Children of A Better God

by usmita, Bagchi

  ‘Self-reliant! He doesn’t need to be self-reliant as long as I am alive,’ Reena almost shouted.

  ‘And if you are not? God forbid, but what if something happens to you? Who will look after Tito?’

  ‘You are a real well-wisher, aren’t you?’ Reena put down the child she was holding in her lap on the sofa and jumped up in anger. ‘You are planning to kill me! I know all your tricks, Shobha. You think I snatched Shubhendu away from you, so now you want to rob me of my child. But I won’t let you!’ She clutched the child desperately to her bosom. The child, rudely shaken awake, began to cry.

  Shobha’s face flushed red with humiliation and shame.

  Shubhendu too was shocked. ‘Calm down, Reena,’ he said in embarrassment and helpless anger.

  Neither Shobha nor Shubhendu could calm Reena down. Finally, Anupurba spoke.

  ‘No one can help you if you are determined to be unreasonable, Reena.’

  ‘I don’t need anyone’s help,’ Reena said. ‘I’m just fine the way I am. Be quiet, Luna, my love, my darling.’ She suddenly burst into tears as she was caressing her child.

  Shobha sat down beside her again.

  ‘Forget everything that’s past, Reena. But do come once to Asha Jyoti with your children. See everything for yourself. If you like what you see, you can send Tito to our school, but if you decide otherwise, that’s fine.’

  Reena said nothing.

  Shubhendu said, ‘Tito has fever now. We’ll bring him to Asha Jyoti when he is better.’

  Again Reena said nothing. Did it mean that she was giving in although she wasn’t particularly happy about it? Somehow, Anupurba knew it was not so. This was clearly a futile visit.

  Shobha stood up. It was time to leave. Anupurba followed her.

  ‘What’s this, are you leaving?’ Shubhendu said. ‘Won’t you have a cup of tea?’

  ‘Sorry, we have to go. Purba’s children must have returned from school by now. Another time maybe.’

  Shubhendu did not insist.

  ‘Let me escort you downstairs then,’ Shubhendu said.

  ‘Please don’t bother,’ Shobha said emphatically.

  As the elevator door closed Anupurba could sense a storm rising inside Shobha.

  Once she was inside the car, Shobha allowed her tears to flow. Somashekhar could see her in the rear-view mirror, but she didn’t care. She had kept the tension bottled up inside for decades now. It needed release.

  Anupurba held her hand. The two friends did not speak for the rest of the journey.

  Painting by Hemlatha © Spastics Society of Karnataka

  Fourteen

  The police had detained all cars for more than forty minutes to allow a procession to pass. Anupurba looked at her watch exasperatedly a few times and finally gave up. She was going to be horribly late today. The lunch break would have ended by now.

  She had, of course, called Ranjana on her cell phone and informed her. The airport road traffic was simply not moving and there was nothing she could do. Finally, when the cars ahead of her started moving a little, she had already lost a lot of time.

  Moving slowly through the jam, Somashekhar finally managed to get her to the school gate. As she got out of the car hurriedly and started walking towards the school building, Anupurba saw a lady getting out of an auto-rickshaw. She wore a green nylon sari and had a cheap black purse slung from her shoulder. She looked to be in her mid-forties.

  ‘Excuse me . . . ’

  Anupurba stopped.

  ‘Do you work in this school?’

  No, she didn’t work there; she was a volunteer; she took some art classes for now. All this would have taken too long to explain, so she merely said, ‘Yes, are you looking for something?’

  ‘I have to meet someone in the school but I don’t know how.’

  ‘Please go that way, you’ll find the reception desk in the corridor. Please ask the receptionist and she will help you. Whom do you want to see?’

  ‘Arundhati Ramchandran,’ the lady said, hesitating. She seemed to pause after every syllable.

  Arundhati?

  She had said she had no friends or relatives. Who was this lady then? A neighbour? Then why had she come to the school looking for Arundhati?

  Well, she had no time to think about it now.

  ‘Come with me. I’ll take you to the reception.’ Anupurba and the visitor walked up to where Radhika was. Radhika was busy organizing all the morning newspapers neatly. She looked in complete possession of her space.

  ‘Radhika!’

  ‘Yes, Madam?’

  ‘This lady wants to meet Arundhati. Can you please help her?’

  With that brief handover, as she was walking towards the Art Room, Anupurba heard Radhika say ‘She’s not here, Madam. One of the children in her class was taken ill suddenly and Arundhati Didi had to take her to the Health Centre. She won’t be back for at least an hour. You can wait here.’

  ~

  The class ended with the usual growing excitement—the children did not have the faintest idea about what the exhibition would be like! They had never done this before. It was amazing how the process of preparation had touched them so intensely. It seemed as if they were all experiencing a sense of flow. Anupurba lovingly took stock of the day’s harvest, locked all the paintings in the cupboard, wished the cacophonous children goodbye and walked out of the classroom. As she neared the reception, she was surprised to see the same lady still waiting.

  So Arundhati hadn’t returned yet?

  She walked up to Radhika. ‘Radhika, hasn’t Arundhati come back?’

  ‘No ma’am. I had called up the Health Centre. The child in Room 7 who had had a fall needs some stitches in her head. Her parents hadn’t come and Arundhati Didi was unable to leave the child alone. But I guess she must be on her way now. . . . Oh, there she is! Arundhati Didi, there’s someone waiting to see you.’

  ‘See you, Radhika. Bye, Arundhati.’ Anupurba started walking out with a wave.

  ‘Bye, ma’am.’ It was Radhika. But there was no response from Arundhati.

  By then, she had already seen the visitor and had become stiff.

  ‘Arundhati,’ the lady said, rising.

  ‘Why have you come here?’ There was umbrage in Arundhati’s voice.

  ‘I wanted to speak to you, Arundhati.’ The lady almost implored.

  ‘But I have nothing to say to you,’ Arundhati said firmly and began to walk away. She did not care that there were two other people watching the interaction curiously.

  ‘Please Arundhati, don’t go away!’

  ‘Tell me quickly whatever you have to say.’ Arundhati stopped. Her voice was severe.

  ‘Please . . .’

  Anupurba did not mean to eavesdrop on the conversation that followed but she could not help picking up a few words here and there.

  Flat . . . Samuel . . . the children . . .

  Suddenly she heard Arundhati raise her voice. ‘Why are you doing all this? Didn’t I tell you over the phone once and for all that I was sorry for what had happened? But is it all my fault? I am doing what I can, but why are you poking your nose into this?’

  The woman said something to Arundhati in a low pleading voice.

  ‘Please go away. Leave me to fight my own battles.’

  Now it was the other woman’s voice that could be heard. The same pleading voice. ‘Arundhati, I know how you are suffering. But what crime have we three committed against you? What is happening now is making life unbearable, not just for me but for the children as well. Don’t think of me if you don’t want to, but please think of John and Laura.’

  Anupurba stopped in her stride. John and Laura. Hadn’t she heard these names before? Where? Weren’t these the names of Samuel’s two children? Then was this woman Samuel’s wife? Rosa? Why was she here?

  Two ayahs stood nearby, listening inquisitively to the war of words between Arundhati and the visitor. Radhika was also staring at them in surprise.

  Anupurba
couldn’t restrain herself from intervening.

  ‘Arundhati, if it’s some personal matter you are discussing, you can use the Art Room. There’s no one there now.’

  ‘No, there’s nothing to discuss, Madam.’

  Arundhati turned round to face the other woman and said with a sudden finality, ‘Please go. I will do what you want. Please do not come here ever again.’

  The visitor left silently, her head bent in shame and sorrow.

  ~

  Arundhati was agitated. She was breathing heavily.

  ‘Arundhati?’

  No reply. She was staring into the distance, lost in thought.

  ‘Sit down here for a minute, Arundhati,’ Anupurba said apprehensively.

  Still no answer.

  ‘Arundhati . . .’

  Arundhati suddenly clutched Anupurba’s hand helplessly.

  ‘Why do such things happen to me, Madam? Why is there no solution to anything in this world?’

  Anupurba didn’t know what to say. The curiosity of the two ayahs had spread to a few other staff members who had come out of the office to see what was going on.

  Anupurba took charge now. ‘Come with me, Arundhati. Sit down for a while, and then you can go. Radhika, if you see Abhay, ask him to wait here. Arundhati will return in ten minutes.’

  She took Arundhati to the Art Room and made her sit down.

  ‘Now tell me what has happened,’ she said.

  ‘That was Rosa Aunty. Samuel’s wife.’

  ‘I guessed as much. What has happened now?’

  ‘She was here for her own need. Samuel has booked a flat. When I heard of this, I told him to transfer the ownership to me. After that, we would have nothing more to do with each other. Did I say anything that was wrong? That flat would be my only support. If I have a roof over my head, I can earn my living—I can wash utensils, if need be. I will take care of my son. But Samuel didn’t agree. He shouted at me, he became violent.’

  ‘He beat you?’

  ‘Yes, his hands go up now at the slightest excuse. I usually suffer everything, but that day I lost my head. After he had left I went and told my neighbour what had happened. Her son is the most notorious goonda in the locality. He summoned some members of his gang and when they heard what had happened they were so enraged, they set out to kill Samuel.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I managed to stop them. I swear, Madam, it was only the thought of his wife and children that made me hold them back. I may hate Samuel but how could I have let them kill him? So I told those people—“Do what you like with him—but no violence!” I hear they have created a ring of terror around him; they have put him under mental pressure. They turn up at his office unexpectedly, threaten him publicly, visit his home at odd hours and humiliate him in the presence of his wife and children. “You have insulted our sister; we will make your life miserable!” they tell him. “Transfer your flat to her and get out of her life for ever. We can look after her.”’

  Anupurba was stunned.

  After a brief silence Arundhati went on, ‘Four or five days ago, Rosa Aunty rang me up at the school. It has been so long since I had heard her voice! How much I have cursed her all these years! Yet, I spoke to her. She didn’t lose her temper at all but begged me to stop the goondas from coming to her house. Laura was grown-up now. Apparently the rogues had passed lewd comments at her and threatened to kidnap her on her way to college. The girl was terrified and had stopped going to college. But tell me, Madam; is there anything I can do? Do I have any control over these goondas? I told Rosa Aunty, “Transfer the apartment to me and I shall get out of your lives for ever.” But she says there is no apartment—it is all a lie.’

  ‘Is that correct?’

  ‘Who knows? Maybe it is true—just a trick on Samuel’s part to annoy me. Or it could be that he hasn’t told Rosa Aunty about the apartment. If I had known from the start how crooked the man was, I wouldn’t have had to see this miserable day.’

  ‘If the story of the apartment is untrue, why did she call you up? Why did she come here today?’

  ‘She keeps on saying just one thing—no harm should come to her children. I know she has no feelings for Samuel now. It isn’t possible for her to have any. Still, she’s a mother. I can understand her worries.’

  What a complex situation! Anupurba did not know what to say to Arundhati.

  But she didn’t have to say anything. Arundhati composed herself and said in a confident tone, ‘I have thought deeply about this whole thing. Now I have to take a final decision.’

  ‘A final decision?’

  ‘Enough is enough. I shall have to banish Samuel from my life. I needn’t beg him for favours any longer. His family’s welfare is no concern of mine. I shall bring up my Abhay. I shall do all I can for him. How long can I humiliate myself in my own eyes? God is there to look after us.’

  Anupurba was amazed. Where was the source of this sudden transformation? What had produced this iron will? This self-confidence?

  Arundhati got up.

  ‘I’ve got to go now, Madam,’ she said. ‘Abhay must be waiting outside.’

  ‘Arundhati, just one request.’

  ‘Tell me, Madam.’

  ‘Don’t call me “Madam”. Call me by my name.’

  ‘By your name, Madam?’ It was difficult to read the expression on her face.

  ‘I would like that. “Madam” creates a vast distance between us.’

  ‘I shall try, Madam . . . Anupurba.’

  Painting by Jeevitha © Spastics Society of Karnataka

  Fifteen

  The exhibition was almost upon them. Anupurba’s stress levels were rising. There were only a few children in Anupurba’s class but sometimes it became difficult for her to manage them. This was the time to choose the mats for the paintings, decide on the framing, the sequence of the exhibits—there was way too much to do in the last leg. She needed to get some additional help; she needed to meet Mrs Mathur. There was no other way out.

  Mrs Mathur heard what she had to say but showed no surprise. She had a smile on her face; this was a problem she welcomed.

  ‘I was talking to Ranjana only a few days ago about this, Anupurba.’

  ‘About this?’ Anupurba asked in surprise.

  ‘The way you’ve been managing the class all by yourself is really admirable. But I think we need to give you an extra pair of hands. Another thing, the final exams are also very near. That tension will be reflected in different ways. It is something very natural. Sometimes that builds up pressure in the children. But anyway, you do need some help.’

  Anupurba felt relieved. She waited to see where Mrs Mathur was going with this.

  ‘There is one problem though, Anupurba. This is exam time and all the teachers are busy with their own classes. Even the volunteers who help the teachers have no time to breathe now. The only ones who have no exam to worry about are the folks in Room 7. What if we moved someone from there to help you?’

  ‘That would be nice.’

  ‘Can I give this responsibility to Arundhati?’

  ‘Sure, you can.’ Thank God, Anupurba had not complained to her about the initial setback with Arundhati!

  ‘No, what I mean is,’ Mrs Mathur hesitated for a brief second, ‘other teachers have complained about Arundhati from time to time. If you have an objection, do let me know. I will try to make some other arrangement.’

  ‘I will be quite happy if Arundhati can help me, Mrs Mathur. She has a natural affection for these children. She is very compassionate, and her personal relationship with me is excellent.’

  Mrs Mathur looked at her, baffled. ‘I am glad you think so!’

  ~

  Arundhati started coming to the art class. Ever since the last conversation, she had made no mention of what was going on in her own sordid life. She seemed excited and happy and you could tell that she saw the new assignment as something positive. Anupurba did not have to give her any instructions. She just came and to
ok over, leaving her to focus on the bigger task at hand. She was such a boon to Anupurba. Sometimes Anupurba watched her in wonder. The woman had no aversion, absolutely no hesitation in working with the children at all. Sometimes she would wipe the snot streaming from a child’s nose with a piece of tissue; sometimes she wiped someone’s drool. When they ran around and created trouble, she would simply chide, ‘You are worse than Abhay! How much he troubles me. I hope you are not doing this on purpose. Wait till I give you all a good thrashing! I am not like your Anupurba Aunty; I will really beat you all. Now sit in one place you little devils . . .’

  She and Anupurba made a great team. Everything was just perfect except that she would not call Anupurba by her name. It remained ‘Anupurba Madam’. Well, still an improvement. Perhaps, later, the ‘Madam’ would fall away by itself. All in all, the art class got a real boost now, with Arundhati to mind the children. Then one day, while there was a class in progress as usual, a boy—maybe eight or nine—suddenly walked into the class. He did not seek anyone’s permission before entering—he just walked in, went across to a table and sat down with the other children. Then he pulled a sheet of paper out of the packet lying on the table and settled down to draw. Just as if no one existed besides himself.

  Anupurba was quite taken aback. She had seen the boy several times in the school—that is to say, within the school compound, in the little patch of ground that had been fenced in to form a kind of children’s playground. On one side of it were the swing, the slide and the see-saw for the smaller children. That was where one could always find the boy—on the swing. His eyes wore a vacant look. They were focused on some invisible point in the distance. He was a permanent fixture there except when it rained.

  He did not show signs of physical abnormality. Bright, healthy face; body and limbs that looked perfectly normal. What was he doing in Asha Jyoti? Anupurba had asked herself that question whenever she walked past the playground. Maybe he was just a drifter from the neighbourhood, who knew? But now that the boy had entered her class, she felt she needed to know and then she remembered seeing the distant figure of a woman beside him sometimes. She could be his mother. Sometimes she seemed to be speaking to him but his gaze was always away, far away. But why had this child come to her class now?