And now, even this house will have to be sold.
MAMU: Shh!
ANSUYA: (Getting angry.) Who are we trying to fool!
MAMU: Shh! The walls have ears.
ANSUYA: Thank God! Amma was in the bath this morning when the broker came.
MAMU: (Afraid.) What happened?
ANSUYA: I had to turn him away.
MAMU: Oh no!
ANSUYA: Yes, everyone knows.
MAMU: How humiliating!
ANSUYA: (In tears.) Everyone knows that the house is going to be sold, except the owners.
MAMU: (Consoling her.) Now, now, Ansu, don’t be upset.
ANSUYA: That is Simla for you! The whole town knows everything in twenty-four hours if it is raining, and in twelve hours if it is not.
(Pause.)
Mamu, I want to go away. Away from this drab life. All we ever do is talk and talk. And we eat, and we sleep, get up in the morning and do the same again. I want to do something.
MAMU: Are you tired of me?
ANSUYA: I’m tired of the life we lead.
MAMU: I thought maybe … maybe I had said something that offended you.
ANSUYA: You always twist everything.
MAMU: Well, it is just you and me here. So I thought …
ANSUYA: It’s got nothing to do with you. Don’t be so touchy, Mamu. I want to get out. I am getting old.
MAMU: I’m the one who is old, and of no use to anyone. Look at me. Don’t I look old?
ANSUYA: No.
MAMU: Doesn’t this … grey and this bald patch suggest that I am old? Don’t I sort of fade into the background, like old furniture?
ANSUYA: No, you look fine.
MAMU: (Eagerly.) Do I?
ANSUYA: Yes.
MAMU: (Eagerly.) Really? Tell me that I’m still young.
ANSUYA: (Impatiently.) Yes.
(Pause.) Shall I tell you what I really want? (He nods.)
You’ll laugh at me.
MAMU: Tell me.
(She goes and takes a book from the fireplace.)
ANSUYA: (Whispering.) I want to go far, far away, to a place where no one knows me. I want to work … and … work where everyone is busy and no one asks questions.
(Pause.)
Mamu, there’s something bursting out of me …
MAMU: What’s that book?
ANSUYA: This? Oh, it is a guidebook. On Bombay. Deepak sent it to me.
MAMU: (His eyes widening.) You want to go and work in Bombay!
(She nods.)
MAMU: Deepak, Deepak! All you do is talk about Deepak.
ANSUYA: (Defiantly.) So what?
MAMU: I … I don’t like him.
ANSUYA: Why?
MAMU: I don’t know … he’s selfish … and I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.
(Pause.)
ANSUYA: Well, he’s coming tomorrow.
MAMU: I know he’s coming tomorrow. Why is he coming tomorrow?
ANSUYA: Because Amma invited them and … and I want him to come.
(Defiantly.)
So?
MAMU: Now, look here, Ansuya.
ANSUYA: Yes, Mamu?
MAMU: (Checks.) You’re grown up now. Do you have to keep calling me ‘Mamu?’
ANSUYA: But you are my Mamu.
MAMU: Nothing. Just that when we talk, I completely lose myself in our world. Then you say ‘Mamu,’ and I suddenly wake up and there’s a gap.
ANSUYA: A gap?
MAMU: I begin to feel old and responsible and your uncle. It was different when you were little, and you held my finger when we went for a walk.
ANSUYA: All right. I’ll try, Mamu.
MAMU: There you go again …
ANSUYA: (Laughs.) Oops! But what am I to call you?
MAMU: Call me by my name. Call me ‘Karan.’
ANSUYA: (Self-consciously.) All right, I’ll try, K … Kar … (she cannot say it.)
Mamu, I can’t help it. When I see you, ‘Mamu’ comes out.
MAMU: I see. So I’m nothing more than a ‘Mamu’ to you?
(She looks embarrassed. He tries to hide his own embarrassment.)
ANSUYA: Dear Mamu, you are fond of me.
MAMU: More than my life.
ANSUYA: (Laughing.) You’re so dramatic.
(Sound of footsteps.)
(Vivaciously.) Oh, she’s come! She’s come!
(She opens the door.)
Amma, is that you?
(She stops herself as she sees Rai Saheb ahead of Amrita. Rai Saheb—‘Bunty’ to his friends—man of the world, handsome, and a successful member of the Indian Civil Service (the ICS). He is in his mid-fifties (but could pass for a younger man), sports an ascot, a tweed jacket, and a pipe. The sort of person who speaks Hindustani with an Oxford accent. He has a distinguished look, helped in part by his silver grey hair at the temples. Amrita, Ansuya’s mother, is a year older than her brother, Karan. She wears an elegant silk sari.)
RAI SAHEB: Ansu, I say, you owe me ten chips.
ANSUYA: Oh, hello, Bunty Uncle! Why do I owe you ten chips?
RAI SAHEB: Because Dinky finally ditched Sushma.
ANSUYA: No! Poor Sushma!
AMRITA: And they were so much in love!
ANSUYA: Indian boys are spineless.
RAI SAHEB: (Gloating.) As I predicted … Dinky’s mother did not approve.
AMRITA: And they made such a lovely pair.
ANSUYA: But didn’t Dinky put up a fight?
RAI SAHEB: Worse, Dinky’s got engaged to some rich ‘bhenji’ from Amritsar.
ANSUYA: Someone he’s never met?
MAMU: It’s the old story. Boy meets girl. Boy conquers girl. Boy abandons girl.
(Pause.)
RAI SAHEB: Which reminds me have you heard? Our troops have abandoned Tawang. Biji Kaul is lying sick in bed in Delhi and the Chinese are just going to walk right in. I told them in Delhi that this would happen; but, of course, Mr Krishna Menon has to have his own way.
ANSUYA: It’s all so frightening.
AMRITA: The wind is blowing again.
ANSUYA: (Goes to the window.) It looks like it’s going to rain.
AMRITA: Simla will be nicely washed and cleaned for Chitra and Deepak tomorrow.
ANSUYA: Amma, I’m so excited that Deepak is coming. We’re going to have Diwali after all.
MAMU: We don’t need Deepaks to have a Diwali.
ANSUYA: Mamu!
AMRITA: Why don’t you come over tomorrow evening, Bunty, and meet our guests?
RAI SAHEB: If there is good whiskey and pretty women, I never say no.
AMRITA: Good!
(To Ansuya, enthusiastically.)
Ansu, Rai Saheb is taking the young people to a picnic on Friday. Of course you’ll go?
ANSUYA: No.
AMRITA: I know—you can take Deepak with you.
RAI SAHEB: There will be Dinky and Nina, and Bubbly and Flukey and … I say, do you know that the Khannas’ ayah is pregnant?
ANSUYA: (Fascinated.) What? Who is the father?
RAI SAHEB: (Smiling.) Naughty, naughty! When I mentioned it to Colonel Khanna this evening, he, of course, went red.
(He laughs.)
And if the Colonel hadn’t been in his best third peg, bum bum ho ho mood …
AMRITA: Shame on you, Bunty, gossiping like this.
RAI SAHEB: (To Ansuya.) Well, my dear?
ANSUYA: What?
RAI SAHEB: The picnic.
(Clearing his throat.)
I’ll manage the Governor’s Rest House, in case it rains.
(Uncomfortable pause.)
ANSUYA: No, thank you, Bunty Uncle.
RAI SAHEB: I say, come to think of it, one rarely sees you on the Mall these days.
ANSUYA: (Smiling ironically.) One never sees me on the Mall these days.
RAI SAHEB: (Tempo increasing as he speaks.) But what is there to do in Simla, my dear—except go to the Mall every evening; find your friends eating ice cream at Scandal Point; drag them to t
he Green Room for the latest gossip; rush to Rivoli for the new picture; plan picnics to Anandale and Mashobra; and throng to the Sunday morning for bingo and beer!
MAMU: (With irony.) A remarkable way to live, don’t you think, when our jawans are dying on the front?
RAI SAHEB: (As if noticing him for the first time.) Eh, I say … The professor speaks! (Turning to Amrita.)
I say, is it true about your house?
AMRITA: (Turning pale.) What about this house?
RAI SAHEB: (Realizing his mistake.) No, nothing.
AMRITA: (In a loud, unnatural voice.) What about this house, Bunty?
RAI SAHEB: I must be mistaken.
AMRITA: (Almost screaming.) Bunty, what about this house?
RAI SAHEB: (Sheepishly.) Well, that it’s up for sale.
AMRITA: (In tears.) Who says it’s up for sale? Filthy lies!
RAI SAHEB: (Trying to make up.) You know Simla, my dear. There’s nothing else to do but gossip. Why, when I heard it, my reaction was, ‘What nonsense!’
AMRITA: (Recovering.) Bunty, have some coffee?
RAI SAHEB: (Looking at his watch.) No, thank you, my dear; must be getting along, if I don’t want to get caught in this storm. I say, ta-ta, cheerio. Happy Diwali and all that! (Exit.)
ANSUYA: (Mimicking him, as she closes the door behind him.) ‘I say, ta-ta, cheerio, Happy Diwali and all that.’
AMRITA: (Giving her a disapproving look.) Ansu!
ANSUYA: (Mimicking.) ‘I say, one rarely sees you on the Mall these days.’ (Mamu laughs.)
AMRITA: Stop it! It’s not nice.
ANSUYA: The conceit of the man, Amma!
AMRITA: How do you like my new sari?
(And she turns around to show it to everyone.)
MAMU: It’s beautiful!
ANSUYA: It should be. It’s the most expensive sari in Simla.
AMRITA: And how do you know?
ANSUYA: Because Leela Ram’s man delivered it this afternoon.
AMRITA: And you saw the price?
ANSUYA: Someone has to think of money, Amma.
AMRITA: (Animatedly.) The Colonel complimented me on it, and Mrs Dewan kept looking at it the whole evening.
(To Ansuya.)
Oh Ansu, it’s not right to stay by yourself all evening long, evening after evening. Why don’t you go out at least once in a while?
ANSUYA: No.
AMRITA: (Angrily.) Then you won’t get married.
ANSUYA: I don’t care.
AMRITA: Of course you do.
ANSUYA: These boys don’t want to marry me, Amma.
AMRITA: How do you know?
ANSUYA: Because no boy has the guts to marry without a dowry. Look at Dinky. We all thought that he would marry …
AMRITA: (Defensively.) I suppose it’s my fault that you don’t have a dowry?
ANSUYA: Amma …
AMRITA: If your father hadn’t squandered all that money away …
ANSUYA: He did not.
(In tears.)
Why do you keep saying that?
AMRITA: Your grandfather married off nine daughters like princesses.
ANSUYA: (Wearily.) What’s the use, Amma!
AMRITA: You’re stubborn, like your father. Proud and vain …
ANSUYA: Why blame him? Look at yourself.
AMRITA: (Cut to the quick.) What!
ANSUYA: (Defensively.) Well, look at what’s happened to the mills ever since he died.
AMRITA: Mind what you say, girl!
ANSUYA: All we keep doing is selling off our properties.
AMRITA: We have debts to pay off.
(About to break down.)
You don’t understand these things.
ANSUYA: And now, even this house will be gone.
AMRITA: No … it won’t.
ANSUYA: Everyone seems to know about it except us.
AMRITA: (Pointing to the drapes.) See those drapes, Ansu? Your father brought them from England, and they were the talk of the town that season. Oh, the parties we used to have, Ansu! The servants were forever polishing the silver. Why, the whole of Nehru’s first Cabinet must have dined here some time or another.
ANSUYA: It’s over, Amma; this house is as good as gone.
AMRITA: No!
(Covering her ears with her hands.)
I don’t want to hear about it.
ANSUYA: But, Amma, you can’t keep running away …
AMRITA: (In tears.) Don’t say it!
ANSUYA: Amma, please, you’ve got to …
AMRITA: (Beginning to cry.) Well. I’ve done my best. What more do you want me to do? It’s too much. It’s not fair! (Ansuya goes and embraces her.)
ANSUYA: Oh Amma, don’t cry! Please, my darling Amma. Don’t cry!
(Fade.)
Act Two
[Stage Centre. Spotlight on Karan, the narrator.]
KARAN: They say you never get a second chance to make a first impression. So, what sort of impression have we made on you?
Pretty lot, our family. No one’s happy. But then, most families are like that, aren’t they? Yes, all families want to be happy, but they live in a way that they can’t help but be unhappy.
What is happiness, anyway? You are dropped into the world one fine day, and you are snuffed out another, without so much as a warning.
And in between, you try to snatch a few moments of happiness … and discover too late that it wasn’t happiness after all. And it doesn’t matter whether you are at the top or at the bottom of the social scale.
(Pause.)
As you can see, our life had a certain rhythm, a certain quality, even as we were slowly getting poorer. It is this rhythm which was shattered when Deepak and Chitra came into our lives.
(Lights come on gradually. The same room.)
It is the next morning, around noon. It is bright and fresh, the way Simla feels after a shower. The sun is peering in from the open window. From the window, you can glimpse the Himalayas in the distance; a bit hazy today, but usually you can see the white peaks gleaming in the sun.
(He takes the newspaper from under his arm.)
The paper has arrived with more dismal news from the Eastern front. Tawang has just fallen and General Thapar says we are preparing to put up a stand at Se La. And I can smell the blood! ‘Fallen,’ ‘put up a stand’ … They think they can fool us with their words. Nehru and Krishna Menon are merely living out their illusions of grandeur. Tchhah!
(Speaking privately, in a hushed tone.)
Oh! I forgot to introduce a rather important character: she plays a significant role in the events that follow, even if it is behind the scenes. She is Sandhya Rani, Queen of the Night—my cat.
But, let’s get on with the story.
(A song from an early 60s film is playing on the radio. Mamu is sitting near the window, with the paper, tapping his foot to the music. Amrita enters with a cup of tea. She stands looking affectionately at Mamu for a while, seeing that he is lost in the music. After a while, Mamu notices her and turns down the volume with a smile.)
MAMU: I … er … practically fell in love with Waheeda Rehman after seeing that picture. She had such beautiful eyes! (Hesitates.)
Ansu’s eyes … er … are a bit like hers, don’t you think? (Amrita frowns. Mamu continues to hum the last bars of the song.)
We saw it at the Rivoli, remember?
(Pause.)
AMRITA: What time is their train coming?
MAMU: (Looking at his watch.) They should be coming any minute now.
(Mamu switches off the radio. Pause.)
Why are they coming?
AMRITA: What do you mean?
MAMU: Well, Chitra always has … um … a reason … Has she ever come just to visit? … er … What does she want this time?
AMRITA: (Dismissing him.) You’re impossible. When did Ansuya go to the station?
MAMU: She must have left … er … an hour ago.
AMRITA: (Worried.) I hope there’s enough milk in the house. Deepa
k loves his glass of milk at bedtime.
(Coughs.)
I wish you would do something about your cat, Karan. She finished the milk again last night. She sheds hair all over the house.
(Coughs.)
I’m sure she has given me this cough.
MAMU: ‘The trouble with a kitten is that It eventually becomes a cat.’
AMRITA: It is unnatural to be so fond of a cat. If you had married, you would have had a wife to look after, instead of a cat.
MAMU: (Laughing at himself.) I am too old to be married.
AMRITA: (Severely.) Whose fault is it that you did not marry when the best matches were available? After a brilliant college career, and then you got into the ICS … You could have married any girl, but no, the ways of ordinary people were not good enough for you. The sun shines only once in life, Karan.
MAMU: Have I changed a lot since then?
AMRITA: Yes, you have, Karan Chand. You were young and handsome then. Now, you have aged. And you talk all the time, like old people. Of the Partition, of Lahore …
MAMU: These kids will never know what it meant to grow up in Lahore—the poetry, the music, the intellectual discussions … Ah, it was heaven to be young in Lahore!
AMRITA: See what I mean? Karan, you live in the past. And you complain. There’s a bitterness in your voice.
MAMU: Why does Ansuya write so often to Deepak?
AMRITA: Why? What’s wrong with that?
MAMU: Nothing. It’s just that she’s become so secretive.
AMRITA: He is a nice young man, Karan.
MAMU: It could be serious, you know.
AMRITA: Hush, they are just good friends.
MAMU: No.
AMRITA: How do you know?
MAMU: I just know, that’s all.
(Sounds outside. Excited voices. Chitra enters, followed by Ansuya and Deepak. Deepak touches Amrita’s feet. Amrita and Chitra embrace. Mamu’s eyes are fixed on his niece.
Deepak, twenty-seven, squarely built, is full of energy and ambition. He is talented and smooth, but he is also under the excessive influence of his mother. Having had to come up the hard way, he has cultivated the social graces, including a public school way of speaking English (‘What the hell, yaar,’ ‘Give him ten chips, yaar.’) He is one of those persons who will succeed in the eyes of the world. He has already done well for himself, and knows he is good. He has a composed voice, shining eyes and a bright smile. He is self-possessed and good-natured. One of those persons who looks amiably perplexed at an unpleasant situation, as though he can’t understand why anyone should be angry with him.
Three Plays Page 15