The Onus of Ancestry

by Arpita Mogford

  “He also decided not to marry until he could rid himself of the family ghosts, of his deep seated prejudices and superstitions. But who was he to manipulate the wheel of destiny? It was a wedding in Kathmandu that changed his entire fortune. He was invited to attend Protima’s wedding as a house-guest of her father Bipin Chakravarty, an Indian businessman in Kathmandu, whose son Chandranath was a close friend. Ajitnarain was deeply indebted to Chandranath for his assistance in promoting the commercial interests of Dutta Enterprises. Ajitnarain used to rely heavily on Chandranath for professional and moral support. The two young men were both bachelors and had vowed to remain so – Chandranath having failed to marry the girl of his choice through parental interference and Ajitnarain for his own personal reasons.

  “The day had started with all the usual joy and fervour of a Hindu wedding but had turned into a day of disaster. The bridegroom was involved in a car accident en route to the ceremony and died instantly. Bipin Chakravarty was naturally distraught – being a conservative Hindu Brahmin he knew very well that Protima was doomed for ever once the night ended, as she could never hope to be a bride again. The only way to ensure her future was to find a replacement bridegroom immediately. He forgot his pride, his belief in his own superior status as a Brahmin and pleaded on his knees to Ajitnarain to save Protima. Ajitnarain’s pride of manhood had come to the forefront, pushing aside his vow and the fear of the curse that lay within him. His friend Chandranath, too, had stood by his father’s side in a silent plea, head bowed and palms folded. Ajitnarain had weakened and on that dark moonless night he had yielded to the wiles of the goddess of Fate. Her machinations succeeded in anaesthetising Ajitnarain’s better sense for the time being and he agreed to marry Protima. They returned to Calcutta.

  “Protima, our mother, was a quiet, retiring girl, considerably younger than our father – she settled into the rather gloomy, airless existence of the Duttas without a murmur. She was never told much about her husband’s family or his fears, until the terrible undying curse was manifested once again in their progeny. Two out of their five children were struck down with insanity, Nishith and Ashish–”

  “Please stop, Prithwish!” Dwita interrupted him. “That is enough for today.” She had run out of the room, with the desperation of the hunted – but to where? For the moment all roads led to a blind alley from which there was no escape. She went back to her own room and found Nishith, still asleep, resting peacefully in drugged oblivion.

  “Dwita, your mother is on the telephone–” Protima called her from outside. Dwita found her mother-in-law with the telephone in hand; her eyes full of guilt and nervous apprehension.

  Parna had come to the reception with Maheshwari and others – but they had only exchanged a few words. “Hello, Ma – yes, I am well – yes of course they are all being very nice to me. Nishith is well too… yes, he is around, but I do not know quite where.” She was thinking fast, “I’m sorry but I do not think we can come and stay with you in the next few weeks… Yes, I know the custom… Yes, I believe we have to spend a few days with you – a sort of return visit. I have to ask Nishith – I believe he is planning a trip, we may be away for a few weeks… You wish to visit us tonight? I think you will be happier coming a little later – there are far too many people now,” she lied, fluently.

  Parna had finally given up, unhappily saying, “Yes, I must accept you are now married and must abide by another’s wishes. If you go away for a few weeks, I might plan my provincial tours at the same time – they are long overdue.”

  Dwita wanted time to breathe, to think and to plan the next step, maybe the next hundred or so steps, of her new and difficult life. She must find out more about Nishith’s illness, seek fresh medical opinions, speak to his psychiatrist, she must know more about the depth and extent of his malaise – above all she must decide if she should continue her course at the university, or find a job quickly. She knew that she had to build her future, with Nishith or without him. She sat in the garden, by the side of the fishpond at the back of the house. She was watching the pink lotuses enmeshed in the tangled embrace of the water hyacinths. Did the lotus ever win or make its escape? Or did it continue to fight a losing battle even as the hyacinth kept forcing its way through the soft stems and velvet petals of the lotus until it lost its essence and identity? The little fish joined the melee as well, gnawing away gently but surely at the roots of the beleagured lotuses. She suddenly shuddered to see the reflection of a face in the water and was reminded of the other woman who had long ago chosen to annihilate herself in a similar tangle of lotus and hyacinth. But it was only Nishith who had crept up behind her, “Dwita, why are you here?”

  “I really do not know – just watching the flowers and the fish.”

  “I fell asleep – rather deeply, did I not? You should have woken me up.”

  “You were not well.”

  “Who said so? Honestly, you do take things far too seriously.”

  “Nishith, please do not say any more, come and sit down here – let us–”

  “Here? It is far too damp – are you out of your mind?”

  “No, I am not. I wish I were, but unfortunately I am not – but let us not play games any more, the point of it is now lost.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “I am only asking you to stop pretending and to stop being flippant. Nishith, I have found out–”

  “What have you found out? Who told you?” he shook her roughly.

  “Please do not touch me, Nishith, not like that – and your getting excited will not change the truth about our lives, which I believe have got to be lived together.”

  “Prithwish – I know it is he who has told you. He could not wait – could he? His jealousy, his envy got the better of him.”

  “Do not insult his integrity, Nishith, and lower yours by insulting him.” She had promised herself to remain calm, but he was pushing her powers of endurance; the anger in her heart was rising steadily. He was insensitive and uncaring – he could not even begin to see the extent of his deceit, the lack of scruples. He had acted only to satisfy his own ego and lust, following in the footsteps of his forefathers. She could not help showing her anger.

  “Do not look at me like that – the hatred and fury in your eyes neither daunts me nor impresses me,” he said, but he looked livid himself.

  “Nishith, you have deceived me about your illness, about your age, about everything – I dread to think about the rest. You have perhaps damaged both our lives in the process. Do you have no regrets?”

  “None – why should I? My illness is not my responsibility – it is supposed to be a curse, or rather the hand-me-down of superstitious ravings of unbending, dissolute women refusing to accept man’s prerogative in life.”

  “Is that how you see it? I believe three generations of men before you have succumbed, including your father. He was a victim too, was he not?”

  “He was affected by – by the losses in his business, by–”

  “By the collapses in his family, not so much his business. By you, Ashish, and perhaps me too.” A quiet voice had interjected from behind them, cutting through Nishith’s attempt at self-defence.

  Nishith rounded on him. “You, Prithwish, come and join the party – why not? Are you happy now, having broken up my marriage, before it had even had a chance to begin – you calculating, jealous brother of mine! Have you told her, have you? I mean about yourself?”

  “Stop now, Nishith.” Dwita tried to calm him.

  “No. You must prepare yourself to find out about all the skeletons of the Dutta family. Ashish and I are mentally ill – yes, of course we are – but Prithwish has his own disability. Has he told you that?”

  “Nishith please, stop it–” Dwita pleaded.

  “No, you must continue to listen for there is more. My father was put in an institution as well. I sent him to a mental hospital to hide him from the eyes of society, where he died two years ago. Maya and Mohua? We have not foun
d out as yet about them – but we will one day. I locked away Ashish myself – he hates me, he will probably kill me if he ever has half a chance. So you see we are all much the same, all afflicted, even your saviour, Prithwish.”

  Prithwish made no response but had left abruptly, misery written all over his face.

  “Well, my dear Dwita, I have told you everything – now what? Does this wealth of knowledge give you strength to live with Nishith Dutta, or fight him?”

  “It is too late to fight you, Nishith,” she replied, “I hope we will find the strength to help each other as we must live together.”

  That night their marriage had been consummated. Nishith had said bluntly, “Our marriage has no romance in it and perhaps less love. But that is not new in our culture. A husband takes his wife without love, she has no right to protest. So it is not rape, but an act of consummation. I am a man who needs a woman and I do not believe in taking my lust elsewhere – you are my wife, for better or for worse, in sickness or in health, remember?”

  Dwita knew this was true – the vows had been taken and it did not matter if it was in knowledge or total ignorance; she now had to stand by them. She had not protested, nor had she prevented him from having his way. He had been a demanding lover, but had in no way violated or abused her.

  “I am a man of enthusiasm and energy, Dwita. So far I have had tremendous passion for work and sport, now I find I am going to have tremendous passion for my wife – my sexual energy need not be diverted any more in other directions. I think we shall make good partners in love, if not in life.”

  Dwita had allowed him to carry on, bemused by his completely amoral approach to human relationships or common humanity. “However, Dwita, I must make one thing clear to you. Whatever happens, we must never have children – never, under any circumstances. My line must end with me. The curse, if there is one, must die with me.” Watching Dwita’s expression Nishith had continued, “Do not look so aghast – you and I will only live for ourselves, and not look beyond today. Is that understood?”

  Dwita had not spoken – what was the use? So he had volunteered further information. “I have been ill, yes very ill, but it has not been continuous. I have been able to hold down my job, I have managed to hoodwink Hutchinsons, though for how much longer I do not know. Dutta Enterprises has long held substantial shares in Hutchinsons, so they cannot get rid of us easily. My father, in his frustration, nearly finished us off. He wasted the family money with drinking, gambling and racing, hoping physical and spiritual disintegration would hasten his end. But he just sank deeper into abject misery and in the end I had to put him away to save his dignity and our interests. Every piece of property we possess has been mortgaged to save Dutta Enterprises stocks with Hutchinsons. So you see I have a lot at stake and it is in my interest that I stay sane and not give in to ancient female fury or idiotic family superstitions. I must not believe in them, as I cannot afford to be defeated – I must hold on to the remaining threads of sanity and the remnants of the family assets – and you are going to help me in this. You will help me to win, won’t you?”

  “I have no choice, Nishith – you have left me none. It seems we are in it together in our fight for your sanity, and perhaps for my survival.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “I make no promises – but I stand by my vows.”

  “That will do for me now, the rest I will leave for later. Come back to me Dwita, come closer. I do not know why I feel so safe when I am inside you. Your strength seems to seep into me and I feel stronger. I love you – I have always loved you ever since I first set eyes on you. I am a man possessed. I will never let you go – never try to leave me – I warn you–”

  “Nishith, ssh, quiet, try and sleep.”

  “Yes, I will, hold me tight. I need you, please help me get well, help me survive.”

  “Sleep, Nishith, just try and sleep a little.”

  All her anger and resistance had receded in the face of his helpless, hopeless desire for sanity and survival – survival at whatever cost to them both.

  *

  “Dwita! Get up, quick, it is getting late.” Nishith was shaking her out of a dream, an early morning dream in which she kept opening doors, vast wide doors, but they kept closing on her.

  “Why so early? It is not even light yet. Oh, I am so sleepy, Nishith. Please let me be just a little longer.”

  “Come on, girl – you must come riding with me.”

  “I have nothing suitable to wear–”

  “Wear a salwar kameez – but it must be white – you know club rules.”

  “Nishith, I have been here only three days. All my clothes are still at home.”

  “What home? This is your home – all right? You must then come and watch me ride.”

  Dwita knew it was hopeless arguing with Nishith – what he wished had to be done. She got up, changed, followed him like a sleepwalker to the car, where the engine was already revving impatiently. She missed her cup of tea, which Mahama always brought to her in bed to let her wake up properly. No one had ever shaken her out of sleep, it was always a process of gently emerging from a deep ocean of slumber, with Mahama’s coaxing voice in the background. Everything was going to be different from now on, everything.

  “We are late by ten whole minutes,” Nishith complained.

  “I am sorry.”

  Nishith drove fast through the open roads of Calcutta, at this hour free from people and traffic. Even the policemen were not on active duty yet, some were nodding in shop shelters, some were sitting by the roadside with the ‘chai walla’ hoping his kettle would boil soon for their first cup of tea of the day, now sorely needed by Dwita as well.

  Nishith lectured her on the evils of a sedentary existence, the need for physical exercise and the way Dwita should reorganise her schedule to include every conceivable activity for a healthy way of life. He sounded like a physical instructor speaking to a delinquent schoolgirl who had missed her tennis lesson. She now saw in him a man full of disturbing inconsistencies – vain conceits and careless arrogance mixed with the loneliness and turmoil in his heart. Dwita felt helpless – how could she keep up with a man like Nishith, twice her age, eccentric, mentally unstable, driven by blinding egoism and obsessed by his need of her constant presence.

  He had pulled up in front of the Riding Club, jumped out of the car, snatched her out of her seat and ran with her towards the fence where the instructor, Ahmad, stood laughing. “This is my wife, Ahmad, please show her round – I am off now. Where is Bright Light?”

  “Do not rush, Mr Dutta, take it easy. Bright Light is not on form today – take Trade Wind from stall four.” Nishith had disappeared into the stables before Ahmad had even finished his sentence.

  “Your husband is always rushing, rushing, madam. He also rides very hard, bad for my horses. You have never come before.”

  “No, we were married just a few days ago.”

  “Good – maybe you can now teach him to be gentle. You can also join us for lessons. I will teach you how to ride.”

  “Thank you, Ahmad.”

  He had shown her round the stables, the well maintained green paddocks stretched right across the length and breadth of the Club grounds. Ahmad was proud of his charges and they all looked well-tended and in prime condition. She had also met Bright Light, who seemed a little morose and listless. Dwita had then walked around by herself, whilst Ahmad had disappeared to resume his instructor’s role.

  Nishith had ridden for nearly an hour. He rode well, but with an uncontrolled zeal as though he needed to prove something to the horse and to himself. He dismounted from Trade Wind, who to Dwita’s eye looked almost relieved, and called, “See you tomorrow, Ahmad.”

  “That was quite exhilarating – it is so good to be up there and in control. Now to the Sailing Club.” Nishith strode out, leaving Dwita to follow him.

  “Will you be sailing right away? Should you not rest a while after a spell of vigorous riding?” Dwita venture
d feebly.

  “Rest? For God’s sake, why? I am all right. I must work away at my circulation – the medicine seems to make it sluggish.”

  They had arrived at the Club, by the Calcutta Lakes. The boats were tied in a row of blue and white, waiting to be taken on to the water. There were one or two people out already, rowing their sloth away. She sat down by the bank on a lounger. She loved water, and wished she could swim. Nishith now emerged from the changing room in white shorts and club sports shirt. His jodhpurs had been put away. He looked trim and fit, the muscles of his legs and arms were firm. He adopted a carefree and daredevil air – only his eyes betrayed him. They were restive and wandering, a little bloodshot behind a pair of tinted glasses.

  “What are you staring at? Get up, come sailing with me.”

  “You know I cannot swim, and I am also not dressed properly, as you can see.”

  “I know all that – but you are coming just the same–” He was dragging her to the jetty.

  “Saab, Saab, madam cannot go like that!” the caretaker pleaded.

  “Yes, she can – I will speak to the manager myself.”

  The man flung his arms in the air helplessly – breaking club rules was a serious matter.

  “Let us leave it for today, Nishith?”

  “I am a member of the Board, I make my own rules.”

  “How absurd, you cannot do that.”

  “Do not argue, Dwita, it only wastes our time. Come along – quick.”

  He had taken her in the boat and rowed around the lakes, proving himself a skilful oarsman. She could not help enjoying the sensation, but had still felt uneasy about breaking the club rules.

  “Welcome back Mr Dutta,” the manager, Mr Mukherjee, had greeted them on arrival at the shore. “Ah, it is Mrs Dutta, I see – well, newly weds are allowed a little leeway – ha, ha, ha – no doubt you will encourage your wife to be assistant oarswoman in time, won’t you?” This was a mild rebuke compared to what Dwita expected and she was greatly relieved. They breakfasted at the Club, and Nishith ate scrambled eggs on toast, sausage and tomatoes hungrily, washing them down with orange juice and coffee. She was at last able to have her cup of tea and a piece of toast.