Girls are happy playing and singing at home,
But I want to go to the Lord’s home.
Rabb granted my hopes,
That’s how I fell in love with Him
My friends come to congratulate me
Shah’s grace that He took me by His side
Rains only soothe my soul when I am one with Him
Wherever I look, I find only Him.’
Rabeyan’s voice trembled as she sang. Her eyes overflowed with tears. Mabibi was overwhelmed. She kissed the girl’s forehead. ‘Sadke jaoon. Divine words blossom upon your lips, girl!’
Shahni spoke, her eyes on Shahji, ‘This honeyed one is like a bright tikka upon the forehead of our village!’
Chachi interrupted innocently, ‘Enough, don’t turn her head. She doesn’t need praise, she needs our blessings! Go my Raabi, offer salaam to the elders!’
Rabeyan first stopped before Shahni, then raising her hand offered salaam to Shahji. Rubies glowed bright upon her cheeks for long moments.
Chachi saw. ‘Bachchi, salaam has been conveyed! Lower your hand!’
Rabeyan blushed and lowered her hand.
Shahji went towards his baithak in silence.
As Shahni watched them, she started to gasp. Suddenly listless, her eyes closed and her head fell back to the cot.
Mabibi came running to her side, calling out in panic, ‘Chachi, come fast! Someone fetch water ri, sprinkle a few drops, Shahni’s heart has gone into hiding.’
The monsoon clouds came down in buckets and then cleared. Rivers and nullahs in spate played with whirlpools and receded. Sajad Bibi leaned the wooden ladder against the roof and went up to survey the damage done by the rains. She raised her eyes skyward, assessed the clear blue, and called out to her niece who was now also her sister-in-law, Begum Bibi: ‘Beguma ri, finish the milling quickly. Today we must clay-coat the roof and walls.’
Sitting at the grinding mill, Beguma lent strength to her hand, increasing her speed, but then called out to her aunt and sister-in-law, ‘But the mud was put to soak just yesterday. Why start coating today itself? Let it soak properly at least.’
Her phoophi-jithani was peeved. ‘Why ri, finding excuses so soon? Both the brothers spent the night kneading the clay with their feet. Just touch it and see – it is smooth as can be.’
‘Let the chaff also mix in with the clay. What’s the hurry? If not today, then tomorrow.’
‘Oh, so you are the smarter one now, are you? Our men have pounded the clay soft as silk. Now don’t pretend you have fever next.’
Irritated, Beguma stopped milling, and taking some clay in a broken pot, she began to coat the earthen milk boiler.
Sajad Bibi cut in, ‘Ari, keep all this kissing and licking for later. Come, start pouring the clay on to the roof.’
Beguma pretended she hadn’t heard. She clay-coated the milk boiler, put it to dry in the sun, and started coating the old clay stoves.
Sajad Bibi caught on; her sister-in-law wasn’t in the mood to work. She covered her head with a dupatta and said as she went out, ‘Make rotis and deliver the food in the fields. I will get some red clay from the Shahs’ in the meanwhile.’
As soon as her back was turned, Beguma started grumbling, ‘Maula, no one should ever marry into their aunt’s family! An aunt’s jibes are like poison on poison!’
Rasooli peeped in just then. ‘Beguma Bharjaaee, I am going to pick cotton at the Shah’s fields. Lovely cotton crop, each ball a fistful! I’ll put in a week or so of picking. Why don’t you come along? We’ll get at least a bundle or two in return, no?’
‘Na, Reshma. Her ladyship, my aunt has decreed: “Clay-coat the rooftop.” She’s gone to get some red clay from the Shahs.’
Rasooli had learnt how to deal with her own aunt-cum-mother-in-law. She said, ‘Learn from me. Do as I did. Just stare at her fearlessly once. Once the shame in your gaze is gone, half the battle is won.’
‘And then what?’
‘Then what? Instead of grumbling and whining, raise your voice and speak your mind aloud without hesitation. That’s it; the battle is yours. Your writ will run!’
‘Oh, let it be, what do you know? My husband adores his mother.’
‘Let him. With pleasure. But when he comes to you at night, shoo him off.’
Beguma broke into laughter. ‘He’s very free with his hands, ri! If he thwacks me once, I ache for days.’
‘Ache away! But don’t let him touch you. Listen to me. On one hand, I would fight with auntie. On the other, I would go and sleep in her room only. My frustrated husband would bang the utensils, shoo the dogs loudly. But I would pretend not to hear. One day when I went to give him food, he grabbed my plait and said, “Listen, bibi, fall in line, or you’ll suffer!” I shoved him aside and said, “Look here, she’s your mother, and my aunt. But if she wants to be the cruel mother-in-law, the battle’s neither mine nor yours. Let me deal with her. And remove your cot from the house. Sleep with your father at the well, and I will sleep in peace with my sweet ma-in-law!”
‘Beguma bharjaaee, on hearing this, my husband saw red, dragged me by my hair and threw me down! I neither cried nor moaned. Got up, brushed my clothes, and calmly said, “You, mother and son, be cruel together. The good Lord will dry up your wells. Turn the seeds in the soil to rot. Put worms in standing crops.”’ Rasooli started laughing. ‘Beguma bharjaaee, that was that day. To this day it is as if someone has done black magic on him. Pulling me close, he cajoled, “Na na Rasooliye, don’t curse my crops! I promise you, whatever Bebe may say or do, your man is always with you!”’
Beguma rolled her eyes in disbelief. ‘Then, what happened then? Tell me quick!’
‘That evening as I heated the tandoor and brought out the roti dough, my cussed ma-in-law started cursing as usual. “Rasooliye, you pork-eater, why did you put green twigs in the tandoor fire? Clouds of smoke everywhere, can’t you see? Use your brains for once, can’t you?”
‘Before I could retort, he came and stood near his mother and shouted, “Open your ears wide, Bebe, and listen! If you quarrel with Rasooli again, you will be left alone and lonely in this house, understand?”
‘Khala was stunned. Cried, “Kyon re kyon?”
‘“Bebe, it’s like this: from today I have given charge of home and hearth to Rasooli. Eat whatever your bahooti cooks, and rest. If you can’t quit the habit of working, then mill grain, spin cotton, wash clothes, read namaz, observe fasts. Bebe, your writ-order has had its day. Now learn to be content.”
‘Bharjaaee Beguma, my mother-in-law, she cried the whole night, sobbing on her cot. Early morning she got up and said to me, “Dhiye, even great reigns didn’t last forever, what is my little fiefdom? Cook, eat, and be happy. Whatever you ask of me, I am at your service. But yes, tell me this much, karmavaliye, which magician did you consult?” Beguma bharjaaee, what could I say – that the magic was my own mouth and the one who wrote it, your own Jatt son?’
After Rasooli left, Beguma relaxed and started making clay toys. She made a stag, then a lion. She had just shaped the snout of a camel when Sajad Bibi returned with the red clay. ‘Hain ri, daughter of the wrong blood, neither tandoor nor fire? Why, you lazy shirker, why such crooked ways? Get up and heat the tandoor!’
Rasooli’s spirit came and sat on Beguma’s head. ‘Open your ears wide and listen, Phoophi! Your days of dominion are over. I am not going to clay-wash today.’
Sajad Bibi glared. ‘Why, have jinns and ghosts possessed you or what?’
‘Na, Phoophi. No jinn-ghost, nor cursed water, or evil shadow. But your nagging and ordering about is at an end! It was good while it lasted, but no more.’
‘Shut up and rein in your tongue! Barking like a bitch!’
‘Madam, my aunt, I did not speak up till now, but now I will! I am no one’s slave. I work hard. I feed the cattle. Make dung-pats. Take the buffalo to the water …’
‘Enough ri, stop singing your own praises. As if you’re not a Jatt’s dau
ghter but some Mughal princess! Take off your salwar and start clay-coating.’
‘Listen, Phoophi, I am free now. I won’t listen to your taunts and tyrannies any longer.’
Sajad Bibi was baffled. ‘Phitte moonh ri, shame on your tongue! Such venom! You are my brother’s daughter. I showered such love and affection on you. And this is how you repay me?’
Beguma stood up, her black kurta tightening across her full bosom like night on youth. ‘Listening to you vent your spleen day after day, my belly’s become a ball of torment. If you won’t budge, well then I too am not my father’s daughter if I don’t separate my kitchen. Don’t you also say, “What hair will a bald woman wash and dry?” A poor home can’t afford to divide.’
Sajad Bibi was shell-shocked. She silently heated the tandoor, and shaping the dough into balls, thought to herself, Hai-hai, the vagaries of time! She whose man is the rising sun rules the roost! My man is on the decline. What is left now? Just a bad aftertaste. Take heart, ri Sajadi! Be grateful to Rabb. You have a house to live in, clothes to wear and food to eat. Raised my brother-in-law like a son, but Maula, your whims! Till yesterday, I held his hand. Today she sits on his shoulder. Won’t rest until she extracts something from her man. Come now, Sajadi, don’t take it so to heart. The good days you saw were good too!
‘Let the Lord of Chains slay the Devil
Let the Lord of Fairies bind the sylph
Let the inky blue peacock bind the ink-cold sprite
Bind the waters of the Rewa, bind the Jamuna, bind Saraswati
Bind the Krishna, Narmada, Gomti
Bind Narsingh the lion man
Let Jain Khan Sadhu bind Dariya Singh.’
As thunder and lightning raged all around him, Heera Sansi of the thieves stood casting spells to trap all the nocturnal jinns and ghosts in his chains. Then bowing in memory of his ancestor Shans Mull, he briskly descended the terrace steps and entered the kitchen. Jeeva, her head covered with a red odhni, served him dinner. Hot, ghee-soaked rotis, a sweet-sour mango preserve, and a bowl of curds. As he ate the last mouthful, his eyes rested on Jeeva’s odhni aflame in the lamplight. Her eyes glowed like rubies. Grazing his coarse moustache along her forehead and nose, he pressed his lips to the silver pendant on her breasts. ‘Jai Lochhibb Ma, Jai Haji Hayat!’
Jeeva’s gaze skimmed over him … at his virile body naked except for a loincloth, and returned to linger on his prime gift of God.
Heera laughed, delighted. Thwacked Jeeva’s ass playfully and said, ‘Ari, my fortune lies right here, and back here I’ll be before dawn.’
‘And this is where you will prove yourself … in here … and here …’ Jeeva was on fire.
Heera Sansi skipped over the threshold in a trice and bolted the door from outside, as Jeeva stood inside, chanting to vanquish all ghosts and evil spirits.
‘Bind the river, bind the hail
Bind the river waves
Bind them with a spell
Strong as a tiger
Bind the sting of a scorpion
Bind the poison bite.’
Under cover of the whiplashes of lightning and heavy rain, Heera Sansi slipped out of the village, as easily as a bird flying from one tree to another. He crossed the fields and entered the river. Pouring clouds above, the bed of Chenab beneath. Swimming against the current, his arms and legs smoothly cut through the waves.
Touching the shore, his eyes scanned the land – Begowal lay ahead. It was pitch dark. Black as if kohl sheets of sky had bent to join the plinth of the earth. On its way from Kulluwal was a camel loaded with goods! His palms grew itchy. Why did the lazy Khalifa have to put this wind-cheating dachi onto this path? Who wouldn’t rob it? He used the flashes of lightning to fix the dachi in his mind’s eye. He moved towards the familiar beri tree among the reeds. Then he spotted the high stack of reeds by the witches’ well and stopped. Pulled in a deep breath: the scent of man! Cocked his ears. A slight rustle in the wet stack. Heera Sansi stepped forward and smoothly caught the ankle of flesh and bone, like it was a lizard or a chameleon.
‘Why motherfucker, who’re you lying in wait for?’
‘Have mercy, I am Rala Khoji of the seekers!’
Heera Sansi yanked his ankle and drew him out. ‘Oye, the river’s in the front, and you’re fishing in piss? Try to run, and I’ll throw you into the whirlpool piece by piece.’
‘I want to live, Heera Ustaad! I am your slave bound hand and foot!’
‘O Raleya, so tell me where’s your motherfucking police parked tonight, in which village?’
‘As per Dadu Khoji’s information, they are in Kotli Loharan.’
‘Oye, the truth and only the truth! If you lie …’
‘Swear by Allah! The police has information that you are headed towards Bhagowal.’
Heera grabbed his neck. ‘Puttara, I’ll wring your neck if any sinning policeman shows me his mug!’
‘Of course, badshaho!’
Heera had just snaked his arm around him when a flash of lightning lit up Rala Khoji’s uniform. Sajawal Khan by face; Rala Khoji by name; and head of the police task force by profession! Like a python, Heera Sansi tightened his arm around his neck. Before Rala Khoji knew what was happening, his feet lost their bearing and his body crampled like a sack.
‘There, Sajawal Khanji, we have done our hard work, earned our living. Now you enjoy the silences of the river.’
Moving away from the quay, Heera Sansi reached the Sharinhwala well, and his ears became his eyes. A dog barked in the distance. Heera suddenly shrank back and hid behind the quay. He had barely counted up to twenty when the riderless camel passed by. Might it be Sajawal Khan’s own camel? He ran up and caught the dachi laden with costly goods. Grabbing the reins, he turned the camel townwards. On reaching an empty threshing yard, Heera shook the bell around the camel’s neck. There was the sound of a bolt unlatching and someone thrust his neck out and called out lustily, ‘Who’s the brave abroad in this stormy weather?’
‘Aliya, it is Ustaad Shans Mull’s servant!’
Aliya came out, head wrapped in a khes. He recognized Heera Sansi of the kohled eyes, responded with a shocked ‘Halaa!’ and ran towards his raft.
When the weight of the loot exceeded the raft’s capacity, Sansi’s sixth sense grew sharp. He jumped off the camel and threatened coldly, ‘What’s the hitch, Aliya Ustaad? Rider and dachi will both cross the river. You won’t go in loss. By His grace, there’s many armloads of the stuff!’
Smelling danger, Aliya swallowed the spit in his throat and said, ‘You rule the dark. Whatever you say will be done.’
As Aliya guided the dachi on to the raft, it tilted. Aliya lifted a sackful of goods and put it on the other side of the raft to adjust the weight. Heera Sansi came and sat before him. ‘Now it is all up to the lord of life, Khwaja Khijr. Take His name and guide the raft across the whirlpools. The River Pir will look after everything!’
When they reached midstream, Aliya spoke up, ‘In such enterprises, only the One above facilitates. First quarter of the night, there was hard rain. Now it’s just a drizzle. Sansi Ustaad, when we touch shore, this too will stop.’
Heera Sansi silently gauged not the river but the boatman. Then asked, ‘Aliya, how shall I pay you – in cash or in kind?’
‘What will I do with kind, Ustaad?’
‘Fine. Whatever you want will be sent to you.’
‘Why not? Khairon se, you have always upheld a tradition of honorable clean dealing in your matters.’
The boat touched the shore. The dachi was eased off. The camel was reloaded, and Heera mounted it with a spring, laughing, ‘Now let the Khojis seek and search to eternity!’
Aliya caught the veiled threat in Sansi’s voice. ‘Sansi Ustaad, I saw neither the dachi nor the one who rode it.’ He re-wrapped his khes around himself, turned his raft around, and watching Heera Sansi disappear into the dark, muttered, ‘These misdeeds are a gamble this way or that!’
Whether Sarvan Shah of Ku
lluwal lost his goods in a housebreak or a dacoity on that night of the thunder-showers, only the police or the Khojis know.
Heera Sansi returned home the same way he had left. He opened the bolt from outside, and entering the courtyard, bolted it from within. Sniffing the house in the dark, he entered the room and crushed Jeeva to him.
‘Let go, let me go, you mountain!’
Heera grabbed her breasts and said, ‘The river’s in spate!’
Jeeva smilingly crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Get off me, you robber!’
Heera reached below. ‘But you’re just sand here!’
‘Durre! Get away …!’ Jeeva spoke as if shooing a dog.
‘This swollen river belongs to me! My little budhni, open up, open sesame …’
Jeeva relaxed, resting her head on his arms. ‘O master, there’s a deep pit below.’
Heera teased, ‘Come on, repay your debt!’
Jeeva chuckled. ‘In cash or kind?’
‘Whatever you like.’
Diving into the river of passion, when Heera stopped, Jeeva asked, ‘Kyon re, mission fulfilled?’
‘Yes, the bird of time flew and dove into deep midwaters.’
‘Relax. All’s well. Trouble’s past.’
There was a noise outside. Suddenly alert, Jeeva pushed Heera aside, muttering, ‘Get off me, you sinner!’ And they both lay quietly, holding their breaths as if half dead.
Someone leaped over the roof and came down; peeped into the room through the open door and vanished. Heera and Jeeva lay motionless on the cot. When the sun’s first rays shone, Heera got up and came out into the courtyard. When he saw the chain bolt hanging open, he understood who had come. Sansi Jaduman had left a warning: The police are sniffing around – beware! Heera laughed to himself. He had dispensed with all the evidence – clothes sent across to Tawi; jewellery to the Gujrat gold market; utensils and vessels to Sandalbar. The camel tethered at the Baddis. That left Sajawal Khan, and he was in deep sleep.
Heera murmured something in Jeeva’s ear, and she reacted by lifting the empty frame of a cot and banging it down hard. Then, yelling loud enough for the neighbours to hear, she said, ‘Arey, you useless vessel without a bottom! I sleep on the bare ground in these rains and thunder showers. Weave a cot for me, at least, you lazy bugger!’
Zindaginama Page 14