by Debashis Dey
Shevak remained active with replacing and reinforcing the weak and vulnerable poles that got uprooted during winter. He pulled together a team of village boys and with their help replaced large parts of the cable. He explored the possibility of a hydropower unit as suggested by Chotu and spent the rest of his time in the orchard with a hope to harvest the maximum number of apples from whatever remained of the trees after the damage. He bought pesticides, fertilizers, sprays from Sangla and devoted his time with other growers in discussing preventive measures. He also planned to paint the rooms which got dark from the smoke of the bukhari, to change the tin roof with a better slope to make it easy for the snow to skid off, to buy a few fluorescent bulbs for better lighting, a new razor for shaving, and to make a visit to Rampur.
Balbir decided to go out on pilgrimage, his last hope to get a son. He planned to visit at least nine places across the country. He considered organizing a tour. He went around canvassing and his tour filled up slowly. Everyone in the village aspired to see the outside world. The destinations went up to eleven. He decided to make no profit. Dayawanti pestered Lalaji to send her on the tour. Like many others, she also had never gone anywhere beyond Rampur, and even then, it was only for picking up goods for the shop. Lalaji ignored her at first but finally consented. Balbir decided to book a bus. Everyone decided to hold a meeting to fix the date and to offer a puja and sacrifice a lamb to Devta before the journey.
***
Ria went to school and managed to get a group of admirers who subscribed to her colorful episodes about city life. She also advised her friends on applying lipstick, wearing make-up, and plaiting hair. Soon she became a star in her group. She had a few meetings with Jeet who found her more attractive now. She kept a good distance from him, which, as per her sister’s advice, was supposed to make him more desperate for her. She stood firm on her resolution to settle in the city and decided to go it alone if he lacked the courage.
Diwakar and Nisha spent most of their time on the farm, tilling the land, sowing seeds and removing weeds. Shevak bought two kid lambs, which accompanied them. Parvati went with them sometimes but they did not allow her to do anything. She simply sat under the tree with the lambs, where she knitted socks and served lunch. She watched both of them in amusement as they worked in the field, sometimes chatting, sometimes chasing, sometimes fighting. Both were lost in each other’s company and enjoyed every moment. In their spare time, they roamed around visiting the hidden meadows, the waterfalls, the valley beyond the village, the pine forest near Mastarang, the slopes on the sacred peak, the bridge close to Dongri, and the gorge down below. They took pleasure from the small things the valley presented them. From the pebbles on the river, the white anemones, the marsh marigolds, the yellow and blue poppies, the wild rose bush, from the barbets, finches, wagtails, the green grass, the dew drops on them, from the clouds, wind, and the sky. Some days they skipped the farm and went to the dongri. They cleaned the courtyard, the roof, the cowshed, the balcony, removing the dried leaves and the dust. They planted marigolds, rose bushes around the courtyard, and creepers around the fencing. Sometimes they lit the bukhari and sat next to it listening to songs and sometimes they made love.
Nisha enjoyed life as she had never enjoyed it before. It was a totally new and unexpected world for her. Maybe it was the world she had always wanted, the world she wanted after her marriage to Pravin. She experienced a strong sense of belonging. She wondered sometimes what would have happened if she had married Diwakar in the first place.
Over a period of time, her feelings of guilt lessened and her ideologies and wisdom receded further. She doubted if they really held any meaning for her, as all along the only thing she earned out of them was distress. She started enjoying life and revered each moment, each day, looking no further, thinking no further. A wild sense of freedom engulfed her as she realized her happiness belonged to her and no one could make her unhappy unless she allowed them to.
***
Pravin came home with Raju two months later. All the while he had worked hard and sales had doubled at the shop. Gangaram was happy and provided one more helping hand. He increased his salary and even gave him a percentage of the profit. At home, he gave them a small TV set with a cable connection. Pravin kept sending regular amounts home. He also saved a part of his salary in a local bank; he still cherished his dream of owning his own shop one day.
At home, everyone was delighted to see him. Diwakar decided to stay at home with his aaté. Parvati decided to cook meat and rajma dal. Even Shevak greeted him with a smile. Nisha was overjoyed when he gave her a mobile phone.
Raju quickly became friends with Diwakar. Both went out and explored the village. Diwakar showed him around the temple, the river, the meadows, the stream, and the orchards. Raju chattered constantly, telling him about Rampur, the market, about how he and Pravin had spent their holidays, where they went, what they ate, and more. Diwakar treated him with noodles every day at Lalaji’s shop. It was as if two lost brothers had met after a long separation. Raju relished the home-cooked food, Diwakar’s company, and the care and affection from Nisha. He felt as if he was with his own family. He felt homesick and decided to drop by at home on his way back to Rampur.
“Now I can talk with you anytime I want,” Nisha said when both of them retired for the night.
Pravin watched her. She did not seem to be as distressed as she had been when he was with her last. She was calm and it seemed she had made peace with her mind. She sat close to him but somehow he felt that the Nisha he knew, the girl who had belonged to him, was a bit different from the one who sat next to him. He did not feel bothered; instead, he felt a strong desire, as if it was the first time with her. He was in no mood to talk, but rather to act.
He made love. Wild love. He rode her like a bull quenching a thirst not satiated over the past two months. Nisha relished the hurricane that passed over her. She felt pain but also felt proud in the fact that she was desirable. She tried responding but he took no notice and went on rampaging, as if to prove his superior manhood, establish his expertise, his authority. And then he lay drenched and exhausted. Nisha wiped off sweat from his face and chest and kissed him. He smiled. And Nisha knew it was a smile of contentment.
She also knew he was different; he lacked the gentleness, the tenderness of his brother. But somehow she enjoyed the change. She enjoyed the tempest. Her submission. She did not know if it helped her reduce her sense of guilt but she felt more free and devoted the rest of the days to satisfy him as best she could. She was thankful she could stay away from pretension, as her responses, which came naturally, were enough to provide him the necessary confidence and reassure him of her commitment.
Pravin left after a week. And Nisha missed him. She realized her first love would always have a special place in her heart. Much like the first rains of monsoon. And even the distance did not have any effect. She thought once again about the true meaning of love. She remembered the days when she first met Pravin, the days of courtship, and then the days immediately after marriage. At that time, she thought she knew the meaning of love and that she had found love in him—that he was the true symbol of love. His embraces, kisses, words, the exchanges, the pleasure was what love was all about. The sense of possession. The sense of belonging. The memory of pleasure.
But after the first few months when the nighttime ritual became routine and when she surrendered night after night to mindless lovemaking, she had thought once more. And it was then that she realized that love was not just a momentary feeling and the pleasant memory of a sensual pleasure. It was more than that. It was something else. The memory of pleasure always led to expectation and if it was not met, it led to frustration, despair, and depression. It could not be love.
Then she came to know Diwakar with his warmth, affection, understanding, and care. And his innocent smile. His dreams. The fire. The flames. The song and the silence. It was a different world she entered every evening. She became aware of a new kind o
f desire that extended beyond her physical entity. That made her want to be close to him, just to be near him and nothing more, and that gave her happiness. Immense happiness. And though the inevitable did take place, it was not important. It was just a form of embrace. Mutual. There was no sense of possession. Neither of them wanted to possess the other. She felt free to choose whatever she wanted to do. She had felt confused once again about the meaning of love.
With Pravin, it was different. And though the sense of submission was pronounced, she relished it. As if it made her really free in a different way. With him, she became aware of the many sides of human nature. With him, she shared her wild side. The mind slept and the body engaged in mindless primal pleasure. She did not know if other women also took pleasure in sex, as such discussion was taboo. Women taking delight in sex was forbidden. They were simply expected to provide pleasure and bear children. She thought that probably no one took pleasure in the suffering, the pain, and the humiliation, but still everyone aspired, and then found justification in such sacrifice from the respect they earned from their husbands, family, and society.
She wondered how Jayshree felt. On the outside she looked like any other woman of the village. She could never ask her. She remembered her cousin who was married to three brothers. She wondered if she also remained a slave of the system and took it as her duty to serve three men. She thought about Draupadi in the epic and her five husbands. While three of the brothers were old enough, the twins were much younger. She wondered if she could love them all the same. She knew she was supposed to be married to only one initially. She tried to imagine her mental state and how she had made peace with her fate.
She realized it was difficult to break away from this sense of sacrifice and maybe that was the reason she found Pravin’s company addictive, the sense of self-denial overwhelming in keeping with the custom and tradition. In earning his respect, in letting him know how loyal, dedicated, committed she was, listening to the appreciation all around even if it meant forfeiting her own pleasure in the process.
She remembered the first time he proposed the common marriage. She had felt troubled and her world fell apart. At the time, she saw such an arrangement as a sacrifice of her ideals and destruction of love. She felt her own values crumbling under the profound weight of family values. Her very existence as an individual was at a grave risk and it did not matter. She felt threatened, humiliated, and disgraced. She couldn’t find any justification in that sacrifice. Rather the justification it provided did not address her sense of happiness or well being. She was confused, and she was terribly shaken.
And yes, sacrifice was there. But it was not a sacrifice of her dignity or self-respect. She had to sacrifice her understanding, her notions, her expectations about love and life. She sat every night next to the fire. And in her mind, she made a bonfire of past knowledge and burned everything. Everything she knew and remembered until then, the sense of possession, the memory of pleasure, the concept of love so deeply engraved. Finally, she was totally free. There was nothing left to compare, to judge, to evaluate.
That was when she learned to live every moment. It was as if she was a brook flowing down the hills. Every slope seemed to be new; every gorge held the promise of excitement; every crevice held the surprise of chatter; every bend had the assurance of a thrill. She learned to be aware without the interference of knowledge and thought. She realized that like the brook, which could choose its own way, each day she also had the power to choose the truth with which she wanted to live. Like the brook, which washed down dirt and rocks in its path, she also could wash out age-old concepts and values on her journey to rediscover life.
She had always wanted to understand love. Even in her college days, she saw many of her friends suffer and she knew something was wrong. She found them heartbroken whenever they lost someone. She laughed at herself as she recalled at one point she even thought that having a family, working in the fields, cooking food, bearing children, and getting old was what love was all about. And she remembered falling in love and seeking love in that person. All along she was wrong in her search of love in the other individual.
And now she knew she could never find love in someone else. She knew the lines she treasured for so long from the movie were wrong. There was no use searching for love in someone who was born for her. Even if he existed. Love existed in her own self. Inside her. But to comprehend it, to understand it, to awaken it, she needed the other person. Someone who would pull the right strings that made her sing, someone with whom she could share her feelings, her thoughts, her dreams. It was not just someone with whom she could grow old, someone with whom she could share the murmur of the brook.
***
Diwakar sat next to the stream on the boulder. During the last few days, he had been happy, as the whole family was together. And more so for Raju whose innocence touched him. He wished they could all stay together forever.
Nisha sat next to him throwing pebbles in the water. She noticed he was lost in thought. She ran her finger on his back.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Are you sad? I was not with you for the last few days.”
“I missed you but why should I be sad? I saw you happy and cheerful, I saw aaté in high spirits, and I felt good. We all need to be happy, always.”
Diwakar looked at Nisha. His Nisha. And somehow he knew she would always be there for him, with him, next to him, to share his dreams. With the moonshine. With the birdsongs. With the morning dew.
Nisha looked at him. She liked his simple and uncomplicated approach to life. She felt the strong wave of affection and love that touched her. He stood like a tree that not only soothes with its shadow but also sends down the breeze. She knew there was always room for her in the branches. They would hold her in tenderness; protect her from the heat, the rain, the storms. She wanted to treasure it forever.
The last rays of the sun kissed the eastern peaks. A soft breeze came down the valley and formed a wave across the yellow-mustard fields. The pines shivered, the leaves fluttered on the oaks and poplars, a flock of pigeons flapped their wings, the buckwheat fields bowed down, the river flowed in torrents, two wagtails hopped on the banks, the first star peeped out above the peaks in the ultramarine sky, and the only sound that remained was the murmur of the brook.
She took his hand and squeezed. He looked at her. “Let’s go sit next to the fire.”
Chapter 21
Five years later…
Diwakar stacked the buckwheat hay while Nisha strained the husk from the grains. Both felt happy, as the harvest was good. They decided to take a break and join Parvati.
Parvati sat below the tree knitting socks with two lamb kids and her two grandsons, Deepak and Pritam. They both ran toward Diwakar as they saw him coming.
“Aau, please make us a bow,” said Deepak, the younger one.
“Chote papa, please make us some arrows also. Aaya said you know how to make them,” said Pritam.
Diwakar reached the tree and stretched on the grass. The boys sat on both sides and kept nagging him.
“But what will you do with bows and arrows?”
“We will guard the house from leopards,” said Pritam.
Diwakar smiled at them. “I will get some branches tomorrow and teach you how to make them.”
Both clapped in joy and went out in the field. The lambs followed them.
Nisha sat resting her back on the tree. She looked at the boys. As per custom, she gave the first son to the elder brother. While Pravin’s son Pritam was a bundle of mischief, Deepak, his brother’s son, though younger, was not far behind. He followed his brother everywhere and was a partner in crime and destruction. Both kept the household on their toes, except when their Aaya (Parvati) told them stories. Except when their Teté (Shevak) took them out. Both slept with Aaya at night, but every once in a while, they slept with her also.
Both the boys loved her. Their fathers loved her to
o. Aama and aau loved her. What more could she want of life? The only thing she longed for was a formal marriage ceremony that would seal both the acceptance and unity of her families. And she knew that would happen soon.
Epilogue
The village wore a festive look. The marriage season came after the apples had been harvested. And this was the only marriage in the village that year. A light drizzle passed the valley and the pines stood with beads of water all over them, glistening in the last rays of the October sun. The poplars, oaks, and deodars stood fresh and clean listening to the chatter of the barbets and finches. A flock of pigeons circled high above, flapping their wings, which echoed across the mountains.
The sun went down beyond the western peaks sending out streaks of gold and orange. Some of the colors touched the peaks while others played with little puffs of twilight clouds. By evening, the villagers gathered at the temple. The children played in the courtyard. The elders, dressed in gray and brown jackets, sat on the steps on the eastern side. The women, dressed in green jackets, green topis, and huge silver necklaces, squatted near the main compound in the center. It housed the Devta who was the guardian god of the village. He was brought outside and sat in his throne majestically to oversee the marriage and bless the couple.
The musicians sat with their drums, cymbals, flute, and trumpet on the ground next to the Devta and were dressed in long brown jackets and yellow scarves tied around their waists. In one corner, a big fire was lit where poltu (fried pancakes) and meat was cooked for the guests. Large vessels filled with local apple liquor stood alluringly with the promise of a colorful night.
Parvati, the groom’s mother, sat with a few old women from her family. Her daughter Ria, who came from Chandigarh for the marriage along with her husband Parminder, oversaw the cooking. Shevak, the groom’s father, took care of the bride’s family. He had retired recently and had enough time to brew the best liquor for the marriage. He never drank but made sure his guests drank to their heart’s content.