Desirous of your favourable disposition,
Ramesh
37
To cheer up a dismal Kamala, Shailaja asked, ‘Aren’t you going to your bungalow today?’
‘No, there’s no need any more,’ said Kamala.
‘You’ve finished the day’s work?’
‘Yes, I have.’
A little later Shailaja asked, ‘I have something for you, what’ll you give me for it?’
Kamala said, ‘What can I possibly give you, Didi?’
‘Don’t you have anything at all?’
‘Nothing.’
Stroking Kamala’s cheek, Shailaja said, ‘How sad! You must have surrendered everything you have to that one person. Can you tell me what this is?’ She took a letter out from under the end of her sari.
Kamala’s face turned ashen when she saw Ramesh’s handwriting on the envelope. She looked away.
Shailaja said, ‘All right, enough of your anger. I know you’re dying to snatch the letter out of my hand, but I’m not handing it over till you ask for it, let me see how long you can hold your vow.’
Uma appeared, pulling a soap-case tied with a string, and said, ‘Mashi, gaw-gaw.’
Scooping the little girl up in her arms, Kamala kissed her and took her away to her bedroom. Abruptly thwarted in her attempt to drive her carriage, Uma began to scream but Kamala simply wouldn’t let her go, desperately trying to entertain her by babbling nonsense.
Appearing in the room, Shailaja said, ‘I lose, you win – I couldn’t have done it. What a girl! Here you are, I’d better not earn any more curses.’
Kamala toyed with the envelope for a minute or two before opening it; her face reddened as soon as she had read the first two or three lines. She threw the letter away in shame. Then, quelling the first wave of extreme disgust that swept over her, she picked the letter up from the floor and read it again. No one knew whether she understood every word, but she felt as though she were holding a filthy object. She dropped the letter again. This invitation was to share a home with a person who was not her husband! Ramesh had deliberately insulted her after all this time! If Kamala had extended her heart to Ramesh after their arrival in Ghazipur, was it because he was Ramesh or because he was her husband? This was why he had written this love letter to her out of commiseration for an orphaned young woman. How was Kamala to withdraw what little she had mistakenly expressed to Ramesh – how! Why did fate hold such shame for her? What harm had she done anyone by being born? Now that a grotesque object called ‘home’ was preparing to swallow her, how was she to escape! Could Kamala have imagined in her dreams even a day or two ago that Ramesh would turn into such a spectre for her?
Meanwhile, Umesh appeared near the door and cleared his throat. When Kamala didn’t respond, he said softly, ‘Ma!’ Kamala came up to the door, and Umesh said, scratching his head, ‘A jatra group from Calcutta is here for Sidhu-babu’s daughter’s wedding, Ma.’
‘All right, Umesh, you can go and watch,’ said Kamala.
‘Do you need flowers from the garden?’
‘No need for flowers.’
As Umesh was about to leave, Kamala called him back. ‘Since you’re going to watch the jatra, Umesh, here’s five rupees for you.’
Umesh was astonished. He simply could not understand the connection between the play and the money. ‘Should I get you something from town, Ma?’ he asked.
‘No, there’s nothing I need. Keep the money, it’ll come in use.’
A perplexed Umesh went on his way, but Kamala called him back again. ‘Is this how you’re going to be dressed? What will people say?’
Umesh was not under the impression that people expected much of him by way of attire and were critical when they perceived flaws. He was utterly indifferent to the lack of whiteness in his dhoti and the absence of a garment for the upper portion of his body. Instead of answering Kamala’s question, Umesh only smiled.
Pulling out two of her saris, Kamala dropped them on the floor near Umesh. ‘Take these, you can wear them.’
Umesh grew inordinately cheerful at the sight of the wide and bright borders of the saris. Bobbing to plant his hands on Kamala’s feet as a sign of respect, he left, contorting his face in a futile attempt to conceal his smile. After his departure, Kamala wiped away her tears and stood silently by the window.
Entering the room, Shailaja said, ‘Won’t you show me the letter, Kamala?’
Since Shailaja kept no secret from Kamala, she finally staked her claim to one of her friend’s.
‘There it is, Didi, read it,’ said Kamala, pointing to the letter lying on the floor. Shailaja told herself in surprise, ‘My goodness, she’s still angry.’ Picking the letter up off the floor, Shailaja read it fully. There was a great deal about love in it, but what sort of letter was this! How could a man write such things to his wife? This was very strange. ‘Does your husband write novels?’ asked Shailaja.
The word husband made Kamala shrink back both physically and mentally. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘So you’re going to the bungalow today?’ asked Shailaja.
Kamala nodded to indicate she would.
Shailaja said, ‘I could have stayed with you till the evening, but you know, don’t you, that Narasimha-babu’s wife is coming today. Let Ma go with you instead.’
‘Oh no,’ Kamala protested vehemently, ‘what will she do there? There’s a servant there already.’
‘And your favourite Umesh is there too, so there’s nothing to worry about.’ Shailaja smiled.
Uma had found a pencil and using it to make scratches all over the place, shouting out unintelligible sounds at the top of her voice under the impression that she was reading. Shailaja took her away forcefully from her literary pursuit; when she expressed loud displeasure, Kamala said, ‘I have something for you, come with me.’
Taking Uma into her room, Kamala flung her on the bed and smothered her in kisses. When she demanded the gift she had been promised, Kamala brought out a pair of golden bracelets from her jewellery-box. Uma was delighted at such rare toys – as soon as Kamala had put them on her, she held up her arms carefully, the bracelets flapping loosely around them, and went off to display them proudly to her mother. Her mother snatched the bracelets away at once to return them. ‘How silly, Kamala,’ she said. ‘How can you give her such things?’
Uma’s protest against such ill-treatment rent the sky. Going up to her mother, Kamala said, ‘This pair of bracelets is my gift to Uma, Didi.’
‘Are you mad?’ said Shailaja in astonishment.
‘For my sake, Didi, you cannot return these bracelets,’ said Kamala. ‘You can use the gold to make a necklace for Umi.’
‘No, really,’ said Shailaja, ‘I haven’t met anyone as crazy as you.’
She locked her arms around Kamala’s neck. Kamala said, ‘I’m leaving your house today, Didi – I was very happy here – I have never had such happiness in my life.’ Her eyes began to stream with tears.
Holding back her own tears, Shailaja said, ‘The things you say, Kamala, as though you’re going far away. I know only too well what sort of happiness you had here. But now all the obstacles are gone, you can reign undisputedly over your own home. If we happen to visit you, you’ll tell yourself, I wish these wretches would go away.’
After Kamala had touched her feet respectfully just before leaving, Shailaja said, ‘I will visit you tomorrow afternoon.’
Kamala said neither yes nor no.
At the bungalow, she discovered Umesh was there. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t you going for the play?’
Umesh said, ‘You’ll be here tonight, I…’
‘That’s all right, you don’t have to worry about it. Go for your play, Bishan is here. Don’t be late now.’
‘There’s a long time to go.’
‘So what? Go see what they’re doing at the wedding celebrations.’
Umesh did not need much encouragement. As he was about to le
ave, Kamala said, ‘Listen, if Khuro-moshai comes, you …’
She didn’t know how to complete this. Umesh stared at her in bafflement. After some thought, Kamala said, ‘Don’t forget that Khuro-moshai loves you, if you need anything, pay my respects to him and ask for it, he will give it to you. You must never forget to give him my respects, all right?’
Unable to understand the reason behind this directive, Umesh said, ‘Very well,’ and left.
In the afternoon, Bishan asked, ‘Where are you going, Mai-ji?’
‘To the Ganga for a dip,’ said Kamala.
‘Shall I come with you?’ said Bishan.
‘No, look after things here,’ said Kamala, handing him a rupee without any instructions, and disappearing in the direction of the river.
38
One afternoon, Annada-babu went looking for Hemnalini on the first floor with the hope of having a cup of tea with her in private. He did not find her in the sitting room and she wasn’t in her bedroom either. On enquiring with the servant, he learned that Hemnalini had not gone out. An anxious Annada-babu went up to the roof.
The weary autumnal sun had faded over the Calcutta rooftops stretching into the distance with their different shapes and sizes, with the light breeze of dusk swirling about at will. Hemnalini was sitting quietly in the shade of a wall.
She did not even realize when Annada-babu appeared behind her. Eventually, when he came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder, she started in surprise and then reddened in embarrassment the next moment. Before she could jump to her feet, Annada-babu sat down beside her. After a long silence, he said with a sigh, ‘If only your mother were here now, Hem. I have proved of no use to you.’
Hemnalini seemed to awaken from a state of deep unconsciousness on hearing this plaintive wish from the old man. She looked at her father for a moment – his face held such affection, such compassion, such pain. How much it had changed over the past few days! He had taken on the entire burden of the storm raging in the family over Hemnalini, combating it all by himself. He kept returning to his daughter’s wounded heart. With every effort at consoling Hemnalini having failed, he was thinking of her mother today. All this was suddenly revealed to Hemnalini like a flash of lightning. Forcibly shaking off the memories in which she had immersed herself, she asked, ‘Are you feeling better now, Baba?’
Feeling better! Over the past few days, Annada-babu had forgotten that one’s state of health could be a matter of discussion. ‘Feeling better?’ he said. ‘I’m feeling quite well, Ma. It’s your health that I’m worried about – have you seen yourself of late? We are veterans, our bodies do not succumb easily, but your bodies are young, I fear for their ability to withstand pain.’
He stroked his daughter’s shoulders gently.
‘How old was I when Ma died?’ asked Hemnalini.
‘You were three, you had begun talking by then. I clearly remember you asking me, “Where is Ma?” I told you, “She has gone to her father.” Your mother’s father had died before you were born, you had no memory of him. You couldn’t understand, you just stared at me gravely. A little later you began tugging at my arm so that I could take you to your mother’s empty bedroom. You believed that in that emptiness I would be able to tell you her whereabouts. You considered your father a knowledgeable man. It never even occurred to you that when it came to things that mattered, your father was as ignorant and helpless as a child. Even today that is what I reflect on – how helpless we are. God has given fathers the ability to love, but he has granted us very little power.’
He put his right hand briefly on Hemnalini’s head.
Drawing her father’s trembling hand into her own, Hemnalini began to stroke it. ‘I remember Ma faintly,’ she said. ‘I remember her lying down on the bed with a book in the afternoon, which I simply could not stand. So I would try to snatch it out of her hands.’
The sound of Jogendra’s footsteps on the stairs stopped their murmured conversation. Both of them jumped to their feet. Throwing them a sharp glance, Jogendra said, ‘Does Hem hold court on the roof these days?’
Jogendra had grown impatient. The dark air of grief that hung constantly about the house had almost driven him out of his own home. But visiting his friends meant answering so many questions and offering justifications regarding Hemnalini’s marriage that it had become impossible. He kept saying, ‘Hemnalini is taking things too far. This is what happens when women are allowed to read English novels. Hem is thinking, “Since Ramesh has forsaken me, my heart should break” – so she is preparing for heartbreak with great pomp and ceremony. Every woman who reads these novels gets a marvellous chance to bear the misery of love.’
Annada-babu intervened quickly to shield his daughter from Jogendra’s harsh taunts. ‘Hem and I are chatting.’ The suggestion was that it was he who had drawn Hem up to the roof for a chat.
Jogendra said, ‘Why can’t we chat over tea? You, too, are trying to instigate Hem, Baba. It’s impossible to live at home if you behave this way.’
Startled, Hemnalini asked, ‘Haven’t you had a cup of tea yet, Baba?’
‘A cup of tea is not the imagination of the poet which falls spontaneously from the glow of the sunset in the sky. Do I have to remind you that sitting in a corner of the roof will not fill the cup?’ Jogendra said.
Discerning that Jogendra’s barb would embarrass Hemnalini, Annada-babu blurted out, ‘I’ve decided not to have a cup of tea today.’
‘Are all of you going to turn into ascetics, Baba? What will happen to me then? A meal of fresh air does not agree with me.’
‘I’m not talking about asceticism. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I thought I’d find out whether skipping the tea helps,’ Annada-babu retorted.
The truth was that the image of a cup of tea had tempted Annada-babu several times during his conversation with Hemnalini, but he hadn’t been able to tear himself away. Hem was talking to him normally after a long time, and their conversation had turned pleasurable here in this secluded corner of the roof. He could not recollect such a deep and intimate exchange before. It wouldn’t survive transplantation – any attempt to move the location would destroy it. This was why Annada-babu had ignored his urge for some tea.
Hemnalini did not believe that Annada-babu had decided not to have his tea as a cure for sleeplessness. ‘Come, Baba, have a cup of tea,’ she said.
Forgetting his insomnia at once, Annada-babu advanced eagerly towards the table.
Entering the room, he discovered Akshay sitting there. He grew anxious. Hem is feeling a little better today, he told himself, but the sight of Akshay will disturb her again – but it was too late now. Moments later, Hemnalini entered.
Akshay made to leave as soon as he saw her. ‘I’m leaving now, Jogen,’ he said.
‘Do you have something special to attend to, Akshay-babu?’ said Hemnalini. ‘Have a cup of tea before you go.’
Everyone was astonished at the welcome extended by Hemnalini. Resuming his seat, Akshay said, ‘I have had two cups of tea already in your absence – but if you insist I won’t say no to two cups more.’
‘We’ve never had to insist with you when it comes to a cup of tea,’ said Hemnalini.
Akshay said, ‘God has given me the wisdom never to reject what is good on the grounds of redundancy.’
‘Keeping this in mind, I pray that what is good does not reject you on grounds of redundancy either,’ said Jogendra.
After many days, the conversation began to flow easily again over tea at Annada-babu’s house. Usually Hemnalini smiled quietly, but today her laughter rang out over the voices on occasion. Jokingly she told her father, ‘Just see how unfair it is of Akshay-babu, Baba, he’s perfectly well even without your pills. Had he been even a little grateful he would have had a headache.’
‘This is what you call pill-betrayal,’ Jogendra said.
Annada-babu laughed with pleasure. He considered it a sign of family health that his children were being derisive again ab
out his medicine cabinet. A weight lifted off his mind.
‘Is that so?’ he asked. ‘Are you trying to interfere with faith by encouraging the solitary member of the pill-eating team to change his mind?’
‘Don’t worry, Annada-babu,’ declared Akshay. ‘It is difficult to make Akshay change his mind.’
‘Like a counterfeit coin, getting change out of Akshay will set the police on us.’
Through such laughter and conversation, a long-standing spectre seemed to exit the teatime session at Annada-babu’s house.
The conversation would have kept flowing, but Hemnalini had to leave because she had not done up her hair in good time, whereupon Akshay remembered something important he had to do too, and left as well.
Jogendra said, ‘Let’s not delay any more, Baba, and arrange for Hem’s marriage immediately.’
Annada-babu looked at him in surprise. Jogendra said, ‘Everyone’s still whispering about the cancellation of the wedding, how many of them can I argue with? I would not have minded if I could have disclosed everything openly, but for Hem’s sake I cannot say anything, and this almost always leads to fisticuffs. I had to give Akhil a whipping the other day – apparently, he’s been saying all kinds of things. If Hem gets married quickly, all the talk will die down and I won’t have to roll up my sleeves and threaten everyone on earth. Listen to me please, don’t put it off any longer.’
‘Who will marry her, Jogen?’
‘There’s just the one man. All that has taken place and the scandals that have erupted will make it impossible to get Hem a groom. There’s only poor Akshay, nothing can discourage him. If you ask him to take a pill, he’ll take one, if you ask him to marry Hem, he’ll marry her.’
‘Are you mad, Jogen? How can Akshay marry Hem!’
‘If you promise not to create trouble, I can convince him.’
Annada-babu protested vehemently. ‘No, Jogen, no, you don’t understand Hem at all! You will threaten her, hurt her, infuriate her. Leave her alone for a while, she has suffered a great deal. There is plenty of time for marriage.’
The Boat-wreck Page 14