Room in our Hearts and Other Stories

by K L Chowdhury

VEENA’S ORCHARD

  Veena’s Nokia rang while she was giving her mother a bath. It rang again when she helped put her clothes on. And a third time, as she put the kettle on the gas stove to make tea for her breakfast. She rushed to pick up the phone from the table.

  ‘Please take the curse back. Abu is in distress. Please release him…’ It was a female voice in earnest.

  Veena didn’t understand a thing. ‘You have the wrong number,’ she said and rang off, wondering how a curse that the caller was speaking of could be taken back. She smiled and rushed to the kitchen for the tea when the phone rang again.

  ‘Please, please don’t cut me off,’ the voice was desperate this time; ‘Please listen to me; I am Ruhi from Langet, your hometown.’

  It took Veena some time to recollect. ‘Ruhi, my neighbour of yore?’ she asked surprised as dim images of her once picturesque village floated in front of her eyes.

  ‘Yes, I am Abdul Salaam’s daughter. I hope you remember we used to play together.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Thanks. Now listen to me, Abu has been ill for a long time. He is in distress, writhing in pain, going nuts. It is agonising to watch him suffer. The doctors say he should have been long gone, yet he lingers on, suffering one complication after another…’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that. Can I be of any help?’

  ‘Only you can help. Only you can release him from the torture he is going through. Life refuses to leave his body and death is reluctant to embrace him. He is swinging between the two. I beg of you to call back the curse and let him die in peace.’

  ‘Look, I don’t understand any of this. What curse are you talking about? I have not put any curse on him. I feel sorry for your father as I feel sorry for you. I know how painful it must be for you to see him in this state. I lost my father too.’

  ‘I realise what you have gone through. That is why we believe it is your curse that haunts my father. You may not have done it consciously, but a curse might have inadvertently escaped your lips. In his delirium, Abu speaks of the curse hovering around him like a ghost, not letting him live in peace, nor letting him die. Then he pleads with me to ask your forgiveness so he may depart in peace.’

  ‘It has been 20 years since we were hounded out. Ever since, it has been an endless struggle to survive and I hardly have the time to even think about Langet and all our neighbours there. Frankly, I can’t even fully recall you or your Abu’s face, least of all curse him for what he did.’

  ‘For what he did, you said it, as instinctively as you must have cursed him, and I can’t blame you for it. After all, how can you forget the hurt and humiliation that you have suffered? We hear about your sacrifices for your mother and sisters. We know how bravely you undertook the care of your mother when she had cancer. You are as old as I am, and I am already a mother of two, but you refused to marry because you wanted to see your sisters settled in life before you would even think of your own future. We have been getting all these stories from neighbours visiting Jammu. We know you are a noble soul. Even a sigh escaping from you can become a curse for anyone who has harmed you.’

  ‘If your father is ill, it must be the Lord’s doing, not any curse, and most certainly none from my lips. I don’t even believe in curses.’

  ‘Not from your lips but from deep within. And when a curse escapes from an anguished heart, it operates mercilessly. That is why Abu is being punished.’

  ‘It was our destiny to suffer exile; it is futile to debate it all over again. Let me assure you, we don’t bear malice toward anyone. I hope your father recovers soon. When mother learns about it, I know she will pray for his recovery.’

  ‘Recovery is impossible, the doctors tell us. Abu is waiting for his final release. He wants to meet his maker now. But it seems the maker will not accept him tainted as he is with the curse. Please have mercy on him; take the curse back.’

  ‘I repeat, I never cursed him, so there is no curse to take back. Sorry, I am in a hurry; mother is waiting for her breakfast,’ Veena replied politely and rang off.

  That evening there was another phone call. ‘My name is Tariq. I am Ruhi’s husband. She has already spoken to you about her father’s critical condition. Since I got married, my in-laws have always spoken highly of you and I believe your families had been quite close before you left Kashmir. It is only since Abu’s illness took a serious turn that I came to know there has been some trespass on your property in Kashmir, but I will see that it is resolved to your satisfaction.’

  ‘It is not a trespass, but a cruel betrayal of trust and a flagrant violation of law. It is not trespass but usurpation of our orchard. It is ...’

  ‘Sorry, I am not aware of all the details. In fact, I am surprised, for they often talk of the good neighbourliness with your family. I am eager to hear it from you.’

  ‘Yes, we were good neighbours, but that was in better times. After we were hounded out from Kashmir, our good neighbours were happy to see our backs. It took them no time to grab whatever they could lay their hands upon. We had no idea about the state of our own home and lands until four years after our exodus. That was the time my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and I returned to Langet to sell off a part of my orchard to meet the expenses for her treatment. It shocked me to find strangers living in our house and your father-in-law in possession of our orchard. I was hardly 19. I met him, told him that he was not just a neighbour but like a father, since I had lost my own father in the very first year of exile. I begged him to vacate the land. But he was a changed person, outright brutal, telling me off, even castigating me for having the temerity to ask him. He growled at me: “How dare you ask me to vacate the orchard that I have groomed since you left? Don’t you know that all those who fled from here have lost the right to their property?” It seems that was the unwritten decree issued by the militant organisations. I made a representation to the revenue authorities, including the tehsildar and the District Commissioner that my orchard be vacated, but it had no effect. I wrote to the Relief Commissioner, but there was not even an acknowledgement. I encountered hostility from everyone at every stage. I had no time to follow the case since my mother was waiting for the surgery. So I gave up all efforts of retrieving my house and land. I found out that we were not alone in this. This was also the story of thousands like us who have been braving it in exile, whose properties have been vandalised, burnt down or usurped. I have long stopped even thinking about my estate in Langet, least of all hoping to recover it one day.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear all this and fully sympathise with you. I also assure you that I will do my best to help. Meanwhile, Abu is in agony, less from the incurable disease he suffers from, more from his sense of regret and remorse,’ Tariq conveyed in his sober tone.

  ‘If his conscience has really woken up it might be good for him. In any case, let me assure you none of us cursed him or any member of the family.’

  ‘He has been in and out of delirium for several weeks now, refusing to quit even as the doctors have given up. During lucid phases, he has been mumbling vaguely about your orchard, and his last wish to settle the dispute with you. That is why I took this liberty of calling you.’

  ‘As far I am concerned, there is no dispute, but a brazen act of unauthorised possession. Rather than asking me to vacate the curse, he needs to vacate my orchard. The curse is a myth, the land grab a harsh reality staring the whole village in the face.’

  ‘I get it now. And I want to do something about it; make amends, get you full justice and return the orchard to you under the best of terms. It is a promise. Meanwhile, please forgive him and let him die in peace.’

  Veena finally uttered the words that Tariq was waiting to hear, ‘Since you so desire, I take back the curse that never escaped my lips.’

  ‘Thanks a lot. I will see you soon, Inshallah.’ Tariq replied with great relief.

  Three weeks later, Tariq fulfilled his promise of visiting Veena and her family at Jagti, a township built for Kas
hmiri refugees on the outskirts of Jammu.

  ‘I have come to thank you. Abdul Salaam is finally at peace. He breathed his last the day after I phoned you. I saw him when the end was near and spoke in his ear that you had forgiven him and called off the curse. His delirium cleared for a while as if by magic and he spoke almost like his normal self and bid farewell to the family members before lapsing into coma. He died peacefully that night. We could not have asked for a better end. Thanks for releasing his soul from the clutches of guilt, and the fear of divine retribution. He paid enough in the currency of pain and anguish for the only transgression he committed in life. That is what I hear from my in-laws. I thank Allah that he didn’t have to carry any baggage with him. We are beholden to you.’

  ‘I am relieved that there has been a happy ending to this sad chapter of his life. My mother will also be relieved to hear it. She really believed, like the rest of you, that a curse might have escaped my lips; she even felt guilty about it. What did he suffer from?’

  ‘Lung cancer. It had spread to his brain and bones.’

  Veena heaved a deep sigh. ‘Cancer is a horrible disease. It visited my mother. I can’t believe she is alive.’

  ‘All due to your meticulous care. That is what I hear. And that also brings me to the main purpose of visiting you.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘To see that justice is done.’

  ‘Has my land been vacated, then?’

  ‘Not really. Abu’s son, Mohammad Shaban, had already taken control of your orchard even while his father was alive. Unfortunately, he is causing hurdles.’

  ‘This is nothing new; there have been hurdles at every step in my life. I am used to disappointments. All the same, thank you for trying.’

  ‘But I have not given up. I promised you when you took the curse back. If I did nothing, what face would I show to my maker when it is my time to meet him? After Abu passed away, I broached the subject of your orchard with Shaban, but he refused even to discuss the matter. He said he was in possession of the land and he would not let go of it. Much against my grain, I threatened to divorce his sister if he didn’t settle the dispute— sorry to use that word again—with you to your full satisfaction. He couldn’t care less; he had the audacity to tell me. That is when I called a meeting of the village elders in your support, constructing the scenario of a curse falling on the whole village if this matter was not resolved humanely. I invoked the wrath of Allah for flouting Abu’s dying declaration that you should get back your orchard or be suitably compensated for it. Shaban backed down but came up with a plea that the elders agreed to discuss and debate. He is seeking due compensation for the labour he and his father put in to revive and rehabilitate your orchard. So the village elders have requested you to present your case in person. Can you please come one of these days?’

  ‘I don’t see anything coming out of this exercise. I have gone through these charades before; I don’t want to go through the hurt and humiliation again. As I said, I thank you again for trying. Please tell my good neighbours to go harvest the fruit and leave us to our woes.’

  ‘I think the community pressure that I have built up should be sufficient. It needs your presence now. That might move them. Pray accept this last possible solution. I don’t advise you to take the torturous route of the courts or revenue offices for I realise how difficult it will be for you.’

  She believed him; there was a spark of sincerity in his eyes and in the tone of his conversation.

  ‘All right, let us fix the date. It will be painful to travel again to my village and not be able to spend even an hour in my erstwhile home, which I believe is still occupied.’

  ‘I have promised you about the orchard, not your home. That may come later, Inshallah. I have not lost faith in human values.’

  It was with much misgiving that Veena left her Jagti home and got into the car that Tariq sent on the appointed day. As requested by him, she carried with her the land papers just to obviate any possible doubts about the ownership during the course of the negotiations. He was a perfectionist of sorts.

  As the destination neared, she felt a deep trepidation about the whole affair of the orchard that had got a new lease after the strange turn of events with Abdul Salaam’s illness and demise. Were there more trials and disappointments in store for her? On reaching Langet, she gathered her wits and decided to face the consequences, whatever they may be, with courage.

  It was a unique gathering of villagers, young and old, assembled in Abdul Salaam’s house that stood directly opposite her own. She eyed the window where she would sit during her childhood to look out on the mountains and fields, and a deep sigh emerged from her lungs. Women hugged her and children smiled at her, while men, many of them with long beards, sat sombrely. She looked a stranger in her own village, dressed as she was in her simple shirt and trousers with a dupatta thrown across her front, while the women there were in pherans with head scarves and mufflers covering most of their faces and hair. All eyes were on her as she was offered the traditional hospitality of Kashmiri chai and telvor from the baker. Soon, Tariq requested the elders to start the proceedings.

  The head of the elders, a grave-looking man with a white turban that matched his long white beard and a cream coloured pheran, examined the land papers and nodded to declare them authentic. He turned to Shaban and asked him to present his case. He was a short, burly fellow with a bulldog face, plethoric and wheezy. Curiously, his voice seemed not broken though he was in his forties.

  ‘Jenab, I along with my revered father—heaven be his final resting place—have put in hard labour and money to nurture the orchard. It was like adopting an orphan. It took us many years to bring the barren field back to life and to the present state of rejuvenation and productivity. Now I am suddenly being asked to disown it when it has just started to bear fruit. Why am I being asked to forfeit the fruit of our labour of 20 years?’

  The elder nodded his head gently as if in acceptance of the plea and looked towards Veena for her response.

  She looked around at the curious crowd and began nervously. ‘We never asked anyone to take possession of, or look after, our orchard, which was full of trees that yielded quality apples, some of the best in town. I am seeking nothing more than what belonged to us when we were forced to leave the Valley.’

  Shaban was quick to respond. ‘Jenab, we have raised an orchard where there was none. When we took it over, the trees had been hewed down, only stumps remained. My father couldn’t bear to see the mutilation. In fact, it was a good neighbourly act to cultivate the wasteland again. It took us a whole season of hard labour to dig the roots out and plant new saplings. It took another 10 years to nurture the trees before they would start bearing fruit. They belong to us, not her.’

  The elder nodded his head and again turned his penetrating gaze at Veena.

  ‘Sir, is it my fault or of my family to have been driven out from our home? As I said, we didn’t invite him or his father or anyone to our land. They committed an offence by seizing my orchard without permission. Even if one accepts that it was barren, he was wilfully taking the risk of being ousted anytime by the authorities if they were to function justly, impartially. Besides, he has already enjoyed the fruit of his labour for several years. He should have shared it with my family. In any case, I shall recompense him for the effort he has put in and the trees that he has planted once I get back my orchard. That, I believe, should make it even between us. I don’t think I can ask him to take back the tress for that would not be possible. But in the extreme case, and if he so desires, he is free to leave my land in the state he occupied it.’

  The whole gathering was aghast with such a possibility. Everyone nodded in disapproval. The elders were in a dilemma. It was their first time sitting in judgement on such a curious case.

  After a long pause, the head found his voice again. ‘There is no doubt this land belongs to your family and you are entitled to have it back. But it will not be in the fitness of things
to cut the trees down. That will be a worse sacrilege than the temporary usurpation of your land. The village will not allow it.’

  ‘Nor would my conscience rest to see the trees being cut down in their prime. It is as bad as snuffing out human lives in their prime,’ Shaban said with great emotion, his voice getting wheezy with the effort.

  ‘It is surprising that when my orchard was being reduced to rubble and life was being snuffed away from it, as you put it, the whole village seems to have shut their eyes,’ Veena said, without a thought that she was shaming the whole gathering by her audacity.

  ‘Well, that was a sad chapter in the history of our land and I hope we have learnt our lessons. That is why Mr Tariq has taken the lead and brought us together to dispense justice,’ the elder remarked. Then, addressing Shaban, ‘Have you made an appraisal of the value of the trees?’

  ‘Jenab, the value of trees is measured by the fruit they bear. For the last three years, the orchard fetches around ₹2 to 3 lakh annually depending upon the harvest and the market rates. I am expecting much better yield in the coming years.’

  ‘By that reckoning, let us assume they will fetch around ₹8 lakh in three years from now. Since Shaban has a case and we want to settle the matter amicably and to the best satisfaction of both parties, I propose that Veena should pay him 50 per cent of the profits of three years in compensation and have the land back as well as the tress as they stand now.’

  ‘It is a fair bargain,’ the elders said in chorus. There was a general murmur of approval also from the whole gathering. Shaban maintained a cryptic silence. All eyes turned to Veena. Surrounded by so many people, some of whom she knew from her childhood, she found herself alone as never before in her life. What a travesty of justice, she thought, that a victim was being asked to pay compensation to an offender. She swept her glance at all of them waiting for her response but decided to leave them guessing.

  The short suspenseful silence was broken by the elder clearing his throat to announce his verdict. ‘I will deem it then that neither of you have any objections to my suggestion. Therefore, I ask her to pay ₹4 lakh to Shaban in lieu of the apple-bearing trees and direct him to vacate the orchard as soon as she pays him up.’