The Walls of Delhi

by Uday Prakash

  Two years ago, on Tuesday, 25 May, at half past seven, Ramnivas, as usual, was getting ready to go to work in Saket, forty-two kilometres from where he lives. His wife Babiya not only packed his plastic tiffin full of roti, but also placed a small metal lunchbox in his bag. In it was his favourite: spicy chole with vegetables, and aloo, too. Sushma was already waiting for him by the time Ramnivas got to the bus stop. Today, she was wearing her red polka dotted salwar, had used special face cream, and was looking lovely.

  The previous Saturday, she accompanied Ramnivas for the first time on an outing to a movie at the Alpana. During intermission, they’d gone outside and snacked on some chaat-papri. In the theatre and afterwards, and on the bus going home, Ramnivas inched closer and closer to Sushma, pleading with her to say yes, while Sushma continually deflected his advances. After they’d got off the bus and were walking home, Ramnivas announced this before parting: if she wasn’t at the bus stop waiting for him next Tuesday, it meant she wasn’t interested, and they were through.

  Now it was Tuesday. Every morning after washing up, he’d ask Babiya for last night’s leftover roti, eating it before he left. This morning, he wasn’t hungry, but weirdly nervous, and tried to hide it from his wife. His heart sank as he left the house, thinking, as he often did, that Sushma was having serious doubts. So when he saw her at the bus stop waiting for him, Ramnivas was so overjoyed that he declared they should ride in an auto rickshaw instead of taking the bus. He insisted and insisted, but Sushma wasn’t persuaded. ‘Why throw away hard-earned money? Let’s just take the bus like we always do.’ Ramnivas had fixed on the idea of sitting very close to her in the little back seat of the rickshaw, and maybe even getting a feel – and so he was crushed at her refusal. But Sushma’s coming to the bus stop was a ‘yes’ signal to Ramnivas, and the man was beside himself. Now really and truly happy, he sensed that his life was about to turn a corner.

  He was always picking fights with his wife, Babiya. Doing the housework and looking after the kids left her with no time, and one of the kids was always getting sick. Ramnivas could only remember one time (and he wasn’t even sure of that) when he saw Rohan, his son, horsing around and having fun. Moreover, Ramnivas’ pay cheque wasn’t enough for Babiya to cover household expenses. Even though it wasn’t her fault – she bought only what they needed – Ramnivas would let loose. ‘It’s like your hands have holes in them! Look at Gopal! Four kids, parents, grandparents, and god knows who else living with him, makes less than I do, and still gets by! And you? Night and day, bitch and moan.’ She’d remain silent, but glare at him with a stare whose flames licked at the inside of his head all day long. That stare made sure he watched every penny. When he got hungry, he let his stomach cry out in pain. If he felt like chai, he did what he could to get someone to shout him a cup. He rode the buses all the time without a ticket. Babiya’s burning stare, the one etched in his head, saw to it he never had fun.

  That Tuesday, Ramnivas told Sushma he’d leave work early and be at Sanjay’s by two, since that’s where she’d be waiting; then they’d go home together. Sushma had said that she didn’t like waiting for him at Sanjay’s (Santosh, the scooter mechanic, was always trying to flirt with her, and Sanjay, too, was always cracking dirty jokes), but in the end, she agreed.

  And then, for the very first time, Sushma, very slowly and very deliberately, instructed Ramnivas to bring her some of those chili pakoras, the ones he’d been going on and on about that they sell by the Anupam Cinema. When Sushma made her request, Ramnivas could swear he heard a note of intimacy in her voice, even a hint of possessiveness, and it made him feel very good indeed. He said casually, ‘I’ll see what I can do, let’s see how things go,’ but had a very hard time concealing the fact that he was jumping for joy.

  THE BROOM, THE GYM, AND MARS STARES AT JUPITER

  Ramnivas went on his way, happy, while singing that song from Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. After punching in, he told his boss, Chopri sahib, that he needed to leave work early to go home because his wife was so sick she needed to be taken to the hospital. Even though he usually gave employees a hard time about leaving early and would insist that vacation forms be filled out, for some reason he readily agreed. ‘Today’s a lucky day,’ Ramnivas thought.

  That day, Ramnivas was sweeping the floor of a fitness club in a building that housed various businesses. Cleaning the gym technically wasn’t his responsibility since it wasn’t a government building, but Chopri sahib had instructed him to clean it, explaining to Ramnivas that rich people and their kids went there every day to lose weight.

  The gym had every exercise machine imaginable: one for the waistline, another for the stomach muscles, and another for the whole body. The prosperous residents of Saket and their families went there in the mornings and evenings, spending hour after hour busy on the machines. A beauty salon and massage parlour occupied the first floor. Middle-aged men of means would go for a massage and, occasionally, take some of the massage girls back to their car and drive away. Ramnivas had seen policemen and politicians frequent the place.

  Govind’s chai stall was right outside, and he told Ramnivas that a girl named Sunila earned five thousand for accompanying gentlemen outside the massage parlour. ‘Who knows what these fucking big shots do with themselves in there,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen them throw after-hours parties, boys and girls right from this neighbourhood.’ Govind did well during the late-night parties since the drinkers and partyers sent out for Pepsi and soda all night long. Indeed, while cleaning the bathrooms, Ramnivas sometimes stumbled on the kind of nasty stuff that suggested that someone had had a good time, and it wasn’t much fun to clean up.

  What a life these high-flyers have, Ramnivas thought to himself. They eat so much they can’t lose weight. And look at me! One kid dies from eating fish caught from the sewer, and the other is just hanging on, thanks to the medicine. Then he remembered Sushma, that she’d be waiting for him at two at Sanjay’s, and he set his mind to finishing up work.

  As he was sweeping the floor of the big gym, the rope on the handle of the whisk broom that fastened the bristles together began to unravel, and he couldn’t sweep properly. Annoyed, Ramnivas banged the head of the broom against the wall to try and right the bristles. What was that? Sensing something strange, he again banged it against the wall. This time, he was sure. Instead of the hard thud of a thick wall, he heard something like an echo. It was hollow, a quick layer of plaster had been applied, but what could be behind it? Ramnivas wondered. A table and chairs, and a couple of burlap sacks stood between him and the wall. Ramnivas moved them to make space. Then he hammered the head of the broom into the wall, hard.

  It was just as he suspected. A few cracks began to show in the plaster, which soon crumbled away, exposing the inside. The strong smell of phenyl or DDT escaped. Ramnivas peeked in through the hole he’d opened, and his breath stopped short. He went numb. Holy cow! The wall was filled with cash, stacks and stacks of five-hundreds and hundreds.

  He drew his face flush with the hole, and took a good look. The hollow was pretty big, like a long tunnel carved out on the inside of the wall. Nothing but stacks of cash, as far as he could see, all the way on either side until the light failed and the money was lost in the dark. Ramnivas’ heart raced. His fear began to rise and he kept glancing around to see if anyone was there.

  There was no one, only him, completely alone. Before him stood the wall in the big gym, at A-11/DX 33, Saket, against which he’d banged his broom and opened up a hollow, hidden space filled with a cache of bills.

  ‘Dirty money ... dirty money ... dirty, dirty, dirty!’ came the words, like a voice whispering into his ear. His hair stood on end. Here he was, face-to-face, an arm’s length away from the kind of fantasy he’d only heard about from others. But this was no dream, no fairy tale, but the real deal. He’d stumbled on it, and here it was, right before his very eyes.

  Ramnivas didn’t move for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, he grabbed
his bag from the table in the corner and, peering around to make sure there wasn’t anyone watching, took two stacks of five-hundred rupee bills and stuffed them in his bag. Then he took one of the burlap sacks and placed it in front of the wall to cover up the hole along with the table and chairs. He hoped no one would suspect anything. Then he gave the floor a good sweep, cleaning up the dust and mess and plaster, and strode confidently outside where he plopped down at Govind’s. He ordered a cup of Govind’s strongest chai, and a couple of salty cakes.

  ‘Yesterday was fine, but today – too hot!’ Ramnivas declared. But Govind wasn’t in the mood to chat: a government jeep had pulled up, and an order for five cups of chai and salty cakes came from inside.

  ‘It’ll get hotter,’ was all Govind added, pouring the water into the pot. It was only half past eleven, and Ramnivas still had the better part of his cleaning rounds to finish. Instead, he went right to the office, hung up his broom, and said that he got a phone call alerting him that his wife had taken a turn for the worse. He needed to go home right away.

  Each stack of cash contained ten thousand rupees, meaning that Ramnivas had twenty thousand. He’d never seen this much cash in his life, and was so scared that he rolled up his little bag and shoved it down his pants for the bus trip from Saket to Rohini. If any of his busy fellow passengers had had a moment to spare and had taken a good look at Ramnivas’ face, they would have instantly realised this was a man in a state of high anxiety.

  Ramnivas took a rickshaw from the bus stop to Sanjay’s. He found Sushma joking around with the scooter mechanic, Santosh. This upset Ramnivas, but what unnerved him was when Sushma said, ‘Enjoying a trip in a rickshaw today, are we? Did you knock over a bank or something?’ But then she added, ‘You said you were coming at two, and it’s not even one. How did you get out so early?’

  Ramnivas laughed. Maybe it was seeing Sushma, or just making it to Sanjay’s – Ramnivas relaxed, his worries slipping away.

  A DREAM OF AN AUTO RICKSHAW, AND A SPECIAL TREE OF PLEASURE

  ‘I ran as fast as I could!’ Ramnivas said, looking at Sushma with a big smile. She returned his smile, but what Ramnivas said next caught the attention of Sajay and Santosh, who suddenly looked at him, causing Ramnivas to revert to his previous state.

  ‘Can I buy you guys a cup of chai?’ Ramnivas asked to a startled Santosh and Sanjay.

  ‘What’s the special occasion? Did you get overtime?’ Santosh asked.

  Sushma was also startled, since Ramnivas was known for being such a penny pincher. She never liked the way he’d come around Sanjay’s and try every trick in the book to convince someone to buy him a cup of chai, or a bidi. This day, however, Ramnivas didn’t just include Sanjay and Santosh in the round of chai, but also Devi Deen, the cobbler, and Madan, the bicycle repairman. And not just plain old chai, but the deluxe brew – strong, with cardamom.

  Sushma protested, ‘why throw money down the drain like that?’ but Ramnivas didn’t listen. He hired an auto rickshaw for the rest of the day and took Sushma on a whirlwind tour of Karol Bagh, Kamla Nagar, and Deep Market. He fed her chaat-papri, splurged on bottles of Pepsi, bought her a handbag in Karol Bagh, and a five-hundred rupee salwar outfit with matching chunni from Kolharpur Road in Kamla Nagar. Sushma, as if in a dream, felt indescribable bursts of happiness each time she touched, or even looked at, Ramnivas. The sad and worried little Ramnivas of yesterday (on many occasions Sushma had thought, enough is enough) had suddenly blossomed into an uncannily happy, technicolour lover. Though his hair was unkempt, his stubble getting scraggly, and his bidi breath hard to take, whenever Ramnivas kissed Sushma in the little back seat of the rickshaw, for some unexplainable reason, she felt as if she were rolling around on a flowerbed of the prettiest blossoms in the world.

  There’s no way Sushma could have known what accounted for Ramnivas’ surprising turnaround. She knew this much: She’d done well by showing up at the bus stand that Tuesday morning, after having spent the whole night thinking, Do I show up? Do I not show up? It turned out she’d made the right decision. There is someone out there in the world who loves me! Sushma thought, overflowing with joy. And she was with him at that very moment. To Sushma, Ramnivas seemed wide-eyed and innocent, like a little kid. Even a few days later after she began to sleep with Ramnivas, and even after he got her pregnant and then got her an abortion at the Mittal Clinic in Naharpur, she’d remember the whirlwind trip that day in the auto rickshaw. Two years ago, on Tuesday, 23 May, Sushma and Ramnivas had entered a fantasy land – the day Ramnivas found the cash hidden in the hollow wall of the building located at A-11/DX 33, Saket.

  The roots of happiness lie hidden away in money. From there, the tree of pleasure can grow, and flourish, and bear the fruit of joy. Maybe the best qualities of men, too, lie locked inside a bundle of cash – this is how Ramnivas began to think. He was a new man: everything had changed. Gone was the poor, broken, sorrowful Jitendra. Now he was the gregarious, colourful, radiant Govinda, always ready to flash a smile. Life at home had also improved substantially. First, his wife, Babiya, seemed happy all the time, and cooked the most delicious food. They could afford to eat meat at least twice a week, and eggs every day. If he wanted to eat an egg, he’d go and eat an egg. The kids asked for ice cream, and the kids got ice cream. If a guest came knocking, Babiya would bring out the good stuff: Haldiram’s namkeen snacks, and Britannia biscuits. ‘Please, don’t be shy! Why don’t you take some more?’ she said, offering the snacks on a fine little plate. Ramnivas bought a sofa, a TV, a VCR, a double bed, a fridge, a foreign-made CD player from Palika Baazar, and announced that it was only a matter of time before he bought a computer for the kids. He said everyone knew that in today’s world, there was no getting ahead without one. He started looking into computer courses for his children, Rohan and Urmila. He planned to send them both to the States, where they’d work for a company and make six-figure salaries every month.

  Ramnivas’ relatives, who’d always steered clear of him, suddenly started showing up at his place with whole families in tow. Ramnivas, once decrepit and spiteful, now personified all the virtue and beauty the world had to offer, and Babiya wasn’t afraid to sing his praise, all the time, and right to his face. His stock within his own caste community was on the rise, and he was often approached for advice about matrimonial alliances between families. He got all sorts of letters and wedding invitations. If he felt like it, he’d go. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t. But when he did – what a welcome he got!

  ‘Take it – it’s all yours. Don’t worry about paying it back,’ he’d be heard saying as he helped someone out. To paraphrase a popular saying, even a Ramnivas can get lucky.

  Meanwhile, Ramnivas had begun drinking every day, and his liaisons with Sushma also became a daily occurrence. By then, Babiya knew all about the affair, but had decided to keep her mouth shut. She knew enough about the kind of man Ramnivas was to feel confident he’d never leave her or the kids. And so she didn’t worry.

  Sometimes Ramnivas wouldn’t come home until well after midnight. Sometimes he’d disappear for a few days – sometimes with Sushma. But it didn’t make any difference to Babiya: the neighbourhood now held Ramnivas in high esteem. He’d go straight to Sushma’s house and had no qualms about talking to Sushma about going out to see a movie. Right in front of her mother, Bilaribai, who also washed other people’s dishes and cleaned other people’s houses.

  Sushma now owned several salwar outfits, complete with matching sandals and jewellery sets. She used to go head-to-head with Ramnivas no matter how small the squabble, but now, fearing he might get angry, Sushma silently put up with more and more. On several occasions her mother cautioned, ‘How long will this last? You have to stand up for yourself and tell him what’s yours is yours. And he is yours, honey. People are beginning to talk.’ But Sushma would reply, ‘I’m no homewrecker, Amma. He has kids don’t forget. Let it go for as long as it goes.’ Deep inside she was sure it would go on forever, for the rest of th
eir lives.

  If people asked Ramnivas where he’d suddenly got so much money, he’d say that he’d got in on a half-million rupee pyramid scheme in Saket, or that he was playing the numbers and he kept hitting. Or that he’d won the lottery. Or – and this he reserved for only a few – that he’d met a great holy man near the mosque who whispered a very special mantra in his ear that caused future stock-market figures to flash before his eyes. In turn, Ramnivas whispered the same mantra into the ears of several people, all of whom failed to see the numbers flash before their eyes. Ramnivas explained that in order to see the numbers, one’s heart must be pure. First you must bear no ill-will, prey on no one, cause no harm, and then you’d see: the market and lottery numbers would dance in your mind’s eye!

  Whenever Ramnivas felt like it, he’d go and fill up his bag with a few stacks of cash from the wall in Saket. It was amazing that no one had stopped him or arrested him, and no one had moved the stacks of rupees around. Spending the money as he pleased for so long with no one stopping him had turned Ramnivas into a carefree man, and so his daring grew. And yet he was still beset with worry that one day the rightful owner of the money might show up and take it away. So with wisdom and foresight, Ramnivas did two things to lessen the impact in case the money ever disappeared. First, he bought a ten acre plot of land in Loni Border, and put it in his wife’s name. Second, he took three-hundred thousand and deposited it into various savings accounts in several banks, all under different names. One of them was a deposit of fifty thousand in Sushma’s name, who had by then decided she wanted to go on forever with Ramnivas, just the way things were.

  LOVE AT THE TAJ MAHAL, AN AIR-CON ROOM, EAGLE EYE, AND THE POLICE