Puri wanted to protest in self-defence: Sure, she may be twenty-one, but what she said to me was not childish prattle. As if I’m the wily hunter, and she’s my unsuspecting quarry.
Panditji went on as if there was no question of Puri’s disagreement, ‘Maybe at her age she’s not too young for marriage. In our family too, girls are married off at sixteen or seventeen, but it’s the girl’s parents who make those decisions. It’s another matter when a girl wants to have a say in whom she marries and when; don’t you think? And marriage has a social and economic aspect, a wider implication. It may not survive outside that particular social and economic framework. The way someone has been brought up counts for a lot. You know that quite well. You’re very wise.’
Panditji continued to speak without giving Puri a chance to get a word in, ‘I’m not the one to impose unnecessary restrictions on my daughters about whom they should meet or talk to. You’ve seen that for yourself. I don’t want them to feel awkward in social situations. But if any social interaction can create or lead to misunderstandings, such interaction is best avoided. Why let people’s tongues wag? People recognize you. You have a reputation. Kanak too is known in many social circles. Why should people point the finger at both of you for nothing?’
‘I’m fully aware of my reputation and social standing,’ Puri forced out the words.
‘Of course. Certainly. I know that you’re a responsible young man,’ Panditji said, as if confiding in him, ‘That’s why I’m sharing my concerns with you. I think this matter should end here. Stop seeing Kanak for a while in the best interests of both of you. I know I can trust you in this matter.’
Puri’s face fell. It took a few moments for him to gather enough courage to say, ‘Please forgive me. Although I’ve been careful not to be the first to
start anything that might give Kanak any wrong notions about my intentions, still I have in a way given my word to her about us.’
‘Oh-oh-oh! No, no, no!’ Panditji did not let him continue, ‘I’m not putting any blame on you. Anyone can say such silly things when they’re young; such is the folly of youth. Forget that bit. I’d meant to say something in the interests of your future. What I mean is, you should avoid what is not suitable for you. Why get into trouble?’
Panditji had used very subtle language to tell Puri that he was unsuitable for Kanak. An insulted Puri shot back, ‘You may have your own ideas on who’s suitable or unsuitable, but may I ask what is your basis for weighing somebody as suitable or not? How do you measure a person’s worth?’
‘Oh-oh-oh! No, no, no!’ Panditji waved both his hands to emphasize his disagreement. ‘Barkhurdar, I have already said that you’re a talented, hard-working and responsible young man. What I meant was the overall situation, status … class consciousness … things like that. You know … I mean … keep away from what’s not suitable for you.’
‘What you mean is money!’ Puri raised his voice angrily. ‘You’re probably well off, but I never came to your house uninvited. I tutored your daughter, but never took a paisa as fee. You don’t want the translation done, I’ll return your hundred rupees. But you’ve no right to put me down. And it wasn’t me, but Kanak who first…’
Puri controlled himself and fell silent on seeing the expression on Panditji’s face.
Panditji spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, ‘Barkhurdar, I am pained to see that you’ve misunderstood me. I have a great and a deep respect for you. I’m telling you this because I consider you as my esteemed friend and associate. I acknowledge my indebtedness to you, and now I’m asking for your help once again. What do one hundred rupees mean to a promising young man like you? You probably can earn that much in one day. You can have any sum of money from me, whenever you say so.’
‘No, sir, thank you very much.’ Puri replied through clenched teeth. ‘But if you’ll allow me, I’d like to speak with Kanakji just once for a few minutes about your ideas of …’
‘Oh-oh-oh! Barkhurdar!’ Panditji interrupted him, ‘Why only once? You may speak to her as often as you like. She’s like a sister to you, after all, but at this time… I mean … at this time it may not be proper because
she’ll just feel sorry and humiliated for her mistake. And, as I’ve said, it’s better to let bygones be bygones.’
‘Namaste!’ Puri said sharply as he got up, and leaving the manuscript on the desk, went out of the room.
‘Namaste, namaste, namaste … barkhurdar!’ Panditji repeated until Puri was out of the room. He was sure that he had avoided hurting Puri’s feelings.
Puri was seething with anger as he left the office of Naya Hind Publications. Unable to think of anything but the insult to which he had been subjected, he walked with hurried steps along Amritdhara Road up to the gali where Narendra Sigh’s house was. He did not want to see or talk with anyone in his state of agitation. He kept on going and reached Kele Wali Sarak. Thoughts churned about in his mind, ‘I knew this was going to happen, that’s why I was avoiding that house. It’s all my fault. I made the mistake of believing Kanak. She misled me into going to see her father, and just think how brutally I’ve been humiliated. If she’s so smart and confident of being able to handle everything, why didn’t she come into the office? I should have known she was playing games with me. Didn’t they tell me that she was like that? I’ve let her pull the wool over my eyes.’
But was she also trying to fool me that evening in the Lawrence Garden? Puri wondered. It didn’t seem that way. Has she been brainwashed by her father? Has she begun to see everything from his point of view? What made her say those beautiful words, and what did she base them on? When he realized that, lost in his thoughts, he had reached the railway station, he turned round and went back.
When Tara reached Surendra’s house, she welcomed Tara with mock anger, ‘You bad girl, I’m not going to talk to you. My brother told me on May Day that you’d come in a couple of days. You call this long time just a couple of days? Go away!’
Surendra chattered on without giving Tara a chance to say anything, ‘Neither do you visit anybody, nor do you invite anyone to your house.’ She spoke so that her mother could hear, ‘Ma, she’s studied her textbooks so much that the pages have turned white. Always gets the highest marks. Hasn’t told anyone where her house is, in case other people may come and interrupt her studies, and she might have to make them a cup of tea. Ma, don’t you offer her anything to eat or drink.’
‘Keep quiet, silly girl. Why wouldn’t I?’ Surendra’s mother replied. ‘Isn’t she my daughter too? Nice girls are like that. She’s not like you and your brother. He thinks he’s in charge of everything. And you roam all over the town like a
nagar-naun
, behaving as if you were a bigger leader even than he.’
‘Ma, you too have begun to sing her praises.’ Surendra pouted. ‘She’s very deep. She knows the
vashikaran
mantra that puts magic spells over everyone and holds them captive. Watch out for her.’ Surendra looked sideways at Tara.
Her mother got up, ‘You sisters keep me out of your childish squabbles! Tara beti, will you also have the red-coloured hot water, what they call tea, in this heat, or sherbet? I could make you some sherbet with
phalsa
berries’
‘What’s the hurry, ma?’ Surendra said. ‘She’s not a guest. If she wants something, she’ll ask for it.’ Tara explained that she’d meant to come one day as promised, but her cousin had come to visit with her first-born child.
‘I know the truth!’ Surendra whispered knowingly.
‘What do you know?’
‘Why you’ve come here.’
‘Why then?’ Tara showed her surprise.
‘Stop pretending,’ Surendra said, keeping her voice down. ‘He comes here every morning and waits for you. This morning too. Said that he’ll wait one more day, and if you don’t show up, he’ll take me along and go to your place to ask about you. He knows which gali to go to, and where your house is in it.’
‘Who does?’ asked Tara, raising her eyebrows in puzzlement.
‘Hai, your playing innocent will kill me. You’re really a deep one, you sly thing. You’ve picked the real pearl out of a basket of imitations, and you want to keep it a secret?’
‘Tell me. Stop talking in riddles,’ Tara showed her irritation. ‘Who was asking about me?’
‘You don’t really trust me, do you?’ Surendra said, with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
‘Don’t tease me, please. Tell me. I beg of you. You’re my best pal,’ Tara said, accepting defeat.
‘Whom did you promise on May Day that you’d come to Surendra’s house?’
Tara tried to keep up her pretence. ‘Who?’
‘All right. Keep it up. I’m not telling you anything,’ Surendra gestured with her thumb in refusal.
Tara’s face turned crimson. They were both sitting on a dhurrie on the floor. She put her hand on Surendra’s feet, and said, ‘Please tell me. Here, I’m touching your feet in appeal.’
‘Yes, touch my feet, call me sister-in-law,’ Surendra turned serious. ‘That’s my right.’
‘Hai, have some shame! What are you saying?’ Tara was embarrassed.
‘Well, Asad bhai has adopted me as his sister. He’s asked me to tie a
rakhi
on his wrist, and formally became my brother. He said that he found this custom of sisters tying a thread on their brothers’ wrist very pleasant and meaningful.’
Tara sat in thought, her chin resting on her fist.
‘What’s troubling you?’ Surendra said. ‘Asad bhai too seemed very upset.’
‘I don’t know how to explain,’ Tara said. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘What is it? Give me some idea, so that I can help.’
‘Let me first talk to him. Then I’ll tell you.’
‘Don’t you have faith in me?’ Surendra said grumpily.
‘It’s not that, but there’s another problem. Please don’t feel bad about it, sister.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘Can’t I meet him anywhere now?’ Tara asked uneasily.
‘My brother has gone with Asad, Pradyumna and others to the railway workshops. They hold a meeting every day outside the workshop gate. They return around eight o’clock in the evening.’
‘Then it’s not my lucky day.’
‘Come tomorrow. At what time can you be here?’
‘Can’t come tomorrow.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s all very complicated. I came today with my brother. I can only come if he’s with me.’
‘What’s so complicated about that?’
Tara was thinking: If they translated three pages every day, the rest of
The House Built upon Sand
should be finished by the eleventh of that month. Her brother might come this way again, to deliver the manuscript. ‘Maybe on the twelfth, I can come at the same time,’ she said.
They talked about other matters. Surendra told her that she had received a proposal of marriage from a captain in the army from the town of Ludhiana. She said ‘no’ to her mother. Her mother had asked: Do you want to get married or not? Surendra’s brother said: Ma, wait a while. Let’s wait until she herself asks for it ten times over. She’ll come round in the end. ‘I was really embarrassed.’ Their talk turned to the friendship between Zubeida and Pradyumna.
‘Narinder S-e-e-ngh!’ A call came from the gali.
‘Bhai’s here,’ Tara said and walked towards the window opening onto the gali. Surendra followed her.
‘Come on up,’ Surendra said looking down from the window.
As they headed towards the landing, Tara took Surendra’s arm and said, ‘Ask me again in front of my brother. Insist that I come.’ She fell silent as the sound of steps neared the top of the stairs.
Tara asked her brother, ‘It seems that you had quite a long talk. Did Panditji read many pages? What did he think of it?’
Surendra led Puri to the room where there was a sofa.
‘He seemed to like it,’ Puri said, as he sat down.
‘What do you mean by “seemed to like it”?’ Tara asked.
‘Nothing. I mean, he liked it.’ Puri closed the discussion by asking, ‘Narendra isn’t at home?’
‘He goes out every evening for the gate meeting at the workshop,’ Surendra said.
‘They’re all really working hard.’ Puri said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief.
‘Will you have tea, bhaiji?’ Surendra asked.
‘No, no. I’ve just had tea.’ Puri replied.
‘Wah, we both were waiting for you to have it with us. I forgot that Kanak’s father wouldn’t let you off without offering you tea. He must have put his arm round your shoulders, saying: Barkhurdar, my boy, how can you leave without having tea? What would your sisters think? I might get a cup too when Kanni and Kanchi bring one for you … Kanak’s father is very affectionate.’
Puri smiled, but said nothing.
Surendra went on, ‘Even if you had a cup, so what? You must have lost twice that much in perspiration.’
As Tara and Puri got up to leave, Surendra asked Tara, ‘When will you
come again?’ She said to Puri teasingly, ‘I know writers want to chat only with other literary-minded people; and I’m not a literary type. But bhaiji, the Gwal Mandi bazaar doesn’t end at Shaduram’s Gali. There’s also our Jeeva Gali. Tara, don’t forget to bring him along.’
‘Have I ever failed to show up when you have invited me?’ Puri said. ‘I’ve been here almost every time. It’s just that I’ve a bit of a workload in the past few days.’
‘That load was lightened when you had go to Shaduram’s Gali?’ Surendra added, teasing him again.
Tara hid her smile.
‘Pandit Girdharilal’s work was like a load on my conscience. I’ve thrown off that load today.’ Puri said, turning her jokes into a fact.
Before parting with Tara downstairs, Surendra said again, ‘Don’t forget to come on the twelfth, or else!’
She’s a
jatni
after all, Tara thought. ‘When I asked her to call me on the twelfth, she just parroted the words after me. She could’ve asked us to come a day or two earlier.’
Puri was quiet as they walked home. Tara asked, ‘How’s Kanak? I’ll go to see her too, next time.’
‘Don’t know. Haven’t seen her,’ Puri replied curtly.
Tara did not know what to make of his answer. She said, ‘Maybe she had gone out. What did her father say about the translation?’
‘Praised it.’
‘I’ll help you finish the rest. It should be four or five days’ work. Then you’ll be able to give all your time to the history textbook.’ Tara was preparing the ground for coming back to Surendra’s on the twelfth.