Exile

by Akhilesh

  This night Suryakant filled out four pages in his Mayfair notebook. Some of what he wrote was as follows: ‘Life is worthless without Gauri; the shackles of love are the foundation of liberty; a solitary word, love, an elfin narrative; it wanes into a lover’s heart, and swells to hold the world; there is none but those familiar with the ways of love; Gauri, I love you; I’ll sacrifice my life for you, not just my heart.’ These were only a few of the openings, or else he had described his passion for her in detail many times over.

  This was just the beginning; he visited this world in the Mayfair notebook every day afterwards. Sometimes he wrote four pages, sometimes three and sometimes five. The notebook turned into a chronicle of his love affair. Be it winter, summer, storms, rains, examinations, darkness, sickness or any other obstruction, he wrote down his feelings every day like clockwork in two to six pages. After their wedding, he gave Gauri twenty-six Mayfair notebooks that took Gauri a month and sixteen days to finish. She was so deeply moved that she gave him a bundle of twenty-six blank Mayfair notebooks on their first wedding anniversary.

  Their marriage was solemnized in a unique fashion. Their families were against the union, and the only logical option was a court marriage. When they marched out of the court, Bahuguna and his wife Alka were waiting outside with garlands along with a few friends. Gauri seized the garland from Alka and planted it on Suryakant’s neck; Bahuguna’s garland was used by Mr Husband.

  They planned to dine at a restaurant after the ceremony. Before entering the restaurant, Suryakant said, ‘I’ll smoke first – I haven’t had one for long.’ Almost immediately, Bahuguna beheld three glowing cigarettes and the rising smoke in the gang, and it reminded him of something. He frowned as he speculated – Suryakant would lead his new wife to a room comatose with filth and where clothes and book would be strewn around like the wounded on a battlefield. Glasses filled with cigarette butts would look as if the fingers of prisoners of war had been chopped off and stuffed in jars.

  ‘Hand me the key to your room, Suryakant.’ Bahuguna snatched the keys and whispered to Alka, ‘Escort them to the hostel, I’m going ahead.’ He said, ‘Please enjoy the food, and I’ll join you soon.’

  He bought a broom and phenyl and reached Suryakant’s room where the reality of it, filthier than what he had imagined, waited for him. He engaged himself in tidying up until Suryakant, Gauri and Alka started banging on the door loudly.

  Bahuguna opened the door but prevented them from entering. He was delighted and brimming with confidence because he had made Suryakant’s room sparkle. In fact, he wanted to fill his friend’s special day with every happiness. As he stopped Suryakant, Gauri and Alka outside, he said, ‘On this side of the threshold, it is the groom’s house, the girl’s house is across.’

  Gauri giggled, ‘I’m not a girl but a bride, married in the court.’

  ‘A marriage without the proper rituals is a sham!’ Bahuguna feigned anger. What followed then was a nuptial ceremony in the form of a skit directed by Bahuguna. There were no relatives in the wedding party, no one in the marriage procession, no marriage canopy and no banquet. Things were so bad that even seats for the bride and the groom were not available. The groom sat on his shoes and the bride plonked down on a newspaper spread on the floor. Bahuguna assumed the role of the priest.

  Priest Bahuguna muttered some nonsense, performed bizarre rites and didn’t allow the absence of family members to deter him. ‘Sindhaura Sindhauri pooja.’ He recited in a deafening voice:

  ‘Om pitarh pitamahah pareesharetataastato maharahsmitebhavantwasmin

  Brahmanyaasmin khsatresyamashishyasyaan purodhayabhasmin karmanyayan.’

  Devhutya om swaha. Idam pitribhyah piyam hemya parabhyoavarabhyastataa bhahebhyashch.’

  He grabbed the mineral water bottle from Alka and sprinkled some water on the bride, ‘Now perform the fire oblations.’ He put the lid of the bottle in the middle, ‘Imagine this is the fire altar. And the invisible air blowing above it is to be presumed to be the leaping flames.’

  Priest Bahuguna instructed the last stage of Pancham Hom, ‘Let the boy’s maternal uncle hide the bride’s face with a dupatta and then carry out the fire oblation to the god of death.’ After this, Bahuguna acted as the maternal uncle and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket to form a veil between the bride and the groom.There was no role he had not assumed in the past few minutes! He was already a priest, and he became the bride’s father and the groom’s, and then the bride’s brother and then the barber. There was little need for women in the rituals, and Alka performed those roles, sometimes well, sometimes not so well. So far as the bride and the groom were concerned, Suryakant and Gauri, in their respective roles, either followed Bahuguna’s instructions or chuckled. Everyone shrieked with laughter. They enjoyed themselves thoroughly – this would perhaps not have been possible during a real wedding.

  When the Pancham Hom was over, the priest said, ‘Now call the bride’s sister and put twenty-five rupees and paddy each from the groom’s and the bride’s side in the soop. The bride’s palm should cover the groom’s palm. The bride’s brother should pour paddy in the bride’s palm twice, and the third time, he should tip the paddy from the soop’s corner.’ And then he became the bride’s brother. A soop was fashioned from Alka’s dupatta and the homeopathic pills she carried in her bag were used as paddy.

  ‘Now the groom will hold the right thumb of the bride.’

  Suryakant held Gauri’s entire palm.

  ‘The groom will place the bride’s right foot on the stone grinder.’

  Suryakant’s shoe was the grinder.

  ‘Bride and the groom will hold the sindhauri and do the rounds. The groom should be led by the bride.’

  ‘How long will this torture continue, Mr Priest?’ Suryakant found it rather boring now, but Gauri was still in a playful mood, ‘Should one treat a priest like this?’

  ‘Hey, you don’t know this Bahuguna! If he gets an opportunity to recite his Sanskrit shlokas, he unwraps his entire carton. He will continue reciting them until dawn.’

  Bahuguna cheered them up, ‘All right, now perform the final rite of the promises and it’s over – Madhuparkhritan paapam lajhom hutashanah. Yavatkanya na bamangi tawatkanya kumudika.’

  ‘Bhai Sahib, I already know the seven promises, I’ll recite them without anyone’s help,’ Gauri informed Bahuguna. Mr Priest glared at Suryakant and regarded Gauri with respect.

  The bride smiled, ‘In joy and in sorrow, in penury and in prosperity, if you promise to sustain your love, I will then sit on your left.’

  ‘I do,’ Suryakant muttered even as his boredom mounted.

  ‘You will have me as companion in oblations, yajnas, fasts, alms and on pilgrimages.’

  ‘If I do all this personally, I’ll surely.’

  Suryakant’s tedium enhanced Gauri’s delight, she grew more dramatic, ‘In young age, in my youth and when I grow old – in all these three stages you will love me equally.’

  ‘When you were little, you used to roam around in your underpants and I in my knickers ….’

  ‘Don’t get into an argument, my Suryakant, my host … say, yes …’ Bahuguna interjected.

  ‘Ye…e…e…sss!’ Suryakant shouted. ‘For the rest of the promises too…’

  Bahuguna recited, ‘After receiving all the seven promises, when Parvatiji moved to the left, Mahadevji said, Hey Parvati! I will hold you on my left only if you promise me the following.’

  Suryakant turned into Shankarji, ‘Hey Gauri, I’ll let you come to my left only after you promise me all this.’

  ‘How sly!’ Gauri got up and started for his left.

  Alka dinned up a blare, ‘Hey Bahugunaji, you never made me sit on your left.’

  Suryakant rose and started putting on his shoes and Gauri stood up pell-mell and started dusting the back of her kurta.

  Alka realized the two would make an entry now so she rushed and blocked the entrance, ‘I won’t let you in without rec
eiving my reward!’

  After receiving the reward from Suryakant, she turned into mother-in-law. She took the key to the room from Bahuguna and tucked it in Gauri’s waist, ‘Now you are Goddess Laxmi of this house.’

  ‘O my mother-in-law, please consider me your daughter, not daughter-in-law,’ Garuri said and laughed. Everybody joined in.

  Soon, Alka and Bahuguna left and there were only Gauri and Suryakant in the house. It was a house within the house. It was a one-room set built for the specific purpose of being let out. One room, one bathroom, and one kitchen – it was meant only for one person but two could be accommodated. And there were two now. And there was privacy. Gauri felt better. She had enjoyed the sham wedding, but she found this solitude more endearing and thrilling. She found herself unable to articulate the way she was feeling, but it was as if … a lovely, golden leaf was caressing her neck and back in a breeze.

  ‘Remembering home?’ Suryakant asked.

  She was so lost in thought that she did not hear Suryakant properly, and she started. She sensed Suryakant had said something. She grew conscious of her surroundings and drew Suryakant’s words quickly to herself – remembering home? The lovely, golden leaf, if it was swaying at all in the breeze, ceased all movement. Gauri reflected, ‘This is the first time I’ve deceived my parents – it is the first time I have stared directly at them and then averted my eyes. It is the first time that a fruit of my desires has become so overripe that it has fallen down from the tree and rolled into this room.’ She grew emotional and said, ‘Never ever cheat me, Suyrakant!’

  It was at this moment that Suryakant gifted her the twenty-six Mayfair notebooks wrapped in coloured paper and secured with a silken string, ‘This is for you. Go through them. You will realize whether I love you or mean to deceive you.’

  Gauri drew his face in her hands and was shocked – his face was burning. She touched his neck, forehead and wrist, ‘You’re running a temperature!’

  Suryakant managed to open his eyes and said, ‘No.’

  ‘Do you have a thermometer?’ Gauri asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any medicines?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any pharmacy nearby?

  ‘No.’ Suryakant tweaked her nose and said again, ‘No.’

  He kept tossing on the bed because of the fever all night. He lay with his head buried between Gauri’s breasts, and sometimes he laid his head on her soft belly. Gauri suspected Suryakant was mumbling something. Sometimes he said Gauri’s name and sometimes just ‘you’. But he also said ‘Ma’ a number of times. He remembered his father, grandmother, uncle, sister and brother. Gauri had a revulsion sprouting in her when he muttered their names, but she restrained herself. Then, a mighty sadness engulfed her. She stared at the ceiling blankly, lying motionless.

  After all these years, she was filled with hatred and rage again. Suryakant was going back to some of the people she detested most on earth, although he had told her that he would never enter his parents’ home again.

  He returned in the evening. While sipping tea, he said, ‘The information that I have indicates that I should try to find Pandey’s ancestors in Gosainganj near Sultanpur.’

  ‘It may be in the Gosainganj near Faizabad – why don’t you visit the place first?’

  ‘I’ve learnt that only five people went to Surinam form the Gosainganj in Faizabad in 1880; Pandey’s Baba set out much later.’

  ‘Fine! Then, go to Sultanpur Gosainganj.’ Gauri said, sounding defeated.

  ‘I shall make a trip to Sultanpur first. But I’ll not visit my house or stay there,’ Suryakant declared his intent, but it appeared as if he was trying to console Gauri.

  ‘If you wish to go, I won’t stop you. It’s all in the past now,’ Gauri replied as if they were having a formal conversation. She hoped that Surya would not take her at face value; he would know that she never wanted Surya to stay with those people.

  But Suryakant changed tactic. ‘I’ll go if you say, but that doesn’t mean I have forgotten what Babuji did to us. It’s possible he has dismissed that wicked act from his mind. You can take it that I’m going there to remind him of it, and to tell him that our wounds are deeper now. Believe me, I’ll only go there to express my disgust and resentment.’

  Something disturbed Gauri after Suryakant’s train left. Surya may have told her the truth, but there were others in the house besides Suryakant’s father. What if his fondness for them diluted his hatred? What if the pull of Sultanpur turned out to be too powerful? She braced herself, trying to rekindle her faith. She was what had dragged Surya away from his family. And now she had the added lure of Gaurav. She tried to tell herself that even if his family saw Surya, they wouldn’t find their old Surya in him. In the time that has passed, my numerous kisses, laughs, tears, the ring of my arms, my sensuous bites, the heat of my breasts and waist, my companionship and my sensibilities have wrought such a change in Surya that they certainly cannot take him away again.

  She felt reassured, but she was also seized with terror inside. Perhaps I’m wrong! When I first met Surya, what profound love and respect he carried for his family, his ancestors and their heritage existed within him! He carried all his relations within the towering and invincible walls of memory. But they all crumbled at a single amorous gaze from me, and I possessed Surya. Will there be a reversal now?

  8

  THE FOG-FILLED NIGHT

  Suryakant was on the train, but perhaps only physically. The train moved east, but his heart had remained in the west with Gauri. The trees, houses, poles and cattle on the route were desperately sprinting back towards the homes they had relinquished. Birds put together their nests on trees, honey bees construct their hives on trees; trees are the abode of squirrels and fruit. Streams do not own a home but the fish dwell in their currents. Rivers and ponds and wells transform their hearts into houses for umpteen water creatures. If shops are houses for objects, flowers are houses for pollen and bumblebees. And all of them were scampering back, in the opposite direction, as if rushing to their houses. Journeys are like this. The train moves ahead but the heart darts back home.

  ‘Is that Suryakant?’ someone shouted.

  He put Gauri and Gaurav away in his mind and returned to the train, trying to recall who the fellow calling out to him was. ‘Is that you, Raza Sahib?’

  Within the span of thirty seconds, he covered the distance of years and recognized Raza Sahib. During those early days, they had both been daily commuters to Lucknow. Like most of the daily passengers from Sultanpur, they would board the compartment next to the engine. Throughout the journey, Suryakant would be engrossed in newspapers, magazines and books while Raza Sahib played cards with his friends. If they were a member short for cards, Suryakant would fill in. Thus, he became skilled at several card games. He also learnt quite a few card tricks with which he often thrilled Gauri before their marriage and amazed Gaurav after their marriage.

  On the Varuna Express, he had been Raza Sahib’s regular partner in card games and a silent witness to his legerdemain, furtive signals and cheating. It was the time he was not yet married to Gauri and had not yet joined the tourism directorate. Suryakant had just finished his course at the university. After writing his final exams for a postgraduate course in journalism, he had returned to Sultanpur and was ruing the decision. It was a pretty small town where he had innumerable acquaintances, friends and relatives. Everyone inquired about his job prospects and offered their advice. He grew restless to return to Lucknow, but he did not have enough money to survive in the capital. His Babuji argued that if he had already finished his studies, what was the point of remaining in Lucknow? And therefore, it was useless, almost immoral, to expect money from him.

  It was just then that the Varuna Express started plying its route. It was like a miracle, an auspicious omen. The country was being ushered into the twenty-first century and the world was being shepherded towards globalization. The world turned in the expectation of becoming a global
village. And it was during this mayhem that the bigger towns were being connected by the railways. Trains linked one capital to another and one city to another. New local editions of dailies started being published and as a result, news from towns, settlements and villages merely forty to fifty kilometres away stopped pouring in. A region 60 kilometres away would be devastated by flood and still this locality slumbered in peace.

  Districts turned strangers to one another while cities started connecting. Ideas, cultures and sentiments did not make journeys any more, but the mission of transporting passengers had commenced. It was now easier to see the legendary Banaras dawn and the celebrated Lucknow dusk on the same day. The Varuna Express departed from Banaras in the morning for Lucknow and left Lucknow in the evening for Banaras. The benefits of the train were also reaped by two towns in between, Jaunpur and Sultanpur, because the Varuna Express stopped for two minutes each at these two stations. Other trains covered the distance between Lucknow and Banaras in six to seven hours while the Varuna did it in merely four and a half. Sultanpur was right in the middle. Whether it was Banaras or Lucknow, you could reach your destination in roughly two hours. And so, because of the Varuna Express, a longer queue began to form at the monthly counter than at the regular ticket counter at Sultanpur Railway Station.

  Suryakant joined the line for the MST one morning and discovered his uncle standing in front of him. He put his hand on his shoulder and said, ‘Chacha!’

  Chacha looked back, ‘What’re you doing here?’

  ‘Chacha, I think I should try my luck in Lucknow for a job, and so I’m getting an MST. But why are you here?’

  ‘Oh, this is your Chachi’s fancy. She tells me I should get an MST, and we can visit Lucknow every weekend.’

  Chacha paid for Suryakant’s MST ticket and that’s how Suryakant acquired his first MST for free. Now he could enjoy being in Lucknow in the daytime and in Sultanpur at night. He caught the Varuna Express to Lucknow the very next day.