by Bajwa, Rupa
6
It was later in that week that Ramchand learnt how Kamla had gone to the Guptas’ place and had been arrested.
As always, it was Gokul who told him.
It had been a busy morning. Customers had been coming and going at an alarming pace. And today had been one of those days when many customers came to the shop, but few made any purchases. Most of them just looked at everything in a discontented way, made everyone run around, examined many saris, and then left after half an hour without buying anything.
To make matters worse, a quarrel had flared up between Gokul and Rajesh.
Gokul was stacking a collection of crushed tissue saris before putting them away safely in a cupboard. When he got up to open the cupboard, he suddenly stumbled and the saris he was carrying slipped out of his hands, scattering themselves all over the place.
‘Arre Gokul, can’t you watch what you are doing?’ snapped Rajesh. Rajesh stood up to help Gokul and noticed a chiffon sari in the collection of crushed tissue saris. ‘What is this?’ asked Rajesh, picking out the chiffon sari. He was speaking in an unnecessarily sharp voice. ‘First you don’t sort them carefully and then you go and spill them all over the place. Where is your mind?’
Nobody even noticed, and certainly no one expected Gokul to react the way he did.
He said in a most dignified voice, ‘My mind is always on my work. Which is more than I can say for some people around here.’
‘What do you mean, Gokul? What are you trying to say?’ Rajesh asked quietly, his nostrils flaring slightly in anger.
‘Just that,’ said Gokul, and turned away.
‘Look here, Gokul, you can’t just say things like that and walk off. I know what you mean.’
‘Good if you know. Then why are you asking me?’
‘Let me tell you something, Gokul. We, that is Shyam and I, have been working here for a very long time. Long before any of you came here. If you think you can just talk rubbish at us and we’ll take it, you are wrong.’
‘I know you have been here a long time. Maybe that’s why you have both forgotten what work is. I do more work than both of you do put together.’
By now everyone was listening.
Now Rajesh raised his voice, ‘Enough is enough, Gokul. We have always been nice to all of you, and now you say things…’
Gokul interrupted him. His own voice slightly rose too.
‘So you think you can just pat our heads, be nice to us when you feel like it, lord it over us and go to smoke bidis for hours while we work here like donkeys? And get paid more too?’
‘You’ll hear about this, Gokul, see if you don’t.’
The two men stood facing each other belligerently.
Everyone was a little surprised. Both of them were usually mild-mannered, but today they had almost come down to name-calling.
However, the two had to calm down almost immediately because a gaggle of girls accompanied by a large, matronly woman came in.
The girls were noisy and giggly. From their conversation, Ramchand soon gathered that they were a group of first-year college students from the Government College for Women. They were all from nearby villages and tiny towns around Amritsar, and were sent to Amritsar to study only because the hostel warden of the Government College was very strict. Her reputation was that of a hard, unwavering and commanding woman who knew that morality came even before education. There was very little chance of any of the girls acquiring a boyfriend and compromising the family honour while they were under her charge.
It turned out that the regular hostel warden was ill, and this woman, the assistant warden, was in charge of the girls today. She looked tired and harassed. She told the sympathetic Gokul all about it. Two of the girls had wanted to buy saris for the Freshers’ Party in the hostel, otherwise she would never have brought them into the shop, she said apologetically. Gokul nodded understandingly. Encouraged, she told him how difficult it was to control these wretched girls, especially since this was their monthly outing. After a month of being cooped up in the hostel building, they almost lost their heads when they came out. It made them dizzy and mad. One of them had almost got run down by a car because she was giggling so hysterically that she hadn’t looked right or left before crossing the road. ‘Tell me, if some accident had happened, who would have been held responsible? Me, of course.’
While she lamented, the girls ran amok in the shop. The assistant warden hoarsely explained that this particular group was the worst in the whole hostel.
‘But when they are with the warden, even these girls are as quiet as mice. I don’t know how she does it,’ she added with a sigh.
The girls, who looked about sixteen or seventeen, smiled and giggled at the shop assistants. They burst into guffaws each time the older woman told them to behave.
Ramchand was glad to see that this time he wasn’t the only one who was getting self-conscious. Hari was blushing, with a sheepish smile fixed on his face. Gokul looked uncomfortable. Ramchand was about to smile, infected by the ridiculous high spirits of the girls, when he remembered the sooty walls and the purple sari. He wondered if Chander’s wife had once been like this, at sixteen or seventeen, giggly and silly.
And the smile died out.
Hari kept smiling at the girls foolishly till Gokul gave him a good-natured thump on his head. ‘Take that smile off your face and throw it out of the window, my boy. Or hide it under the mattress. Keep your eyes on the saris only. You don’t want to get into trouble, do you?’
The girls asked to see expensive wedding saris and for impossibly fine silks and crêpes. Each sari they asked for probably cost more than their spending money for a year. Once the saris were shown to them, they pressed them on each other.
‘You take it, how beautiful you will look in it.’
‘No, no, how can I deprive my friend of such a beautiful sari.’
‘You take this green one, with the beautiful gold border. How distractingly beautiful you will look when you write your Hindi Literature exam in it. Never mind if you will fail, at least it will always be remembered.’
‘If you wear this pink satin sari, you’ll look so enchanting that the hostel watchman will marry you. Then you can come and go as you please.’
‘No, no, this purple Kanjeevaram silk is for me. It is just the right thing to wear while boiling potatoes at midnight.’
By now, the girls were doubling up with laughter.
The assistant warden said, ‘Girls, behave. A written complaint will be sent to the warden if you don’t behave. And who has been boiling potatoes? You know no cooking is allowed in the rooms. You get good food, and there is no need for you to cook anything else. And you know that no heaters or gas stoves or immersion rods are allowed. Now, who said that, come on, tell me? Who has been cooking?’
But the girls all looked away. One innocently said, ‘No, madam, we were talking about how good it is that the hostel authorities boil the water they give to us to drink.’
That the drinking water given to the girls was boiled was just a tall claim made by the hostel authorities, so the assistant warden subsided.
‘We were talking about boiled water, not potatoes,’ said the irrepressible girl.
‘Okay, enough. Now, if you really want to buy something, buy it quickly. Stop wasting everyone’s time as well as your own.’
But the girls did just the opposite.
They made all the shop assistants run around, they draped the pallus of expensive brocades and silks on their shoulders, looked at themselves in the mirrors, nudged each other, giggled, and then in the end bought two of the cheapest saris in nylon and cotton that Sevak Sari House carried. They chose impossibly bright colours and left cheerfully, followed by the nervous, irritable assistant warden. While leaving, they all said namaste to Mahajan with folded hands in mock-politeness and were delighted to see his red face.
Their visit slightly dispelled the acrid, bitter smell that Gokul and Rajesh’s quarrel had left in the air, b
ut it did not make it disappear altogether.
Finally, at about one in the afternoon, the shop was empty for about fifteen minutes.
Ramchand went and sat beside Gokul. He waited for Gokul to speak first.
Gokul said after a while, ‘I don’t care what anyone says. High time someone told Shyam and Rajesh that they are not our bosses. They are shop assistants, just like us.’
Ramchand patted his shoulder. ‘Forget it Gokul Bhaiya. Just forget the whole thing.’
Gokul said worriedly, ‘Rajesh said “You’ll hear of it.” Do you think he’ll complain to Mahajan?’
‘I don’t think he will,’ Ramchand said reassuringly. ‘Their own idling is bound to come out if he does. Mahajan notices it, you know. He just has to ignore it, but I am sure he doesn’t like it. You know Mahajan. If Rajesh or Shyam bring this up with Mahajan, it just might give Mahajan a chance to tick them off gently about it. I don’t think those two will do anything. You just relax, Gokul Bhaiya.’
Gokul looked at him gratefully. Then he asked, ‘And what is wrong with you, Ramchand? Haven’t seen you smile for days.’
‘Nothing, nothing at all,’ Ramchand lied quickly.
Gokul looked disbelieving, but let it go. Then he sighed and said, ‘Maybe the stars are all wrong. Everyone is having problems. Chander is also going around with a gloomy face. He is completely tired of that wife of his, if you can call such a creature a wife.’
Ramchand stiffened. Then he asked, ‘Why, what happened?’
Gokul didn’t hear the note of urgency in Ramchand’s voice.
‘Yaar, she is getting worse and worse. I don’t know how Chander manages to live with her. You know what is the latest she has been doing? First, she stayed out all night, all night mind you, and when she came back in the morning, she was shameless enough to look Chander in his eyes. Chander just slapped her and left. But later someone from the police station sent for Chander. He was very nervous, didn’t know what he had done. We poor people can’t afford to be mixed up with the police, you know.’
Ramchand nodded.
Gokul continued. ‘He went to the police station. Some policeman was there. Chander doesn’t even know who is a constable and who is an inspector. This policeman seemed very angry. He told Chander that his wife had gone to the Guptas’ place, completely drunk. Imagine being called to the police station and being told that your wife has been drinking and making scenes. It is enough to break the strongest man. The policeman told him that she had really misbehaved there, and had even damaged some of their property, broken windows and smashed the glass of their cars or something. Those people are respected, you know. They didn’t know what to do. Finally, they sent for the police. This policeman, along with another, quickly went there and arrested her. Can you imagine how Chander must have felt, standing there in the police station, listening to all this about his wife, whom he had married in good faith? Fortunately, the police just let her off with a stern warning and told her to go home, the policeman told Chander. But he told Chander that if something like this happened again, if Chander didn’t control his wife’s conduct, they wouldn’t be so lenient in the future.’
‘They were considerate enough to let her go immediately because she was a woman and maybe this was the first time she had done something like this. And yet she didn’t come home till morning. Can you believe it?’
Ramchand shook his head.
‘Obviously, Chander was furious. I tell you, we poor people just can’t afford to be mixed up with the police in any way. If there is a next time, things might not be so easy for Chander. And how is it his fault? He does all that he can. He scolds her, beats her, but she is so stubborn. Chander felt so bad that he went to the Hanuman temple near his place to pray. He was so disturbed that he sat at the temple for two hours, then he went home and beat her up. What else could he do, tell me? What choice does he have? Though I doubt it does her any good. No wonder he is absent from work so often and gets into trouble with Mahajan.’ Gokul paused to cough and clear his throat. Then he continued. ‘The next morning, Chander came to the shop a bit early. Wanted to get away from her and the place he calls home as soon as he could, I suppose. I too was here about ten minutes before time. Lakshmi had to go to a relative – her cousin was going to deliver a baby – so she gave me my breakfast early and sent me off. She gets very irritable if she has to go somewhere with the children and I get in her way. But, you know, the more I hear about Chander’s wife, the more I thank God for giving me Lakshmi as a wife. Just talks too much and gets worked up easily, otherwise she is a decent, good-hearted woman. I do think I am fortunate, don’t you?’ Gokul asked him with a half-smile.
Ramchand nodded. Gokul said, ‘Anyway, so that day, both Chander and I were the first ones here. You wouldn’t believe it, Ramchand. Chander, the poor boy, wept his heart out while he told me everything. I told him he should just leave the witch and marry again. He said he would think about it.’
Then Gokul noticed the look on Ramchand’s face.
‘Why are you looking so miserable?’ he asked in a concerned voice. ‘In fact, you are looking ill. Pale and ill. Maybe you need more fresh air. But in this shop,’ he said bitterly, ‘fresh air and two hour lunches are only for Shyam and Rajesh.’
Ramchand didn’t speak. Gokul looked at him again. ‘Ay Ramchand, tu theek hai? Are you all right? What is wrong?’
Ramchand again said, ‘Nothing,’ but this time he couldn’t even manage one of his fake, watery smiles.
Now, Ramchand could guess what really must have happened.
He looked far away for a while and then asked Gokul in a troubled voice, ‘But why? Why did she go to the Guptas’ place? What does she have to do with them?’
Gokul said, ‘See, what happened was, the Guptas and the Kapoors had opened a joint business a few years back. They had started this cloth-processing unit. Before Chander started work here, in this shop, he worked for them. However, the business started to run at a loss, and they finally had to close down the unit. They didn’t pay wages to any of the workers for the last three months of work. Chander was completely out of money. Then I don’t know what happened exactly. Either he fell ill, or his wife did, but they went through a pretty bad time. I have heard he even went to Mr Gupta and Mr Kapoor to ask for some money, at least lend him some money till he found another job. They were quite nice to him, but they said that if they gave him money, all the other workers would also turn up asking for their share. Chander said he wouldn’t tell anyone, but both the men were firm. You can understand their point of view in a way. They are businessmen, after all.’
‘I don’t know the details, but from what I have heard, Chander and his wife really went through a very bad time for months, till Chander found this job here. Chander made a mistake though. One day, when he was drunk, he told his wife their names, the Guptas and the Kapoors, and where they lived. Bas, that is all she needed I suppose. He has forgotten all about it, because you have to get on with life, and these things happen all the time. That’s the way of the world. But his wife, she is a complete witch. Mad woman that she is, she still holds a grudge against her husband’s employers after all these years. Abuses them in anyone’s hearing. And after all you know, both of them are counted amongst the biggest men in Amritsar. And who is she? Nobody. It is so unwise of her. At least she should have thought of her husband, no? While living in the same water, a small fish cannot afford to make enemies with the crocodile. But who will explain that to her? She is completely mad, I think. And she drinks. It is disgraceful, and so hard on Chander, isn’t it? God alone knows what happens to her mind when she is drunk.’
Ramchand listened in silence. He thought of her, the woman in the purple sari, of her collarbones sticking out, of the emptiness in her eyes.
And for the first time, he felt completely sick with himself, for being deferential towards Mrs Gupta when she came shopping, for enjoying Rina Kapoor’s wedding, for being flattered by Rina’s interest in him, for being the
person he was.
*
Over the next few days, Ramchand became more withdrawn than he had ever been. Into his heart, crept a permanent feeling that everything was very wrong – a constant disquiet, a perpetual sinking feeling in the stomach. Sometimes he felt guilty. Maybe he should have spoken out. But why hadn’t Chander’s wife spoken up for herself? Maybe she wanted to keep it quiet. In that case, maybe he was right to keep quiet too.
His appetite vanished, sometimes he couldn’t even bear the smell of food. He felt unwashed and dirty even after he took thorough, soapy baths and wore freshly laundered clothes. There was a constant bad taste in his mouth. His intake of tea went up, and he rarely spoke to anyone, just listening quietly when anyone addressed him.
He even lost the comfort of fantasizing about Sudha, or anyone else, for that matter. For when he lay down, shut his eyes, and started rubbing his crotch over his trousers, ready to be aroused and pleasured by daydreams, ready to find some physical relief from his misery, the only images he could conjure up were the vomit stains on Kamla’s blouse and the bloodstains on her sari.
Then he would feel the pricking of tears in his eyes, and all physical desire would disappear.
*
And then, one morning, to his horror, Ramchand saw the door of the shop open, and Mrs Gupta came in, as usual accompanied by Mrs Sandhu. Apart from Ramchand and Gokul, everyone was busy attending to other customers.
Ramchand didn’t want to wait on Mrs Gupta. He quietly got to his feet and shuffled into a corner, hoping not to be noticed.
So it was in front of Gokul that the two women plopped themselves down.
Gokul gave them his best smile.
‘Aai hai, it is so hot,’ Mrs Gupta said, taking out a scented, lace-edged, pink handkerchief from her handbag. She mopped her face carefully with it, skirting cleverly around the lipstick and dabbing her eyes gently so as not to smudge the eyeliner.
Mrs Sandhu’s fair skin had gone red. She fanned herself with one end of her blue chunni.
‘Shall I get some water?’ Gokul asked solicitously.