‘Waah-waah!’ Someone took off his turban in joy and threw it towards the acrobat. Another threw his jhagga. A third ran to get grain from his home.
Then swirling her heavy, rippling lehenga, Fumbi came up to dance the leharka. Red and black choli-blouse. Blue odhni. Balancing on the rope stretched between the poles, she jutted out her hip and bent forward for balance. Then stretched out her right arm in front, she bent her left arm over her chest and took it towards her right. Moving her neck this way and that, balancing nimbly on the rope, she took another step.
‘Qurban jaein! Balihari jaein!’ The young men laughed and exchanged looks, arms flung around each other’s shoulders.
Shaunka came up and hugged Ditta from behind, and laughingly said, ‘She’s honey. Pure honey.’
Fumbi fluttered her lashes, then fashioning a pot with her hands, teased, ‘Want some?’
The older boys waved their arms and swayed to the beats of the drum. Dokri threatened, ‘Arey children, this is not the dance-mujra of Besva. These are the acrobatics of Nat-Kanjars.’
‘Ari dung-roasting liar, don’t tell us. Don’t teach us. Don’t preach to us.’
Someone thwacked Haulu on the head. ‘Come away now! Don’t you know Natnis can possess your soul!’
Every sultan of Turkey is a khalifa, and a khalifa is one who wields the sword.
First, Tarey Shah abducted the sister of the Telis of Chakk Manhasa. Then, he got them sentenced for conspiracy to murder.
When the judgement was read out, the flag of Shah prestige soared high. Tarey Shah accorded full respect to his brothers that day. When he touched their feet in pairipauna before the crowded court, their eyes grew moist. A million grudges and differences there might be between us, but cousins are like arms and limbs to each other. Congratulations began to pour in for the Shahs.
‘Shahji, you spared no effort in tightening the nuts and bolts of this case.’
‘True, no lack of money, and no dearth of intelligence or wisdom. The case couldn’t have been but decided in your favour.’
‘Court cases and royal affairs can’t be won by mere popped corn.’
‘Well said, badshaho, after all he’s your own blood. There’s no difference between Sahib Singh’s sons and grandsons and Chadhat Singh’s offspring. The family tree’s the same – only the branches are different.’
‘And then badshaho, the clan of Shahs – high in name and respect – and those others mere Telis, oil-pressers.’
The older Shah grew alert on hearing this. He took his brother aside and said, ‘Kashiram, Mahipat is standing there alone. The ritual of court-kachehri aside, he is a father. He must be deeply aggrieved by the judgement. Even the strongest cannot bear such a shock.’
Kashi Shah wasn’t convinced. ‘It will be like fingering a wound. Bhraji, go and console him if you wish. I will go and settle the deal with Ahalmad Munshi.’
Shahji saw Barkati’s father from a distance. Thin, frail Mahipat was walking away, beaten and forlorn, not meeting anyone’s gaze, wiping his eyes with the loose end of his turban as he walked.
When Shahji went up to him and put a hand on his shoulder in sympathy, Mahipat Teli broke down. ‘Hai O Rabba, the rich always crush the poor! Worse, my own offspring has brought this ruin upon me! The wretched girl ran off, took my honour with her. When my sons tried to save the family from shame, they were sentenced! Just ruin upon ruin for a poor man.’
Mahipat fixed Shahji with hurt, helpless eyes that slowly turned bloodshot. ‘How can you compare the high name and honour of the Shahs with a daughter of poor Telis?’
Then Mahipat took his turban into his hands and said, ‘I have lost my name and my pride, Shahji. Remember what this hapless Teli says. If you don’t accept my daughter into your home with love and respect now, a father’s curse will haunt this high clan of yours, Shahji. Remember this! Every breath of mine shall be a curse on you! A poor man’s curse has dire consequences, Shahji.’
Watching them standing together, a few people gathered around.
Shahji displayed wisdom and tact. ‘Mahipat, whatever had to happen in the courts has happened. Now listen to me carefully. Your daughter is now in our care and shelter. She will live with us like other daughters and daughters-in-law. If your sons hadn’t made the first move, things would not have come to this. Now our best efforts will be to ensure that you are shown all due respect.’
Guruditt Singh came up to them. ‘And why not, family traditions of goodness and decency do not remain hidden for long. What is spoken from the lips also carries weight.’
Shahji mellowed further at this praise: ‘Mahipat, from now on, you are our own relation, our sambandhi.’
Mahipat burst into tears. Taking Shahji’s hands in his, he said in a broken voice: ‘First the daughter besmirched her father’s name. Then Tarey Shah ground us into dirt. Shahji, my family is utterly ruined.’
Shahji consoled him. ‘Have courage, Mahipat. If you ever happen to come across the river, do come and visit your daughter.’
Just then Tarey Shah walked out from the court with his goons and ruffians. Seeing Shahji standing with Mahipat, a venomous smile spread on his lips. ‘Khairon se, who are you talking to?’
Khushiya, Tarey Shah’s court buddy, promptly sang a stinger making fun of Teli Mahipat’s name, which left Mahipat shaking with helpless rage. Tarey Shah’s witnesses in the case, Shera and Ata Mohammad, laughed and said, ‘Badshaho, we have vanquished the enemy! Now let us celebrate this auspicious day!’
As Tarey Shah strode out with his cohorts towards the tandoor of the Machhis, the Shah brothers left the court premises with measured gait. They got a wicker basket of boondi and badana sweets packed from Ditta Jhelumi’s shop, mounted their horses and headed towards the village.
As they crossed the town square, Kashi Shah said to his older brother: ‘Bhraji, the laws and legalese of the court are nothing but a thicket of lies. The prosecution says one thing, the witnesses another. The incident is one thing, the testimonials another. One commits the crime, and another gets punished for it! There is only one thing that is certain and constant in court: the court and its chair.’
Shahji looked sharply at his younger brother and said, ‘Kashiram, I don’t agree with you. There is justice in British courts. The lawyers are learned. The law is recorded in books. Court-kachehris are home to justice, not to some lathi-wielding goons and thugs who can say what they please or take decisions whimsically.’
‘So according to you, cases are decided without any external considerations whatsoever?’
‘Without doubt, Kashiram! Keeping in mind today’s judgement, can one say that the magistrate did not give the right judgement?’
Kashiram laughed. ‘The credit for today’s decision goes to your experience and foresight, and to Tarey Shah’s clever chess moves. The eyewitnesses we presented completely changed the features of the case.’ Kashi Shah gave his brother a long, searching look. ‘Again and again, I am reminded of poor Mahipat’s helplessness and shame. Our brother has hurt his family pride, abducted his daughter, got his sons sentenced to jail, and himself won the case and returned home free as a bird.’
‘You are forgetting one important fact, Kashiram: stabbing someone with intent to kill is a bigger crime than leading a widow astray with her consent.’
Kashiram softened. ‘It is certainly a bigger crime in the eyes of the law, and the criminal must be duly punished for it.’
Shahji understood what was bothering his brother. He thought for a while, then said in the manner of summing up, ‘All things considered, your thinking is not wrong. The way a lover has no cure except for a glimpse of his beloved, the same way one can’t do without lies and cruelty in court. Arguments and counter-arguments in court are like confronting one another openly, face to face, while truth looks on in silence from behind the curtain like a woman in purdah, waiting to be revealed.’
Kashi Shah applauded, ‘Waah, Bhraji, that is just what I wanted to say, but you have mint
ed it anew, and to such effect!’
Warm with praise from younger brother, Shahji graciously changed the topic. ‘Mahtab Singh, son of Shamsher Singh, met me at court today. It seems Tarey Shah has threatened that he will set his ripe crops on fire.’
‘How long can one sustain these excesses and indulgences? Isn’t it said that ill-gotten wealth is bad, and the ill-chosen path is slow?’
Lakkhmi Brahmani was grinding garlic and onion into paste on a stone, and singing to herself.
‘I knew I had to fly a great distance
So I chose him as my mate
If now I learn he is not up to the challenge
I will never gift him my body again.’
Shahni got gooseflesh just listening to her. Such anguish in her voice! Shahni went and put a hand on Lakkhmi’s shoulder. ‘Hain ri, foolish Lakkhmiye, those dark clouds still hover over your heart!’
Lakkhmi wiped her eyes and buried her head in her knees. ‘What do I do, Shahni? I walked off the dunes and into the well! I have no control over this ill-behaved heart.’
‘Kyon ri, did you meet him again?’
Her palm spread flat on the stone, Lakkhmi didn’t say yes or no. ‘What should this passionate one do, Shahni? That son of Syed, God knows what magic he possesses that he has this hold over me. A thousand times I restrain myself, but he doesn’t let go of this heart and body. Just doesn’t let go.’ Tears rolled down her eyes.
Shahni sat down near her and said in a low voice, ‘Hain ri, you daughter of Brahmins, how ever did you meet him? Did you not consider your religion even once?’
‘The karma of this luckless one, Shahni! Last year I had gone to my grandparents at Naushehra. That was it, the Syedzada gave me such a look, it pierced my heart and being.’
Hearing Chachi’s footsteps, Shahni said aloud, ‘I say, Lakkhmi, finish your work fast and come down. We have to air the stores in the basement.’
Chachi Mehri came closer, cast a sharp look at Lakkhmi and scolded, ‘This lovesick one doesn’t stop singing her woes. Have patience. It’s not necessary that the fire of your affair should burn bright day and night!’
Lakkhmi ground the coriander and cumin in silence. Then setting the grinding stone aside, she washed her hands, wiped them and asked Shahni, ‘Shall I go open the doors and windows below?’
‘Yes, I will come with you.’
They went down to the stores, and the fresh scent of wheat and millet got to Lakkhmi so that the tears spilled out afresh. Shahni let her be for a time, then lovingly said, ‘Phitte moonh ri, got rid of your trouble just yesterday. And the sin of that foul deed, too, is upon our heads only. Why did you make us go to such lengths? You could have gone and camped in the Syeds’ backyard, given birth to the bastard!’
‘Shame, fear of disgrace, fear of what people might say, what else? Rabb is my witness, Shahni, he never forced himself on me, nor forced me to do anything. If you want the truth, he didn’t back out from his promise either. When I wept and told him everything, he said, “You have my word, Lakkhmiye. Agree to what I say, and I will bring you home from the front door.’’’
‘Shame on you, ri! You, a daughter of Brahmins, lost your heart, that too to a caste-less Mleccha. And you go calling him a son of Syeds! A weaver one year; a Sheikh the second, and if he makes a profit, a Syed. Leave him, pluck him out from your heart! He is beyond your caste, beyond your faith; he is nothing to you.’
Lakkhmi stretched a hand and lifted the heavy sack of millet as if it was just a five-kilo packet. She put it against the wall and fell at Shahni’s feet. ‘What do I do? Tell this luckless, witless one what to do. My woes have no face to show this world. How do I tell them that I won’t live without him?’
‘Come to your senses! Have you gone mad? Ari, know this for certain: no Brahmin woman ever had a namazi Syed for a husband, nor will she ever be permitted to have one.’
Lakkhmi began to pull at her hair and beat her head. ‘I know, I know. I tell my heart a million times, but it doesn’t listen. Shahni, that life got cut from my body, a sin was committed in vain, and here I still burn the same. I won’t survive this upheaval, Shahni, I will die!’
‘Hai-hai, Kalyug has indeed arrived! You made love to one of another religion, and now you have lost your senses. Just think, Lakkhmi. What will you cook and what will you eat in his kitchen? Ari, you are Brahmin by birth, and you let a Mlechha taste you!’
Lakkhmi’s pale, thin face flushed. Her breasts trembled beneath her kurta. ‘Forgiveness, Shahni! My cruel stars, what else! Even when I think of him, floods threaten to overtake this low soil. I will die, I will die without him!’
‘Enough is enough, you dare repeat this again! Throw out that irreligious Yavan from your heart. Throw out his memories and bury his effigy in the grave.’
Lakkhmi covered her ears. ‘May the gods and goddesses forgive my sin. As heavens are my witness, he and he alone is my mate in body and soul!’
Shahni’s voice abruptly grew cold. ‘Ari, you pure daughter of the Brahmins, you are playing a deadly game. You will die. Your brothers will cut you into pieces. You won’t survive …’
Lakkhmi stood staring at Shahni with the glazed eyes of a cornered animal.
Shahni shook her by the shoulders. ‘Listen to me carefully. You conceived, Chachi helped you out – only for the sake of your caste-clan that is descended from Baba Bhrigunath himself, lord of the high noon. Now whether you cast your religion aside, become a Bhattani, Sheikhni or a Kanjari, whether you bow or salaam, we don’t care!’
As Lakkhmi stared back at her defiantly, Shahni left and bolted the door from outside.
That night, Lakkhmi lay down on sacks of grain in the Shahs’ storeroom. Upstairs, there were consultations till late in Shahji’s baithak. Past midnight, when Lakkhmi’s brother Parasram returned from Kotli Loharan, a servant brought him straight to the Shahs’ haveli.
Shahni rubbed her palms in regret. ‘This dharm-pitti has lost her sense and balance. Chachi, her brothers will not let her live.’
‘Her fate, child, what else! These upheavals of life and body, whenever they come, bring bad news. Haven’t you heard, love and looking back pierce your heart again and again.’
‘A million shames on this girl! The Syed son is only a man after all. If the heart says here, then here. If the heart says there, then there.’
‘This is not the first spillover in her family. Her cursed aunt, her mother’s own sister, left her home and family. If this hunger enters a house once, these thirsts and desires are unquenched generation after generation. Only the river can quench this “auspicious-faced” one now.’
Chachi Mehri was deep in thought. Who knows how far and wide her thoughts travelled. She opened her eyes after a little doze and said, ‘Bachchi, if one sees it this way, then the Sheikhs of Naushehra are not the true Syeds of Persia. They must have converted to Islam only a hundred–two hundred years ago. Before that, they must have been Brahmins only, this way or that!’
Shahni was shell-shocked. ‘Chachi, are you talking in your sleep? Once lost, religion is lost forever. Will the Syeds have the Hindu Prajapati gotra stuck to their names even after one or two hundred years? This is sheer blasphemy! Chachi, just think …’
‘What do I think, my child! Thinking is what made this old woman lose her good sense. I only got that packet from that bitch Jamalo so that this Brahmin woman could retain her good name. You tell me, who committed the sin? I only, na? I feel guilty. I am the murderess. This damned one keeps fanning her thirst and desire, and I have to shoulder the blame and the guilt!’
‘Chachi, Lakkhmi is left to her fates now. What we had to do, we did. It has reached the men’s ears now. They will do what they think fit.’
Chachi took up a song as she lay on the cot:
‘Time and years gone by do not return
Fate and Deeds committed are not undone
Like receding waves in the sea, like a shooting arrow
Joys and pleasures once enjoyed never
return
Words once spoken cannot be recalled
Souls that leave the body do not return.’
‘Curses on the ships of Hong Kong, may they drown! They brought the plague-carrying rats to Hindostan. They have spread the epidemic everywhere!’
‘Why blame Hong Kong? And why would rats fear the law of the land?’
‘That’s right, badshaho! What power does British law have on animals boarding the grain carrying ships?’
‘It’s not like the rats needed permission to board.’
‘It is rumoured that they have sent Manchurian rats instead of the Hong Kong rats of the last plague this time.’
‘Silly talk! As if the Manchurian rats had to cross high mountains to get here.’
‘This epidemic has hit us three–four times. Entire families have been wiped out.’
Fateh Aliji removed the hukkah from his mouth. ‘Speak auspiciously. Don’t even mention this bearer of deaths and coffins. Stores and godowns should be at a distance from one’s living quarters. The rest is God’s grace.’
‘News has come from Adalatgarh that vaccinations have begun in the cities. The first round was carried out in Bombay.’
Mauladadji said, ‘During the last plague, Sarkar had the people of Malakwal vaccinated, and ji, all of them proceeded to heaven within an hour or two.’
‘The sarkar calls its doctors from abroad. They don’t care who lives, who dies. These fair-skinned goras drink sweet water and don’t consider the natives to be human.’
‘Khalsa Guruditt Singh, you always speak against the Sarkar. How is it the Sarkar’s fault if the gods are angry? Famines, epidemics are hardly man’s doings, after all.’
‘True. There was a terrible famine in the times of Shahjahan. Man ate man!’
Guruditt Singh was adamant. ‘Have you ever heard that a British administrator died of plague?’
Laughter broke out. ‘Who knows if the administrator’s messiah-maula himself had decreed that if a man dies, let him be a native only? There must be some deep machinations at play here as well. See it this way, ji, our inquilabi sons have risen, they have taken a vow to do or die. Badshaho, they are the country’s choicest ears of grain, our rising crops.’
Zindaginama Page 29