“Yes,” her voice was a little more than a whisper and she did not raise her eyes from the floor. It was plain to everyone in the room, that the woman was afraid and had something to hide. The qazi knew, at this moment, what would be the outcome of the trial.
“And you heard your daughter say yes?”
Malliki nodded her head in assent.
“Have you no shame, woman,” Heer cried out in anguish, “No fear of the wrath of God, when you stand before him on the day of judgement?”
“Quiet, woman!” the qazi said gently. “It is I who ask the questions here. Wife of the Sayal, you must answer me with words. Did you hear your daughter say yes?”
Malliki looked once at the qazi and then at her daughter. Then she turned her eyes again to the ground. But, try as she would, she could not bring herself to say the one word that she was required to say, she could not say ‘yes’. Her silence stretched on and a hush fell over the crowd.
“You, who are you?” The qazi asked turning to Sajda.
“I am Sajda,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “I am Heer’s cousin.”
“You say that you were with her at the time of the nikah. Did you hear her say yes to the maulvi’s question?”
“No, your holiness,” And Sajda looked the qazi straight in the eye as she spoke. “No. I did not hear her say yes because she never said it. The maulvi …”
“Enough. You have answered my question.” The qazi turned to each of the other girls, one by one, and repeated his questions and each of them confirmed what Sajda had said.
The hushed shock gave way to angry murmurs and the qazi once more called for silence. He called for Saida and Anju.
“Did this woman refuse to consummate her marriage?”
“Yes.” Anju said. Saida nodded in agreement.
“You, Saida. What reason did she give for her strange behaviour?”
“She said she was already wed to another and so could not submit to me.”
Turning to Anju the qazi asked. “And did she say the same to you?”
“Yes. She persisted in this statement and refused to have anything to do with my son. She is mad – stark raving mad.
“Quiet, woman! Just answer the questions that you are asked.”
The witnesses were dismissed and Heer was called back to testify.
“You told the Khairas that you were already wed to another. Who is this other?”
“Ranjha,” she answered “And who performed the nikah?”
“The five peers – the five holy men who are venerated throughout the Punjab.”
“You are sure of that?”
“Yes, as sure as I am that the sun rises in the East.”
Ranjha was called to testify and he corroborated what Heer had said.
The qazi turned and called for the five peers to come forward.
He knew that he would not be calling for them in vain. Heer and Ranjha had mentioned, during his preliminary enquiries that their nikah had been performed by the five peers. He knew the peers well, and respected them. He also knew that they were, at that time, camping in Multan, and so had sent for them, requesting them to be present at the trial. If what the lovers claimed was true, the qazi was sure that the peers would come to Kot Kabula. And so it was.
The five peers entered the courtyard and a collective gasp went up from the crowd. They were well-known and well revered figures in the region and everyone knew that what they said would influence greatly, the outcome of the trial.
“It was kind of you to come,” the qazi said gently after he had raised his fingers to his forehead in greeting.
“A courtroom is no place for holy men and it would have been understandable if you had not come.”
“It is our duty,” said the eldest of the peers, who had performed Heer and Ranjha’s nikah and it was he who now assumed the role of the spokesman. “And to perform our duty, we would go willingly into the pits of hell.”
“May Allah ensure that that eventuality never comes to pass!” The qazi said with great feeling and then resumed his cross examination.
“Do you know this man and the woman?”
“Yes,” said the peer. “He is Dhido, son of the late Mauju, head of the Ranjhas of Takht Hazara. She is Heer, daughter of Chuchak Khan, the head of the Sayals of Jhang.”
“Tell us, if it will please you, how you came to know them?”
The peer told of their wandering into the little glade and seeing the lovers together. He spoke of their wondrous love and bore witness to the performing of the nikah, there in the forest, the sacred ceremony which had made them man and wife.
A few more witnesses were called, a few more questions asked, but the spectators knew that the decision had already been reached. They knew the verdict that the qazi would pronounce and he pronounced it, clearly and briefly.
“It has been established, beyond all doubt, that Heer and Saida were never joined together in matrimony. As such, there can be no question of Heer having wronged him with Ranjha. Far be it from me to censure the holy men for their actions, though issue could be joined with them, on social grounds, for not having taken Heer’s parents into confidence before performing the nikah.
“Be that as it may, it has been established, again beyond all doubt, that Heer and Ranjha had become man and wife both in the eyes of God and in the eyes of the law, long before she was brought to Rangpur. If they have enjoyed any physical intimacy, it is no more and no less than the conjugal rights that the law bestows upon a husband and wife. I pronounce Heer and Ranjha innocent of the charges that have been levelled against them and restore Heer to her rightful husband, Ranjha, with the command that no man should seek to come between them. Go now, the two of you and may God always be with you.”
Hand in hand, the lovers left the courtyard and there were many in the crowd who wept unashamedly at the happiness that had at last come to them.
“For you others and for your miserable role in this affair,” the qazi said, looking severely at the Sayals and the Khairas “I will only say that I commend you to Allah’s mercy. May he give you the power to look into your souls and see that social norms and social conventions are meant to bring law and order into our lives and to promote happiness amongst men. They are not made to be twisted and abused in order to impose our will upon others. May God, in his mercy, forgive you for the wrongs that you have done.” The qazi said a prayer and, along with the chief, strode out of the courtyard.
Heer and Ranjha were surrounded by a group of well- wishers and friends. Amongst these were Luddan, the boatman and his two wives, Sajda and all of Heer’s childhood friends. Chuchak and Malliki were there too, and appeared to have put the past behind them and to be happy in their daughter’s happiness.
“It is time we moved on. We must go home,” Ranjha said, voicing the obvious, “I have been too long away from Takht Hazara and I must now hurry home with my bride and share my happiness with my people.” He turned to look in Heer’s eyes for confirmation, but saw instead, doubt and uncertainty there.
“What is it, Heer?” he asked.
“I would wish to go to my new home with the ceremony that befits the coming of a new bride, not steal upon it quietly like a thief in the night.”
“And why should you do that?” Malliki asked “Your parents are not dead yet that the daughter of the house of Chuchak should not be bidden goodbye in the way she deserves. I have sinned against you and now beg for the chance to redeem myself.”
“Yes daughter,” Chuchak added, “You cannot deny us this chance to atone for the mistakes that we have made.”
“No, I cannot bide here any longer. I must be on my way,” Ranjha insisted.
“Then leave Heer here with us. When I have made suitable preparations, I will send her to Takht Hazara, escorted by her brother, Sultan.”
Ranjha hesitated, not willing to be parted from his Heer, now that she was at last his.
“Yes, let us do this,” Heer said. “You will be able to prepare your
people for my arrival. It is only a matter of a few days and it will show that we bear no ill will towards my people.” Against his better judgement, Ranjha allowed himself to be persuaded to return alone to Takht Hazara. And having made his farewells and extracted from Heer a promise that she would follow him within the week, he returned, at last, to his native village.
Great was the joy in Takht Hazara at Ranjha’s return, after so long an absence. The brothers had, for too long, borne the burden of their guilt and the social ostracism that had been their lot for the unfair treatment they had meted out to their brother. Now they vied with each other to make amends. Greater, still, was the joy when it was learnt that he had wed the legendary Heer and that she would soon be arriving amongst them with all pomp and ceremony.
Heer, meanwhile, returned to Jhang and it was as if all was forgiven and forgotten. An air of happiness and easy gaiety hung over the house and everyone was loving and cordial towards her. Even Kaidon, who had returned from his exile, treated his niece with great affection and tenderness and Heer was glad that the hostility between them had, at last, been laid to rest.
Away from the house, however, when the men were together, they expressed their true sentiments. Sultan, Heer’s eldest brother smarted under the insult that the qazi’s judgement had caused to the Sayals. Kaidon, now back from his banishment, and raging for revenge, added fuel to the fire. He taunted the men for accepting the situation and instigated them to punish the errant Heer.
“Think, think of what this will do in the future. If you let her go, our daughters will never again be safe. Every rascal and vagabond will make a beeline for Jhang and elope with the first Sayal girl who catches his fancy.”
And so it came to be that the men met each afternoon in the very forest where Heer and Ranjha had become lovers, to plot and scheme to avenge their humiliation. By mutual consent, Chuchak was kept in the dark about these proceedings.
“He loves his daughter more than he loves his honour,” Kaidon said sarcastically and the Sayal brothers, hurt as they were by this barb, had to concede the truth of it.
Sajda heard of the daily meetings in the forest and, her suspicions aroused, and stole in on the men to listen to what they said.
“The time has come,” Kaidon said, “to be done with that wanton girl. We must put an end to her and we must do it now. Put poison in her food and let her choke on her own dishonour. It is too easy an end, I tell you, for the infamy that she has brought on us.”
Her heart beating with fear at what was being planned for her friend, Sajda fled. She sought the first opportunity to be alone with Heer and, her voice trembling with fear, she told her friend what she had heard.
“Promise me, Heer,” she said putting her friend’s hand to her heart. “Promise me that not a morsel of food, not a drop of water will cross your lips in this wretched household.”
Heer smiled at her friend’s anxiety. “Do not be afraid,” she said. “Death holds no fear for me. It never has since I have found my Ranjha. My life was fulfilled the day I found his love and I know, that not even death can part us now.”
“O Heer, I do not understand you,” Sajda said, breaking into sobs. “Your life has just begun, how can you be so indifferent to the happiness that now lies ahead?”
“Life, death, happiness, unhappiness, they are all the same in the presence of my God. Do not be afraid. If they harm me, it is only my body they will harm; my love for my Ranjha is beyond the confines of this body.”
“For God’s sake, do not talk in this senseless way. Just promise me, that you will not partake of any food or drink while you are here.”
“If that will make you happy, it is easily promised.” Reassured by her friend’s promise, Sajda made her way home.
That night, when food was put before her, Heer refused to eat. She gave no reason and in answer to her mother’s entreaties, she only said, “I will eat only when I am with my Ranjha.”
Day after day she starved herself of food and drink and, in answer to all the pleas that were made to her, she smiled and repeated her intention.
“I will eat only with my Ranjha.”
The Sayals saw their daughter wasting away and saw, too, their carefully laid out plots and schemes crumble to dust. Paradoxically, while they were ready to poison her, they were not ready to let her starve herself to death. They did not wish her to become a martyr to love. So it was decided that it was better to let her go, and perhaps, when she came on a subsequent visit to Jhang, a way could be found to deal with her.
Hurried preparations were thus made to send Heer to Takht Hazara. A small party led by Sultan was formed to escort her on her way. Once again, the doli stood at the door of the courtyard, once again Heer was dressed in all her bridal finery and once again the plaintive notes of the shehnai filled the air. One by one, Heer embraced all her friends and relatives and bid them farewell. She came, at last to the door and saw her father waiting his turn to bid his daughter goodbye. Her heart filled with anguish and pain as memories of his kindness and love came chasing each other through her mind. He had been more than a father to her. He had been a friend, a true and honest friend and now she was leaving him forever to find new love and new friends. She would return once in a while, but she knew that it would never be the same again. Her heart filled with grief at what had been and would never be again and with a cry, she ran into his arms. He drew her into a tight embrace and kissed the top of her head. Then he drew away and through the mist in her own eyes, she saw the tears in his. Over her shoulder, she heard Kaidon’s voice, soft and gentle in its love.
“You go now, my child, and take with you all that your father has ever cherished. You take your love, your togetherness and memories of all that was beautiful and joyous. All that you leave behind is the sharp, bitter memory of seven hungry days. Eat but one morsel for his sake, and take this memory, too, away with you, like you take everything else.” Heer responded to the poignancy of Kaidon’s words and, forgetting Sajda’s warning, she reached out towards the plate he held out to her.
She picked a sweet from Kaidon’s platter and put it to her lips. Ranjha sat outside his room, when the messenger rode upto him. He got to his feet, a smile on his lips, sure that the messenger brought the news of Heer’s impending arrival. But as he looked into the man’s face, he saw the frown upon his brow and his heart was filled with dark foreboding.
“What is it?” he asked coming upto the rider and putting his hand upon the bridle.
“It is Heer.”
“What of her?”
“She is dead.”
For a moment more, Ranjha looked up into the rider’s face. Then he turned and went into the house. He unrolled his prayer mat and kneeling down, began to pray. He prayed first to Allah and then to the peers, reminding them of what they had said when they had performed the nikah. Once again he invoked the blessing that they then had given: “May you always be together, even in death.”
Outside, people began to crowd around the messenger and the sad tidings spread through the village in hushed whispers.
“Where is he, where is Ranjha?” people asked in voices as soft as it was possible to make them.
Nooran, worried for Ranjha, ran barefoot into the house and saw him kneeling in prayer. She stood for a moment, watching him, and then ran out to the crowd outside.
“He is praying,” she whispered.
“It is all to the good. It is only in prayer that he will find the strength to bear his loss.”
The hours dragged on and the crowd at his door waited patiently, not raising their voices above a whisper for fear of intruding upon his grief.
“What does he do now?” someone whispered, after another long while and the question was taken up by others. Once again, Nooran slipped softly into the house and once again, she saw him, still kneeling on his mat.
“He prays still,” she informed the others.
The hours slipped away, darkness gathered, the crowd, in their vigil, began to grow restles
s and worried for Ranjha. “What does he do now?” the question came again. And yet once, more Nooran stole into the house and saw him in the same position. She came close to him and, gently, put her hand on his shoulder to see if she could make him break his silence. At her touch, his body keeled over and she knew that he was dead. She gave a cry and ran to the door, and in a voice loud enough to raise the dead, she shouted.
“He is gone. My Ranjha is gone.”
And so they lived, Heer and Ranjha and so they died, closer even in death than they had been in life. Leaving behind the story of their love to be relived and retold in each generation, leaving behind a legend that grew with each retelling. A legend that inspired innumerable artists, poets and philosophers, for it was after all a story of a love that began like many others, as a selfish impulse of the flesh but which grew ever upwards to become spiritual ecstacy, the story of a love beyond the flesh, beyond mortality, beyond death.
Three
SASSI PUNNU
It was a dark night – a fitting end to a day that had been marked by darkness. All day, a thick blanket of black clouds had covered the sky and engulfed the earth. Now, as the night drew on, they seemed to wrap the world still closer in their embrace. But Kapil Muni had not noticed the darkness – for him the day had been the brightest one of his life. After long, sterile years, this was the day that his wife Ramba had been blessed with a child.
It had been a difficult birth. All through the day she had laboured and he had been torn between anxiety for his wife and joy at the impending arrival of his child. Then, in the early hours of the night, she had been delivered of a baby girl. He had felt a twinge of regret, for he would have wished for a son to perpetuate his name. But when he had held the infant in his arms, great joy had welled up within him and there had been no room left for misgivings. For a long while, he had permitted himself to savour this joy, then, handing the baby back to the midwife, he had turned to do what he was most adept at doing – casting a horoscope. Very quickly, he made his calculations and drew up his tables, then turned to making deductions. As he did so, a frown creased his brow. No, it couldn’t be. Perhaps his deductions were wrong. He turned to examine the permutation of the stars. Perhaps he had made an error there. He checked and rechecked a dozen times, but he had made no mistake. The stars were fixed in their combination and the deductions he had drawn were as clear as daylight and just as immutable. The stars forecast that his daughter would, one day, bring him shame and there was no remedy, no steps that he could take to thwart this prophecy. No mantras he could chant, no act of piety or charity that he could perform.
Love Stories from Punjab Page 13