Love Stories from Punjab

by Harish Dhillon

  She saw him sitting on her couch in the boat and heard again the sound of his music. She remembered the moment when he had first looked into her face and bewitched her, and the memory brought back the desire that had been awakened within her. She turned her face into her pillow and wept soundlessly.

  She awoke early the next morning, and after struggling through the rituals of the morning tasks, she fled, as soon as she could, to Mithi’s house. Dhido sat surrounded by Mithi’s family, regaling them with one story after another as he ate of the meal that had been laid before him. He spoke now of his experience in tending his father’s herds and as he spoke, Heer knew she had found a way to hold him, here in Jhang. Her father had a large herd of cows and buffaloes. For a long time now they had been without a suitable cowherd. Perhaps she could persuade Ranjha to take on the job.

  The morning wore on, and one by one, the men left to take up their tasks. A little later, the women too stole away and Dhido knew that it was time for him to take his leave and to move on.

  As he made his farewells, Mithi’s mother-in-law said, “Come again. You know that you are always welcome.”

  “Yes, I know. Khuda Hafiz.” He turned and left the house. Heer went with him. Once clear of the house she stopped.

  “Where will you go?” she asked.

  “I do not know,” he said. “Does it matter?”

  “No, it does not,” she said. “All that matters is that you go away from me.”

  “You would rather have me stay?” There was laughter in his voice and she knew that he made fun of her.

  “You know that already.” She looked him in the eye and, before her honest, unflinching gaze, the laughter died within him.

  “But what is there to hold me here?” The tenderness in his voice, the caressing gentleness was unmistakeable.

  “I am,” she said simply.

  “It is a strong enough reason for me to stay, but is it a reason that the world will accept?”

  “We will give the world a reason that it will accept. My father needs a cowherd. You could be his cowherd.”

  “Will your father give me the job?”

  “We can but try.”

  There was a long pause as Dhido considered this, and then he smiled and said: “Take me to him.”

  Chuchak was still at home, waiting for the cowherd his nephew had promised to send. He heard footsteps in the street outside and hastened out. He found only Heer and a stranger with her.

  “Father, I have found your cowherd,” his daughter said.

  “Who are you?” Chuchak addressed the stranger.

  “I am Dhido, the son of Mauju, the head of the Ranjha clan.”

  “And you have come to be my herdsman?’

  “Yes Khan, I have come to be your herdsman. I have fallen on evil days and my luck has run out. I could do worse than be herdsman to Chuchak Khan.”

  “It is no easy task,” Chuchak cautioned. “My herd is large, very large.”

  “I was my father’s herdsman for many years and he had a very large herd too. It was a task I performed with joy and pride.”

  “What made you give it up then?”

  “My father died and when the division took place, I lost my job.”

  “The job is yours, Ranjha, but take care! The first sign of carelessness, of laziness, and I will send you packing.”

  “There will be no need for that O Khan. The day I falter in my duties, I will leave of my own accord.”

  “That is good,” Chuchak said. Then, mindful of his duties as a host and employer, he asked. “Have you eaten?” Ranjha nodded.

  “Heer, take him to the cattle sheds. Show him the grazing grounds and also his living quarters. You will, ofcourse, have all your meals here in this house, like all my other employees.”

  Heer led the way out of the house. “Stay,” Chuchak called after them when they had reached the door.

  “Ranjha, you have not said what you expect as wages.” Ranjha turned and smiled, “All I ask is my food and a roof over my head and, ofcourse, your good opinion. For the rest, give me what you will.”

  “Well answered, young fellow!” Chuchak said, smiling, clearly impressed by the young man.

  “Do your job well and I will pay you well. Heer, lead him to the cattle. It is getting late.”

  Heer released the cattle from the sheds and led the way. Ranjha put his flute to his lips and the cows and buffaloes, as if enraptured by his music, followed him. They came to the clearing in the forest, where the Sayal herds always grazed. Ranjha stopped playing and the cattle fell to grazing. Ranjha went around the clearing and when he was sure that they were all cropping the grass, he sat down on a little mound. Heer sat at his feet and the couple was soon joined by her friends. The girls teased Ranjha and begged him for more stories and more music and in this delightful way, the morning passed, till Sajda looked up at the sun.

  “It is well past the time for the midday meal,” she said. “I will go and get some food for you.” And they all went, each to her home.

  A routine was established. Each morning Ranjha brought the herd to pasture and each morning Heer and her friends, after completing their household chores, joined him in the forest and dallied with him till the sun reached close to its zenith. Then they would return home and the girls, each in turn, would bring food for him. In the afternoon, a few of them would return and so those hours, too, would pass as pleasantly as the morning, till the sun sank towards the western horizon. Ranjha then led his cattle back to the sheds and spent an hour or two supervising the milking. Finally, he would return to Chuchak’s home, have his evening meal and retire to the hut that had been provided for him.

  Heer was content to be in his company, even if it meant sharing him with her friends. She did not offer to bring Ranjha his midday meal, did not thrust herself forward or seek any special attention. On the fourth day, when they broke up for the midday meal, Ranjha leaned forward and caught her by the wrist.

  “Stay, stay with me,” he begged. She looked at his hand, as it held her wrist, then at his arm. The sight of the soft, downy hair on his fair skin, aroused a strong desire in her. She looked up into his eyes and saw the same desire mirrored in them. Quickly, she looked away. She felt her heartbeat quicken but she did not attempt to break free. Her friends stopped to look at the tableau that Heer and Ranjha formed, exchanged smiles and hurried away. When they were alone, Ranjha drew Heer down on the mound besides him.

  “Why do you torment me so?” he asked, reaching up to caress her hair.

  “It is you who torment me,” Heer said, and this time she looked into his eyes and did not look away.

  Ranjha drew her into his arms and looked into her face. Reaching up, he put his hand on her cheek. Covering it with her own, Heer held it where it lay. He drew her close and wrapped her in a gentle embrace, as her arms, too, went around him. He kissed her on her forehead, her cheeks, and her eyes and at last upon her lips. Her heart thrilled to his touch as he lowered her to the ground and as his kisses became more impassioned. He knew that she was ready for him. She gave herself, without restraint, as if all her life she had been waiting for just this moment of surrender. When, at last, they were both fulfilled and lay in each other’s arms, it was as if neither would ever have anything more to give. And so they drifted off to sleep, in the heat of the afternoon, and so Sajda, coming to the forest with Ranjha’s food, stole upon them and found them. She stopped and looked long upon them and knew that it could have been no way else. She stole quietly to the shade of a tree and sat there, waiting, awakening them only when she heard the sounds of the other girls returning. After this, as if by tacit agreement, Heer’s friends left her and Ranjha alone as much as it was safe to do so.

  Inspite of his pre-occupation with Heer, Ranjha did not neglect his work. He kept a careful eye on each of his charges, saw that they did not wander too far away, noticed the ones that did not eat too well and with a keen sixth sense, was able to spot and attend to sickness long before anyone els
e saw it. The herd grew sleek and the yield of milk increased, till it was more than twice what it had been before. Chuchak and Malliki marvelled at the magic that Ranjha had wrought and determined never to let him go. As the days grew into months and the months slipped into years, Heer and Ranjha thought that their bliss would have no end. But when the flame of love has once been lit, the hardest thing of all is to hide its light from the world.

  The world saw the light of Heer and Ranjha’s love shine in the change wrought in Heer. It had changed Ranjha too. The young man had been a carefree, gregarious youth when he had first come to the household, given to easy banter with every one. A joke, an anecdote, a flattering compliment had always come readily to his lips. But now, he held his peace: watching everything, being a part of everything, yet being apart from it all. It was also true that he had begun to show a greater concern for those who suffered, and those who were less fortunate than himself. While he had never asked Chuchak for anything, and had accepted the wages that he gave him without even noting what was given, he now kept only enough for his bare necessities and gave everything else away. It was as if, while living in the world of men, he had renounced the world of men. However, the nature of his work demanded that he spend most of his time by himself and so few people noticed the change in him. And those who did, attached no great importance to it – he was, after all, a stranger in their midst, one who would inevitably move on.

  It was the change in Heer that caused concern. She was born, the only daughter after seven sons and was the apple of her father’s and brothers’ eyes. She grew up, spoilt and pampered because, as far as Chuchak was concerned, she could do no wrong. With her father to back her, Heer had always been a wilful and self-centered individual, concerned only with her own pleasures.

  As Heer had crossed into puberty, she became aware of her great beauty. It could not be otherwise, because she was reminded constantly of it by her friends, her mother and the other womenfolk of the household and even by her father and brothers. She had seen it in the guarded looks of appreciation and desire that all men, no matter what their age, cast towards her. She had become vain and spent endless hours at her toilet.

  Now, her family noticed that she spent less and less time in adorning herself, till all the care she gave to her appearance was a casual glance in the mirror. She wore whatever came first to hand and it was obvious that she no longer cared how she looked. The pranks that she had constantly designed for her group of tomboys to play on others, became few and far between and, finally, ceased altogether. She became willing to let others take the lead while she remained in the background herself. She used her father’s position, not to shield her friends and herself from the wrath of others, but to benefit them. She forgot to torment Kaidon and, instead, brought him food to eat and clothes to wear. Often she would spend an hour or two with him, tidying up his simple home and helping him with his household chores. Kaidon greeted all her ministrations with silence. His heart was hardened against her. He could not bring himself to forgive the past and, no matter how much kindness and concern she lavished upon him now, he was determined to find some way to harm her, to avenge, no matter in how small a way, all the harm that she had done him.

  The village buzzed with curiosity about the transformation. All kinds of conjectures were offered and each of them was discussed threadbare and discarded, in favour of a fresh one. Kaidon listened to all that was said with avid interest because he was convinced that in the secret of Heer’s transformation, lay the key to his revenge. He listened intently and as he did, it became clear to him that the process of Heer’s transformation had begun with Ranjha’s arrival in Jhang. Once this fact had been clearly established in his vicious, scheming mind, he vowed to spend all his waking hours in spying on his niece.

  One morning, Kaidon followed Heer and her friends and after waiting at the edge of the forest for a while, attempted to steal in after them. He had not gone far, when he was accosted by Sajda.

  “Where are you going uncle? Is there someone waiting for you?” Her voice as she asked the simple question was too loud, her manner too brittle and Kaidon was convinced that his suspicions were not ill-founded. He tried to brush past her but she held him there with her senseless chatter and soon, as if in answer to the summons, Heer and her friends emerged from the forest. “What is it, uncle? What brings you here? Can I help you?” The solicitousness in Heer’s tone was genuine and, for a moment, Kaidon felt that, perhaps, he had been wrong after all. But then the memory of all the indignities that Heer had heaped on him in the past came smarting back. If there was an opportunity to do Heer harm, he was not going to let it pass. He had to find out what drew her to this forest day after day.

  “One of my goats has wandered away. I thought she might have come here.” It was a lame, half-hearted excuse and he offered it in a half-hearted way, sure that it would not be accepted. To his surprise, Heer said:

  “Come, come, let’s go and look for uncle’s goat. Don’t worry uncle, we’ll find your goat for you,” and laughing and joking and calling out to each other, Heer and her friends disappeared, once again, into the forest. Sajda stayed on and when Kaidon caught her eye, he saw in it a mocking contempt.

  He was sure that the secret that he sought, the ability to avenge Heer’s insults lay here in the forest. “Well, since Heer is looking for my goat, I can safely go home. It is almost time for the Zahur namaz,” he said. Sajda made no rejoinder but her eyes never left his face and, after waiting in embarassed silence for a moment or two, he limped back to the village.

  All through that evening and night, his mind worked on various devious plans and long before sunrise, he had made his way back into the forest. He found a perfect place of concealment, where he hid himself and waited for what the day would bring.

  A little after the first rays of the sun had broken over the eastern horizon, Kaidon heard the sound of Ranjha’s flute. The cowherd came to the forest leading Chuchak’s vast herd of cattle, and made his way to a little mound, some distance from where Kaidon lay concealed. He seated himself and continued to play softly on his flute, as the herd settled down to graze. The hours stretched on and it began to grow warm. Kaidon was troubled by flies and, a little later, by red ants, whose nest he had disturbed. But inspite of his great discomfort, he remained still and waiting.

  The morning stretched on, and Kaidon began to feel that perhaps he had made a mistake. Then he heard Heer’s voice, as she came into the forest with her friends.

  One by one the friends fell away, till she stood alone near Ranjha’s mound. Ranjha put his flute away and held out his hands. Heer took his hands in hers and Ranjha pulled her down besides him. Kaidon’s heart beat with excitement. He had her in his grip now; he sensed that he finally had the power to destroy her and he vowed to himself, that he would exploit this power to the fullest. She had shown no mercy towards him in the past and he would show her none now.

  The lovers moved further into the forest. But it did not matter. Kaidon knew Heer’s secret now and with it, he knew he could destroy her. He longed to be on his way, to carry his new found knowledge to the Sayals. But he could take no chances. He realized that if he tried to steal away and was seen, all would be lost, for Heer and her friends would have a chance to pre-empt his move.

  At last, the heat of the sun began to wane, and after a while, he heard Heer’s voice raised in farewell. Then there was the sound of Ranjha’s flute and the rustling of the undergrowth as the cattle moved to follow him back to the village. It was now safe for Kaidon to emerge from his hiding place. He flexed his cramped limbs to restore their circulation, then, hooking his crippled leg over his stick, he hobbled back towards the village. He did not notice that Sajda, close to the village now, had turned to look, one last time, towards the forest and had seen him come out from among the trees. There could be no mistaking his gait.

  The door to the courtyard lay open. Kaidon stepped inside and paused. He surveyed the scene and was pleased at what he saw. T
here was, Chuchak sitting on one of the cots, in earnest conversation with his eldest son and two elders of the clan. As he cast his glance further afield, he counted another four of Chuchak’s sons and three of the daughters-in-law, involved in various activities. Malliki, too, sat near the hearth, supervising the cooking of the evening meal. He could not have asked for a better audience. He made a deliberate attempt to gather his thoughts and find the appropriate words for them. Chuchak looked up and saw him standing at the door.

  “Come, come brother Kaidon,” he said, getting to his feet to make his visitor welcome. “Malliki, a glass of milk for my brother Kaidon.”

  “I will not drink milk in your house, Chuchak.”

  “Why, what is the matter?” Chuchak asked and his voice was tinged with the mocking amusement that he always reserved for Kaidon.

  “You can laugh at me as much as you like, Chuchak, laugh at me while the entire village, nay the whole of the Punjab, laughs at you. Your daughter, that harlot Heer, has cast your turban in the dust and trampled upon it and yet you stand here and make fun of me.”

  “Come, come brother, do not be so upset,” Chuchak said placatingly, sure that Heer had been troubling Kaidon again. “If Heer has done something, I will make her apologize to you and you can punish her in whatever way you like.”

  “It is not what she has done to me Chuchak; it is what she does with your cowherd Ranjha. While you and your family live on in the bliss of ignorance, there in the forest, Heer and Ranjha spend their time in endless copulation.” A hush descended on the entire household. Each member of the group stood motionless and still. It was as if time had been frozen, all eternity telescoped into those brief seconds. Each person in that courtyard found, in Kaidon’s accusation, an echo of the suspicions that had lain dormant in his own mind.

  “Take care, chacha,” said Sultan, the elder son, “You presume too much on my father’s affection. If what you say proves to be untrue, you will pay dearly for it.”