Menoka has hanged herself

by Sharmistha Gooptu

  Kedar looked from Bimal to Palash. Palash nodded grimly.

  ‘Be clear, Bimal, what happened exactly?’

  ‘What is to happen? Shankar Da’s elder brother came today, with his son. After they got the news. Shankar Da has no children, they wanted to do the sradh, in their ancestral house, where Shankar Da used to stay, before he had gone to America. Our Ramola Devi sent them away, saying she did not want any tamasha, that Shankar Da’s memory was good enough. Think dada, Hindu Brahmin, sudden demise and his wife not the least bit bothered. With what metal is she made, that lady…’

  Kedar had turned ashen. ‘Na na, how is that possible, you must have heard it wrong. She is very modern, I know it, but Hindu widow she is…Shankar Da’s widow…she cannot do this. Perhaps, she will do the kaaj herself… you know that Shankar Da had kept no relations with his own family.’

  ‘No dada, you ask Anil, he was in the room then. She even insulted him. Anil was not himself today, dada, said he was not coming back.’

  ‘Why…what happened to Anil?’ Kedar’s voice was low.

  ‘What was to happen…he had taken Shankar Da’s brother and nephew to the office, to see her. In front of them she told him to go out…ordered him to go away, just like that.’ Bimal paused as the curtain parted and Minati bustled in, a sullen-faced cook in tow, both carrying bowls of ghugni and steaming cups of tea.

  ‘Thakur, put the plates down here and check on the begunis, they shouldn’t get burnt,’ Minati instructed.

  ‘What bouthan…’ Palash lightened the air. ‘Ghugni? So quickly? That is why you are great, bouthan.’

  Minati made a face. ‘Enough. As if it all gets done just like that, so quickly? I made it this morning, I had a feeling that I would get to see you two today! Begunis and phuluris coming…’

  For some minutes the studio was forgotten as the visitors eagerly devoured the fare and sipped their hot tea.

  ‘Not eating dada?’ Palash looked up at Kedar through his mouthful.

  Kedar nodded absently. ‘You eat…’ He was staring out at the narrow lane outside. ‘But how did you two hear all of this? About Shankar Da’s dada?’

  ‘They told us themselves, Shankar Da’s dada and his nephew, what treatment they got from Ramola Devi. Anil got them to our studio canteen for a cup of tea afterwards, he called us out to sit with them. In a state he was, the ageing bhadralok, Shankar Da’s dada, what with getting the news and not seeing Shankar Da for so many years. Blamed himself, for not coming sooner, while Shankar Da was still there. But he had a reason… do you know brothers, he said, why I didn’t come and see him all of these years. Because I knew, I would come away insulted, at this age, by that bioscope heroine, your memsahib. I sometimes thank god our father died early. He could never have accepted Shankar’s choice of bride. Chi chi, what shame. So decent a boy, but waylaid by a bioscope girl. Even his son told us, there isn’t a single day that baba didn’t talk about kakababu, your Shankar Da. But we never came before, for this same reason, the reception that we got today, we should have known. They went saying, don’t mind brothers, but people say rightly, bioscope is not a bhadralok’s place. How you can survive here, you alone know.’

  Bimal paused, then added, ‘In truth dada, how long? How many of us will be able to bear with this, and for how long? See Anil, he said he has had enough, she made him wait outside her door, while she spoke to them, like some orderly…’

  ‘And what was it about Shankar Da’s kaaj, the sradh?’ Kedar looked grim.

  ‘What about it dada? Only that she will not do it… doesn’t believe in such things, she told them. Such things! Shankar Da’s dada pleaded with her, leave us Ma, you do your bit, for your departed husband. You do the kaaj, we will only stand by you. She said that she has thought it over, many times…tell me dada, what is there to think in this, too much memsahibi, that’s what. And thinking so much, our Madam has decided that Shankar Da himself would not like any of it, that is what she has told them. He did not believe in achar, rites and ritual, nor does she. Shankar would do the same, if I died, she said to them. No mourning, no sradh ceremony, work is our only ritual, our only puja…can you think it even, Kedar Da? Even talked some nonsense about some Parsi custom of feeding the dead to the vultures…supposedly much better than our own practices.’

  ‘Do you think she’s losing her mind, dada…’ Palash asked.

  Kedar did not reply at once. Thakur arrived with the fresh begunis and phuluris.

  Kedar picked a beguni and absently broke off a bit of the crisp coating. ‘I was wondering myself…about the kaaj…I was thinking perhaps she would do it on the fifteenth day, I didn’t like to ask when…after all, it’s a family matter. I had thought I would wait till it was done, to have our own memorial sabha at the studio…now, I will have to see.’

  ‘What are you thinking dada, tell us.’ Bimal beseeched.

  Kedar smiled, ‘Nothing re…’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know, yet, but I will tell you…you both and Anil…who else is there? And remember, not me, not any one person, and not even Ramola Devi alone is Bharat Talkies. Bharat Talkies is us, we are in it together…us all, otherwise, not at all. That was how it was when Shankar Da was there and that is how it will be even when he is with us no more.’

  He placed an affectionate hand on Bimal’s shoulder, then called out to Minati, ‘Ki go…another round of tea, may we…?’

  X

  Shankar’s voice was in Ramola’s ears. And it was making her head hurt. She still couldn’t sleep, and she had taken one of those pills.

  ‘You always say it’s my fault, Shankar,’ she snapped at him in her mind. Then turned over under the sheets another time and pressed her throbbing temples.

  ‘He did it again, I had to stop it somehow, some time…I had to tell him in some way. What nice way is there to tell someone to behave themselves, when they simply will not get the message?’

  Shankar was quiet. She decided to get up. The darkness made her feel sick. She would turn on the lamp, its glow comforted her.

  She poured herself a glass of water and stared at the chair by the window. Why ever had she sat there…that night when Menoka had died? Doomed thing. Sitting there like it wanted to swallow her. Ramola pressed the back of her head where it felt numb, then ran her hand through her messy tresses. Nothing she did seemed right. How had Shankar managed to do it all the time? To get his own way and not ruffle quite so many feathers, everyone had thought what he did was for their good. Even when he had put people in their places, which he did rather often, he would temper it with a dose of sentiment, something she never could. But it had worked, it had worked so remarkably well. Though it would anger her.

  ‘Why do you need to sugar coat everything, always…’ she would ask him.

  ‘Because it makes people sorry they did you a wrong, and not anger them, which it most certainly will do, my dear, if you say it in the very matter-of-fact Ramola Devi kind of way.’ Shankar scolded inside her head.

  She had had to send Anil out that morning. How many more times could she have allowed him to do it, this taking of things into his own hand…and this wasn’t even a studio matter. Coming in unannounced, bringing in those awful relatives of Shankar’s. Someone should have informed her first, she never would have seen them. Who knew if it really was Shankar’s dada, she had never met any of Shankar’s family. He hadn’t wanted her to.

  ‘I would have taken you there if baba were still alive,’ he’d said after they were married. ‘My brothers are best kept away…by miles.’

  They had not left in a hurry. She’d seen them, father and son, lingering outside the studio’s gates later that afternoon as she herself had left the studio to go home.

  ‘They were having tea with Anil Babu in the canteen, that babu who is saab’s dada, he was crying…’ her driver Kashi had said.

  ‘Who else was there?’ she’d asked.

  ‘Palash Babu…Bimalbabu…’

  Creating a scene out there, no doubt. They should be in
the pictures. She wondered that Shankar had been so remarkably different from his people. And Anil…he only had to show them out through the gates. Why in the wide world had he been drinking tea with them?

  ‘Poor Anil,’ Ramola felt a pang of pity. Somehow, he had taken upon himself the task of seeing them through this impossible time. Dancing attendance on that blabbering man, Shankar’s dada, getting him cups of tea…only for his love of Shankar, no doubting that. Silly, dutiful Anil. He simply had to learn where to stop. Perhaps he was trying to be like Shankar, how Shankar would always balance things out. She sighed.

  She would call him to her. Talk to him. He simply had to stop thinking the onus was on him.

  ‘He’s diligent…too diligent for his own good,’ she rubbed the back of her head another time. Should she take one more of those pills? She needed to sleep. Anil, he too had not slept in peace, since Shankar had gone. More than anyone else at the studio Anil was affected, she could see that. But somehow, she did not like it very much, it just wasn’t normal, not like him at all. He was even staying the nights there, she would have to tell him it was not needed.

  Perhaps because his father had died when he was still quite young, some kind of accidental, sudden death, Shankar had told her about it once. Perhaps that’s why he was so very deeply affected by it all. They had all been close to Shankar…Kedar Babu, Bimal Babu, Palash Babu, all of them that had been with him from the start, but none had acted like Anil…almost as if his world had changed…like her own world. She would speak with Kedar Babu. Ask if he would speak with Anil. He was the most reasonable of them all, Anil would listen to him. They all seemed to listen to him. He was a large-hearted man. Forever loaning people money, so she had heard. Carrying home-made tiffin for everyone at the studio.

  Kedar Babu had not been in that day though. She hadn’t known him to take a day off, he even came in on some Sundays. Shankar would joke with him, ‘Kedar, your wife will file a case against Bharat Talkies in the High Court…that we’re working you too hard.’ Perhaps he wasn’t well. Anil might know, she simply hadn’t remembered to ask him, what with all of that drama at the studio that afternoon. She had been so weary after it all.

  She looked up at the clock as it started to strike the half hour…half past eleven…she must have come up to bed early…it seemed ages now that she’d been trying to sleep. She would have to take another pill.

  XI

  Almost that very same instant, Kedar Gupta blinked through the glow of the light bulb in the small sitting room at the timepiece that sat atop the showcase. He had dozed on the sofa. ‘It’s the middle of the night, Anil, whatever are you thinking…are you off your head?’ His hair was disheveled and he had been roused by the tapping on his front door.

  Anil was on the doorstep, standing in the deserted galli.

  Kedar felt his pockets for his pack of cigarettes, then remembered that he had put them by the sofa. He beckoned Anil, ‘Come inside…what if I had been inside the house, would you have broken down the door, at this hour?’ Silently Anil stepped in, stood stiffly, then sat gingerly on the sofa’s edge.

  Kedar closed the door, scratched his head and sat down across from him.

  ‘What is it? What has happened? Is…is kakima alright?’

  Anil nodded.

  Kedar rubbed his eyes then ran a hand through his hair. ‘So? Then what? What are you up to so late? What if Minati wakes up? What is the matter?’

  Anil didn’t answer at once. He mumbled, pointing towards the earthen pitcher that stood against the wall. Kedar grunted, got up and poured a glass of water.

  ‘Here, drink…now tell me.’

  ‘I’m leaving Kedar Da…Calcutta…’

  ‘Leaving…for where? Where are you going?’

  ‘Back home to Comilla…’

  ‘And…’ Kedar blinked. ‘What’s for you in Comilla?’ He asked again, ‘Is kakima alright?’

  Anil nodded. ‘Ma’s alright, nothing wrong with her.’

  ‘Then? What are you going to Comilla for? For how long?’

  Anil pursed his lips then parted them again. ‘I don’t know Kedar Da, but I will be back. I’m leaving Bharat Talkies…’

  Kedar blinked in disbelief. ‘What? Say it again. You’re doing what? Have you really gone mad, Anil?’

  ‘Na Kedar Da. I have thought this over many times. I will go home and sell what jaega-jomi…whatever land we still have left, after baba…it shouldn’t be too little. It’s all in my name, that much I know, the money will go some way…and I will raise loans here, on interest…’

  ‘But for what, Anil?’

  ‘I’ll start my own bioscope company Kedar Da. When I first went to Raju, I had told her that I would have my own company, and make her the heroine…I don’t know if she believed me then, but I had not lied to her. I had thought that someday, perhaps, Shankar Da would help me start my own company…small perhaps, but my very own. Had he lived, I know that he would have stood behind me. Shankar Da loved me dada, like a son. But now that he is gone, I’m no more than a chakor…a chaprasi, a paid servant. Why should I stay dada? What’s here for me? If even we could do something for Raju, I would take it all…stay on. But without her, I cannot live Kedar Da, it will be her and me together or nothing at all.’

  Kedar was wide awake now. ‘Wait…wait…surely you cannot be serious, Anu? Don’t do tamasha with me, that too in the middle of the night…’

  ‘It’s not tamasha, dada, I mean it.’

  ‘You mean, you goat, you will sell your everything… your mother’s very last resources…to lay at her feet, that bioscope girl?’

  ‘You can say what you like, anybody can say anything but I want to give it one try, just one try. I will pay Unique her price, get her out of there, it’s my only way now…I’m going by the first train tomorrow, how could I leave without seeing you?’

  Kedar’s shoulders dropped. He stood slowly then put a hand on Anil’s head.

  ‘You’ve not eaten, have you? You want tea? I can call thakur and see…’

  ‘Na dada, I have to go, pack a few things before I leave…I’ll telegram you once I make some headway there…’

  ‘Na, Anil…wait…where do you think you’re going?’ Kedar grabbed Anil’s arm as he got up.

  ‘Sit…’ he pushed him back on the sofa.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere Anil. You have to listen to me. I won’t let you go…is this some kind of childish game, or what? Will you throw your life away, for this girl? What will I say to your mother?’

  ‘Nothing Kedar Da. What can you say? What can anybody say? I have made up my mind. No one can say or do anything now. I had given Raju those dreams. Now, I will have to give it one try. If not Bharat Talkies then our own bioscope company, to make our own pictures. Hit or flop, no matter. Even if I lose everything dada, I will know that I had tried.’

  Kedar’s head was in his hands. ‘You won’t listen, bhai…’

  Anil took his hands. ‘Look here, dada…look at me. You brought me here to Calcutta. I was just a village boy, you showed me the world, taught me so many things. I will always be indebted to you and bouthan. If only I could, I would get Raju to you, just once…to touch your feet and bouthan’s. But that is not to be dada. I know there is no place for her in your world. But for me she’s the only one…’

  Anil stood, then sat down again. ‘One more thing dada. If anytime you feel that you too cannot carry on, at Bharat Talkies, remember this brother. The world is big, there is place for us all. If you and I and Raju, if we all put our hands together? You don’t know dada, Raju is no ordinary girl. One day she will be bigger than us all, even Ramola Devi, you will see dada. If anyone could be a match for her…that Ramola Devi, it is Raju.’

  He knelt closer. ‘Don’t worry dada. You carry on, for now. We were together for so long, now we must go our own ways. I pray that Bharat Talkies lives on, for Shankar Da’s sake, your sake…Palash Da…everyone.’

  Kedar raised his face. ‘It will live on Anil, n
ot for me or Palash or Bimal or Ramola Devi, but for you as well.’

  ‘But dada…I told you…’

  ‘Be quiet, Anil. Do as I say. Come to the studio tomorrow, as you always come. I will be there. From now I will do whatever needs to be done…whatever it takes. And remember, this is not for you alone. It is for us all. Bharat Talkies needs us all…now, at this time…all five fingers of the hand together. I cannot let go of even one of you.’

  ‘But dada…I cannot, without Raju…’

  ‘I have said it Anil, I will do what is to be done.’ Kedar sighed. ‘It will not be easy for me. But I give you my word.’

  XII

  It was lunch hour. A furiously pedaled bicycle slid to a halt before the green and white gates of Unique studio.

  Mishtu Modak, manager and proprietor of Unique Pictures had been in the bioscope business for over ten years. Mishtu was Modak’s nickname, his family being in the confection or mishti business, and Mishtu himself reminded one of a rotund rossogulla. The studio had been one of the Modak properties, with large grounds and a karkhana of some sheds for the preparation of mishti that Mishtu’s father, the senior Modak, had supplied to annaprasans and weddings across the city. As a young man Mishtu had had a great love of theatre, and then bioscope pictures. Egged on by a bunch of no-good companions he had started to see himself in the line of the great impresarios, a connoisseur of talent. Upshot was the Unique film company. Modak Senior had an untimely demise and Mishtu had put his earnings from the mishti business into his new company, clearing off the sheds, building the studio and installing himself as a patron of ‘artists’.

  He had prided himself in being a dispassionate recruiter, and an avowed brahmachari, but when he chanced upon Lily Joseph, actress in the silent bioscope pictures, he knew that he was a lost case. He had fallen hopelessly in love, and Lily soon knew that he was ‘murgi’ in her hands. Not once did Mishtu make any inappropriate gesture. He only stared longingly and smiled lovingly at her, wanting to grant her every wish. When Lily had asked for Raju to be retained by the studio, Mishtu had seen no sense in it. Why in god’s name, that sulky, oily haired little nobody? He had tried to reason with Lily but it was what she had wanted, and after a weak try Mishtu had given in. Raju became artiste in the Unique Film Company, and Lily had declared she would turn out a winner. That idiot girl fit only to play sakhis and dasis…Mishtu had wondered if the girl or that masi of hers had done any tuk-tak, black magic, on poor Lily.