A Thousand Yearnings

by Ralph Russell

  I remembered what Nasiban had told me—that the raja had a Lucknow courtesan with him. It must have been she who’d praised my singing. I asked him who had told him.

  ‘You will find that out,’ he said.

  After a while the ‘Lucknow courtesan’ was sent for. Khurshid Jan. She ran to me and hugged me and we both started crying, but from fear of offending the raja sahib, we quickly separated and sat down respectfully before him. Musicians were called. When I had been told that I was to be released I had composed a ghazal suited to the occasion. I’ll recite all the couplets I can remember, though there were many more. At every couplet the raja sahib and all the others present expressed their great appreciation. Everyone was entranced. Here is the ghazal:

  She then recites a ghazal—a continuous one—on the theme of a captive bird whom the fowler is about to release. The bird is in love with its captor, and is sad because it is being released. The closing couplet includes the takhallus Ada.

  The raja sahib then asked whose takhallus Ada was.‘It’s hers,’ said Khurshid.‘It’s her own ghazal.’ The raja sahib was even more pleased. He said,‘If that is how you feel I shall certainly not let you go.’

  ‘Your honour,’ I said, ‘the ghazal will have told you that I do indeed regret it. But you have issued orders and your handmaid is free.’

  The gathering then dispersed and the raja went off to take his meal.

  Khurshid and I had a lot to say to each other.

  ‘Look,’ she said,‘I’m not to blame for anything. Khanam Sahiba and the raja sahib had been at loggerheads for ages. The raja sahib had asked for me several times, but Khanam had always flatly refused. So in the end he had his men waiting at the Aish Bagh fair and they brought me here by force. I’ve been here ever since. They can’t do too much for me. I have every comfort I need.’

  ‘You mean to say you like it here among all these rustics?’

  ‘Well, that’s true. But you know what I’m like. I hate the idea of having to go to a different man every day, and that’s what I had to do there. You know what Khanam’s like. And here I have only the raja to deal with, and everyone is at my command. Besides this is where I was born; I like everything here.’

  ‘So you don’t intend to go back to Lucknow?’

  ‘I certainly don’t. I’m well-off here. In fact why don’t you stay here too?’

  ‘No. I shan’t stay here unless I’m forced to.’

  ‘You’ll go back to Lucknow, then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where will you go then?’

  ‘Wherever God takes me.’

  ‘Well, stay here for a few days.’

  ‘Yes, for the present I will.’

  I stayed there two weeks, and saw Khurshid every day. She’d become attached to the place, but I got very bored and restless. In the end I went to the raja and told him, ‘Your honour has given orders for my release.’

  ‘So? What of it? Do you want to go?’

  ‘Yes. Please give me leave to go. I will come again.’

  ‘That’s true Lucknow talk. Where will you go then?’

  ‘Kanpur.’

  ‘Not Lucknow?’

  ‘Your honour, how could I show my face there? I’d be ashamed to face Khanam. And all the others would laugh at me.’

  In the first place, I really didn’t intend to return to Lucknow. And secondly I thought that if I told the raja I was going there he would probably not let me leave, because if I did, Khanam would learn what had happened to Khurshid and make trouble about it.

  The raja sahib was very pleased with my decision.

  ‘You’ll never go back to Lucknow, then?’

  ‘There’s no one there who is close to me. Singing is my profession. No matter where I settle I shall find people to appreciate me. I don’t want to live in Khanam’s custody any more. If I’d wanted that I wouldn’t have left.’

  I convinced him that I would never go back there, and three days later he gave me leave to depart. He gave me ten gold coins, a shawl, a kerchief and a stylish conveyance with three oxen. In short he set me up as an independent courtesan. He gave orders for a driver and two men to accompany me, and I set off for Unnao. There I put up at an inn, and sent the raja’s two men back to him, keeping only the driver with me.

  8

  In the evening I was sitting outside my room watching people pass by and listening to the inn-keepers calling to them. ‘Travellers, this way! This way! A clean, well-swept room is waiting for you. The hookah, good food, everything for your comfort! Shade beneath the neem tree for your horses and ponies!’ Suddenly I saw Faiz Ali’s groom coming towards me. When he got to the door of the inn he caught sight of me. Our eyes met, and he came and started talking to me. He asked me how I was, and I asked how Faiz Ali was.

  ‘He’s heard of your coming to Unnao,’ he said.‘You can be sure he’ll come to you late tonight.’

  This made my heart beat fast. I didn’t want to be with Faiz Ali any more. After what had happened at the raja’s fort I’d thought I was free. I’d no idea I’d again run into Faiz Ali in Unnao. I thought to myself,‘Trouble again. Let’s see what happens. He won’t let me go if he can help it.’ It was quite late at night when he descended upon me. We talked for a while about this and that and then discussed for a long time how we should get away from Unnao. In the end we thought it best to dismiss the driver of the cart. The groom could drive it and Faiz Ali himself would see to the horse. Then we decided to leave the cart with the inn-keeper and cross the Ganges by night. What was I to do now? I was in Faiz Ali’s power, and had to agree with what he proposed whether I liked it or not. He summoned the innkeeper, took him aside and talked to him for quite a long time. Then, at about midnight, he put me up onto the horse with him and we left the inn. We had ten to twelve miles to travel through the night, and I began to ache in every limb, and feel constant pain. Finally we got somehow to the Ganges,with great difficulty found a boat,and got to the other side. Faiz Ali said, ‘We’re safe now.’ By dawn we reached Kanpur. Faiz Ali installed me in an inn and went off to look for a house. He was soon back,‘It’s not a good idea to stay here,’ he said.‘I’ve arranged for a house. Let’s go.’

  He hired a sedan chair, and we soon stopped at the door of an impressive brick-built house. I got out, and we went in. In front of us was a sitting room with two ordinary bed-frames in it, strung with rough cords. On the floor a piece of matting and a weird and wonderful hookah the very sight of which would have put you off smoking for ever. I felt revolted by it all. After a while Faiz Ali said, ‘I’ll go and get us something to eat from the bazaar.’

  ‘All right,’ I said,‘but don’t be long.’

  He went off and I was alone in the house.

  And now let me tell you what happened next. Faiz Ali didn’t come back, and it seemed to me as though he never would. Half an hour, an hour, three hours. Midday came; evening came. I’d had nothing to eat since early evening the day before in Unnao. I was aching from the night’s journey on horseback, and half-drunk from lack of sleep. Since morning I hadn’t had so much as a cupped handful of water to freshen my face, and not a morsel to eat. I was half dead with hunger. Soon the sun went down, and darkness came on. Now it was night and I didn’t know what to do... All alone in this huge, desolate house, I began to hear things—as though someone was coming out of a room; someone was walking in the sitting room opposite me; I could hear footsteps up on the flat roof; slippers clacking as someone came down the stairs. Most of the night had passed. Up till now there had been moonlight on the walls and in the courtyard. Now the moon went in, and it was pitch dark. In the end I pulled my shawl up over my face and lay down. But I again felt afraid. It seemed as though the night would never pass. But eventually morning came.

  My feelings were indescribable, and now I realized what Lucknow had meant to me. I thought, ‘What have I got myself into?’ I remembered all the comforts I’d enjoyed there. I’d had my own room. I’d only to call out and a servant would a
t once present himself. The hookah, paan, food and drink—the moment I wanted any of them they were there.

  Anyway, it got to be midday and Faiz Ali had still not come back. In that condition if I’d been a virtuous lady, living my life in purdah within the four walls of my home, I’d have died. As it was, although I still behaved with a certain reserve, I’d been in the company of hundreds of different men, and if I didn’t know Kanpur, I at any rate knew most of the lanes and byways of Lucknow. Here too I had seen the inn and the bazaar. I wasn’t going to stay any longer in this empty house. I quietly drew the bolt back and stepped into the street. I had not gone more than ten to twenty paces from the house when what should I see coming towards me but a man in uniform, on horseback, accompanied by ten to fifteen musketeers—and in the midst of them our friend Faiz Ali, with his hands tied behind his back. I was thunderstruck and stood rooted to the spot—as though my feet were too heavy for me to lift them. Luckily none of them noticed me and they passed by and out of sight. I moved on into another lane, and then turned into another narrower one. Here there was a mosque. I thought,‘What better place for me than the house of God? I’ll stay there awhile.’ The doors were open, and I went straight in.

  9

  Inside I was confronted by a maulvi. He was dark-complexioned and was wearing a blue loincloth and walking back and forth in the sunlight. At first he probably thought I’d come to make an offering, and was very pleased. But when I went quietly and sat down on the raised platform at one side of the courtyard with my legs hanging down he came up to me and said,‘Well, lady, what do you want here?’

  ‘I’m on a journey,’ I said,‘I thought “Here is a house of God” and decided I’d come in and sit down awhile. If this offends you, I’ll leave at once.’

  He was a very uncouth fellow, but my affectionate gaze and courteous speech had enchanted him. He was too embarrassed to say anything, and looked helplessly about him. ‘Good,’ I thought, ‘I’ve got him in my snare.’

  He soon pulled himself together and said,‘I see. Where have you come from?’

  ‘From somewhere. But for the present I propose to stay here.’ He was most embarrassed.‘What, here in the mosque?’ he said.

  ‘Not in the mosque. In your room,’ I said.

  ‘God save me!’* he said.

  ‘Who from, maulvi sahib? I don’t see anyone here but you.’

  ‘Well, yes. But I live here on my own. That’s why I asked you what you wanted here.’

  ‘What does that matter? Is there anything to stop anyone else living where you live? I don’t want anything. What a question! And what do you do here?’

  ‘I teach boys.’

  ‘And I’ll teach you.’

  ‘God save me!’

  ‘God save you? Why do you keep on saying that? Is Satan after you?

  ‘Satan is man’s enemy. We should fear him at all times.’

  ‘We should fear God; what do we want with fearing Satan? And what was it you said? “Satan is man’s enemy”? Are you a man then?’

  ‘What else?’ he said crossly.

  ‘You look like a jinn to me. You live here all alone in the mosque. Don’t you get weary of it?’

  ‘What else am I to do? Besides, I’m used to living alone.’

  ‘That’s why you have such a wild look. Haven’t you heard the verse:“Don’t sit alone, for that’s halfway to madness”?’*

  I’d have gone on teasing him—there are some people you can’t help laughing at the moment you set eyes on them—but I was too hungry to keep it up. He was a young man, and not bad looking, but with an expression on his face too stupid for words. He had a beard, which, however, looked extremely uncouth. His upper lip was clean shaven. He’d tied his loincloth very high, and had a great big chinz hat which completely covered the top of his head. He had a very odd way of talking. His mouth opened very quickly and then shut again. He would bring his lower lip up over his upper lip, and his pointed beard would move in a very odd way. Then a sort of ‘hoon’ sound would emerge from his nose. It seemed as if he was eating and talking at the same time, so he had to take care to shut his mouth quickly in case anything should fall out. He wasn’t eating, though; just chewing the cud.

  Anyway I took out a rupee. He thought I was offering it to him for the mosque, and at once held out his hand, saying at the same time,‘There was no need for this.’

  I smiled and said,‘Yes there was—the most urgent need. I am hungry. Please send someone to bring me something to eat.’

  He felt awkward now and tried to fool me by saying that he understood—‘a lot you understand,’ I thought—and had meant that he’d provide food for me here in the mosque.

  ‘Just be patient for a little while,’ he said.‘Food will be here any moment now.’

  ‘To be patient any longer would be distress beyond endurance. Besides I have heard that research has shown that the noble month of Ramzan visits the rest of the world for one month in the year and spends the other eleven here worshipping in this mosque.’

  ‘For the present there’s nothing here, but my pupil will be on his way here with food.’

  ‘And if we assume that the impossible is made possible and the food does come, it won’t be enough for you to keep up your strength, let alone for me to have a share. It’s a case of “waiting is worse than death.”* You know the saying,“By the time they bring the antidote from Iraq…”’â€

  ‘My word, you seem a very talented lady.’

  ‘While you, in my humble estimation, are not in the least talented.’

  ‘You are quite right, but...’

  I interrupted him.‘Because my belly is reciting qul ho vallah‡ and you are making long speeches.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll bring something at once.’

  ‘Well, for God’s sake be quick about it.’

  I managed to send him off, and in another hour to an hour and a half he came back bringing four cakes of leavened bread and some sort of bluish soup in an earthenware cup. These he set down before me. I looked at it and glared at him. He mistook my meaning and at once took out fourteen pice and a heap of cowries§ which he’d tied in the corner of his shawl and put them down in front of me.

  ‘Listen, lady,’ he said.‘Four pice for the bread, and one for the soup. A dhela to the man for giving me change. The rest is here. Count it before you eat.’

  I again stared at him, but hunger drove me on, and I began to eat quickly. I swallowed two mouthfuls and then addressed him.

  ‘Maulvi Sahib, is this the best this benighted city can produce?’

  ‘This isn’t Lucknow where you can get pulao and sweet rice twenty-four hours a day.’

  ‘There must be a confectioner’s.’

  ‘Yes, right beneath this mosque.’

  ‘Then why did you have to go eight miles? It was afternoon before you got back. And you brought food fit only for a dog.’

  ‘Don’t say that. People eat it.’

  ‘People like you eat it, I suppose. Stale bread cakes and dark blue soup.’

  ‘It’s not blue. Shall I bring you some yogurt then?’

  ‘No, forget it. I’d rather do without.’

  ‘Don’t worry about the money. I’ll pay.’

  And before I could answer he rushed out, came back with a bowl of bitter yogurt that must have been made God knows how long ago, and set it down in front of me as though, compared to him, Hatim* was nothing.

  Anyway I managed somehow to get the four bread cakes down and to drink about a jugful of water. I didn’t touch the soup or the yogurt—left them lying where they were and got up. I left the money there too.

  I’d got up to go and wash my hands, but the maulvi sahib thought I was leaving.

  ‘Take the money with you,’ he said.

  ‘Keep it to buy oil for the lamps,’ I said.

  After I’d washed my hands and face I came back and began to talk to him.

  Thanks to him I was able to settle comfortably in Kanpur. Through
him I rented a room, and bought a comfortable bed, a carpet, a white carpet-cover, curtains, copper cooking pots and everything else I needed. I took on a maidservant to cook for me and another to do odd jobs, and two servants besides, and began to live in style. And now I began to look for good musicians. There were plenty who applied, but I didn’t like the style of any of them. In the end I found a tabla-player from Lucknow, a man who’d been a pupil of Khalifa ji’s school. He suited me very well, and through him I got two quite good sarangi players from Kanpur. Now everything was ready. It soon became known that there was singing and music to be heard in my room till late at night. The news spread that ‘a courtesan from Lucknow’ had come. Men began to visit me, and there was poetry too. Hardly a day passed without my being called to perform somewhere and requests for a full performance came in abundance. In a short time I had got together a large sum of money. I didn’t like the Kanpur ways or the Kanpur accent, and often missed Lucknow, but here I lived an independent life and this was so much to my taste that I had no desire to go back. I knew that if I returned I’d again have to enter Khanam’s establishment, because so long as I continued in my profession there was absolutely no way I could move out. In the first place, all Lucknow courtesans acknowledged her power. If I moved out, no one would come near me. Secondly, it would have been difficult to get good musicians, and I couldn’t have mounted song and dance performances. I had access to influential families, but this too had been gained through Khanam. I was regarded as one of the best singers in Lucknow, but there are plenty others, and besides, only a select few can tell the difference between the good ones and the bad ones. It’s your name that makes them willing to pay. The rich and influential go for the best establishments. No one would have bothered about me. Here in Kanpur my reputation was higher than I had dared to hope. There was no big wedding at which I was not invited to perform and where it was not considered a matter of pride to have me.

  Umrao stayed on in Kanpur for six months. By then word of her had reached Lucknow, and Bua Husaini, accompanied by a male escort, came to take her back. Thereafter she spent the rest of her life in Lucknow, except for a brief period during and after the revolt of 1857.