‘It’s not that cold yet,’ Gill tried to make light of her remark.
‘It’s chilly today. I’ll knit you a sweater. I used to knit one every year for my brother-in-law. Do you know all the trouble I’ve had to face here?’
Kanak told him about Awasthi’s misbehaviour, Mrs Pant’s reaction, and how Girija Bhabhi had come to her aid. Then she poured her heart out and talked about Puri coming to Lucknow in search of work and what he had to go through in the city. This led her to tell Gill about her love for Puri and her father’s opposition to their friendship. She said, ‘If I could find him, I wouldn’t care about this job. We both wanted to do something literary together.’
‘You should be able to find out about him,’ Gill said in a rather strained voice. ‘But I’ll be very lonely if you go away. We’ve known each other only for a few days, but Kanak, after meeting you I feel that all is not lost. You’ll go away, and you’ll forget me.’
He spoke tenderly, calling her by her name. Kanak felt a thrill of joy.
‘Why do you say that?’ Kanak said, looking into his eyes, ‘That’ll never happen. I’ve never trusted anyone so readily, didn’t hide anything from you. I don’t know why. That’s the truth.’
She looked again into his eyes, and dropping her gaze, said, ‘I had a high regard for my jijaji, more than I could have had for a brother, but I’ve never confided so much even to him. I don’t know why I took to you. Why would I loose contact with you. We will keep in touch. And who knows what may happen, what fate may have in store for me?’ She bowed her head sadly.
Gill tried to reassure her, ‘Don’t lose heart. We’ll find Puri. I’ll do all I can.’
Kanak’s job at the department of information was to read through Urdu newspapers and prepare a summary news bulletin. The work was not difficult, but it was not very interesting either. She was the only female amongst the office staff. The director sat in a separate office. The other journalists spent a good deal of time idly chatting, and going out to have paan and a smoke. Kanak had ample time to do her own reading. Once in a while she would be given a government statement in English to translate into Urdu. All this was preferable to spending time in the company of Munshiji’s middle-aged wife, and his eldest daughter who behaved like another middle-aged woman.
Her office duties ended at five. That week Gill was working on the 4 p.m. to 2 a.m. shift. Twice he had taken time off between seven and eight to come and meet her. They went for a walk on the road along Chattar Manzil. She no longer felt lonely after meeting Gill, and evenings held the promise of going for a walk with him.
The Christmas holiday fell on a Friday. Kanak took Saturday off to be able to go to Delhi to get her winter bedding and the rest of her warm clothing. She had been living away from her family only for one-and-a-half months, but it seemed like ages. She wanted to reassure her parents about her well-being, and also wanted to meet them to bolster up her own courage. She wrote to her brother-in-law inviting him to come to Delhi for two days, and to bring Kanta and Nano along so that she could meet them too.
It had turned quite cold in Lucknow. Fog filled the air in the mornings and evenings. Kanak wanted to knit a sweater for Gill before going to Delhi. She went with him to the bazaar in Aminabad to buy wool. A crowd had gathered near the shop. The refugees had set up makeshift displays on the footpaths in front of the regular shops. This led to some kind of quarrel everyday. The established shopkeepers felt that they had welcomed and helped their suffering Hindu refugee brothers, but now the same refugees were stealing their business. The refugees in turn argued vehemently that they had nowhere else to go.
Pandit Girdharilal had his daughter sit beside him as he told her how proud and happy he was at her achievments. He continued in the same vein, ‘Beta, you are a very brave and sensible person. A job is only a means, not an end in life. You should also look after the other aspects of life. Everything has its proper time. Life should follow a natural pattern. You’re all alone
there. If you were here, we could talk to our acquaintances and friends and arrange something nice for you. You can make sensible decisions, so nothing would be done without your consent. Now you should think about settling down in life.’
Kanak took the hint and replied, ‘Pitaji, what need is there to begin searching with that idea in mind? I’m quite happy. I was thinking that once I’m settled down properly, once I find a decent house, you, mother and Kanchi should come and stay with me. Lucknow is so much quieter compared to Delhi.’
Kanak had to go back to Lucknow on Sunday evening. On Sunday morning Panditji said, remembering Puri, ‘Bhai, there’s been no news of Jaidev Puri. You people should at least make some effort to trace him. He’s a very capable and talented young man. He has a personality. He must be with some newspaper or doing literary work, I think. A person like that can’t remain unknown, but we must try to find out about him. That’s our duty. Once he is located, we should keep up correspondence with him. I always admired him. He wrote wonderful stories. I was thinking, what if one of his stories was made into a film.’
Kanak took heart at her father’s words. This was an indication of her father’s acceptance of her wishes. Panditji had made no reference to Puri before this. She surmised, ‘It’s possible that he might be in the film line. He had considered it.’
‘Then he’ll become known very quickly. We’ve got information about most of our acquaintances little by little. I thought of having a message broadcast for him on the radio, but he’s not the type who’d remain unnoticed for long. He’s a brilliant young man. We’re sure to hear about him if not today, then very soon. A short story by him or some other writing is bound to appear somewhere or other sooner or later.’
When Kanak reached Lucknow railway station at 8.30 in the morning, Gill was there to meet her. He hired a rickshaw and dropped her at her lodging. Kanak had to get ready and go to the office, so there was little time for them to talk. She told him that he must come and meet her in the evening. She was impatient to tell Gill about her father’s change of heart.
In the evening when they went for a walk, she told Gill about her stay in Delhi.
Gill replied in English, ‘That’s good. Not only has an obstacle been
removed from your path, but a weight has been lifted from your heart. You must be feeling relieved. For me there’s no one else but you. If you’re happy, I’m happy too.’
Kanak was silent for a few moments, then she replied also in English, ‘Do you think what I feel for you is any less intense? Who else do I have but you, you tell me?’
They walked leisurely and companionably talking about the uncertainties of life, feelings of loneliness and the emotional and practical limitations of love in the absence of somebody one could trust and confide in, somebody really close to one’s heart. They reached the railway station. The neighbourhood was full of the noise of refugees seeking shelter on the pavements. Both of them were so engrossed in talking about their dreams and sharing their views that the presence of others around them was intolerable. They walked for quite a distance on the lonely, dark road going to Raebareilly before turning around.
Going for walks gave them both great pleasure. Not being able to do so upset them. On New Year’s Day, Kanak left her lodging just after noon, and they both sat and talked in sun-dappled shade of trees in the Botanical Garden. Kanak was often curious about Saraswati, and Gill held nothing back from her. Listening to him Kanak got lost in her own thoughts. Gill being so ready to do anything for the sake of his love seemed so beautiful and attractive to her. Sometimes they would look into each others eyes, lower their gaze and sit in silence. They were content just to be together.
Away from her family and all alone in Lucknow, Kanak had begun to experience her independence. Not to be beholden to anyone gave her a sense of pride and dignity. Her father was not going to interfere with her attempt to decide her future. She was completely free; bound by nothing but her own discretion. And she had a trusted friend like Gill, in whom she had unlimited confidence and with whom she shared all her secrets; who, she knew, would not abandon her in times of stress and difficulty.
This fond feeling between them and a sense of mutual trust and confidence brought them so close that there was no need for any formality. They fulfilled each other’s natural need for companionship. Gill could show his disapproval to Kanak without any qualms. He would affectionately call her ‘Kiki’ or sometimes just ‘Kee’, and Kanak would feel a surge of attraction towards him. She had a pet name for him: Gillu. He would give her a playful pinch just to see her reaction, and she would have to grasp
his hand to stop him. As she trusted him, his playfulness did not annoy her.
That week Gill was on the 8 p.m. to 4 a.m. shift. When Kanak met him on the Saturday evening, she had something in mind that she had been meaning to tell him. Pressing against his arm as they walked along Station Road, she said, ‘I want to say something. Don’t say no.’
‘What is it?’
‘Promise me that you’ll agree in advance. The thing is that Puriji once refused when I asked him for something in the same words. I felt very insulted. Even the slightest formality in close relationships bothers me very much. I couldn’t say no to anything you ask me.’
‘Do you have to drag Puri into every discussion between you and me?’ Gill sounded annoyed.
‘Why does it upset you? In spite of my memories of him, I get the same satisfaction in your company. Who else do I have? Don’t you miss Saraswati?’
‘The truth is that I don’t any more. I loved her for four years, while she was still alive. Didn’t put my friends and family before her. If I had to, I’d certainly have laid down my life for her, but I’m alive and she’s dead. Up to now I felt dead too, but everything has changed. Why did you make me feel that I was still alive? For me you’re the one, but for you it’s still only Puri,’ Gill replied in a hurt voice.
Kanak’s head was bent. Taking Gill’s hand in hers to console him, she tried to explain, ‘Gillu, can you forget someone you’ve loved?’
‘Love is the only real thing in life. It doesn’t exist only in your imagination and thoughts.’ He asserted, thinking of Kanak’s reply as a reproach.
‘No, Gillu, don’t be angry. I asked only so that I could understand you.’ She clasped his hand tightly, as if not wanting to let him go. ‘Tell me, is it really possible to forget someone you’ve been in love with? For me the wish to love and to be loved is entirely natural, and to let go of that desire seems unthinkable.’
‘What do you mean by letting go?’ Gill said irritably. ‘You tell me, if a wound begins to close, shouldn’t you let it heal? Should you go on pining over your loss and your pain? If it’s so wrong to seek the fulfilment of love, why don’t you push away someone who is in search of it?’
Kanak pulled at his hand lovingly to pacify him. She said, ‘Listen. It’s true that I can’t forget him, but haven’t I been fair in revealing my affection? There’s no contradiction between my feelings and my bevaviour.’ She held his hand tightly in both of hers, as if she wanted to convince him of her
sincerity. Had they not been walking outside, she would have taken him in her arms to reassure him. Her soft, warm tone was meant to show him that her affection had given her the right to give him a close hug.
In her heart she believed that she could put her trust in Gill and abandon herself to her feelings for him. He was like a pet lion and she could even playfully put her head between his opened jaws, in full confidence that he would not hurt her or take advantage of her. She thought that she could play innocent and flirt with him, and then stop him just by raising her hand.
Gill’s anger did not subside, ‘Achchha, let’s change the subject.’ He tried to pull his hand away.
‘No, I won’t let you stay angry.’ She did not let go of his hand.
‘First you push me away, then you pull me back!’ Gill seemed even more annoyed.
‘Gillu, do I really push you away?’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.
‘You don’t want to admit that you’re doing it, but you do hurt me. Why do you pretend to be so innocent? That’s why I ask you to leave me alone. You’ve had enough of love. You just want to see me suffer, and you do that by stopping me from getting close to you.’
‘Gillu, how have I made you suffer, what pain did I ever cause you?’
‘If you don’t want to understand, forget it.’
‘Gillu, only the thought of what is right… You know very well. What else can I say…’
‘That’s just what I mean. You draw too fine a line between right and wrong for me to see it. I want to stay away rather than be pushed away.’
‘I touch your feet and beg you. Do not torture me like this.’
‘Why should you feel tortured? The one who feels tormented is I because I cannot tear myself away and find myself rejected when you give me the cold shoulder.’
‘Achchha, enough of your anger. It’s up to you.’
‘Well, let it go. Forgive me. I’m sorry for what I said.’
‘You’re saying the same thing over and over again.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t put the blame on me. It’s up to you now. I’ve nothing more to say.’
‘You’re cross with me?’
‘Why should I be? It’s you who are upset. I’m tired, I can’t walk any further.’
Walking rather slowly, they had reached the Charbagh railway station. Gill hailed a rickshaw.
Sitting in the rickshaw, with her mind and her body in turmoil, Kanak felt drained. She rested her head on Gill’s shoulder. Gill had his arm around her. The rickshaw was travelling along Station Road. Kanak bit at Gill’s arm as a punishment for making her cry. She had never before allowed him to kiss her.
Mindful of the rickshaw driver, Gill said in English in a low voice, ‘Jodh Singh and his family will go to his brother-in-law’s house tomorrow morning for the Akhand Paath chanting ceremony. They won’t be back before evening. The other people in the gali don’t bother with us Punjabi refugees. It’s a small house. I’ll hang a dhurrie on the wall as a signal. At this time I’ll show you where the gali begins.’