In the early days, she would often find him looking at the younger and more attractive of her friends with a look of naked lust. When he saw her looking at him, his face would flush and he would look away. She understood that he chaffed at the bondage that marriage imposed upon him. But he said nothing and she, too, held her peace. Often she would smile lovingly at him and reach out and touch his hand and he knew that she understood how difficult it was for him. As time went on, however, these moments of restlessness became fewer and fewer, till they ceased altogether.
There developed, then, a synchronized harmony between Sassi and Punnu – the harmony that only comes when two people who love each other have lived long together. They understood each other’s moods, each other’s feelings; they pre-empted each other’s needs. Sometimes now, they even knew the words that the other was going to use before they were spoken. “Allah has indeed been kind to us,” her mother said, “Seeing Sassi’s happiness, I am at last content and ready to face my Maker.”
“Don’t talk like that, woman,” Mahmood chided her, “you may be ready for death but I am not. Not till I hear, again, the patter of little feet on our bare brick floors.”
In the day that followed, those who were close to the two lovers noticed the transformation that love had wrought in the young couple. Sassi had always been a sweet-natured girl who showed a great deal of concern for those around her. But now her love and concern spread outwards to embrace even total strangers. Soon she became a rallying point for those who suffered and those who were in pain and want. The people were awed by her boundless kindness and compassion which embraced an ever increasing number of people. At first her parents, Mahmood and Nasib, too were overcome with admiration of their daughter and basked in the universal praise and respect that was lavished upon their daughter. But soon anxiety began to gnaw at their hearts. Her boundless charity had begun to eat into their meagre savings and it was only a matter of time before their savings dried up altogether, forcing Sassi to halt in the activity that brought her so much joy, and brought so much comfort and solace to the less fortunate amongst the people around her. They voiced their misgivings to their son-in-law. Punnu only smiled.
“Do not worry. It is God’s work that she does and God will provide.”
And God did provide. The Diwan heard about Sassi and her acts of charity and compassion and came down to the riverbank to meet her. He put his hand on her head and blessed her.
“It was indeed a fortunate day on which the river brought you to us. All these years you have been a joy and blessing for your parents. Now you have become a blessing for all of us. Tell me my daughter, what inspired you to take up this work?”
Sassi looked once at Punnu and encouraged by the smile that he flashed at her, she gave her answer.
“I met a beggar in the street, tired and weary, the sores on his body clearly discernible through the tatters that made a pretence of clothing his body. He had slumped to the ground, and repulsed by his suppurating sores, I tried to avoid looking at him when I crossed him. But at the very last moment I glanced at him and found myself into Punnu’s eyes. It was no longer a strange beggar who lay in the street but my Punnu and I could not ignore his suffering and turn my face away. It has been thus ever since. I see my Punnu in all those who need comforting and solace and I cannot help but provide it to them.”
“We are all beholden to you,” the Dewan said and then turning to Punnu, he added, “Let me know if I can be of any help.” And so it was that the Dewan and a few other leading citizens came to Sassi’s aid and at last began to perform their social responsibilities.
There was a greater and more marked transformation in Punnu, which went unnoticed because he was a stranger in their midst and no one had known him before his love for Sassi found fulfilment. The once arrogant, self-centred debauched prince had been transformed into a humble washerman, who found joy and pleasure in the little things in life and in being a support to Sassi when she cast the light of her love on all those around her. He too learnt to see his Sassi in all whom he met and to look upon them with love.
Punnu’s attendants reached Makran and told Ahmed of what had happened. He was amused. “What lengths my son will go to seduce a beautiful woman!” he said to his other sons, as they sat down to the evening meal. “He is now masquerading as a washerman.”
“The girl must indeed be exceedingly beautiful.”
“Yes, I grant that he has never before gone so far.”
“But there is no woman who can hold our Punnu for long. Give it a few months – six at the outside – and he will tire of her and return home.”
There was general laughter and the subject was put aside.
But the six months came and went and then another six and there was no lessening of Punnu’s love for Sassi. If anything, it seemed to grow deeper and mellower with each passing day. For the first time in his life, Punnu realized what it was to feel fulfilled.
It was a little over a year after her marriage. Sassi was hanging up her washing on a clothesline strung between bamboo supports. She looked away from her work for a while and saw an old man sitting under her tree. On the road, close to him, was a covered bullock cart, with the driver of the cart sitting patiently on his haunches, beside his animals. The old man sat with a stoop and even from a distance, Sassi could sense the exhaustion in his posture.
“There is someone in trouble,” Sassi said to Punnu who was working on the other clothesline. Punnu too glanced towards the tree.
“He seems to be unwell.”
The couple walked towards the tree. The old man looked up at their approach and smiled.
“Do you need help? Is there anything that we can do for you, sir?” Punnu asked, after greetings had been exchanged.
“No. I do not need help. It is only that I am tired. It has been a long journey and the road has not been of the best. My old bones have been rattled by the jolts. It would never do to present myself at the Dewan’s haveli in this condition. So I am resting here to catch my breath.”
“The Dewan is a relative then?” Sassi asked. There was something familiar about the lilt in the girl’s voice, which made the old man look closely at her.
“No. I am a poor pundit. The Dewan has faith in astrology and has asked me to cast a horoscope for his grandson.” he said, not taking his eyes off the girl’s face. “Commissions like these are now, so few and far between that I was compelled, even at the risk of breaking my bones, to undertake this long journey.” There was something familiar about the girl’s face too, though he couldn’t say what it was. He had never met her before, of that he was sure. Yet he could have sworn that he had known her for many years. “But enough about myself. Come and sit beside me and tell me about your town and yourself. The burden of my years will be lightened by feeding, for a while, upon your youth.”
Sassi exchanged a glance with Punnu before she spoke. “There is little to tell. This is a small town with little of interest. I am Sassi, daughter of Mahmood. As you can see from my work, I am a washerwoman and this is Punnu, my husband.”
“Also a washerman?”
“Yes, I am now a washerman – what else could the husband of a washerwoman be?”
“He could be the prince of Makran,” the old man said with a smile. “Who hasn’t heard of your great love for each other? You may not know it, but you and your love have become a legend in Punjab.”
Sassi looked again at Punnu and blushed with embarrassment. “Can you also read hands; can you tell us what the future holds for us?” The old man smiled at this obvious effort to turn the conversation away from her.
“What do you seek in the future, my child?” the old man said gently. “God has been kind and bountiful to you beyond measure. He has given you what few mortals are fortunate enough to be given – a love beyond compare. A love that is so radiant that everything else pales into insignificance before it. There is nothing more that life can give you and nothing that life can take away. No matter what the future h
olds, good or bad, it is all irrelevant in the light of the wonderful gift that has fallen to your lot.”
He fell silent and Sassi, mulling over his words, realized how true they were. She was content in her love and wanted nothing more. No matter what life had in store for her, she knew nothing could destroy this love. She looked shyly towards Punnu and, when she caught his eye, she saw that he too had been thinking the same thought.
“Help me to my feet,” the old man said, “I must be on my way.”
Sassi and Punnu got up and raised him gently to his feet. They walked back together to the cart and Punnu helped him up into it.
“It was good meeting you,” the old man said. “The burden of my age, has indeed been lightened.” He paused and looked closely at Sassi. “It is strange,” he said at last. “I know that I have never met you before and yet it seems I have known you for a long, long time.”
“Perhaps I remind you of someone who you have known for a long, long time. It happens sometimes.”
There was an awkward silence and then the old man spoke again. “God bless you both! Perhaps we will meet again some day. Goodbye.” He called to the driver to move on and the cart went jolting on its way.
The next morning, after he had finished casting the horoscope and had settled down to his midday meal, the astrologer’s thoughts turned again to Sassi.
“I had a strange experience yesterday,” he said to the Dewan. “On the outskirts of your town I met Sassi and Punnu. I have heard of them and of their great love but I had never seen them before. Yet the more I saw of Sassi, the more I could have sworn that I knew her. Has she always lived here?”
“To the best of my knowledge, yes. Her parents don’t travel much and all their relatives are either here or within a day’s walking distance. Yes, I think she has always lived here, ever since the river bore her down to Bhambhor.”
The pundit’s hand stopped in the act of putting a morsel of food in his mouth. He returned the food to his plate, uneaten.
“The river bore her down?” he asked “Yes. She is not really Mahmood’s daughter. She was carried down the river in a wooden box and he, while washing clothes in the early morning, saw the box and rescued the child. They were never able to find the child’s parents.”
“Yes. He made sure that they would never be found,” the pundit spoke in an inaudible whisper and his host could not catch the words.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing, really. I was wondering at the strange course that destiny can sometimes take.”
“Yes,” the Dewan agreed. “Only in this case, everything worked out well – the childless couple was, at last, blessed with a child and the poor abandoned infant found a home and more love than most parents give their natural child. And to crown it all, she has been blessed with a wonderful husband.”
Later, in the silence of his own room, the pundit pondered over what he had been told. He, at last, understood why Sassi had seemed so familiar. She was so much like his wife, Ramba, had been in her younger days – the face, the height, the dignity of bearing, even the inflections in her voice.
He should have been able to put two and two together at once but even if he had, he would never have believed that this girl was the infant he had consigned to the waters those long years ago.
His heart beat with excitement and he had to breathe deeply for a few minutes before the palpitations could be stilled. Yet, there was a small part of his being that refused to be convinced. He must go to the washerman and hear him recount how he had found the child.
When the sun had sunk low over the horizon and a pleasant evening breeze had struck up, the pundit called to his attendant, the cart driver, and they made their way to the little cluster of huts, the washermen’s settlement, on the outskirts of the town.
He walked through the open door into the courtyard and, the old man and the old woman, sitting there, saw him as he came in. They paused in their talk and, after a moment, rose slowly to their feet. The pundit saw wariness come into their eyes, almost, he thought, as if they knew the tidings that he would bring. But he shook the thought away. Surely it was no more than a trace of suspicion at the arrival of a stranger. It was a long, awkward moment, as they stood and looked at each other. At last, the pundit could bear it no longer. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and said, “I came to see your daughter. I met her at the river yesterday and …”
“Come, come,” the old woman said, the relief obvious in her voice and in her manner.
“She told us about you. Come and sit down.” She put out a little footstool for him and he sat down, wiping the sweat from his face. An awkward silence settled around them.
“Sassi and Punnu should be home any minute now,” the mother said, injecting a forced eagerness into her voice.
“It does not matter,” the pundit said in a quiet voice, his eyes fixed on the woman. “It is you, I came to see.”
The old woman looked at him for a moment and then looked away. But in that moment the pundit glimpsed again that fear, a premonition of what was to come.
“Yesterday, at the Dewan’s haveli, I spoke of my meeting with Sassi and Punnu and the Dewan told me of the strange way that she came to you – a gift from the river.”
The old couple exchanged an uneasy glance and shifted on their seats, but neither of them spoke. And neither of them looked at the pundit.
The silence deepened. Again the pundit cleared his throat and spoke. “Was she in a box?”
The old couple looked at each other and in that one glance, the pundit saw reflected all the horror and despair of a collapsing world. He wished he had never come. But even as he wished it, he knew that it was a futile wish. After what the Dewan had told him, he could not have gone away without being sure. In a firm steady voice he asked again, “Did you find her in a box?”
“Yes,” the woman said and her voice was little more than a whisper, a strangled gasp. In her eyes there was such wildness that the pundit was afraid for her. “Yes, she was in a box,” her voice was steady now and controlled and as she spoke, she looked him in the eye. “She was wrapped in a length of saffron silk and the box was lined with cotton.”
Time stood still. The pundit put his hand to his heart, almost as if to feel that it was still there.
“Go and get the box and the length of silk,” she said to her husband, not taking her eyes off the visitor’s face. She could see that he had found no comfort in her answer, only pain. Now she wished, for his sake, that he had not come. But even as she wished this, she knew he could not have done otherwise and she felt her heart go out to him. In a few minutes, her husband returned with the box and the length of cloth.
The pundit ran his hands over the box. Longingly, lingeringly, he caressed it and the old couple saw in this gesture all they needed to see. He bunched up the length of silk and held it to his chest, as if trying to recapture the fulfilment that he had felt so many years ago when he had held his little girl in his arms. The tears sprang to his eyes and sparkled there and his body shook with suppressed sobs.
Nasib looked at her husband and saw her own concern reflected in his eyes. She shook her head. It was best to let the stranger be. At last, the pundit took control of himself. He folded the length of silk neatly, and put it down upon the box.
“It was kind of you – very kind,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Wait,” the old woman said holding out her hand. “Before you go, tell me why you did it. I would not be able to sleep if I did not know.”
“You will get your sleep,” the pundit said with a sad smile. “I did it because her horoscope said she would grow up to besmirch the family name.”
“And did the horoscope also say how she would do this?”
It was the first time the old man had spoken. The pundit looked at him and shook his head. “No, the horoscope did not say it. But it was not difficult to guess how it would happen. She would do it by marrying a man from another caste or perhaps even one from
another religion.”
“Well, I still married a man from another religion.” They all looked up. They had been so deep in their own thoughts; they had not known when Sassi and Punnu had come in through the door.
Sassi came in and sat down on the floor at her mother’s feet, but her eyes were fixed on the pundit’s face. He looked back into her eyes, but could not face that unflinching gaze for long. He looked away.
“Why did you come?” Sassi asked and there was deep gentleness in her voice. “Did you not know that your coming would bring only pain – pain to you and to us?”
“Yes. I knew,” and his voice was gentle too. “But I could not go away without being sure. Oh, Sassi, Sassi, my child,” all gentleness was gone from his voice now and these words were a cry of sharp, deep agony. “You cannot know the burden of pain I have carried through all these years. Every day of my life, I have thought of you and what I did to you. I have died a hundred deaths each time, not knowing what had happened to you. My heart has yearned with the hope of looking into your beloved face again and my arms have ached with the longing to hold you close. Each day of my life, I have felt this pain, and despair has filled my heart.” His voice broke, the tears coursed down his cheeks and he made no effort to suppress the sobs that shook his frail frame. Sassi rose swiftly to her feet and went to him. Kneeling beside him, she held his head to her breast for a moment. Then she drew away and looked into his face and wiped the tears from his eyes.
Love Stories from Punjab Page 17