Amrita

by Usha Rajagopalan

  "What's it? What happened?" she asked.

  Both Raghu and Sundar rushed to her side. Her husband caught her arm and turned her round but she couldn't leave without knowing what was wrong. She brushed him aside impatiently and looked at the policeman.

  "I know something has happened. Accident? Is Maya all right?" her voice shook and she blanched.

  Raghu threw his hand over her shoulder. Kamala could see that he was forcing himself to talk.

  "Maya's all right," he said. "Nothing has happened to her train. She's perfectly all right. . ."

  "Then why are all these people here?"

  He looked at Sundar helplessly but the young man whose talk had woken up Kamala would not meet his eyes.

  "Amrita. . . it's Amrita. . ." Raghu said at last while Kamala looked blankly at him.

  "What are you saying about Amrita? She's upstairs in her room."

  "No, Kamala. She's not there. She. . ." he stumbled for words.

  Kamala knew something was terribly wrong.

  "What is it? Tell me," she insisted.

  "Amrita met with an accident," Raghu said and paused.

  No one else spoke. Kamala couldn't take her eyes off him as tears ran down his cheeks.

  "She came under the wheels of a train . . . no one knows when, maybe early today, perhaps last night. I. . ."

  Kamala stared at her husband.

  Amrita was upstairs. She was there always unless Maya took her out and Maya had left with her husband.

  She turned and ran up the stairs, Raghu and Sundar behind her. The policeman and a couple of strangers followed them more sedately.

  She pushed open the door of the girls' room.

  It was empty.

  Kamala pushed open the bathroom door.

  It was empty.

  "Where has she gone? She was here. She must be here somewhere. She never goes out on her own. . ." Kamala was talking, partly to herself, partly to Raghu, who kept close to her.

  "You have to believe me, Kamala. She's not here. She's gone. Sundar went to the station and . . . identified . . . her. I don't know how it could have happened," Raghu was still tripping over the words.

  "Mr. Raghavan, there's nothing strange about it," the policeman took over. "Your younger daughter got married recently. . . yesterday, in fact. The older girl must have been upset about this. I'm told she was not stable mentally. The picture is very clear. She must have been unhappy about her sister leaving or because she herself was still unmarried. Either way, the feeling was strong enough for her to commit suicide. As to when exactly it happened we'll be able to say only after an autopsy. Such things are not uncommon. All the time somebody or the other is giving work to the police. The peak is after the announcement of school, college results. Students behave as if failure in their exam is a verdict, a warrant to take their lives. Girls get into trouble, feel ashamed to tell the parents so. . .poof! Men in debt, love gone sour, drinking problem, mother-in-law harassment, dowry snarls. . . you name it, there's an excuse to jump off a bridge, pop in a handful of pills or come below the wheels of a train."

  The policeman took a deep breath. He was not through yet but Sundar got the unspoken message in the official's harangue. He took the policeman downstairs, paid him for his trouble and sent him away. The worthy left and, in a charitable gesture to the bereaved family, he dispersed the spectators with loud reprimands and sharp orders to move on.

  ***

  12

  ee that plant?" asked Kamala auntie, pointing to a tall evergreen bottle-brush behind us in the garden with drooping branches that ended in clusters of red flowers.

  "When I was a child my mother told me a folk tale about how it came into existence. It seems that long ago there was a young woman who was ill-treated by her mother-in-law. Nobody would believe her since the old woman appeared so gentle and sweet while talking to her in the presence of others. Having no one to confide in, she bottled up her grievances and sorrows within herself. One day a bird dropped a little seed near the woman. She planted it at a distance from the house and watered it everyday. It began to grow. She made it her confidant and told the sapling all her troubles. Hearing the young woman's hardships the tree, instead of sending its branches straight up into the sky, drooped to the earth with the weight of her secrets. With every incident, every sad ordeal it shed tears of blood. That's why the flowers are red and why the tree looks sad and droopy. I feel just like the young woman in this tale but you are no bottle-brush. You are more like a pipal or a banyan. I know I can rely on you. You will not be able to solve my problems but at least I could unburden myself to you. Whom will I talk to after you have gone?" she asked, holding the hose at arm's length and spraying precious water in an arc.

  The evening sun changed the droplets into splinters of glass that fell on the leaves and became tiny dark smudges. I looked at her. It was flattering to think that my company had changed her over the last few days. Her shoulders no longer sagged and there was a sense of serenity about her that reminded me so much of Kittu.

  Within a couple of hours Raghu returned from his tour and she became warped and introverted once again.

  "So. . . how have you been?" he asked and answered himself. "Terribly bored, I'm sure. I'm truly sorry I couldn't spend any time with you. Of course, we can talk the whole day tomorrow. What else can one do in a train? I'll be travelling by train after ages. I usually take a flight. You don't know how privileged you are, young woman!"

  I gave him the smallest smile possible and glanced at Kamala auntie. She signalled to me with her eyes. I mumbled some excuse and went to the kitchen.

  "Do me one last favour, please. . ." her eyes pleaded with mine.

  "What's it?" I asked as softly as she spoke.

  "Maya's husband was working in Madras when they got married but within a month, he was transferred to Bombay. Talk to her on my behalf. Tomorrow, before you go back to your mother. . . will you?"

  "But she doesn't know me at all!" I protested.

  "Raghu would have told her about you. He telephones often and visits her every time he is there on work or is passing through. Her anger is only towards me and not her father, it seems. Tell her that I now have all the time for her, will you? Please."

  Raghu was enthusiastic about this change in my plan.

  "That's a great idea. You'll be Maya's first guest after her wedding. You must stay with her for a couple of days and see how much housekeeping she has learnt. You'll easily get your onward ticket from there. But yes, don't forget to ring up your mother and tell her. We don't want her to worry."

  Kamala auntie did not accompany us to the railway station. I thought she might not even see me off from the front door but she surprised me by coming out of the house and to my side as I sat in the autorickshaw. Her smile made the corners of her mouth droop. The driver pulled the starting handle and the engine fired immediately with such a loud noise that it would have been difficult to hear anything if she had wanted to talk to me. She didn't but I did. I put my head out of the vehicle and she automatically bent towards me.

  "I'll be back. Think of me as the daughter who will return to you one day," I said.

  The racket was such that I was not sure if she heard me but when I turned around to wave to her, she was wiping her eyes with the end of her sari pallu.

  ***

  The general compartments were overflowing. The air-conditioned chair car was full too but at least we could sit comfortably without having to share our seat with others. I sat near the window while Raghu sat next to me. Just then an old Parsi gentleman came up and said, "I think your daughter has taken my seat."

  Raghu looked at the bawa's, ticket and told him that his number was further down.

  "You know what that gentleman thought?" he asked. "That you are my daughter."

  Cue, Gauri, your cue!

  I smiled back at him, a vague, tentative one just enough to keep our relationship alive. After all that Kamala auntie had told me, did I want to open the Pandora's
box and cause her greater distress? That too when she had managed to convince herself that Raghu would never desert her? Perhaps amma had been right in keeping the truth to herself.

  We slowed down at Baroda station. It didn't seem possible that there could be room for any more passengers. However, despite the men clinging from the outside by a toehold, the crowd on the platform ran with the train while it ground to a shrieking, jerky stop. When it left five minutes later, the platform was deserted. The Gujarat Express had swallowed everybody into its innards.

  Raghu hailed a passing vendor and bought two cups of tea. I misjudged the sturdiness of the thin plastic cup and held it a little too tight pushing the tea to the brim.

  "Steady. Something to eat?" he asked.

  "No, thanks. Kamala auntie has packed our lunch and some snacks as well. I don't think we should buy anything."

  He finished the tepid beverage in one gulp and crushed the plastic cup. I did the same. In a third class compartment, the next step would be to toss the used cups out of the window but we were in an air-conditioned coach with sealed windows. Fortunately, the vendor went past again and relieved us of our dilemma, grimacing at how we had crushed the cups beyond the point of reuse.

  "When are you visiting us next, Gauri? I promise I'll not vanish like I did this time. Just let me know in advance though," Raghu said dabbing his lips with his kerchief.

  "I'm not sure I want to leave my mother alone.

  "Quite right. You must certainly not leave her alone at this time of bereavement when Sundar is also so far away. It'll be good for you too. There's nothing like being with one's mother, especially for a girl. I didn't have the good fortune to know my father. He died when I was very young. My mother was everything to me but there are certain things a boy can only tell his father. I used to imagine what kind of a person he would have been, his appearance, interests, his hobbies. He played cricket, helped me with my studies, shared jokes – in my mind," he sighed.

  "For a long time I told him everything, the trouble my mother was having with her brothers, the hunger, the beating, the sense of being crushed under others' feet. . . I even hated him sometimes for leaving us to suffer like this. I must have been about 10 years old when I vowed to study very hard, make lots of money and give amma all the comforts in the world. I would be the boss of my house and nobody would question anything I do. Unfortunately, the better I did in school, the worse it became at home. My marks showed my cousins in a bad light and they didn't like it.

  "Good days and bad days both move on. Soon I was working and studying at the same time. I entered college. I doubled my efforts to come out into the sun quickly but now time wouldn't move fast enough! It was Nandini. . . yes, Gauri, your mother, who stood by me in this most difficult phase of my life. Othei than my mother, she was the only support I had. If it hadn't been for them I don't think I'd have survived the hurt, the insults and most of all, the helplessness of poverty."

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  I turned to the window towards the flashing trees, electric posts, huts, loud speakers, roadside shrines and other signs of civilisation.

  "Gauri, look at me. I want to assure myself that I've not disturbed you. I didn't mean to upset you with my story. I know it's difficult to believe what a tough time I had in my younger days."

  I turned a solemn face to him and he was satisfied.

  "I took up the first job I got," he said. "Even though the salary was nothing to boast about. To tell you the truth, it was barely enough to support me and I had to leave my mother behind, at the mercy of her brothers. I didn't want to but I wanted to start earning as soon as possible. It was not easy to get a job even in those days and many of my seniors were unemployed. I refused to join them. My mother and teachers in college were disappointed with my decision. They had expected me to appear for the Civil Services exam and become a district collector. My uncles and aunts laughed at me for joining a small firm in a clerical position and some of my friends who had secured better jobs than me severed our ties. I was not bothered by their jibes for I knew what I was doing. I had faith in my ability and determination to make good whatever the world might think. And I did. I've made more money and travelled extensively than anyone from those days," Raghu sat up straight with a contented look.

  "What about my mother? Was she one of those who remained faithful to you?" I had to ask, though I knew the answer.

  He looked at me sharply.

  "She has remained a very good friend to this day. The proof is you and your brother. She has entrusted both of you to me. She knows she can take that liberty with me."

  Touché. You are a smart man!

  "I think she got married before you?"

  "I had responsibilities that I couldn't ignore. My mother, for one. I wanted to ensure that she was comfortable at least in the last leg of her life before I settled down."

  "Oh? But I thought you got married almost soon after my mother?" I could be persistent.

  "Well yes, I met Kamala and decided to marry her before I could lose her to someone else."

  "Quite right. She's one in a thousand."

  I meant it. No other woman would have been able to take so much shit from anyone.

  "I've had my share of friends and parties and a good life. When I think of what I have gone through perhaps I deserve more but I'll not be greedy."

  He folded his arms across his chest and lapsed into silence.

  I turned to the window once again. The huts and trees by the side of the railway track were a blur unlike those further beyond, which lingered within the frame of the window for a long time. Not a bird rested on the electric wire that ran with the train. It must be very hot outside. Sitting in the buffered air-conditioned coach I only felt the rhythmic roll of the wheels hurtling on smooth rails.

  "How did you meet my mother?" I asked, startling him from his reverie.

  "Oh, didn't she ever tell you? I must meet her and find out if she remembers that day as well as I do."

  "She did tell me once, long ago, that you had met in college and that you had been good friends."

  Forgive me, God, for my little lies. They've not been said to harm anyone.

  His face brightened.

  "She did? What else did she say?"

  "Oh nothing much, except that one doesn't always get such friends."

  And that is certainly a universal truth.

  "She's right about that. Of course, her judgement has always been impeccable. I don't think she's ever taken a wrong step in her life."

  I could have corrected him but I restrained myself. Having set him on the track, I let the horse gallop.

  "Well, I joined first year of post-graduation when she was in her second year BA. I was 22 and she must have been about 19 or 20 then, a stunning beauty. Boys joined our college, the Government Arts and Science, just because she was studying there. Those were the days when people were scandalised to see a girl and boy talk to one another and yet, Nandini and I were good friends. I have to thank my seniors for this," he laughed, looking at once so relaxed and handsome.

  "I was in the gawky state of only height and no matching weight. Every other day it seemed as if amma had to let out the hem of my trousers. That tell-tale crease around my ankle made me more self-conscious. I couldn't slink and hide in a crowd since I stood at least a head taller than most of the students. Naturally, I became a favourite target for ragging. The names I earned! 'Rope', 'daddy-long-legs', 'grasshopper', 'praying mantis'," Raghu laughed again.

  He certainly did not qualify for those names any longer. Age had added weight to his frame and he took care to maintain the balance.

  "Well, one day a group of seniors caught hold of me just when the lunch recess bell had rung. I was not particularly disturbed or worried given the number of times I'd already been asked to do some stupid task or the other. I stood straight and looked at them without blinking an eyelid."

  "They gathered around me, all seven or eight of them, some so pu
ny I could have pushed them down with one hand. They ensured that I remembered my inferior status as fresher."

  "'You, hero, what's your name?' asked one.'"

  "'Right, Mr. Raghavan, do you have a Seetha in your life?' asked another.'"

  "'Pardon me but I'm here to study,' I said, before I could control myself."

  "The boys moved in closer like predators round the kill. The one who had asked the question poked me in the chest with a finger, 'Right, Mr. Einstein, the next Nobel is yours.'"

  "The others burst into laughter attracting even more spectators. I was soon surrounded by several rows of students, all seniors. This was going to be serious. Ragging was all right but at this scale? I was the bull's-eye. I didn't like it one bit. My stomach dissolved into a mass of butterflies, dragonflies, cockroaches and every other insect you can think of – all striving to get out."

  "Boss, to which planet are you going to banish this Einstein avatar?' asked someone."

  "Suggestions flew fast and thick but 'Boss' didn't need any. He raised his hand and silenced everybody. 'Now you, young man,' he said. 'This is what you have to do if you don't want to be ragged any more. Go up to a girl, kneel at her feet with a rose in your hand and propose to her.'"

  "Laughter hit me from all sides."

  "'No tricks mind you. We'll be around to ensure you do what you are supposed to do. If she slaps you, it's back to more ragging, let me tell you,' he warned."

  "Which girl would stand this ignominy, I wondered but the decision was made for me."

  "Someone shouted, 'At least tell him the name of the girl.'"

  "'No, I have a better idea,' interjected another. 'We'll take him to 'her' and let him find out her name after proposing to her.'"

  "That dashed my plan to approach one of my classmates. Of course, my tormentor would approve this suggestion. He beckoned with a forefinger for me to follow him and we began to walk while the others fell behind us passing comments and collecting even more people along to watch the fun. We went to various places in search of this girl whose name I had to find out. She was nowhere to be found, not in her class, not in the canteen, not on the steps of the auditorium, nowhere. I hoped that we did not meet her at all so that I could wriggle out of this fix. Just then someone came running to us and said that he had seen 'her' entering college. Immediately I was propelled towards the gate and as one, everyone followed. The professors may have thought we were marching out of college, so purposefully did we walk. We stopped abruptly. I received my instruction.