‘I want nothing to do with that man. I’ll never get married to him,’ Tara said, heading for the stairs.
Her dislike for Sheelo’s shameless behaviour was rekindled. Ratan, she had begun to loathe even before her own engagement.
When Tara stepped into the gali, Ishwar Kaur and Gyandevi had left. Most of the women had wound up whatever they were doing, and had gone to their homes to get the evening meal together. Tara came into the Machchi Hatta bazaar from her gali and turned towards the Shahalami Gate. She walked with downcast eyes, keeping on the left side to avoid the bustling crowd and packs of unruly cattle being herded back to their shed after grazing in the fields. What Sheelo said had disturbed her. Deceit is sin. Despite such shamelessness Sheelo was good and virtuous in the eyes of everyone whereas her own intentions were questioned because she didn’t want to get married. But I won’t give up, she thought. Asad bhai said that he’d go to Dr Nath’s after Tuesday. He might be there today. He should be told about all this, about these people fanning the flames of riot in the galis.
Inside the entrance of Seth Gopal Shah’s mansion, there were verandas on both sides. In the verandas were seats for the account clerks. The cotton-filled seats, hardened after years of use, were covered with ink-stained, dirty white sheets and large bolster pillows lay on them against the wall. Both the
munims sat cross-legged on the mattresses, facing the ledgers bound in red cloth. Tara always walked straight into the aangan beyond without looking at them. On the right and the left side of the aangan were broad stairways to the upper floor. She took the stairs on the left to an upstairs room.
She found the room empty.
The rear of the room opened on to a veranda. She went out and called out, ‘Kikka! Gulli! Where are you? Come, children.’
There was no response.
Where were the children? Tara wondered. Somebody should surely have heard her, and said something in reply. She looked down into the aangan and called out for Karmo, the old woman servant.
The house looked deserted. On one side of the aangan, Chaitu the servant boy was creating a racket as he washed the floor with water from a tin bucket. Tara called out to him and asked about the children.
Chaitu said, ‘The kids are in the other wing of the house. They won’t come. Maaji has said that they don’t need a tutor any more.’
Tara’s heart missed a beat. She was walking towards the stairs when she heard someone call her, ‘Tara, is that you?’
Dr Nath came towards her. He rephrased Chaitu’s message, ‘You’re looking for the kids? They’ve all gone to Vachchovali. Come this way. Asad too is here, we’ll all sit together.’
Nath’s words did not have the ominous tone of Chaitu’s, but Tara’s mind was still on the servant’s words. The wing of the house they went to belonged only to Nath. No women lived there. Tara felt a little embarrassed, however she could not but follow the doctor.
Tara had tutored Kikka, Bholi and Gulli, three-and four-and-a-half-year olds, for three months the previous summer. More than tutoring, it was playing with colours and doodling with crayons on paper. Tara knew it was meant to help her with her college fees. The previous year, Nath had gone to Simla after appointing her as tutor and paying her one hundred rupees in advance. The war was over, but the governor of Punjab sent for Nath for his advice now and then.
This year Tara had asked Puri to remind Dr Nath about the tutoring. She would be able to save some money, she thought, for her winter clothes. Nath was not needed in Simla as he was last year, and she sometimes saw him at the mansion when she went to tutor the children. Nath would ask after her, and sometimes invite her to stay for tea. The women of the house
had received Tara cordially and were friendly towards her. But when they heard that she went to Nath’s side of the house alone and had tea with him, they began to treat her like a pariah. Now when Tara met them, they would look askance at her and exchange meaningful smiles. Tara felt hurt and ostracized.
Tara had told Asad about her tutoring the children of Nath’s family. They met twice at Nath’s place; during the vacations there was little other chance of meeting at the house of some friend from the college or the Student Federation. Asad would sit with Nath and wait for her to finish. He would then leave with her and they would walk together up to her gali.
Tara knew that the family of Seth Gopal Shah was among the wealthiest in Lahore. In the right wing of the mansion, with three huge inner courtyards, lived Nath’s aged father, and the families of his other sons. The left wing held Nath’s quarters. He lived alone, and his servant and his kitchen too were separate. Tara also knew that when Nath was a boy, Masterji had come to this mansion for eight years as his tutor, and that he regarded Masterji with reverence. Upon returning from England, he had come to visit Masterji at his home to pay his respects. Tara still had a vivid memory of Nath being dressed in a bright white shirt and trousers, and how Masterji was flustered when such an eminent guest arrived. Her father had called for something to be brought for the guest to sit down, but Nath sat next to Masterji on the straw mat spread out on the floor. Everyone in the gali knew of this visit.
Nath led Tara to a veranda in his wing of the mansion. When Asad saw Tara, he stood up and greeted her with a ‘Namaste’.
Nath asked his servant to bring tea, and said to Asad as he took his chair, ‘Yes, go ahead. You can speak freely before Tara.’
‘Yes, I know I can,’ said Asad. ‘Dr Saheb, I was saying that these fanatics are poisoning people’s minds in both Hindu and Muslim neighbourhoods. In the mosques, the mullahs are preaching to the faithful and issuing fatwa for jihad in the name of the Prophet. They are making plans to collect arms and ammunition. If riots break out here, the carnage will be worse than in Calcutta. If Khizr chooses to remain oblivious to all this, the governor should be told.’
‘The bureaucracy is not troubled by sectarian riots.’ Nath said. ‘The riots would diminish the influence of the League and the Congress. Tell this to your leader Fiqar; he left the Congress and joined the League. Tell this also
to Ibrahim, the leader of the railway union. The Muslims trust these men.’
Asad leaned forward in his chair, ‘They are doing what they can. The government too needs to act firmly.’
Tara ventured to say, ‘Some women from the Hindu Defence Committee were inciting similar trouble in our gali today.’
‘I know, this is happening not only in this town but in the whole province,’ Nath said in agreement. Running his fingers through his hair, he looked at Asad, ‘Sir Khizr can’t do much at the moment. Several members of his Unionist Party have defected to the Muslim League. If he puts any pressure on the League, he might face desertion by the rest of the Muslim members. He doesn’t want to take that risk. His ministry is on its last legs; let’s see how many days it can drag on for.’
Asad tried again, ‘You can speak to the governor, Sir Evan Jenkins. You’re his advisor.’
Nath motioned him to listen, ‘I am an advisor on economic affairs. I cannot offer unsolicited advice. The governor too knows that the Unionist ministry won’t last. The results of the recent elections clearly show that. The governor had asked me to report on the economic reasons for the current unrest among the farmers of Punjab. He knows that the farmers are seething for a change in the current land distribution system. The Unionist ministry cannot keep them quiet. Any administration depends on the prevailing system of land ownership and distribution. The way to make farmers forget their dissatisfaction with the government is to get them enmeshed in some sectarian nonsense. If the League and the Congress don’t continue to fight each other, the administration can’t keep either of them down. Jenkins wants to prove to the Cabinet Mission that Indians are not fit to have the government handed over to them. If the League and the Congress can work together, what’s the point of having a Britisher as the governor?’
As they sipped tea, Nath expanded on his views, ‘The British are now eager to divest themselves of the burden of ruling India, but the British bureaucracy in India is not in touch with the international situation and the crisis in Britain’s economy. The bureaucracy does not want to give up being the rulers of India.’
When they finished their tea, Asad looked at Tara to see if she was ready to leave. Tara faced a dilemma: she wanted to leave with Asad, but she also wanted to know more about the message given to her by the servant.
Asad asked for Nath’s leave. Nath guessed Tara’s dilemma and said to her, ‘Tara, stay behind for five minutes if you’re not in a hurry. I want to ask something about the kids you tutor.’
Tara could not say no. Asad left without her.
‘You wanted to leave with Asad,’ Nath smiled. ‘I asked you to stay. Hope you’re not annoyed.’
Tara was disconcerted that her secret was out. She had not even acknowledged this secret to herself, not so plainly and unequivocally. She was at a loss for an answer.
Nath did not wait for her to answer. He said in English, ‘When Puri was here the other day to ask about your tutoring job, he mentioned that your father’s elder brother had gotten you engaged to some oaf. Did you both not oppose it?’ Tara sat quietly, with her head bowed.
‘You like Asad, he’s a good chap. Do you believe in social restrictions?’
Tara was silent.
‘To be in love is a pleasant feeling. You feel alive. You’re what… nineteen? Twenty?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘Stay in love all you want, but marry only after finishing your studies.’
She regarded Nath with respect. Hearing him say these words caused her a lot of embarrassment.
Nath shifted in his chair, and said, ‘This is your final year of BA. You probably waste too much time in tutoring the children.’
Tara was alarmed with the possibility of losing her job, ‘No, there’s no such problem.’
Nath thought for a few moments, ‘You were hired for three months. You’re owed that much; you mustn’t lose any salary. If you’ve been told not to continue, you won’t feel like working either.’
‘That’s true,’ she lifted her eyes, ‘but I’ll accept salary only for the time that I’ve worked.’
‘That wouldn’t be fair!’ Nath said with irritation, ‘You’re not leaving of your own free will. We should have given you notice, or you ought to be paid the rest of your salary. It wouldn’t be proper.’
‘We don’t need legalities in this case,’ she said out of politeness.
‘The atmosphere of this place is not suitable for you.’ He averted his eyes. ‘Do you know why you were given that message through Chaitu? Maybe you guessed, it was because by mistake I praised you before the women.’
Tara looked at him in surprise. Nath was looking away. He went on, ‘They think I am attracted to you, and that perhaps I’ll marry you.’
Tara bowed her head again. How could he say such a thing!
Nath continued, still not looking at her, ‘You’re nineteen, I’m thirty. These women can’t imagine why a nineteen-year-old would consent to marry a thirty-year-old middle-aged man. But is it their fault? They can’t imagine that a woman can have a say in whom she marries or what she wants to do. They can’t see either that I can like you without any thought of sex.’
Every fibre in Tara’s body quivered. She was glad that he was looking the other way. Nath continued, ‘But can we blame these women for such thinking? The poor souls don’t know anything beyond sex and marriage. Aren’t the women of their class—the class whose status rests on wealth—valued only for sex? Servants and maids do the housework for them. Men have all the freedom to get sex wherever they want; women of the family serve only as begetters of undisputed heirs for the property. Their dharma, their mission in life, is to obey and follow their husbands. They’ve been taught not to think beyond that. For them, the only capable woman is one who doesn’t let her man slip through her hands. They are not envious of your mind; they are jealous of the attractive woman in you.’
Tara listened in amazement. What is he saying? She knew Doctor Sahib was expressing his own annoyance and hurt, so there was no question of impropriety or indecorum. What he had said had shaken her, but the feeling was not unpleasant.
Tara stole a glance at Nath. She had always looked upon him as a scholar and a person of distinction. For a university student, he was the epitome of all the prestige, position, success and money that could be had. She had always felt obliged and beholden to him; now she felt sympathy for him.
‘You can’t possibly imagine the reason, the story, behind all this,’ Nath said in an agitated voice. ‘The reason is not any concern for me, but a concern for the ownership of this house and property. My grandfather had willed this part of the house to me, but if I want I can legally claim half of the entire family property, and the other half will go to the rest of them. All this fuss is about property.’
Tara looked again at Nath. There was anger in his eyes. He said, ‘The truth is that my grandfather regards me as his grandson, but my mother’s husband—my grandfather’s eldest son—does not want to accept me as
his son. He left my mother here with his family. He used to look after the family business in Kashmir. He kept a mistress; therefore, my mother could not be taken there. I am in truth the child of my grandfather’s second son. My grandfather’s eldest son was angered by my birth, and he married for a second time. My grandfather’s second son had only daughters from his marriage. If my grandfather wants to divide the family property between his two sons, then I am the sole heir of one of the sons, the same property mess again! My grandfather’s eldest son is the legal heir to the property. The eldest son had two wives: I am the sole offspring from the first. The second wife had five sons. My mother’s husband did not want to share his inheritance with me. All this quibbling saddened my grandfather. He didn’t let the secret out, for the sake of the family’s prestige. I may not be the son of his eldest son, I was still his grandson. He was very fond of me. I was his first grandson. If he had not made me sleep in his room, my stepmother or even my own legal father would have murdered me so as not to share their inheritance. I was poisoned once while my mother was still alive, but I was saved. Here, look at this.’