by Farahad Zama
“I don’t mind. It was a small price to pay. Now I have more marbles than any of my friends and cousins. But that was the day before. I came here twice yesterday and I didn’t see you.”
“I was busy yesterday. Now I need you to do me one more favour. I’ll throw a letter wrapped around a weight. Take it to the police station.”
Balu shook his head vigorously. “I am not going there. The police smashed my uncle’s cart when he was ironing clothes in the Doctor’s Colony and took him away. He came home after two days and he said the police station was a bad place where people are beaten every day.”
Usha sighed. It would be terrible if he refused to carry the letter to the police.
“Nothing is going to happen to you. Just give the note to the first policeman you see and tell him it is an important message from a lady. Stand back,” she said and threw the paperweight with all her strength. It landed on the other side of the wall in the dusty verge of the lane.
Balu picked it up and took off the rubber bands. He dropped the missive on the ground and stood up with the paperweight in his outstretched hands.
“The letter…” said Usha, stretching her arms out.
“Wow, a huge marble,” he said. “Who plays with it?”
“What?” said Usha, confused. “Marble?”
“This,” said Balu, pointing with his head at the big glass sphere in his hands.
“That is a paperweight. It is used to stop paper from flying away when the fan is on.”
“Oh!” said Balu, his hands dropping to his side. “I didn’t know. We don’t have paper in our house, or a fan either.”
Usha was speechless for just a moment and then she said, “Forget the weight. Pick up the paper and take it to the police.”
Balu picked up the letter without letting go of the paperweight, waved it in the air and ran off. Usha stared after the boy until he disappeared from view and then moved slowly to her bed to think.
The police should be here soon. To keep her mind off Sankar, she thought about the boy who was helping her. It shamed her to think that she knew nothing about the family that had lived just outside their house for so many years. How many members did it have? He probably didn’t attend school because she had seen him both before noon and afterwards. Did he want to study but could not go to school because his parents could not afford the fees and the books? How did he sleep at the height of summer without a fan and mosquitoes buzzing for blood?
The truth was that she had never paid any attention to Balu and his family before this. It was as if they were less than human by not living in a pukka house. She felt ashamed of herself. She was sure that if Rehman had been living in her house, he would have known all about the family living opposite. They would have probably come to him for help when Balu’s uncle was arrested and he would have fought the police on their behalf – she had no doubt. She was so proud of Rehman and yet her parents wanted to choose a brutish man like Sankar. Why were her parents so foolish? Was it just because Rehman followed a different religion? Or was it because she had made the choice and not her parents?
Twelve
Rehman had been waiting in the corridor for almost half an hour. A young woman came out of the room at the far end and started to walk past him.
“Excuse me,” he said, half raising his hand.
The young woman stopped and looked at him with the expression of someone who has just popped the last peanut from a packet into her mouth and found it to be bitter. Then, without a word, she walked away. It wasn’t just her – all the people in the office were behaving like this. Rehman was really surprised. He wasn’t used to be treated like something dragged in off the road and he found it demeaning. He had come to Usha’s office with high hopes of getting her address but it was turning into a nightmare. He hoped that her boss would be more amenable to his request.
It was another fifteen minutes before he was allowed into the office at the far end of the corridor. He pushed through the bat-wing doors. A fat, almost obese, middle-aged man with gold rings on all of his fingers, who looked as if he loved sweets, was sitting behind the desk.
“Mr Binoy?” asked Rehman.
The man waved a podgy hand languidly towards a chair.
Rehman sat down but still the man did not speak. The silence stretched for almost a minute before Rehman, uncomfortable with the lack of conversation, said, “I want to find out where Usha lives.”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“It’s a personal reason,” said Rehman. “It’s really important that I meet her.”
“Really important, is it?” said Binoy, stroking his three chins and looking thoughtful.
Rehman’s hopes rose. At least the man was talking. “Yes, sir. Usha is a very good friend of mine and I need some information from her urgently. I have been trying to call her but her mobile phone is switched off.”
Binoy stroked his chin for a few seconds longer. The air-conditioner in the window of the room kicked in with a loud sound and Rehman was startled, involuntarily flicking his glance towards it. When his eyes came back to Binoy, the large man half stood up from his chair and half leaned over the table between them.
“How dare you chase after an unmarried girl?”
Rehman flinched as spittle flew from Binoy’s mouth towards him. “I simply – ”
But Binoy had only begun. “Just because you see a woman a few times on television, sickos like you imagine that she is somehow your friend. Do you think we are just sitting here, waiting for people like you to come so we can give you our presenters’ addresses?”
“But I – ”
“The Commissioner of Police was sitting in the same chair that you are sitting in now less than two days ago. I can make one phone call and have you arrested.”
“All – ”
“Usha is a respectable girl from a good family. Her family has found a match for her and she is getting married soon. She doesn’t need lafangas, loafers, like you sniffing round her.”
“You – ”
“Get out before I have you thrown out,” said Binoy.
Rehman flinched again and with his sleeve wiped a spot of spittle off his cheek.
“Sir, I am not some random viewer who is trying to stalk a presenter. I know Usha personally.”
Binoy clicked his fingers and waved him away rudely.
Rehman waited for a few seconds but Binoy went back to work, completely ignoring him. Finally Rehman shook his head and left the office. Outside, all the staff in their cubicles stared at him as he walked down the long corridor, keeping his head up and avoiding every eye.
What a nuisance, Rehman thought to himself as he came back home and stepped onto the verandah. He didn’t understand why everybody in Usha’s office had been so frosty and unfriendly. And what did Binoy mean by saying that Usha’s family was arranging a wedding for her? He really had to get in touch with Usha and talk to her. But how?
His father was nowhere to be seen and only the assistant, Aruna, was at the table, filing some photographs. He gave her a quick, thin smile with tight lips and looked away, making for the inner door.
“Excuse me,” Aruna said.
Rehman looked up at her in surprise. “Yes?” They usually didn’t exchange more than the occasional word.
“You know this girl, don’t you?” She was waving a photograph.
Rehman went over to the table and took the photograph. It was Usha. “How did you get this?” he said.
Aruna took out a form from underneath some papers. “Her father came yesterday and became a member. He said he wanted his daughter to be wedded as soon as possible.” She gave him the form.
As Rehman read it, a slow smile spread over his face. Usha’s date of birth, her horoscope, caste, family wealth, native village and address were all filled in. “Thank you,” he said, leaning forward and taking her hand. “Thank you. You are a star.”
Aruna looked shocked and withdrew her hand from his. Rehman said, “Sorry about that.
You are a godsend. I could kiss you.”
Aruna shrank back in horror.
Rehman laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t! But you’ve just saved a life – maybe two.”
♦
About an hour later, Usha heard voices outside. She went to the door and listened.
“Open the room now,” said a woman’s voice and Usha smiled. Her letter had reached its destination after all. She was suddenly glad that Rehman had not come over after all. Her fiancé would have just put her father’s back up and made the whole situation more difficult. Her grandmother was a much more powerful rescuer, anyway. She could imagine her standing there, bamboo-thin and arrow-straight but for a slight stoop to her shoulders.
“He is not here at the moment. He will be back in less than an hour. Let us wait,” said her mother, on the other side of the door.
“No, I don’t want to wait. Open it now,” said her grandmother.
“My husband told me not to open it.”
“And I am your mother-in-law. Are you going against my wishes?”
“No, but…” said her mother. Her voice trailed away and Usha could imagine her mother twisting uncomfortably. She had always been intimidated by Usha’s grandmother.
“Now, Devaki,” said her grandmother. “I am running out of patience. What was wrong with you anyway that you allowed such a silly thing to happen in the first place?”
“Your son – ”
“Tchah!” said her grandmother, clicking her tongue. “Men are like that. Their judgement is easily clouded by aggression. You should have controlled him and made sure that things didn’t get this far. Anyway, it is not too late even now – just open the door.”
“I cannot do it,” said her mother, surprising Usha with her stubbornness.
Usha could sense the old lady sighing in irritation. She wasn’t used to having her wishes thwarted. “All right, I can understand that you don’t want to go against your husband’s direct orders,” she heard her grandmother say. “Just give me the keys. I’ll unlock it myself.”
Soon the key rattled and the door was thrown open. Usha rushed out and hugged her grandmother.
“I am so glad to see you, naannamma,” she said. Unexpectedly, tears came to her eyes and she started sobbing.
“There, there. It’s all right,” said her grandmother and led her into the living room. They sat down on the sofa, while her mother got them buttermilk and took a seat on the settee opposite.
“How did you find out about Usha?” her mother asked the older lady.
Usha’s grandmother tapped her nose twice with her index finger and said, “I have my sources. Right, tell me everything.”
Usha and her mother both started talking at the same time. After a minute her grandmother raised her hands. “One by one,” she said. She pointed to Usha and said, “You go first.”
Usha told her story and her grandmother looked pensive. She turned to Usha’s mother and said, “Who is this guy, Sankar, from Alamanda that you’ve found? What do you know about him?”
“The marriage broker brought us the details. His father is a big landlord with seventy acres of land. They plant rice, peanuts and vegetables. He has two older brothers and a younger sister who are already married,” said her mother. She turned to Usha and said, “They don’t have any buffaloes, except one they keep for their family’s milk and butter. He runs a successful transport business.”
“What did he study?” said her grandmother.
“He didn’t pass high school,” interrupted Usha.
“You and my son have both been idiots,” the old woman said to Usha’s mother. “You have borne and raised a daughter, unlike me who had only sons, but you don’t know anything about girls.”
“The water is hot,” said her mother. “Why don’t you take a shower and wash off the dust from your journey?”
Usha tightened her grip on her grandmother’s hand. Her grandmother patted her arm and got up. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Nobody is going to lock you up again now that I’m here.” She turned to Usha’s mother and said, “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since I came here. Bring my bag into my room.”
The old lady walked regally out of the hall, followed by her daughter-in-law carrying her suitcase.
Usha sat alone, sipping her buttermilk, after they departed. She was really glad to be out of her room – there was no way Sankar was getting her now. The noise of the mynah chirping in the garden outside, the roar of a motorcycle, the honk of a car on the road and the tick-tock of the big pendulum clock in the hall had never sounded more vivid. She would sleep with her grandmother for the next few days, she decided. Just in case…
Ten minutes later, her father appeared and stopped abruptly when he saw her sitting there.
“How?” he said. He turned to the interior of the house and shouted, “Devaki…”
Her mother came running and stood by the sofa wringing her hands.
Her father shouted, only a little less loudly, “How dare you let her out? Didn’t I tell you not to open her door when I am not in the house?”
Usha’s mother said nothing. Her father’s eyes bulged and looked as big as an owl’s. He moved forward with a raised hand as if he would strike her mother. Usha stood up and said, “Stop it, naanna. Amma didn’t let me out.”
Her father’s hand fell to his side and he turned to her. “Then who?”
“I let her out,” said a voice from the other side of the room and her father turned towards it. Her grandmother was in a fresh mustard-coloured sari. Her thin, grey hair was tied in a rough knot, the skin on her cheeks baggy on the bones. Her collarbones stood out above her loose blouse. She looks aged, thought Usha suddenly. Her journey must have taken its toll on her. She normally came in the car with Usha or her father so how had she come to the city now? But there was no weakness in the way she stood straight as a lathi and faced her son. “I unlocked the door and let your daughter out.”
“Why?” said Usha’s father. “I locked her in to bring her to her senses. She is bent on bringing dishonour to our family name. Her wedding is arranged in just a few more days.”
“You should have locked yourself up before your sense abandoned you and climbed up a palm tree,” said her grandmother to Usha’s father. “Did you think that forcibly marrying her off to the first man you find on the street is the answer? That marriage would have broken down within a year and then where would your precious family honour be?”
“Don’t interfere, old woman. You don’t understand these matters. Go back to the village and I will call you for your granddaughter’s wedding.”
“Wah Wah!” said her grandmother, clapping her hands. “This was all that was left for me in life – to hear my son insult me. My husband never spoke to me like that, so why should I hear such words from you?” She came closer to her son, raised a finger and wagged it in front of his nose. “Listen to me and listen carefully. Locking up your daughter was wrong and trying to marry her off against her will to somebody you don’t know anything about is even worse.”
“So, am I a eunuch that you expect me to just stand and watch while our daughter washes our honour out on the street?”
“Don’t be crude,” said Usha’s grandmother. She and her son stood eye to eye, glaring at each other. “Do as – ”
The bell rang, its loud clang making them all jump. Usha went past her unmoving father and opened the door. She was surprised to see a police officer and some constables standing outside.
“May we come in?”
“Oh!” said Usha, smacking her forehead with her hand. She had forgotten all about the message she had sent with the boy, Balu, earlier in the day. “It’s all right, inspector. There is no need to come in. See, I am not locked up any more.”
The police inspector said, “We need to carry out our checks, madam. We would like to come in.”
Usha nodded and turned back. They all went into the living room.
“What’s going on?” said her fat
her. “Why are the police here?”
“I am Inspector Verma from the Five Town police station,” said the police officer, adjusting the cap on his head. Two men constables and a woman constable stood silently behind him. “We received a report that a woman is being held against her will in this house. We need to investigate. Do we have permission to check your house?”
“Check the house?” said Usha’s father, sitting heavily back on the sofa.
Usha said, “I sent the message, Inspector. But I am free now. I am sorry to have troubled you. Please accept my apologies.”
“As I said, we still need to check, madam. May we do so? I came as soon as I received the message but if necessary I will get a warrant.”
“All right,” said Usha. “You can check the house. We don’t have anything to hide.”
The inspector nodded and the constables fanned out. Less than five minutes later, they were all back, shaking their heads. Inspector Verma turned to one of them and said, “Bring the boy.”
The constable went out and came back a few seconds later with Balu. The boy seemed small next to the policeman. He looked around the house with big eyes.
“Do you see the lady who gave you the message?” asked the inspector.
Balu nodded and pointed to Usha. “There,” he said.
The officer nodded. “You may go,” he said.
Usha smiled at the boy and said, “Thank you, Balu. You did a great job. I hope you haven’t got into trouble.”
Balu laughed. “No problem, madam. I got a ride in the police jeep! My friends saw me on the way in and I can tell that they are really jealous.”
Usha said, “I’ll talk to you later, Balu. Go on now.”
The boy ran out of the room.
The inspector turned to Usha and said, “In your letter, you wrote that your parents were forcing you to marry against your will. What do you say about that?”
“That was a misunderstanding. My father has now agreed to cancel that match,” said Usha. She turned to her father. “Isn’t that true, naanna?” she asked sweetly.
Her father looked at her for several seconds, open-mouthed, without replying.