Gill’s first job was to write weekly columns on two topics for a
newspaper at Rs 20 per week. Next was a ‘Weekly Diary’ in the Urdu daily
Sardar
. After some time he got the job of translating an embassy’s information bulletin into Urdu and Punjabi. Once he was sure of earning Rs 300 to 350 per month, he rented a room in Ram Nagar at Rs 60 per month. He was hardly better off than before because of high cost of living in Delhi, but there was the thrill of being close to the centre of political activity in the country and in touch with the international scene.
When Kanak had come to meet Jaya at the time of the
Vijayadashami
festival, Gill had encouraged her to move to Delhi. ‘Are you attracted to some ideal for which you want to suffer the discomfort of village life? All those employed at the centre want is to draw their salary and idle away the hours. They don’t think about the ethics of what they are doing, they have no principles. If you do things differently, you won’t fit in. They will try to cause trouble for you. Your salary is barely adequate for your living expenses there and Babli’s school fee here. New Delhi has become an arena for international power contest and ideological confrontation. It’s the propaganda battleground for both superpowers. Both sides need cannons—I mean journalists—to fire salvoes of propaganda. Money is being spent like water. There are those who can be bought and there are we, who want to make an honest buck. There won’t be any shortage of work for you. I know the ropes. Come and live in Delhi if you want to help your father.’
Kanak went back to Aliganj and handed in her notice, effective after a month. Three weeks later she got a telegram that her mother had died following a stroke. Kanak packed her bags and left for Delhi.
TARA CAREFULLY READ EVERYTHING ABOUT THE PLANNING COMMISSION
published in the newspapers. The First Five Year Plan, which dealt mainly with the agricultural sector, was in its third year. The Second Five Year Plan was to focus on the industrial sector. At the Avadi convention of the All India Congress Committee, Pandit Nehru had announced that to maximize the growth of the country’s economy and to develop its industries, the government will follow the path of ‘socialistic pattern of society’. Pandit Nehru was the president of the Congress party and the prime minister in the Congress government. His statement could not be ignored since it represented the policy of the government as well as of the ruling party. In the context of his statement, the new plan meant nationalization of heavy industries and development of the public sector. The announcement of the new policy caused exhilaration in some sections of the productive sectors and anxiety in others. Some people were not ready to believe that such a drastic change would take place.
The responsibility and importance of Dr Solis, the chief economic advisor to the Planning Commission, and Dr Nath, the economic advisor to the ministry of industries had suddenly increased. Those feeling threatened by the announcement of ‘socialistic pattern of society’ were anxious to know the views of Dr Solis and Dr Nath, and to give them—what they considered—the right advice. The number of people wanting to meet Nath and to invite him for lunch and dinner had also grown. Chaddha and his fellow communists, the communists MPs as well as other MPs were eager to present their points of view to Nath. These people would either invite Nath, or would go to his bungalow.
Gill had come again in contact with the communists after moving to Delhi, especially with liberal communists like Chaddha. Gill knew Chaddha from the time of the Communist Party’s wartime agitation. Gill was associated with an important, anti-nationalization weekly of Delhi. He had a good understanding of that weekly’s viewpoint. He had been a student of Nath. When Chaddha went to see Nath, he often took Gill along. Nath’s bungalow was beyond Alipur Road, about three-fourths of a mile from the
nearest bust stop. On Chaddha’s request, Tara would take him and Gill in her car to meet Nath. Her car had become a free taxi for the comrades.
When the comrades came to visit, Nath put his cigarette tin on the table in front of them. He always asked if anyone wanted to drink water and had tea served. Tara met bhabhi—peon Bhoop Singh—for the first time at Nath’s bungalow. Some time ago she had asked Durga Pande to send a servant for Nath. She was puzzled at not seeing any other servant at the bungalow.
Bhoop Singh did not wear his peon’s uniform or his white turban with the brocaded band at the bungalow. On his head was a tight fitting, flat black cap. He had been wearing his home-washed shirt for several days. He wore the pyjama, half of an old uniform, waist-cord tied over his shirt, britches-like, in the Kumauni style. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, and had a long, salt-n-pepper moustache. He was over fifty-five years old, but still agile. Having served British sahibs, he greeted the guests by bending low from the waist as if doing salaam, but said ‘Jai Hind’.
The first time Chaddha went to Nath’s bungalow, he took the whole group along: Gill, Mercy, Mathur and Tara. Nath asked Bhoop Singh to serve tea. Bhoop Singh went to an inner room and came back with tea leaves and a silver-plated tea pot, which he placed on the centre table. Next time he returned with the sugar pot in one hand, and in the other, a bottle of milk just out of the fridge. Two minutes later he brought five cups, six saucers and six spoons in a tray. It took him a little longer to return the third time, carefully holding in one hand an electric kettle emitting steam, and in the other, two pieces of cardboard. He put the cardboard on the table and on top of it, the kettle.
Nath was listening attentively to Mathur. Looking at the kettle, he asked, ‘What kind of tea do you all like? Strong or light?’
Mercy said, ‘I’ll make tea.’
Tara was thinking, ‘Perhaps the peon did not know how much tea to use, therefore Nath himself was making tea. One cup probably broke. The old man has brought all the china in the house. Had Mercy found such dirty cups and teapot at her flat, she would have harangued Chimmo to death.
Mercy poured some boiling water into the pot, and handed it to Bhoop Singh standing close by. Bhoop Singh took the pot and looked at Mercy, waiting for her to give the order.
Nath noticed the peon standing still. He took the pot from Bhoop Singh,
poured the water into the cups to warm them, and said to Bhoop Sigh, ‘Throw away the water.’
Bhoop Singh carried the cups out. Nath smiled at Tara and Mercy. ‘If you continue to visit, he’ll learn a few things.’
In this break in the serious discussion, Tara asked, ‘Doctor sahib, Durga Pande had sent a servant to your bungalow. Did that man show up?’
Nath replied in English, ‘This man does not let anyone else work here. He himself had hired a servant for me, but had a quarrel with the man after accusing him of theft. He didn’t trust the boy you had sent either. He used to measure out everything that was to be cooked. When they had an argument, I had to take the peon’s side and let the boy go.’
Tara smiled. ‘He is the
malkin
, mistress, of the house.’
‘He exemplifies feudal loyalty.’ Nath noticed that one cup was short. He said, ‘You all go ahead. I’ll have a cup later.’
Mercy insisted on having her tea later.
Tara asked, pointing to the condensation on the bottle of cold milk, ‘I’d rather have some water cold as this.’
‘Water.’ Nath looked at Bhoop Singh.
Bhoop Singh brought a bottle of water from the fridge and a glass, and put them on the table.
Nath remembered, ‘Bhoop Singh, we have biscuits. Why don’t you serve some?’
When Bhoop Singh went back to get the biscuits, Tara asked, ‘Doctor sahib, I’ll ask Pande to find someone smarter than him for you.’
‘What’s the use? He won’t let anyone else work here.’
‘Don’t send someone as smart,’ Mathur barged in and said to Tara, ‘as the one that was sent to my place.’
‘Why, what happened?’ Tara asked. They all looked at Mathur.
‘What can I say?’ Mathur said, glancing sidelong at Tara, ‘She’s found servants for everyone. Unluckily, I had also asked her to get me one. Last week, when I returned home, I saw a young man wearing shirt and trousers sitting in a chair in the veranda. I asked him: Whom do you want to meet?
‘“I’d like to see Mathur Sahib,” he replied.
‘“I am Mathur. What do you want?”
‘The young man replied: “Are you looking for a servant? Durga Pande, Miss Tara Puri’s peon, has sent me.”
‘For a moment I was completely taken aback, but tried to gather my
wits: “But I need someone to clean the house and cook.”
‘“Ji, I’ll manage everything,” said the young man sitting in a chair.
‘His reply didn’t convince me. I asked: “How will you work as a servant? You wear trousers, you sit in a chair in front of me.”
‘The young man replied: “I am sitting in chair now. Once you hire me, I won’t sit in a chair when you’re around.”’
Mathur’s story brought a smile to everyone’s lips.
‘He said the right thing,’ Mercy said. ‘Did you hire him?’
‘Things have changed. We’ll have to change with the times,’ Nath gave a warning.
‘I agree.’ Mathur said. ‘But this new thing took me by surprise. I might have hired him. I went inside the house and my mother asked who had come to meet me. When I told her, she was furious with the young man.’
‘Poor chap got punished for thinking that he also was a human being,’ Gill said.
Bhoop Singh brought a tin of biscuits. Then brought a plate when he was told to get one.
Nath said, ‘You all have come here for the first time. I have no snacks to offer you. Tara, why didn’t you bring some along?’
‘Doctor sahib, it is fine,’ Tara said quickly. Mercy endorsed her.
Chaddha leaned towards Nath and began, ‘The fear of inflation is absolutely misplaced. If people get more money as wages, they will spend it to buy products that are at present imported. The production of cloth and other consumer items is not higher than the demand for them. Such a policy will take the pressure off the agricultural land, and improve the standard of living. The economy will be able to sustain the growth to a great extent by using its own resources. Why should we spend Rs 50,000 on importing bulldozers? Why not use that money to provide work for 50 landless peasants?’
Tara was listening to Chaddha. Mercy listened for some time, then whispered into Tara’s ear, ‘Come, let’s have a tour of the house.’ She looked at Nath for permission.
‘Want me to show you around?’ Nath was about to get up.
‘You carry on,’ Mercy said, putting her hand on Nath’s shoulder to stop him. ‘We’ll see it ourselves.’
Next to the living room was Nath’s study—office with a large desk and several chairs around it. Two shelves were stacked with files, government
reports and books. Files and papers were piled also on the desk. The walls were bereft of any pictures or calendars. On close inspection, a fine layer of dust could be seen on the white-washed walls. Next to it was Nath’s bedroom. The bed was covered with a bedspread, its colours faded from repeated washings. Dirty laundry was piled up inside a cupboard with glass panes. A fridge stuttered and hummed in one corner. Mercy opened the fridge to inspect it. There was a smell of milk turned sour. Half a loaf of bread, a tablet of butter and some yogurt in an earthen
kulhar
. Two bottles of soda water, half a bottle of whisky, and two bottles of beer.
‘All household needs are in the fridge. The old man keeps the house in a mess,’ Mercy said in English, mindful of Bhoop Singh standing behind them. The room had an attached bathroom. Marcy could not help peering inside. She muttered a dissatisfied ‘huh’.
They went towards the three rooms across the hallway from the living room. Bhoop Singh tagged along, keeping an eye on them. The doors to the rooms were shut. Mercy turned around and asked, ‘Are these rooms kept closed?’
‘Yes, huzoor, furniture and bedsteads are stored there,’ Bhoop Singh replied petulantly. He had not liked their meddling.
Mercy asked, ‘Where’s the kitchen?’
Bhoop Singh pointed towards the back veranda.
Mercy and Tara walked towards the kitchen. Bhoop Singh went ahead, unchained the door and turned the light on. The stove was waist-high, European style. Two clean aluminium pots, a few others which had not been washed. Some charcoal was piled up beside the stove.
Most of the almirahs and storage racks were empty. Three bundles lay on one side; out of one some wheat had spilled on the floor, some lentil seeds from the second. One half of a
lauki
, gourd, had turned brown.
Mercy and Tara peered into the pantry. A couple of plates and a well-scrubbed, gleaming thali were stacked against the wall. Tara said quietly into Mercy’s ear, ‘This must be the malkin’s.’
Mercy asked her in English, ‘When will you take charge of all this?’
Bhoop Singh was within earshot. Tara protested, without sounding irritated, ‘Didi, you are out of your mind. You can at least hold your tongue.’
‘Hmm,’ Mercy said, nodding vaguely. They walked around the bungalow and went towards a grassless lawn in the front.
Tara had felt like a fool after repeatedly insisting to meet Nath’s wife.
Memories of that incident still brought a smile to her lips. When Tara had told about it to Mercy, she had expressed surprise at Tara’s naïvety.
Tara had said in her defence, ‘Didi, I got a surprise and I asked him when did he get married? But he led me on. Why shouldn’t I have believed him?’ After that the subject of Nath’s marriage never came up.
Mercy replied to Tara’s rebuke after Bhoop Singh left them alone, ‘What’s wrong with my mind? Can’t I see? He’s very fond of you and, you are head over heels in love with him. Why don’t you come out with what’s in your heart?’
Tara protested, ‘Don’t you know the meaning of having respect for someone? I told you everything, that he’s my brother’s guru, and my guru. He always helped us when my family was in difficulty. He’s one of the most distinguished scholars in the country. Not only I, but everyone treats him with respect. I respect him more than I respect my own father. Aren’t you ashamed of saying such things?’
‘Stop making excuses!’ Mercy refused to believe Tara. ‘You won’t marry someone whom you don’t respect or whom you hate, will you? Even if the poor soul has proposed to you, you must have turned up your nose.’
‘What gave you that idea?’
‘What I’ve seen and what everyone notices. He likes you.’
‘As a matter of fact, he used to like me even eight years ago.’ Tara tried to reason to shut Mercy up and thought at once, ‘What did I just say? Now she’ll talk more nonsense.’
‘O, ho!’ said Mercy after Tara set her own trap.
Tara kept quiet and pretended to be angry, but the thought crossed her mind, ‘What would others be thinking about me? What if some baseless rumour went around? Mercy’s worried about me, but I wonder what nonsensical things she might have said to Chaddha and Mathur. Her concern is likely to become a problem for me. It’s better to have a frank talk with her.’
On the way back, Chaddha and Mathur got off near Red Fort; they had something to do in Chandni Chowk. Tara drove Mercy to her flat. Since both were alone together, Tara said in a serious tone, ‘Didi, it’s the last time I am going to tell you something.’
Mercy indicated ‘what’ by raising her eyebrows.
‘Neither will you think about my marriage, nor will you utter another word to anyone about it. Promise me.’
‘But why shouldn’t I think about it and why shouldn’t I talk about it?’
‘I’ve told you hundreds of times that I don’t want to get married, that I won’t, I won’t.’ Tara’s eyes were moist.
Mercy put her arm around Tara’s, ‘At least tell me why? You want to keep it secret from me?’
Brushing off her tears, Tara said, ‘What should I tell you why! Any reason is as good as the next. It could be my mental or physical state, it could be my nature. All I can say is that I don’t want to get married.’ She covered her face with her aanchal and burst into tears.