Perhaps it’s only in retrospect that you wonder how life could have gone so wrong, but when it’s happening, you don’t really realize what’s wrong. Every blow to Amita’s crumbling relationship Indu felt in her own self, forcing her to re-examine her own life.
The Queen of Practicality, her sister used to call her, and Indu was quite proud of the title. She felt weak each time she caught herself thinking of Rana, of letting her head go up in the clouds like that, no better than the silly girls who used to giggle while boys would line up outside their college. But life gave her no answers.
She couldn’t help thinking of her sister and rued not having a solution, not being able to do anything about it, and wished someone would show her the way. She remembered Govind bhai’s thunderous face when he had come in yesterday, demanding to know who Fawad was, and Indu, scared for a moment, had looked at her sister in panic. She must have mentioned his name when they went to his birthday party. Indu had tried to pacify him by asking him what the problem was, and Govind bhai had just stopped himself from lashing out at her. He had asked Indu again who the boy was, and she, hesitant at first, had said loudly and clearly that he was her friend.
‘Look what he writes!’ Govind bhai had said in contempt, shoving a magazine at her, in which there was a whole feature titled ‘The Numbered Days of Congress’, with subheadings like ‘Five People Taking it to its Downfall’. Indu saw that one of them was Shashi uncle, charged with promoting corruption and hooliganism in the party. ‘What kind of company is this RSS maniac for a young girl?’ he had said to her. She had coldly told him she could watch out for her own company very well.
The next day, on the way in the car, she thought back to Rana’s expression when she had said to him ‘until I met you’. She had been unable to judge what he thought of it. She couldn’t decide whether what she had seen in his eyes was warmth or surprise and pity.
They didn’t speak for the first hour in each other’s company at the library, until he finally came and stood in front of her with a meaningful look. She walked outside into the corridor, where he followed her. She faced him, reminded of the last time and what she had said. He hadn’t said anything about it to her yet and the hurt of it rushed to her cheeks.
‘What is the meaning of that?’ she asked him quietly. ‘What is the meaning of naming, incriminating, my—’
She needed a moment to articulate, in which time he looked confused: ‘—my sister’s husband’s uncle like that in your magazine!’
His face screwed up in confusion, trying to understand who she was talking about, before realization finally dawned upon him. ‘Pardon me that we don’t check your extended family tree before writing a story.’
‘Don’t joke about it! Did you know?’
‘That he was writing it? Yes, of course!’
‘So why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I didn’t even remember that he was, well, related to you, and even if I had, I still wouldn’t—this is different. What would you do? Erase his past?’
‘There is no proof he did anything.’
‘Don’t be a fool. It’s probably his people who got into a scuffle with Fawad the other day,’ Rana said, staring coldly at her till she looked away. She walked back inside, deciding to ask her sister about it later in the afternoon when she arrived. He avoided speaking to her after that and they each went about their work. Indu looked at Esha sitting next to Sangeeta, hoping that they were making progress. When it was time for lunch, Esha got up to make tea for those who would have it, later going around to serve it, and Indu noticed that most women now treated Esha even more dismissively, evidently annoyed at her intention to improve herself. Indu wondered if she should have her stop doing the work, but knew that it was also the reason she was allowed to come to the library—she earned money, which was why her mother was still okay with her not being married yet.
She and Rana didn’t talk much the rest of the day, and she tried to guess what he was thinking, but his expression was inscrutable. She wondered if she should write him a letter, but felt she had already said too much. She considered the possibility that he was using Fawad’s situation as an excuse not to address the conversation they had had before.
In the evening, Indu and Amita sat at the back as Natty drove, and Indu asked him to stop at an old park nearby. Now that the sun had almost set, it wasn’t that hot anymore. They walked around for some time, talking. When there was a lag in the conversation, Indu looked at Amita and couldn’t help asking, ‘Are you unhappy?’
Amita didn’t reply, but Indu saw the tears in her eyes and felt helpless against them. ‘I don’t know,’ Amita finally said. ‘I don’t know how I am. All I know is that there isn’t much I can do to change the situation. I always thought life would begin once I got married, had my own family, people to be responsible for. Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing left, that the best has gone by, and it wasn’t even that good.’
Indu held her sister’s wrist, putting her shoulder against Amita’s as they went on walking. ‘I don’t think that I felt in love with him for even a moment,’ she said, looking at Indu now. ‘In the beginning, it was exciting because there was attention, the promise of something new . . . but after a while, I realized that I just didn’t admire him as a person.’
‘Is there nothing else you can do?’ Indu asked her.
Amita shook her head before answering, ‘I just don’t have it in me to be able to break it off. These exams, this study time felt like an escape, but I have to go back to him now. I know it’s not very strong of me, but it’s hard to go against the tide of the world. Nobody would approve of it, and there is no “problem” as it is. In fact, people might go so far as to say that Govind should be the one to break it off, you know . . .’
‘But you can,’ Indu said fiercely. ‘If you choose to do it, I swear I will support you till my last breath.’
Amita squeezed her hand tightly. ‘Thank you, but I am pretty sure I can’t do it. I can tell you this much, though: if you are not convinced about Rajat, don’t be afraid to take the decision. It’s not too late.’
Indu walked on, looking ahead, then looked away. ‘Rajat is not Govind bhai. He’s different.’
Her sister patted her on the back. ‘That sounds like a plea. I hope he is different, but you have to consider if you can fit your life around his. If something goes wrong, I know you won’t take it quietly. I know you will raise hell. But it’s better to avoid it altogether . . .’
‘It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter if there is Rana,’ Amita continued. ‘Think about yourself. If you can live the life Rajat desires, well and good. If not, there will be better things in the future. I know you feel it’s too late for that. It will be hard, but better now than later.’
Indu walked on troubled by these thoughts, looking unseeingly at an old man ambling along the bushes.
* * *
When they met Fawad next, Indu saw that his gash had almost healed and his cast was off. She saw him a dart a quick look at Rana, who nodded discreetly. Fawad pursed his lips in acknowledgement and pulled out two chairs politely, asking Indu and Amita to sit down.
Fawad explained to them that he didn’t really have any intention to hurt anyone. To Indu’s surprise, Amita seemed to understand him completely, nodding the whole while, and even seemed sympathetic. That led Indu to think that maybe she knew some things about Shashi uncle that she didn’t.
Amita said, ‘Fawad, I would say that you love this country a lot more than those who claim to serve it. But I would ask you to take care of yourself. I don’t know why, but I feel something major is brewing, and this piece has really angered them. Something is not right.’
‘But what—how do you mean?’
‘I am not sure, but there are many meetings being held about what to do, because it is certain that she will not take it lying down.’
‘So she won’t step down?’
‘She doesn’t want to.’
‘I appreciate
your concern,’ Fawad said, looking respectfully at Amita, ‘but I have to write what I see. We have a series of, one could say, explosive pieces coming out, and it might be taken up by the BBC. I—I won’t stop it.’
Neither of them knew what to say to that. Fawad added that he was grateful she had thought of him and was sorry if she had felt offended. Rana smiled at them from the other side of the room. He had set up his transistor, and “Yeh Shaam Mastani” had begun playing on it softly. Indu squealed excitedly when she heard the opening strain.
‘Oh God, no, please,’ Amita said, putting her head in her hands. ‘I’ve heard this one too many times now. She and Natty have gone crazy. They sing it all the time.’
Rana threw his head back and laughed, increasing the volume as Indu began singing.
Amita walked over to Rana and said, ‘Do you know, she even mumbles Rajesh Khanna dialogues in her sleep?’
‘No,’ Rana said, laughing even harder. ‘Tell me that isn’t true.’
‘It’s quite true. A few days ago, I was sleeping next to her and she woke up in the middle of the night, said something like “zindagi badi honi chahiye, lambi nahi”, and went back to sleep.’
Rana laughed so hard that he had to sit.
‘That’s not true!’ Indu yelled in the interlude of the song. ‘She’s completely making it up!’
‘I’m sure she dreams of him all the time,’ he said. ‘Oh babumoshai, I love you so much, babumoshai. Do you know how much she cried when she watched Anand?’
‘I cried at just the last bit!’ Indu answered indignantly.
‘Yeah, she cried only for the last two hours.’
Indu threw a cushion from the sofa at them, which would have hit the transistor if Rana had not caught it in time. He glared at her as she muttered an ‘oops’.
* * *
Indu did not get a chance to speak to Rana alone for a week as his exams had begun. The weather turned hotter, but the streets became livelier. Promises from political parties hung in the air, thick and strong, but the people wondered what would actually come of them.
In such an atmosphere, Indu always wondered how she would live in another country. She had no intention of leaving. She had a reputation here, people knew her, and she had achieved something for herself. If things went on as they were going now, she could really make a name for herself, a name that was unattached to any man’s.
Yet, she did not know how to navigate such a future for herself and constantly put off dealing with the thought. She wondered if she would be attracted to Rajat if she got to know him better. She sometimes wondered what his life was like, and if he would appreciate what she was doing.
A few days ago, Esha had passed her school exams with a better-than-ever grade. They had enrolled her in a correspondence course that would allow her to graduate. All Indu had to do was imagine how her future might be changed to remain convinced that this must go on. She was sure Esha’s future would look very different if she continued to study like this.
Sangeeta, however, brought up several problems. She told Indu that it was not as if Esha could not study—she simply did not want to. This was because the people of her community had begun isolating them, especially since they had refused to marry Esha to another boy in the community. Esha’s stepfather had lost his temper and kicked Sunita and Esha out of the house, so they were renting another room. Nobody in their community supported them, because they didn’t understand the reason for allowing Esha this freedom. Indu told Esha and Sunita that the only way out of this was for the young girl to study hard and earn money, which would bring them the respect they weren’t getting now.
The other members of the library were proving difficult too. They were beginning to mutter that their families didn’t send them here to mix with this kind of crowd. When Indu insisted that they must rise above such pettiness, Mrs Leela and Bharti aunty told her unapologetically, ‘Listen, Indu dear, though it may be 1975, it’s still naïve to think that we can sit and study with our servants. Today there is one, tomorrow there will be many more. We’ll say it to you now: you need to have some kind of entry and admission standards for the library. You can’t let just anyone come in.’ Indu ignored what they said, but it seemed to be an increasingly popular opinion.
Rana walked in one afternoon as June entered its last week, announcing to everybody that he had given his last exam and that he might be called to the bar. Everyone clapped for him, Indu the loudest of all.
She was sitting at the desk when he came up to her. ‘I fell asleep for a few minutes before you came in,’ she told him.
‘Were you talking to yourself again?’ He looked at her and she narrowed her eyes at him.
He held up a jasmine. She got up, taking it cautiously, making sure not to bend any of its petals, and smelt it. ‘Thanks,’ she told him quietly, and he smiled at her, looking down as she bowed her head to smell it again.
‘Do you want to go out with me this evening?’ he asked her. ‘We can leave a bit early.’
She knew he wanted to talk, and felt nervous. She thought about pretending that it was long over for her, but by the skittish way she said yes, she doubted whether he would believe it. He nodded and went back to look at what Esha was doing.
When the evening rolled around, he suggested they take a walk through a mela nearby and then sit in the park. It had gotten very hot by now, so Indu was grateful for the light breeze that kicked up in the evening, even though it meant that the dust from the parched mela ground often blew into their faces. At the far edge of the ground, there was a giant wheel, which would be lit up after dark, and a few more rides around it. Hawkers and stalls surrounded these, selling knick-knacks. They sat by a bench where it was slightly quieter, having chana from a paper cone.
‘I’m done studying,’ he mused.
Indu looked at him curiously. ‘Do you look forward to it?’
‘To what?’
‘Life.’
‘I guess so.’
‘Do you think it has good things in store for you?’
He looked into the distance for some time before answering, ‘I think so, yes. I mean, I don’t know where I will go. But I know I want to enjoy it, every bit of time we have.’
She nodded at him, and he turned to face her, ‘What about you?’
She answered, distracted by the lines on his face, ‘I think it does for me too. But the onus of it feels too much, you know. I feel I have taken a decision. I’m scared that if I mess it up, I’ll end up somewhere not good. Like my sister.’
They fell quiet again for some time before he turned to Indu once more. This time, his face was different, his eyes earnest. ‘I didn’t know what to say to you.’
Indu realized what he was referring to and looked away, concentrating her gaze on a balloon seller a little way off. Round, colourful balloons floated in the air, tied by strings to a long wooden stick. Soon, it would be too dark to make out the different colours, and they would be silhouettes against the sky.
He knew she was listening. ‘I still don’t. I don’t know what you want. Actually, maybe I know what you want but I’m not sure you know if you want it.’
She didn’t reply and they sat in silence for a while till she turned to him and said, ‘I don’t know why I met you. I was alright. I never thought of another possibility. It was all chalked out for me until you came waltzing in, calling yourself Salim, telling me with your stupid, moony eyes, oh, I want to make a library with you. Tell me honestly, did you actually come to me for that?’
He laughed at that, leaning back against the bench, putting his arm around its back. ‘Of course not. I just wanted to get to know you, and I found a good opportunity to do that.’
She shook her head at him. ‘It’s completely your fault.’
He bent again, putting his head in his hands. ‘I know, and I was so confused, I didn’t know what to feel about it. And then I thought, if I were with someone else, it would be better. For both of us.’
She looked
at the balloon seller again, and the balloons bobbing on the stick.
‘I have to say,’ she told him, ‘that made it much worse.’
He sighed, his palms on his face. Indu was glad that it affected him. She watched as a mother bought two balloons for her child. The child held one in its hand and set the other free, which floated upwards slowly; it would soon be invisible against the sunset.
Neither said anything for a while and Indu stared ahead. Would she have met someone else, if not Rana? Did the problem lie in her not knowing Rajat?
‘Since you won’t stop staring at them, I’ll buy you a balloon, unless you want to retain some respect and decline the offer,’ he said.
She laughed, looking at him, and so they bought a big orange balloon. Indu set it free even though it was dark and they couldn’t keep it in sight for very long. They walked through the park and headed towards Number 7.
When they were nearly there, both stopped. He looked at her for a couple of seconds and stepped closer. She knew what was about to happen. He tilted her chin up and brushed his lips lightly against hers. A few seconds passed. She squeezed his shoulder and he looked at her with a question on his face, but his grin remained.
‘You have to ask, mister,’ she told him.
She knew he wanted to laugh, but instead, he made his expression very serious, folding his hands. ‘May I?’
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
14
Early the next morning, they were woken by the loud ring of the telephone. Indu was still groggy, but her mother was already up and rushed to the phone to answer it, knowing it would be her husband. It was a ten-second conversation, and her mother put the phone down without saying anything.
‘What happened?’ Indu asked while her sister emerged from the room, rubbing her eyes.
Her mother walked over to the radio, telling them that their father had asked her to turn it on. ‘Isn’t father at home?’ Amita asked blankly, but nobody replied. They all gathered in the drawing room, around the radio.
Once Upon a Curfew Page 17