Devi

by Nag Mani

  The world below the surface was cold. Dark. Frightening. She was going lower and lower, to what end she did not know. Her lungs began to burn. She flailed her arms and legs. She wanted to rise to the surface, away from the deadly coldness. She wanted to breathe. But lower and lower she went… and darker and colder the water became…

  They told her that the boat had capsized. That all three of them were flung into the river. That Arvind had rescued her and pulled her ashore. Then he had gone back and pulled out the manager. And then, he had entered the water again, but never returned.

  A team of swimmers searched for the entire night and morning. But there was no sign of him. They concluded that he must have been washed away.

  There was a sudden scuffle as Arvind’s mother fainted in the courtyard amid the mourners. She was brought inside. Someone massaged her feet. Someone rubbed her palms. When she regained consciousness, she didn’t cry. She just stared blankly at the roof. Aditi wanted to apologise, but said nothing. They sat in silence.

  The baby started crying. “PA! PA!” She was brought to the old woman, her grandmother, who hugged her. The baby went on crying. “Ma, PA? PA?” A woman took her away, thinking food would calm her down.

  “I am sorry… your son… he died saving us!” Aditi managed to say at last.

  “He was dying anyway,” said the old woman, her voice firm and resolute. Her under-eyes were puffed and her cheeks sagging. “It is his Bijju I was crying for. His daughter. He wanted to give her a life he never had. What will happen to her now? We have no family. His wife left us. Then he. And what about this old woman? I might die before the sun sets.” She went quiet. “I always knew this was coming.” Fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks. “She is a good child, Madam. Very beautiful. Just like her mother. I thought she will grow up one day. Marry some handsome prince. But what will happen to her now? How will I raise her? And after I die? How long will she live? Would they even give her proper funeral or just throw her in the river for the fish to eat!”

  “Don’t say that…”

  “Don’t say what, Madam? I am just an old good-for-nothing burden on this soil. But it is all she has. A useless grandmother and a hut that is falling apart.”

  “I will take her with me,” Aditi said, unsure at first, then more resolute. “I will adopt her.”

  The old woman looked at her as she was a goddess. Then her expression changed. “Adopt her? Adopt a village child? It is easily said than…”

  “No, I am not just saying.” Aditi felt exhilarated as she spoke the words. Was she actually adopting a child? Was she? Yes, she actually was. Hadn’t she asked for a child? And here it was, a child waiting just for her. “I will treat her like my own daughter. We are going back today, no matter what. I will take her with me. And why just her, why don’t you come along as well?”

  The old woman did not reply. Her milky eyes were fixed on Aditi. And then tears began to form in them again. She hurriedly wiped them off with her aanchal and with an unexpected agility for an old woman, jumped out of the bed and went outdoors. She took Bijju from some woman and pulled her into a deep embrace, and as the crowd watched, both the chid and the grandmother began to cry.

  Someone whispered something and the gathering became strangely curious. The neighbours developed sudden interest in the city woman. Young women flocked Aditi and told her tales of the toddler. Older ones told her about the beautiful mother. Inspector Neeraj Mishra arrived with constables in a private Bolero and roamed around the neighbourhood gathering information. When Manoj woke up – he had regained consciousness quite some time ago, but had dosed off due to some drug that had been injected – and heard of the proposal to adopt the child, his first reaction was shock. He did not believe in adoption, let alone adopting the child of his assistant. Nevertheless, as always, he chose not to articulate his opinion. He would have the lifetime to express his feelings. Aditi knew he would explode the moment they reached their home. But she had had enough. She was not going to succumb to his tortures or subjugation again. The inspector took Manoj out and, for the first time, they talked without hostility. And without informing her, they climbed back into the Bolero and drove away.

  They returned about an hour later carrying two suitcases. Manoj told her that they would be leaving the village soon. He had telephoned their tenant that they would be returning.

  The news set the women in frenzy. Bijju was quickly taken to a hand-pump where her grandmother bathed her with diligence. Someone brought a new soap for her. She did not have new clothes, so the neighbours were most eager to provide her. Her grandmother got to select which one she would wear and which ones would be packed and sent. Her hair was oiled and combed and her forehead wiped. Her temple was marked with a big dot of kajal. Neighbours came in bearing gifts – small clay toys, plastic bangles, beady anklets, amulets, more clay toys, a little money. Bijju was enjoying all the attention she was getting. But soon she realized that all the faces were unfamiliar. Her father had still not returned. The old woman picked her up. She was growing more restless with every passing moment. “You will take care of her, no?”

  “Yes, of course. More than my own daughter. And why don’t you come along as well? Why aren’t you packing? You can stay with us!”

  The old woman started crying again. “What will I do in a city, Madam? This is my home. This village. I was born here. And here I will die. Else my spirit will never be reunited with my family. Where will it go if I die in a city? It will be lost. And it will never be at peace.”

  “But why here? You will be all alone and…”

  “No Madam. You do not worry about me. I know the streets here.” Then her lips began quavering. She took Bijju in a room and shut the door.

  Two boats were arranged. The river was calmer than it had been the previous night. As Aditi watched the men prepare the boats, the inspector sneaked beside her and slipped her a note. It was an address in Darbhanga. “Do visit us sometime,” he said, “when you have left all this behind. My wife and I will be looking forward to it.”

  “I will,” she replied and they watched the river for some time, silent. “Why did Payal have to pay for what her mother did?” she asked after a while.

  “That’s how things work,” he replied solemnly. “She paid for her mother’s love, if that can be called love.”

  “Yes, it was love. Love can be evil, but it is still love. And Salman? He ruined his life for what?”

  “What ruin? He was just eating and sleeping here. He will eat and sleep in custody. That is his life. But he will walk free. It will be a lengthy case, but he will walk free at the end of it.”

  “What about the law? He did kill her, you know it!”

  “Who will fight for her? Her aunt, who lives nearby but did not come to claim their bodies? Her father, who is a jobless drunkard? The lawyers will drag the case but eventually, he will walk free, so will the others.”

  They were quiet again. This time Inspector Mishra broke the silence, rubbing his hands, “I will get the grandmother sign a letter that she has appointed you the guardian of the child.”

  “That will do?” asked Aditi, surprised.

  “This is a village, Aditi, no one cares about legal procedures. Anyway, that will just be a formal record. Ask your husband to take care of other legalities once he is back in Purnia. But there was no need for all this. There are orphanages that…”

  “No! She is my daughter. I cannot abandon her.”

  Inspector Mishra nodded, but didn’t speak. Eventually, he turned around to leave.

  “This number,” she said, tapping on a telephone number scribbled below the address. The STD code was 0612 – definitely not of Darbhanga. “That is where he is? Patna?” The inspector nodded. Aditi took a deep breath. Then she asked the question she had dreaded to be answered all along. “What does he do?”

  Inspector Mishra took his time answering. “He is doing well. He married not five months ago. Beautiful wife, I must tell you. She is a clerk in a bank.
Yes, they are doing pretty well.”

  “What does he do?” she asked again.

  “He couldn’t make it, you know. He couldn’t graduate after they expelled him. He had to then take up a job, for his family, you know. And one thing led to another, and he… it’s funny, isn’t it? I was the one who had no goal in life. I knew I would never make it. It was he who motivated me. It was he who believed in me when I myself didn’t. He used to come to my house before my exams to teach me. And he was bloody good at that. And look at us now! Here I am! And he is…”

  “What?”

  “He runs a coaching centre in Patna, for UPSC. He has a few students, yes… he is doing fine.” Inspector Neeraj Mishra settled his belt and left her to give orders to the boatmen.

  Aditi tore off the phone number and tossed it in the river. She watched it as the water carried it away. It was as if a part of her life was going away from her. Her lips trembled as she tried not to cry. She had carried it long enough. The two of them had totally different lives now. Like that little piece of paper, he was gone… forever. Their paths were never going to cross again.

  A small group of women accompanied Bijju and her grandmother, singing a song in their local tongue. The baby was handed to Aditi in front of the river.

  “She will be happy, won’t she Madam? She will be happy away from this village?” the old woman asked, more to herself than Aditi.

  “Why don’t you visit us from time to time? You will see…”

  “Promise me, Madam,” the woman grabbed Aditi’s hands, “you will never tell her about this village. You will not tell her about her father, or mother… or me!”

  “But…”

  “No, Madam, no! She must not know anything. This is not a good place, Madam. Give her a chance to grow away from this dirt. Let her be happy in her new world! If you promise me this, Madam, I can die in peace.”

  Aditi hugged her. Then she took her place in the first boat with Manoj. Inspector Mishra and the constables sat in the other. The boatmen began to row and the settlement was left behind. So were the standing men and women, becoming smaller and smaller…

  They made their way through marshy fields and farms until they found the road. An oxen-pulled tonga ferried them to the police station. After a cup of tea, they took the police jeep to the bus-stand. The inspector shook hands with Manoj and saluted her as the bus drove away.

  Aditi closed her eyes…

  There she was, on the boat, amid huffing and puffing and the great rush of water, watching the crowd standing on the other bank.

  Far beyond, somewhere near the forest was a weirdly constructed house. And in that house once lived a beautiful girl called Zeenat who could do anything for the boy she loved – the boy who could do nothing but stand under a tree and cry for her. And her pretty little sister who wanted to see the Taj Mahal under moonlight. Not far from the forest was a cornfield that swayed and danced in the winds. And it continued to sway and dance when a young woman was hacked to death, too young to foresee the death that was looming above her, encircling her. Her sister, who had been deprived of everything that was hers and given to her husband. And her mother, who, like her, was dead and cold in some dingy room somewhere in the village, who just wanted a good future for her daughters.

  Aditi opened her eyes and saw fields and huts rush by. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the forest. But it was far away, beyond the range of her vision. The forest with whispering trees and crying babies. The forest with a cream coloured dog lying cold somewhere in a pool of wet mud, the dog who had come to her rescue when no one else had dared to…

  Something glittered. She looked up to see sparkling waters at a distance. Was she still there, Aditi thought, still there the way they had left her? That old woman…

  …that old woman who sat cross-legged on the other side of the river, crying, beating her chest, as she watched her life sail away in a boat…

  IV

  CHAPTER 21

  THE CHEAP CHILD

  Aradhana was combing her hair when her mother came in with a bundle of washed and ironed clothes and, without a word, began to place them in a trolley. Happy and excited as she was, her mother was troubled and worried. Just as she put on a deodorant, a cream coloured mongrel, sensing, rather smelling, that she was going out, came leaping in, put his paws on her and tried to lick her face.

  “Shoo, Bachcha! Get away!” She pushed the dog, irritated that she would have to do the lipstick again.

  Aditi rose with a sigh and put her hands on her waist as she studied her daughter, reminiscing her younger days when she was fat and spoilt. She cried a lot and made a fuss over everything and anything. Her apples had to be skinned, and so did her grapes. She wouldn’t drink milk without Horlicks. Horlicks and only Horlicks, and no other substitute. She was arrogant and a bully. She once cut off her classmate’s hair because the latter didn’t agree to do her homework. She was getting nowhere in her studies.

  But that was then… a long time ago. So much had changed in the years to come.

  When they unexpectedly came back from the village, their neighbours asked curious questions and spread wild rumours about the village child. It took a couple of years for them to move on with some other gossip. Manoj got himself transferred to Purnia. On paper medical reasons were stated, but the regional manager very well knew about the incidents that had taken place in the village.

  So that was how it started. That was how her life began to come together, bit by bit.

  Manoj continued his usual way. Saying nothing. Doing everything. Aditi almost thought that nothing had changed after the Return. But there were always those subtle… One of them was when she found a piece of paper on her dressing table with fancy fonts and colourful border. It was a fee receipt of the best UPSC coaching centre in the city.

  The Daily Routine went up. Her old books and notes came out. She tried to attend the classes diligently.

  Tried…

  It didn’t take her long to realise that she was already working for a job more honourable than that of an IAS officer. A post that didn’t require fancy degrees. A duty as ancient as the universe itself – she was a Mother.

  She studied her baby’s sleep pattern far more closely than world geography. And instead of turning newspapers and current affair books, she ran behind her child holding a glass of milk and a plate of peeled and cut apples. Layers of dust began to accumulate on her books. Her Daily Routine fell off one day. And when it fell, she was walking in the garden with her daughter, showing her the different variety of roses.

  Ajay went back to living with his parents in Naugachia and tried to manage the agency from there. He was married to a pretty, young woman when Aradhana was six. Received a good dowry. And a motorcycle. Manoj had never shown any ill feelings towards him. Ajay was a closed chapter and none of them dared to open it. When he returned from the marriage ceremony, Manoj told her that his brother had started his own dairy shop. That didn’t come as a surprise. In fact, it was a wise thing for him to do, considering he had tried to abduct the woman whose business he ran. Manoj never let open his feelings about his brother. It took years for Aditi to gather that he hardly talked to him after the Return. Even when they bought their first mobile phone, Manoj rarely called his brother, and whenever he did, their conversations were business-like and didn’t last two minutes.

  Policemen would come to visit them once a while. They would have tea, discuss the weather and politics and leave. They would then report to Inspector Neeraj Mishra.

  Razzak visited them a number of times. He had hired a Purnia based lawyer and as the inspector had predicted, it was a lengthy legal battle. And it was Razzak who told them about the new temple that had been constructed in the village. After the fire had died and the smoke dispersed, the villagers found large a pair of footprints, exactly where Aditi had said the Devi had stood. It didn’t take long for them to build a small shrine around it, which soon grew into a temple teeming with devotees. Years later, the vill
agers were in for a surprise during the onset of one summer when a few trees in the Aambari began to flower.

  Zoya came with her father once. She had grown into a beautiful young woman. She sat quiet and still and spoke only when spoken to. Aditi didn’t have to offer her snacks again and again three times. Zoya took one biscuit on her own. Just one. Razzak said she cooked very well and was gifted in needlework. She stared at her feet all along. She did not even glance at the roses in the garden.

  When Aradhana was in 9th standard, she came home one day in a dirty uniform and a cream-coloured puppy in her hands. “I found him in a drain.” Aditi gave the puppy a piece of bread and left him on the street. He kept returning, sticking his head in the gate and crying, stupidly refusing to go away. Aditi took him in.

  Aradhana may have hidden it for a while, but when Aditi finally noticed that her daughter had grown sad and forlorn, she got her to speak up.

  “I saw a dream,” Aradhana told her. “There was this temple in ruins. I have never been at such a place, but it felt like I knew it. The temple was deserted. Its shrine was empty. Nothing. Black. It gave me the spooks! And then I saw a woman. She was very beautiful. And behind her was a man, he too seemed vaguely familiar – tall and dark and curly hair…”

  As days rolled by, Aditi realised that her daughter had turned over a new leaf. She became responsible, focused. Her grades went up and she cleared her 10th boards with flying colours. By the time she reached class XII, she had grown attractive and beautiful. She carried herself with an arrogant elegance of royalty. Aditi was pretty sure that the boys who played carom down the street every evening did so only to catch a glimpse of her.