He looked up at Ambarish Dev Burma, smiling. ‘What will you…you and your kind do, if our lot is washed clean, like gangajal? You, who are so high up, only because we are so low.’
Two and half months later
I
‘That last part…she looks like one of us, whatever any of you tells me’. Nyaka Natabar gushed, rubbing his hands in glee. ‘That Ramola Madam, what spleen she has! Ending the picture with the heroine looking like that. And see the public also, lapped her up, hair or no hair. Yesterday’s naachgaanawali Raju darling, today’s Mira rani…fate…fate! My didi…my rani, my queen,’ smilingly Natabar wiped a tear off his face.
Jhantu made a face. ‘As if she will remember you, or me? They’re saying she’s getting calls from everywhere now, Lahore, Bombay. God alone knows what she will do.’
‘She will leave Bharat Talkies…naaa, never.’ Dhonu was cleaning his ear with a peacock feather. ‘Ramola Madam, she kept her with herself, all those days, then, after they got her back. And now, they say she will adopt her, Raju…like her own daughter, give her Bharat Talkies. What kismet…and see us, same old janjal!’
Jhantu snapped at him. ‘Tham, quiet! You have that one, your big Sethji, na? As if we don’t know? What’s your worry, rani bankar raaj kar…rule over him.’
Dhonu hid a smile as he switched the feather to his other ear.
Natabar was looking pensive. ‘Remember what he had said, that drunk? That someone high up would hear, and do something, about the girl. God rest him, why he did what he did who knows?’
‘For love, what else?’ Dhonu nodded dejectedly. ‘For that babu of his.’
Natabar was scratching his head. ‘Always crying for him, but he never told us his name, any of us. Got fultu and went and drowned himself…kapal, his rotten fate. These rotten pukris, these ponds, how many more of us will they take? Remember that girl that was in the family way, Naseem? Same place they had found her, bobbing up and down in the black water…saaala.’
‘What he went and did God knows,’ Jhantu puzzled. ‘Else…how did Ramola Devi get into all of this? Tell me, who told her? And why she even believed it was him…that rakshasa, that devil? After all, he was the top director of her own studio. Only we knew, but who believes people like us? But still she went and got the girl from his clutches.’
Dhonu was quiet. He had known more, put two and two together, even what Shankho had not ever said to him.
Jhantu turned on Dhonu. ‘Ei Dhonu, you saala you never told us the full story, tight-lipped Nepali saala! You only came and gave the news that Madam has got her out of that house, and then for two months nobody saw your face in the studio para. Where were you, haan? Warming that your Sethji’s bed, or what?’
Dhonu turned away his face. It wasn’t Seth Makhandas. Though Sethji had not forgotten him. No, Avinash Babu had paid him. Go away for some days, he had said, till this trouble is settled. He had gone away to his village in the hills, the money had been good. When he had come back, everyone had forgotten everything. He had gone to see Mirabai in the picture hall. What a picture! And in the last scenes…he had almost become stuck to his seat when he saw that girl Rajbala, same like he had seen her in that house, her cropped head, and eyes still sunk inside her face. But singing like she was possessed, like she had had the darshan of god himself. Like she had lost her all, and then become one with bhagwan. Something had changed in her, since when he had seen her, skeleton-like in that house. Like she was now neither man nor woman anymore, but something above them all. Tears had come streaming down his face, he had wanted to lie down and put his head on her feet… that girl had become like a devi.
Shankho had taken him to Avinash Babu. Shankho had known somehow that Avinash Babu would do his all to get Rajbala from Dev Burma Saheb. It was Avinash Babu’s plan, to use Seth Makhandas to bait that rakshasa. So he keeps the girl safe, for some days, in the hope of the new picture…until we can get her from there, Avinash Babu had said. Dhonu had himself let Shankho in on it, that Dev Burma Saheb had come to Sethji for money. Shankho had put it in Avinash Babu’s ear, but that whole doing was his, Avinash Babu’s. He had snatched the calf from the tiger’s mouth. He and Ramola Devi.
He had puzzled over it all of those lazy afternoons that he had spent in his home in the hills. What indeed was Avinash Babu’s relation with Ramola Devi…that goddess of the world of bioscope pictures? She so high up that nobody could touch her even. Yet, she had listened to him…saved the girl…and if not for her then who knew what would have become of that Rajbala? How had Shankho known that Ramola Devi would hear Avinash Babu? Had he, in his heart, known something that had eaten him inside…and in the end driven him to that pukri?
Dhonu blinked as Jhantu shouted in his ear. ‘Eiii saala Nepali, daydreaming…you fultu or what?’
II
‘Jai ho, beti, apki jai jaikar…glory to you!’
Ramola hid a smile. Really, Sethji could be such a clown sometimes. But Seth Makhandas was elated, his Ramola Beti had proved herself to the world. And why not, she had Shankar Babu’s blessings on her.
He nodded gleefully. ‘We will become maalamal beti, full loaded, this picture is gold beti, solid gold. Everybody, everywhere is talking…only Mirabai Mirabai Mirabai. More than one month now, and still full house everywhere. And your heroine, she has shown the world, shabaash ladki, bravo, that girl. Jai ho Mirabai ki, Jai Ramola Beti ki.’
He thought a moment.
‘You are like my own child, beti, I will not hide the truth from you. I had thought that this picture will not run, after people saw that ending. When you said that you will finish the picture with her only…Rajbala, like that only, how we found her in that house, her long hair gone and all ghost-like. In seven or eight days you got her back to the studio, everybody said Madam has become pagal…full mad. The girl too, she was not ready I heard, to stand before the camera…crying…shaking like anything, I heard in the studio. But you beti, you made her do it, you took care of her like she was your own child. I had thought then, zid hai beti ka, Ramola Beti, she is adamant. She will drown my paisa that I had put in Shankar Babu’s hands, and also her husband’s good name. But I was wrong beti, we all were wrong.’
Ramola smiled, not looking at him. ‘I really had no way of knowing, Sethji, how it would all be in the end. But I did not want to finish this picture without Raju, nor put a wig on her head…no…that would not be my Mira. And how could I not hold Raju’s hand, after everything that happened, what she suffered, and when there is so little that we can do to stop what they go through in this world, girls like her.’
She looked up, ‘Tell me Sethji, you are a bhakt, a believer. Does not the sacrifice and the pain and love of Mirabai show up the most beautifully in the end…where Raju sings like that, like she has given up her everything? Somehow…you cannot take your eyes off her, can you Sethji?’
‘Theek beti, you are right.’ Seth Makhandas rubbed his face thoughtfully. ‘I heard that people are lying down in the picture halls, folded hands to their heads…when she comes like that in the end, like she is some devi ma.’
‘Hmmm…I did hear it.’ Ramola nodded. ‘And there was a report in Picture Weekly. I told Anil to keep a copy for me. They were shouting “Mira Bai ki Jai”… ”Bharat Mata ki Jai”, in that last part, like she was some swadhinata sangrami…freedom fighter or something.’
She shook her head disbelievingly, ‘Really, what the public makes of us bioscope actors and actresses sometimes, they alone know. Raju herself is rather taken aback, I can tell you that. I showed her that report, and she simply cannot fathom it, how yesterday’s Raju Darling can become like a devi…overnight. She’s not sure at all if she likes being worshipped like that!’ Ramola laughed. ‘She’s her old self again, thank goodness for that…and rearing to go.’
Seth Makhandas grinned happily. ‘And now beti, we must take this picture to the world, like Shankar Babu had wanted it. It is my Devi Ma’s command to me… America…England.’
; Ramola raised her eyebrows. ‘You really wish to? It will not be so easy Sethji, like in the home market, I can assure you that.’
‘Kuch parwa nahi beti, Makhandas Khemka is afraid of nothing.’ Seth Makhandas appeared wounded ‘My mind is made up, and when this Makhandas makes up his mind then nobody can stop him.’ He grinned again. ‘Like you beti, shabaash beti, how you showed what you could do with that adhmari half-dead heroine of yours.’
Ramola lowered her eyes shyly. ‘I too was not sure Sethji…I…I had somebody with me, he said to me that I should hear my own voice and not give in, whatever happened.’
‘Shankar Babu, na beti? It was him, his blessings, was it not?’
Ramola stopped, taken aback, then spoke again. ‘Sethji, Shankar was there, like a part of my own self, and he will be there, always a part of me. What I am today is for him, because of his dreams for me and for Bharat Talkies…and yet, perhaps,’ she drew in her breath, ‘… perhaps he would not have made this picture like I have done it. Perhaps he would not have let me do it in this very same way. Perhaps, this time around it was me alone, and perhaps…there is…somebody else, someone who is able to see things differently from Shankar.’
‘Kaun, who?’ Makhandas Khemka puckered his face, not understanding.
Ramola smiled. ‘More tea, Sethji?’
III
Raju twirled her hip as she pertly landed her bottom on the chair across from Ramola. Her hair done in fashionable finger waves and grown back till just below her neck.
‘How does it look, this sari Madam? From Cawasji Sahib, of Bombay Pictures. He came all the way here, only to see me.’
‘Nice, very nice.’ Ramola smiled. She did look rather sweet in that pink and orange organza. ‘So…are you doing the picture with them then?’
Raju raised an eyebrow like she was thinking, but Ramola knew her mind was made up. ‘Hmmm…yes Madam. I always wanted to go to Bombay, Madam, and the money…you will not believe Madam, how much they are giving.’
Ramola felt her heart sink. ‘Will you be alone there, all by yourself? Nobody to take care of you…’
‘Kamala Masi is coming with me Madam.’
Ramola rolled her eyes. ‘Good god Raju, you’d be better off without that dreadful masi of yours. I really had had enough of her fits while you were recuperating.’
Raju giggled. ‘I know Madam. Yesterday only, I hit her again, with my new sandals, what to do Madam, she wants to take the whole house with her to Bombay, even the ghoti she uses to wash her backside. But what will come of her Madam, if I leave her and go away? She has nobody, only me.’
‘And Anil, Raju? What of him?’ Anil had stopped by at the house every day, asking after her.
Raju bit her lip. ‘I saw him…three…no, four days ago, Madam, here in the studio. I told him, Anil Babu, I am going. He put his hand on my head, but said nothing. Is he going away too Madam? I had heard something, before.’
‘No Raju, he is going nowhere. I couldn’t do without him…nor Kedar Babu…or Bimal Babu, or any of them. I need them all with me. And Anil, I think, has made peace with himself, and I think he has forgiven you, Raju.’
For once she repents what she has done, Ramola thought, as the girl’s face clouded.
‘And Ambarish? Have you forgiven him?’ she asked gently. Raju did not look up. ‘You still love him, don’t you? After everything? Even now that you know the truth.’
Her lips trembled. ‘I knew Madam, much before. But what to do Madam? Some things are not in my fate…’
Ramola smiled wryly. ‘Do you know Raju, what they are all saying, here in the studio para? That I am about to adopt you as my own daughter and that Bharat Talkies will then be yours.’
Raju giggled again.
‘It could be true, you know Raju, after all anything could happen, couldn’t it?’ Ramola bit her lip to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.
Raju pouted, ‘And what will happen to Cawasji Sahib, Madam? I gave him my word.’
‘But Raju, have you thought of your image? Now that the papers are writing such marvellous things about you. Why only last week, The Statesman…no less, wrote of you, that, a true artiste has been born. Do you now wish to spoil it all by doing the Cawasji type action and adventure pictures…do you not want to be counted an artiste, a proper artiste?’
Raju pondered. ‘Will that make me a devi, like you Madam? Will the world allow it? Or will I always be Rajbala Dasi, all of my life, whatever pictures I do? Do you know Madam…I…I did some bad pictures, before… when I first came in this line. What to do Madam, we had nothing, nobody, Ma and me…I had thought nobody will know, after all this time, and now I am a star. But he knew. He would say to me, that is the real Rajbala…’ Tears misted her eyes. ‘Perhaps…perhaps he was right Madam, and it may be that others also know. One day they will say to me, we know Raju, what you did. Whatever the papers write, Madam, I am that same Rajbala, of those pictures. I thought that I can be like you, I can change. I even thought that…that I could change him. I went after art Madam…and look what happened.’
She smiled, ‘Raju Darling I was Madam…Rajubala I will be.’
IV
29th August, Tuesday
Dear Mr Mukherjee,
I trust that this letter finds you well. Seth Makhandas Khemka came to the studio last week, and he has resolved to take Mirabai for its showings around the world. Without doubt, the poor dear has taken in right earnest a proposition that I understand now was possibly the matter of a little convenience. Yet, I must thank you for it. And also for Seth Mahkandas being rather an important cog in the wheel of several matters that have passed in our lives.
I never could have imagined so outrageous a plot (though I have spent a good part of my life now in a picture studio and appeared in many bioscope films!) for getting back Rajbala. Nor indeed that we might be able to get that fiend to desist from further harming her, should he think it to be inimical to his own prospects. You were right, Rajbala says the Pativrata trap did make him stop a certain very dangerous game that he had forced her to play, and to which I am rather certain Menoka fell prey. Though, sadly, we have nothing to name and he will live a free man despite the misery and harm he has caused.
It is not in my power to stop Ambarish. Nor can I tell the world what I in my heart know and what you too witnessed inside that house. For he is well-known, and of high class and a social position, unlike the girls that he had drawn to himself. My comfort remains that I was able to bring away this one girl from harm’s way, a girl that is very dear to me, and I do not hesitate to say it to you, that she is like the daughter that I never had. And I imagine that she too cares for me in her own rather odd manner, for I doubt it very much that Rajbala is able to love in ways that are common. She took the train to Bombay yesterday, leaving Bharat Talkies. Also, finally, after much trepidation, and after your own counsel, have I written to Amy, inviting her to visit with her daughter, who should now be a young lady. I do very much hope that she will write back.
In the matter of Mirabai, I have given my consent to Seth Mahkandas. Sethji is determined to initiate his own bioscope company for the purpose. And as I understand it, he looks to you to instruct him in this matter, for which I am most certainly grateful. Dear Sethji has truly been of the greatest assistance and service, and evidently in one certain matter, of which he himself is rather oblivious.
That certain matter should proceed as it is fated. I hear that the strawberry gateau at the Tearoom is rather a rage. Should I book a table for two people, Saturday, for tea-time? Of course, should you not be unavailable.
Yours truly,
Ramola
31st August, Thursday
Dear Madam,
Thank you for your kind invitation to have tea with you. Sadly I am rather occupied at the present moment and must decline.
As for Seth Makhandas, he has been a true well-wisher and friend to you in your times of need. My presence in the Rajbala matter was only rather partial, and it
was you yourself that led her away from the fiend’s web and nursed her to good health again. You end by mentioning one certain other matter. Of that I am sadly unaware.
I remain at your assistance in the future.
Yours sincerely,
AM
Ramola read the last lines another time, then looked up at the bedroom clock. Her blue chiffon was laid out on the bed. A line of pearls would go best, she had decided. It was half past three and her hair was done. Still, she would need a half hour to get dressed and a little over a quarter of an hour to get to the Tearoom. She had asked for a table for half past four. They would hold it, if even she got a little bit late, though they did get so very crowded on Saturday afternoons. She was Ramola Devi, after all.
The phone rang and she reached over hurriedly, the sudden blush of her cheeks colouring her face.
The voice at the other end stuttered, ‘…errm…good afternoon…I…as it happened, I did have a bit of time, only about an hour or two…at most…’
V
He had giggled as he had watched it. All through the night…the stripes and swirls of black and grey and ginger, sometimes stretching out his hand to feel how it felt, fur on dead flesh. Its green eyes popped from their sockets, their death stare piercing the wall in front in the dread of its very last moments. She had given it afeem, so it would be easy. She had known what made him happy, what he had wanted, like a good wife…what Ma never could be to his real father. Fan, she was his, he knew it now. She always had been, only he had not known it soon enough.
He had spent the night at Fan’s. In the kitchen where she had served him fresh meat and rice. The old tabby had sat winking by her, gulping the scraps of meat she had dropped for it on the floor. He had started to envy it. Fan had giggled when it had looked up at her and winked its wink.
Menoka has hanged herself Page 27