The Onus of Ancestry

by Arpita Mogford

  “Exercise will improve your appetite as well – you eat like a bird. By the way, from tomorrow can you please see that I get a glass of orange juice in the morning? Now that you are there, I can expect it regularly. My mother’s staff never seem to manage anything on time, or for that matter every day. I shall now drop you off, change and put my head into the office – I’d better see what is happening there.”

  “My mother rang – she wants us to spend two days with her. I believe there is a custom of a return visit, something called ‘dwiragaman’?”

  “Ah, that is a bit of a nuisance. I was hoping to go away with you for a few days. We must have our honeymoon, you know, that is also a custom, I believe.”

  “I have been postponing it, knowing you – you have not been well. Perhaps–”

  “I am perfectly well,” he said emphatically. “Why should I not be? That was only temporary. No, let us get over this customary visit to your mother, then we can go away by ourselves a bit later. Let us fix it for tomorrow with her. I shall tell my mother to make the necessary arrangements.”

  When Nishith had left for work Dwita had phoned Parna, and Protima also spoke to her. The two mothers fixed the visit – the panjika had been consulted for the auspicious time of departure the next day and then the return two days later. When all was arranged Protima came up to her daughter-in-law: “Thank you, my child, thank you for accepting everything and saving the face of the Duttas. Our honour is now in your hands.”

  “Do not worry, Ma, nor thank me. My mother will never find out if it is left to me.”

  “I think Nishith will behave if he has his medicine and you are by his side.”

  “Does he go for regular medicals?”

  “Yes, he does, though he hates them. He tries to avoid going, but in the end he gives in – he has to. His psychiatrist would be annoyed if he did not go regularly. Dr Bijit Mitra is his psychiatrist, have you heard of him?”

  “Yes, he is very well known. Maybe we could go and see him together?”

  “He went overseas some time ago on a lecture tour, but he should be back soon. Yes, you must then take Nishith to him.”

  “Ma, what about Ashish? Where is he now? Is he under Dr Mitra as well?”

  “Oh yes, he is under Dr Mitra’s treatment, but his case is different – hopeless and incurable – very complex too. He came for your wedding, but we had to send him away again. He lives in a small cottage on our estate, locked away like his ancestors, under the care of two male psychiatric nurses. He can be very violent. When he gets worse we transfer him to the Mental Hospital near Benebagan. He is abnormal in every way, Dwita, he is a freak, a sort of retarded freak–” She burst into tears. “I am paying for my sins, my child, sins committed in my previous births.”

  “Don’t Ma, don’t – you are not to blame.”

  “It is true, Dwita. You have heard about us from Prithwish. All my sons have their crosses to bear. But why have we brought you into all this – so young and beautiful, innocent and untouched. Believe me, though I was delighted at the prospect of a daughter-in-law, I soon realised it would be wrong to get you or anyone involved like this. Prithwish and I tried to discourage Nishith, but we were powerless against his stubborn will, his determination to achieve his every wish or whim. He threatened to shoot himself if we moved or interfered. Now you know–”

  Thus the pattern of her destiny was gradually being revealed – but what difference would it make? She thought of Parna – how would she feel if she found out? She remembered Barun. How was he these days? She had stopped replying to his letters. He had sent her a cable congratulating her and wishing her well – he had heard from someone, perhaps Chandni, about her wedding. What would he say if he found out about the floundering fortunes of Dwita Roy Chowdhury? Would he laugh and say outright that she deserved it? What would Mahama say? Though dead, had Dima known in advance like all spirits did, having foreknowledge of future events? Who knew?

  *

  Nishith had not come home all day – no one seemed to think twice about it, except Dwita who felt the need for information. Finally he had rung from the Club. He was having a game of tennis – would she like to join him? Prithwish or the driver could bring her. Both were unavailable, so the question was soon answered. He had returned late, showered and got involved in discussions with Prithwish behind closed doors. After dinner, he had merely said, “I had to take up some important matters on Dutta Enterprises – serious investment problems. Did you have a nice day?” He did not expect an answer.

  The next day had been busy – all his sport activities had to be fitted in despite various departure formalities of dwiragaman. They had finally got over to Parna’s, where the day was taken up with the usual entertainment of friends, neighbours and relatives. Nishith did not leave her side, he followed her everywhere as though he was afraid she would disappear. He was quiet, spoke only when spoken to, appeared remote and thoughtful. “You have a very serious husband there, he hardly smiles. Perhaps it is good to be dignified, quite unlike my Sunil who never stops talking or laughing.” That was one of Parna’s cousins describing the merits or not of her own son-in-law.

  Mahama was the only one who fluttered around in a disquieting fashion, looking intently and suspiciously at Nishith, as though she distrusted his calm manner and his vigilant devotion to Dwita, who looked pale and tired. She was composed as usual – but was she happy? Mahama felt Dwita was avoiding her eyes.

  At night, Nishith approached her desperately. “Do we have to spend another night here? What happens if we leave tomorrow?”

  “I do not think we can leave a day early.”

  “I cannot keep up this act for long, I am afraid. My head has begun to feel strange again – suppose they find out?”

  “They won’t, if you can keep it up for another day.”

  “I think Maheshwari suspects. Have you told her anything?”

  “No, I have said nothing. If I had you would have known, Nishith – after all, you have not left my side all day.” She sounded a little impatient.

  “I am not accusing you, Dwita. I won’t blame you if you do, but it won’t help either of us.”

  “Do I not know that? I am not a fool. Though you are much older than I am, I feel twice as old after the past week. I understand my role and your predicament – I am the keeper–”

  “Of my secret soul – how does that sound? Romantic?”

  “I have my own pride too – please do not undermine it.”

  “No, no – can you not see I am afraid, mortally afraid of the mask slipping, leaving me naked and exposed? So I hide behind your armour of poise, my weakness concealed in your strength. I think you have plenty of it, certainly for me, perhaps even enough to absorb the other Duttas’ sins.”

  “I am not so sure – but as I said to you earlier Nishith, I will stand by my vows.”

  “Come to me, come closer – I already feel better. You ease my apprehension, release my tension. You cannot understand the extent of unease in living with guilt and deceit, premonitions and constant threats. Your knowledge of me and the assurance of your presence allow me the opportunity to breathe freely for the first time.”

  “Nishith, you must not give me too much credit, more than I can earn. You have asked a lot of me, far beyond my capacity, and certainly well beyond my expectations – we have just begun our lives together and I have a lot more to learn about your family and even more, about myself.”

  “I feel I have known you a long time, all my life,” he said sleepily.

  They spoke no more about it – there was nothing more to say.

  The rest of their visit passed without trouble. Maheshwari had given up her cross-examination of Dwita, realising that she would not succeed in extracting anything from her. Dwita was a past master at concealing her feelings from the world. She had had enough practice hiding her emotions from her mother. Parna did not notice anything. She only felt that her daughter had now passed out of her ken completely and she had neve
r really understood her. They had never been intimate enough to discuss their life together, or solve any problems in tandem. She had always held the rod over her head in the role of disciplinarian, promulgating her own beliefs and dictates, spelling out the do’s and the don’ts of her own code of conduct. Now she had no role to play – Dwita was no longer her charge, nor her responsibility. She carried on as best she could with her other role, the good hostess, a kind mother-in-law offering generous hospitality to her son-in-law and her other guests.

  Two days later, on her return to the Duttas, Dwita had absorbed herself with the multiple activities of a complex household. To her many chores Nishith had added lessons in swimming and driving; for the moment she was exempted from joining him in some of his more vigorous sporting activities.

  Dwita now wished to return to her course at the university – the tutor had sent a message with some notes through a close friend, asking her to return as soon as possible. She had broached the subject to Nishith and was very surprised by his reaction. “How can you possibly return to your classes now? You have too much to do in the house. When will you find time to study? You have to keep me company at the Club and I also wish to increase our social commitments.”

  “But you promised to let me carry on with my own interests.”

  “I am not breaking any promises, Dwita. For heaven’s sake, stop being childish. You ought to know yourself the difference between the life of a student and that of the wife of an aspiring business executive and industrialist.”

  “But I am sure I can find time to do both.”

  “I honestly do not think so – in any case I hope to travel quite a bit in the near future. You know I cannot do so alone. So you are going to miss classes and lose your percentage of attendance – what is the point of it all?”

  She had not argued further, but realised again that she was not just Nishith Dutta’s wife, but also nurse-companion to an ailing, ambitious man who was aware of his limitations but not prepared to accept them. For the first time she felt not only unhappy and desolate, but without hope for the future. Yet she knew too that she was not going to give in so easily, merely letting it go for the time being to avoid an immediate showdown. Nishith was as good as his word about travelling. He presented her with a proposed tour of their estate in Benebagan. He said she ought to see the property, meet some of the employees and neighbours and also added demurely: “It could be our honeymoon as well – a few quiet days together.”

  Later on she overheard Prithwish saying: “Dada, why do you not go for your honeymoon somewhere else? Then we can have time to fix things up at Benebagan before Dwita’s visit. You know Ashish is there–”

  “So what?” Nishith had retorted, “they can be kept apart, and there are no secrets from her.”

  “It is not a question of secrets – how much more do you wish to expose her to in so short a time? Are we not pushing her too hard? She is still very young, you know.”

  “You mind your own business!”

  “I will, but if her endurance snaps, you will be the one to regret it.” Prithwish had walked out in a huff.

  She had heard it all and wondered, was she trying to exceed her capacity of endurance? Prithwish might be right. At any event, Nishith did not heed his brother’s advice and they left for Benebagan. It was about 120 miles from Calcutta, towards the eastern coast of Bengal. Nishith’s chauffeur-driven Mercedes made the journey pleasant and comfortable. He had produced a picnic hamper in his usual style from the Club as before – Nishith never lacked flair or flourish. It was a very picturesque drive and new to her. The roads were lined with palm trees and thatched village huts, far from the noise and bustle of neighbouring Calcutta. The inhabitants too looked unhurried and relaxed, at one with their tranquil surroundings.

  On arrival at Benebagan they were greeted by Naibmashai, who managed the estate for the family, and a number of other staff who stood with bowed heads and folded hands. Although she was herself from a similar background, she had never been subjected before to this embarrassing show of servility. She had heard of her grandfather’s imperious temper and arrogance but had never had to live with it. Her adult world had been comprised of women who ruled with strength and control, but never sought to lower the status of men. In Nishith, she was shocked to see the worst type of feudal overlord – he was brusque and impolite in his speech, negligent of greetings, discourteous and condescending to those who were his so-called subjects or employees. She felt embarrassed and uneasy in his company.

  The house was a two-storey monstrosity, held up by massive white Grecian pillars. They were no longer truly white as the sea air had eroded them and imparted a sheen of fungal green. Inside there were damp patches and parts of the ceiling and walls were peeling. The ground floor had numerous reception areas, anterooms and offices, but the furniture and curtains were old and laden with dust. The first floor consisted of a private parlour, and numerous suites with their own facilities. One wing was completely deserted and neglected. The other wing was kept going by occasional bouts of painting and dusting, but the rooms were dark and cheerless. The house had obviously been built for a larger family, but over time nobody had cared to use it, live in it or look after it. The air seemed tainted with the threat of the family’s curse.

  Their suite of three rooms and a bathroom had obviously received some recent attentions, though the musty smell had not disappeared completely. The staff were visibly nervous – they probably feared that Dwita would disapprove or complain and they would then be subjected to Nishith’s temper. She had not complained and had put her maid at ease with encouragement and compliments. She knew how a feudal household operated – the maid was the medium to communicate with the others – her feelings would influence the general atmosphere of the household, would help to decide on the rapport between ‘them’ and ‘us’. Dwita’s success with the serving staff had been established quite quickly and it became embarrassing on departure, when each of them in turn offered their services for her personal household in Calcutta. How could she explain that she had neither a personal household nor the power to employ them?

  Nishith had taken her round the vast acreage of fields and orchards. There were extensive rice fields, and large stretches of grazing for the cattle. The mature orchards of mango, coconut palm and banana surrounded three sides of the house. There were also jackfruit, guava, and tamarind trees, not to speak of the shady neem, devdaru and the banyan with their old, twisted and gnarled branches which had become entangled, ancient ghosts of the Dutta family. There were two fish ponds and the lotus and lily pools. It was an attractive piece of property but through the lack of interest of its owners it was not loved and enjoyed, merely tolerated and exploited.

  At the back of the house were the kitchens, storerooms, the go-downs and the living quarters of the estate employees and their families. There were innumerable women and children of all ages and sizes who stared at her with wide-eyed curiosity. They bowed in deference as soon as they became aware of her identity, but Nishith looked at them without interest or recognition, nor did he return their greetings.

  Beyond the orchards and the main surrounding wall of the house, Dwita saw a short narrow pathway leading to an old cottage with a tiled roof and whitewashed walls. It was enclosed by a tiny garden, neat and tidy except for overgrown rose-bushes and some overhanging creepers with long snaky tendrils. She wondered who lived there. The windows had shuttered blinds and the house looked uninhabited except for a man asleep, humped in his armchair.

  “Madhu, you son of a bastard! Are you being paid to sleep?” Dwita was shaken out of her thoughts by the violent anger in Nishith’s voice. The man called Madhu jumped up like a startled deer, then bowed so deeply his head was almost touching the ground. He was obviously afraid.

  “I shall have you flayed alive, next time I catch you sleeping – understand?”

  “Yes, huzoor – I beg your pardon, huzoor.”

  Nishith’s language had shocked her. “What is th
e matter? Why are you so angry?”

  “They understand no other language – it’s the only way.”

  “What is he supposed to be doing?”

  “Do not involve yourself in such matters unnecessarily. You are only here for a few days, so enjoy yourself.”

  Dwita decided not to take it any further – instead she followed Nishith obediently round the estate on her first sightseeing tour. The day passed quite quickly. Nishith was busy meeting employees, receiving visitors and holding long discussions on the affairs of the estate with Naibmashai. There was little to remind her of a honeymoon in this totally unromantic visit to Benebagan, but for Dwita this was a relief. However much she tried to accept her lot, the future hung over her like a dark cloud in a monsoon sky. She understood Nishith’s need of her in a world where he played a part outside his being, but she could not forgive or forget the enormity of the deception that he had wilfully practised upon her. She might be young, but she was old enough to comprehend the implications of being with a man who was on the edge of sanity, and that man was her husband. The balance could tip at any time. She had decided to stand by him as long as she could but it seemed a prospect of eternity, devoid of hope, love, children, anything that could make life worthwhile. Her only salvation must be to throw herself into a career – an all absorbing interest in work which could help retain her own sanity and equilibrium. Whatever happened in the next few years of her life, she had to find an occupation. She promised herself she would brook no resistance from Nishith on this front, none at all.

  Next day was very quiet except for neighbours’ wives calling, to survey her or offer her their friendship. Some gazed in mute wonder, others seemed inclined to broach the expected but forbidden topic – “Did your family know the Duttas?” She at once realised why they asked and why the others contemplated her with such surprise – they did know the Duttas. She prevented any further discussion by saying, “Yes, in fact very well.” The pride of her up bringing had taught her to value, or perhaps overvalue privacy – it was not a small price to pay. In some ways she would have loved to have broken down and confided in a friendly soul.