control of prices in England during the war, the people would have starved to death. Price control means controlled distribution of commodities. Why should anyone object to that? There’s no restriction on selling below the price fixed by the government. This question might come up during this convention of the Congress party, that’s why daddy is so worried. There’s a sugar shortage, and daddy’s hoarding sugar stocks worth seven lacks. How could I follow him into that type of business? I’ll take on a real job somewhere; even if the salary is only five hundred a month. You know that petrol rationing is in force these days. The Congress party has asked daddy for two cars with petrol for the duration of their convention. Don’t they care where the petrol will come from? When they had petrol rationing in England, the prime minister used to walk to Houses of Parliament.’

13 January 1948. Newspapers and radio reported: Gandhiji had gone on a fast unto death. The whole country held its breath in suspense. Delhi was at the centre of this suspense and tension.

The bloodshed and rioting between Hindus and Muslims had not stopped in spite of Gandhiji’s constant pleas for communal harmony. Delegations of Muslims from UP and Delhi came to tell Gandhiji about the atrocities committed against their communities. News reports from Bahawalpur, Lyalpur and Jhelum in West Punjab told of hundreds of thousands of Hindus living in miserable conditions, of thousands dying of starvation. Indian and Pakistani troops battled in Kashmir.

Under the terms of the division of assets and liabilities announced by the British for the undivided country at the time of Partition, Pakistan was to be paid 550 million rupees towards the second instalment of arrears due to it. Pakistan had attacked Kashmir, a part of the territory of India. There had been no declaration of war, but the two countries were fighting pitched battles. The Government of India declared that unless Pakistan withdrew its armies from Kashmir, their share of the joint assets would not be handed over.

Gandhiji was of the view that Pakistan should be given its share, as a gesture of goodwill, without imposing any conditions whatsoever. As the government wanted to use the arrears as political leverage to keep Pakistan from attacking its territory, the Indian Cabinet found Gandhiji’s proposal unrealistic, and rejected it.

Gandhiji saw that his appeals and efforts for tolerance and compassion were not being heeded, and decided to sacrifice his life for his cause.

The previous day, 12 January, was a Monday. Gandhiji observed silence every Monday. On the days of his silence, his messages were read out at his evening prayer meetings by his personal assistant Pyarelal, or by Pyarelal’s sister. At the 12 January prayer meeting an announcement was made on behalf of Gandhiji that he would begin his fast at noon the next day. Gandhiji would end his fast only after complete cessation of communal violence in India, particularly in Delhi; otherwise, it would end only in his death. No reasons for his fast, or conditions for ending it, were specified, except that communal violence should cease and Hindus and Muslims begin to live together amicably.

The main point of discussion in the newspapers and in the public was the propriety of withholding Pakistan’s arrears. But Gandhiji’s appeals and
statements mentioned only restoration of communal peace and harmony. He was constantly appealing to the government to ensure the safety of Muslims, and asking that Muslim families who had fled Delhi in fear of their lives might come back to the city and live without fear. He had also asked the government to have the Muslim houses and mosques occupied by Hindus vacated and returned to their rightful owners. It soon became apparent that most Hindus, especially those driven out of West Pakistan and East Bengal, saw Gandhiji’s statements and appeals not only as appeasement of the Muslims, but also as detrimental to Hindus. These Hindus were boiling with anger at the thought that Gandhiji was on the side of Pakistan and of the Muslims at a time when Pakistan had invaded Indian territory.

At the AA villa, the telephone had been ringing continuously all morning on 13 January. A large number of people arrived before noon. Heated discussions were held in the drawing room. Tea was prepared and served frequently to the guests. Mrs Agarwal had found that Tara could always be trusted with the responsibility of looking after the guests.

At the time of the convention, when Congress leaders had stayed at the villa, and during the preparations for the reception held for them, Tara had had many occasions to meet and discuss the arrangements being made with Mr Agarwal. Since then, he would ask after her every time they met, and would remind her to tell him or Mrs Agarwal if she faced a problem, or needed anything. Sometimes he had questions about the children. Tara had sensed that madam always intervened on such occasions. Mrs Agarwal would say, ‘I look after her as anyone would for their employee. If she needs anything, she should tell me herself. Just look at her coat; is it any worse than mine?’

There was a story behind Tara’s winter coat. She had knitted a cardigan for herself in November. Madam had admired the design and her knitting skill, and said, ‘Hai, you knit really well. Make one also for me. Choose the wool yourself.’

Tara would continue to knit as she read the newspaper or tutored the children. Narottam complained, ‘You knit for everyone. What crime have I committed that you don’t knit something for me?’

‘Get me some wool, and I’ll knit something for you that you won’t forget. What’ll I get as my reward?’

‘Very well. Let’s settle that before I get the wool.’

‘Whatever you think is proper. But let that go for the time being. I’ll knit for you anyway. I’ll get the wool, too.’

Tara knitted Narottam a pullover in thick steel-grey wool, in a cable pattern picked out in deep red. Madam could not take her eyes off it. She suggested that Tara knit a similar pullover for Bhupi. Tara had to slow down her knitting speed.

The weather had turned very cold in December. Around the middle of that month, Mrs Agarwal had given Tara an extra seventy-five rupees, and said, ‘Get yourself a woollen shawl or something warm.’

Tara bought a dark brown shawl for twenty rupees. Her cardigan and that shawl were the only clothes she had to keep her warm in the Delhi winter. If she took the children out in the cold biting wind that blew after a winter shower, or if Dolly, wearing a long winter coat, dragged her out somewhere, Tara would shiver with cold in her light clothes.

One evening Mrs Agarwal was going out, taking Tara with her. Mrs Agarwal wore her winter coat and Tara was wrapped up in her shawl. They met Mr Agarwal and Narottam, both wearing overcoats, in the veranda.

‘Miss Tara, why are you not wearing a coat? It’s very cold today,’ Narottam said. Then asked again, ‘Mummy, doesn’t she have a coat? It’s really cold out there.’

Tara did not like his comment. She bent her head and looked away.

‘Yes, it is,’ Mr Agarwal said. ‘Why don’t you get her a coat?’

‘Why don’t you buy her one yourself?’ Mrs Agarwal said, trying to suppress her annoyance. Her reply was aimed at Narottam.

Narottam was seething inwardly at the taunt thrown at him by his stepmother. Next morning Tara had just sat down in the veranda with the newspaper when Narottam arrived, ‘When would you like to go to get your coat?’

‘I don’t want any. I don’t feel the cold that much. I won’t accept it.’

‘Daddy had asked you to. Won’t you do as he says?’

‘But I don’t need one. I never felt the need for one. As things are, I find myself under a heavy debt of obligation.’

‘What obligation?’ Narottam protested. ‘Miss Edwards’s salary was a hundred rupees a month. Everyone needs a winter coat. You have to get one today.’ He went away without waiting for any reply.

At 10.30, madam was dictating a letter to Tara in English.

Narottam came in, dressed to go out, and said, ‘Yesterday daddy said
to get Miss Tara a winter coat. I am going in the direction of the shops. I can get her one now.’

‘Bahinji, I really don’t feel that cold. I’ve never worn a winter coat,’ Tara pleaded.

‘Daddy saw her shivering with cold yesterday. That’s why he asked,’ Narottam said to his mother.

‘Did I tell her not to get one?’ Mrs Agarwal said. ‘Why don’t you go with him since he’s inviting you?’

‘Bahinji, I…’

‘I don’t like these useless affectations,’ Mrs Agarwal said irritably. ‘Why am I being dragged into this?’

Tara, her head bowed, went with Narottam.

Narottam drove. Tara’s eyes were red with anger as she sat biting her lip.

‘Why are you so quiet?’ Narottam asked.

Tara blew up, ‘I’m under some curse. Just because I’m an employee, you all think you can insult me whenever you want.’

Narottam said nothing, but he had not expected Tara to be so upset over such a small matter. He said in English, after a pause, ‘I’m sorry if my lack of discretion caused you so much hurt. Believe me, I don’t feel any less respect for your dignity than I would for Dolly. You may fault me for my indiscretion, but don’t have any second thoughts about my motives.’

Tara got a new winter coat. In deference to her employer, she showed it first to madam. Narottam had removed the price tag, but that did not fool Mrs Agarwal. Suppressing her resentment, she said, ‘Very nice. It’s good quality, expensive material. This style is in fashion. Ratnara wore the same when she came to the club the other day.’ Once Tara left, she could not help but mutter, ‘Father and son are both dazzled by her.’ The comment reached Tara’s ear.

From that day on, if madam saw Tara without her coat on a day that was cold, she did not forget to nag Tara about it.

Tara had noticed a growing resentment in madam’s attitude. She had been told that madam also had harboured similar grudges against the previous governess. Miss Edwards, if she had, for any reason, spoke with Mr Agarwal rather than Mrs Agarwal, and even gossiped and joked with him. Madam kept a careful watch over Tara, but had not found any fault with her conduct. That did not stop her from remarking acidly, ‘God only knows where we find such women. Who can trust these unprincipled baggages.
They’re always on the lookout for a chance to snare a man.’

Narottam also managed to find some excuse for talking with Tara. Nothing that Narottam ever did or said to her had been out of place, but Tara, mindful of her position as an employee of the family, had to tell him, ‘You say you treat me as Dolly’s elder sister, but do you know what they say about me?’ She repeated to him the scurrilous comment and the tone in which she was described. Her experience had convinced her of Narottam’s decency, he would not betray her trust.

He said, ‘Mummy will go on saying things like that no matter what you do. Whom has she not suspected of having ulterior motives? She’s just not able to think otherwise. She didn’t trust even her younger sister. Aunty Sumitra used to live with us. The same mistrust and suspicion made mummy send her to the hostel at the Lady Harding School. Don’t think any more about it. Why be afraid if you’re not guilty.’ He refused to change his behaviour towards Tara.

Tara sat sulking. She had been with the family now only for three months, and things seemed to be already turning sour. ‘There’s no place for me anywhere. I’m all alone. Banti was right. It’s one’s misfortune to be born a woman. I wouldn’t mind working at some school for even half the pay I get here.’

The political crisis created by Gandhiji’s fast was the topic of discussion in the drawing room at the AA villa. Visitors arrived shivering in the cold, damp air of January, but their faces and voices were full of the heat of excitement. Mr Agarwal was asked to take up the cause of safeguarding the interests of the Hindus. He did not go to his office. There were repeated demands to send tea in for the visitors. How could Madam miss out on such animated and important discussions? She would pop her head out of the drawing room and say, ‘Tara, have two cups of tea sent in. Tara, do this… do that…’