‘The tonga driver goaded the horse to go faster. Someone threw a lathi between the horse’s legs. The horse stumbled and fell. Four or five men came running up. One of them pulled Shobha out. The Muslim man who had come to take her and the Muslim tongawallah both cried for help, but none came. The goondas dragged Shobha into a gali.
‘The man who had come to find Shobha went back to her house, distraught and crying. Shobha’s younger brother telephoned the police. Doctor Raliaram was a highly regarded and important person. The authorities assured him that they’d search for her and they did their best too, but all their efforts went for nothing. Three days later, the doctor in despair abandoned everything, went to the railway station under police protection, and left the city.’
After hearing about the tragedy of Doctor Shobha from her father, Kanak
still said, ‘Pitaji, Suveera lives in Old Anarkali, near the police station. That area has never been involved in any riots.’
‘Yes, that area’s been free from rioting,’ Panditji admitted. ‘But, be patient. Tell Mahendra in the evening to go to Model Town along that route. It’ll be safer in the car.’
‘Pitaji, in the evening jijaji is really tired. Some days it’s quite late before he’s free.’
‘Suveera’s family has no telephone?’
‘No, they don’t have a telephone. And it’s important that I go. I’ll be back soon.’ Kanak turned towards the door to leave.
‘Wait, wait! I’ll tell you what. Bhai Vidhichand!’ Panditji turned towards Vidhichand, ‘Go on your bicycle and get a tonga from the bazaar. Take care that you hire a Hindu tongawallah. I heard that Muslim tongawallahs sometimes are not all that trustworthy.’
He turned to face Kanak, ‘You get into the tonga right here. Ask the tongawallah to wait when you get there.’
Kanak went into the living room to wait for the tonga.
Panditji called Kanak when the tonga arrived at the door, and said to Vidhichand in front of her, ‘Bhai Vidhichand, go along with Kanni beti, down by the Old Anarkali police station. On your way back, stop at the Keval Book Depot and inquire about the cheque they were to send me in payment. Don’t be too long, Kanni. Vidhichand has a lot of work to finish. Don’t waste his time.’
Kanak ground her teeth in silent fury and got into the tonga. Vidhichand was a relative, but he sat in front with the driver, rather than next to his boss’s daughter. The tonga was passing in front of the police station in Old Anarkali when Kanak gave the order, ‘Stop here!’
Vidhichand was perplexed. Kanak got off the tonga without uttering a word and went into the police station. Vidhichand, uneasy and uncertain, had to follow her.
There was a room to the right. A man in uniform sat on a
takht
behind a low desk. His head bent, he was writing something in Urdu in a beige-coloured register. Kanak spoke to him in Urdu, ‘I want to see Jaidev Puri.’
The man replied without raising his head, ‘It’ll cost you ten rupees.’
Kanak had some cash in her purse. She took out two fivers and held them out, ‘Here.’
The constable raised his head and looked Kanak over, from head to foot,
noticed her starched and ironed white dress, glanced at Vidhichand standing behind her like a servant, hesitated, gave her a respectful salaam and asked, ‘Where have you come from?’
‘From my home,’ Kanak replied in English.
‘From mimber saheb’s place?’ asked the constable in puzzlement, mispronouncing ‘member’. ‘Dhingra Saheb has telephoned.’
Not knowing what to say, Kanak said nothing. Without looking at the offered cash, the constable called, ‘Chirag Deen!’
Another constable came into the room. The constable behind the desk said to him in Punjabi, ‘Take bibiji to number four. She wants to speak to someone.’
Kanak went inside with the constable to a large courtyard. Vidhichand followed her like a pet dog. The constable took Kanak to a large room enclosed by an iron grille. There were several men inside. They all looked at Kanak. One of them came forward, stood close to the grille and grabbed the bars with his hands. The rest stayed back.
‘How did you manage to get here?’
Kanak heard Puri’s voice, but she could not recognize him immediately. His slim, short body seemed to have shrunk. His otherwise carefully shaven, pale-complexioned face had several days’ growth of beard, and his hair was tousled. There was a stench of sweat. His white shirt and pajama trousers were so dirty that they appeared to be made of some dark coloured cloth, and had patches of stiff, dried sweat and grime. His face was streaked where the grime had rubbed off.
Kanak used all her strength to control herself. She said, ‘I just found out, a little while ago from the newspaper report. What happened? What should we do?’
Mindful of the constable standing nearby, Puri kept his voice low and spoke in English, ‘We’ve been shut up in this cage here like animals for the past six days. We were arrested and locked up without a warrant. We haven’t been presented in any court. The law requires that we be sent to the jail lock-up. At least we would be able to get a breath of air there. I know the rules about jails and lock-ups. This is all illegal. Here the police can torture us, to make us confess to any crime. The police can harass our families and ask them for bribes for our release. We were arrested when we went to put out the fire. Seven others were shot dead. My father came here and I explained all this to him, but he’s likely to listen to the advice of
his elder brother and Tara’s future father-in-law Lala Sukhlal, and try to get me out of here by bribing the police. That won’t be right. We’re all in this together. If you speak to Mister Nayyar, he may submit an application in the court about this.’ Puri thought for a few moments, then said, ‘Doctor Pran Nath’s influence could have been useful for getting us bail, but my father said that his mansion has been burned down. There’s no news about where he might be.’
‘I’ll go and ask jijaji immediately. I’ve only just found out about all this.’ Kanak replied also in English. ‘I tried to contact you, and sent you a letter, but we weren’t able to meet.’
That was all she could say for the moment.
Puri was talking cautiously, but Kanak was troubled by the unspoken abuse, pain and plea for help in his voice. She bit her lip to control herself, and looked through the bars of the cage into Puri’s eyes, in order to convey her own agony and helplessness. She turned her back to hide the tears welling up in her eyes, and left the police station.
When she entered the living room at home, Pandit Girdharilal was surprised to see his daughter come back so soon. He called out with great relief, ‘You’re back already, Kanni beta. That’s good. You did a wise thing.’ He had been right to send Vidhichand along, he was thinking.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ said Kanak. She went straight upstairs, without paying any attention to Kanchan, who was sitting and talking with their neighbour Santosh. She almost collapsed on her bed. The sight of a suffering and harassed Puri, gripping the bars of the cage, swam before her eyes. The emotions rising in her heart began to seep out as tears. ‘What good will crying do?’ she scolded herself, ‘what I must do is something to help him.’ She could imagine how Vidhichand must be whispering about what happened into the ear of her father. ‘Let him,’ she thought, ‘I’ll do what I have to. Jijaji will come in the evening. But he can’t bear any mention of Puriji. I’ll speak to him, nevertheless.’
‘Kanni, come down. Pitaji’s calling you.’ Kanchan called after a while.
Kanak was prepared for that.
Panditji inquired sympathetically about everything, in detail. He did not seem angry that Kanak had told a lie about where she was going, but seemed only concerned with knowing the facts. What crimes were the arrested men charged with? Had anybody applied for bail? Who would be willing to put up the bail? Who was Doctor Pran Nath?
Kanak could not answer all the questions.
‘Let’s see what we can do!’ Panditji muttered to himself, and turning to Vidhichand, said, ‘There’s a slip of paper attached to the telephone directory that has the number of the high court barristers’ room. Ask them to get Mahendra Nayyar, the advocate. Say someone’s calling from his home.’
He turned back to Kanak, ‘When you read it in the newspaper, beta, you should’ve told me. Had I gone to see him, I’d have found out more. Achcha, you’ve been out in the sun. Go and rest.’
Kanak went back to her room and lay down, feeling unhappy that she had handed over to others the responsibility for helping Puri. She wanted to do it herself, to go quickly wherever she could, anywhere, to free Puri from that cage, but for the present she had done all that was within her powers. Another thought was surging in her mind. How big a heart her father had! All she did was to create problems for him. ‘Has pitaji agreed to do what I want him to?’
In the evening, when she heard Nayyar return from the high court, she went downstairs without pausing to draw another breath. Nayyar ignored her, and went on with his explanations to Panditji, ‘… a defence committee of lawyers is working on the case. We’re handling all riot cases without asking for any fee. The police are holding the arrested men for seven days on remand. The men will be sent to jail after that time. D.V. Sood says that bail applications for all the men have been filed.’
After telling Panditji this, Nayyar picked up a file cover from the table beside him, to show that he was ready to leave, and said, ‘Achcha, I’m off. Have to prepare this case for tomorrow.’ He turned and looked at Kanak, ‘Are you staying or do you want to go? Got all your clothes?’
His tone of voice told Kanak that he was not very eager for her to come along, but he was the only person who could help Puri. ‘I’ll get them. I’m ready,’ she replied.
Sensing Nayyar’s silence as they drove to Model Town, Kanak ventured, ‘Jijaji, you’re so quiet. Are you angry with me?’
‘No, nothing like that. I’m thinking of my case tomorrow. It’s a bit complicated.’ Nayyar did not answer her question.
Kanak said, ‘Puriji’s father and his sister’s future father-in-law wanted to get him out by bribing the police, but he wouldn’t let them. You couldn’t have helped crying if you’d seen the state he was in, but he still refused to get out by illegal means.’
‘Very well. Let’s see what happens,’ said Nayyar. He did not say anything further. Later in the evening, and the next morning too, they exchanged only a few words. Kanak got ready to go to Gwal Mandi so that she could keep abreast of any developments.
Nayyar said, ‘I’m going that way. I’ve no objection to your coming along. But if a phone call can be made from the high court to Gwal Mandi, it can be made to Model Town too. However, its your call.’
‘Why you’re being so curt and offhand with me! What’s the harm if I come along? I won’t go out anyway,’ she said as they drove to Gwal Mandi. Nayyar remained silent.
Kanak was waiting when Nayyar arrived in the evening. She had asked Kesari to keep tea ready. She looked at Nayyar affectionately as he came into the living room. He just nodded a namaste to her, glanced into the door to the office, and called, ‘Pitaji, close down the office now. Why don’t you call it a day?’
‘I’m coming,’ came Panditji’s reply.
Nayyar took a chair next to Kanak. Kanak’s eyes were dancing with desperate curiosity. Just to prolong the agony of her desperation, he asked, ‘So, what have you been up to all day?’
‘Nothing. Tell me, what happened?’
‘About what?’ he asked.
Kanak did not like this rebuff. Panditji came into the living room and said, ‘Kanni, ask for tea to be served. My back stiffens up so much after sitting so long in the chair.’ He moved his arms to stretch his body before sitting down and asked Nayyar, ‘Yes, what happened? Today was their appearance in court.’
‘Nothing,’ Nayyar gave Kanak a sideways glance, and said nothing more.
‘No bail was granted?’ Panditji asked grimly. Kanak’s heart was in her mouth.
‘Uh-uh.’
‘At least they must have been ordered to be transferred from the police station to the jail lock-up?’ Panditji asked.
‘Well, no.’ Nayyar again kept silent for a moment. Then, as if feeling pity for Kanak, he said, ‘I myself represented him, and asked Rai Bahadur to be present as well. For Rai Bahadur just to be there is unsettling for a magistrate of these lower courts. We said that there were no grounds for
posting bail. So he was released without bail. Five other men were let off at the same time. Only three now remain in the lock-up.’
‘You’re a fine boy!’ Panditji said in English and slapped himself on the knee as he congratulated Nayyar.
Kanak felt as if an iron vice gripping her heart had been loosened, and she could breathe freely. She shot an angry, pouting glance at her brother-in-law, as if to ask, ‘Why did you have to make me suffer so much?’
THE LAST CASE THE COURT HEARD WAS THAT OF PURI AND MEWA RAM. THE
court sat for an extra half-hour, and Puri and Mewa Ram were released. Masterji, Ratan and Khushal Singh had been present in court since ten in the morning. Babu Govindram had had Ratan released four days earlier. The bail hearing for Bir Singh and others was postponed for three days. Puri had been arrested at the time of the Shahalami conflagration, when it was hazardous to pass through the fire-ridden bazaars of Bajaj Hatta and Machchi Hatta. Those arrested had been taken to the police station by way of Rang Mahal and Delhi Gate. The blaze had since subsided. Puri and the others returned to their homes through Shahalami.
The once bustling and vibrant bazaars of Shahalami had been burned to the ground. What remained were the ruins of two-, three-and four-storey houses, and vast mounds of garbage. A narrow path straggled between the rows of giant burnt-out pyres. To remove that debris would have been like digging up and carting away a mountain. Stumps of wooden beams, fallen steel girders, the remains of doors and frames, and charred planks were scattered around. From some still-standing smoke-blackened walls, broken balcony railings hung like skeletons or jutted out like the rib cages of giant animals. Bent and twisted water pipes and iron rods, as if they were the intestines of the burnt-out buildings, swung slowly in the wind. A terrible stench made one hold one’s nose.
As Puri and Mewa Ram stepped into Bhola Pandhe’s Gali, it rang with the cries of children playing in the lane, ‘Jaddi bhappa and Mewa bhappa are back!’
When Bhagwanti heard the shout, she went down the stairs in such a hurry that she stumbled and almost fell. She screamed and burst into sobs as she clasped her grown-up son to her breast right on the chabutara. She had done the same when Puri had come back from prison two years before. Everyone in the gali came out of their homes to welcome the freed men. The sound of Kartaro crying loudly came from Khushal Singh’s house. She had uttered a scream when she did not see Bir Singh return with Puri and Mewa Ram, and had begun to wail that her son had been left behind in
the lock-up. ‘The rich and resourceful can manipulate things. Why did they make a poor person’s son accompany them at curfew time?’
Puri freed himself from his mother’s embrace and said
pairipaina
to Meladei. Tara and Usha gave him a hug. Hari touched the feet of his elder brother. Tara said with pride, ‘Our brave brother didn’t care if he was sent to jail for the sake of his country and the truth. He spent two years in prison before this as well.’
When he saw Tara, Puri thought of Kanak coming to see him in the police cells, and of his own indignation with Kanak in the days before that.
He also noticed the faint lines of the scar on her forehead. It did not show much against her fair complexion, but the cross-like scar reminded him of the incident five weeks before, and the date of Tara’s wedding three weeks hence. He turned his eyes away.
Before going up the stairs to his house, Puri went to Khushal Singh’s place. He said to Kartaro, ‘Masi,
pairipaina
,’ and assured her that Bir Singh would be home soon.
The people of the gali did not want to let go of Puri. They made him sit with them and began to talk about the frontier between Pakistan and Hindustan that was to divide up Punjab. Everyone was certain that Hindustan would begin from the city of Lahore on the eastern bank of the Ravi River. The Radcliffe Commission had proclaimed that Sialkot in the north and Bahawalpur-Khairpur in the southwest would be part of the new Pakistan. If Lahore were to be included in the partition, the Commission would surely have mentioned this. Who could overlook the fact that 80 per cent of the real estate in Lahore was owned by Hindus.
Puri was told that after the Shahalami fire, Ghasita Ram and Panna Lal had locked up their houses and gone on pilgrimage to Mathura and Vrindavan. The gali people knew that the fire had scared them off, but not everyone had the means to leave like that.
Puri came upstairs for his dinner after Usha and his mother had called him several times. Tara served him as he sat down in the kitchen. His mother came and sat beside him. There were several kinds of vegetables in his thali. ‘Are you trying to make up for the past two weeks in one go? So many things to eat in one meal?’ Puri said to his mother. He found himself unable to speak directly to Tara.
‘It’s not so much,’ his mother replied. ‘Pushpa and Ratan’s mother sent a dish each for you. Rampyari and Jeeva too brought something.’
‘Have I become a guest in my own home just because I was away for a couple of days?’ Puri showed his surprise, ‘Neighbours usually do that when some guest arrives.’
‘Kaka, if your neighbours don’t help you out in your ups and downs, how could you live in the gali?’ His mother said, and began to unload her anxieties onto her son, ‘When you weren’t here, you know we couldn’t do anything. Hardly any time is left before the date of the wedding. Whatever else might happen in the city, the marriages that have been settled are being carried through. We must arrange for everything in the next two or three weeks.’
Puri did not look at Tara, but he knew she was silent, as girls were supposed to be when any talk of their marriage came up. She gave no sign of disagreement or dissatisfaction. A weight rolled off his mind, but left him with a feeling of sadness.
After dinner, Puri lay down on a charpoy on the rooftop. Masterji and the others on the roof, not wanting to disturb his rest, left him alone. The roof had been baking in the strong June sun, and its floor, the surrounding low walls and the corrugated tin roof over the
barsati
gave off waves of heat. But he did not feel the heat. After being locked up day and night for a week in that cage, Puri could enjoy the luxury of lying, even on a bare charpoy, in the open air under the faint moonlight. Only a few hours before he had been confined, and now! Wondering at the difference between his feelings of confinement and freedom, and relishing the pleasure of being at liberty, he could not sleep as thoughts crowded his mind and various images flashed through.
His thoughts did not dwell on community or social problems. Such ideas now seemed to him to be of little substance. His thinking and wishes seemed to have no influence upon a society composed of millions of others. Who knew what forces were at work in this human anthill, but it did not seem possible for an individual to make his way except in the direction the masses were going. Each member of this mass of people had his own worries; he had his own, Kanak had hers, and perhaps Tara too. His thoughts turned to Kanak.
His heart had been cleansed of all resentment against Kanak for having betrayed his trust. She had flown to his aid as soon as she knew about his troubles. There was no question of her loyalty to him, and he felt ashamed of having doubted her and of being angry with her. Nayyar had represented
him in court along with Rai Bahadur. Has Kanak been able to handle the situation with her family? Otherwise, why would they have taken the trouble for me as they did? The week spent in that hellhole, this detestable ordeal was perhaps a necessary prelude to the beginning of my new life…he thought. Kanak had come to the police station and now he ought to go to her place to convey his thanks and express his gratitude for the help given by Panditji and Nayyar. Then he thought of the history book that he was translating … had this disruption not occurred, the work would have been finished by now. Well, now he would work day and night, and try to finish what was left, and do his revision within three or four days, and hand it over to Ghaus Mohammed. Money was desperately needed in the house.
He began his work early next day. If someone came to congratulate him on his release from the lock-up, he’d get up and give the visitor a hug in welcome, talk with him for a short time and then return to his work. He meant to go to Gwal Mandi in the evening. For that, he needed clothes that were washed and ironed. Distressed by his arrest, the family could hardly have looked after his wardrobe in his absence. Puri had asked Usha in the morning to wash and iron his shirt and trousers.
He worked until five in the afternoon, then changed into fresh clothes and left for Gwal Mandi. To avoid looking at the horrible vista of the devastated bazaars, he went by the roundabout route of Vachchovali, Sootar Mandi and Lohari Gate, then took Hospital Road to Gwal Mandi. Nayyar’s car was parked outside the entrance to Shaduram’s Gali. The thought of Nayyar’s presence at the moment of meeting Kanak dampened his enthusiasm. The door of the entrance to Panditji’s office was closed. Puri was about to turn back, intending to return next day when Nayyar came through the door that opened into the living room.
Puri paused, finding relief in the possibility that Nayyar might be leaving. He smiled, said namaste, and began to offer his thanks.
Nayyar acknowledged with his customary reserve, then changed his expression to a smile of welcome, held out his hand and said, ‘Come, come, Mister Puri.’
‘I came to express my gratitude to Panditji and to you,’ Puri said in English, using a phrase he had already thought up. ‘It’s fortunate that I met you.’
‘There’s no question of gratitude.’ Nayyar held on to his hand and led him back into the living room. ‘It was nothing to me. It was my duty. The
lawyers’ defence committee was formed for this very purpose. I am sorry that you had to suffer so much when you were only trying to help others.’ Nayyar showed him to the sofa, and turning his face towards the aangan, called, ‘Kesari, bring some tea.’
Puri had never seen Nayyar so polite and friendly.
‘Which newspaper are you working for, these days?’ Nayyar asked, sitting on the chair next to Puri.
Puri replied that he was not attached to any one newspaper, but was doing literary work as a freelancer.
Nayyar said, ‘Wah, that’s very good. You’ve freedom to do whatever you want. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘Yes, I’m quite happy about that.’
‘Is Master Ramlubhaya your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’d mentioned Dr Pran Nath in connection with your bail. Is that the same Pran Nath, the university professor, who’s also the advisor to the governor?’
‘Yes,’ Puri admitted, adding quickly so that it might not be taken as a boast of friendship with such an important person, ‘Doctor saheb was a student of my father, and I was his student in turn. He’s been very kind to me.’
‘He’s a decent and competent person, I know. He was one year senior to me at the Government College. Knew him then. Haven’t had a chance to meet him in the past ten years or so. And who’s this Lala Sukhlal?’
‘Lala Sukhlal is a relative.’
‘Your father, Masterji’s brother or …?’
‘No. A future relation. My sister’s future father-in-law.’
‘Oh, achcha. Sukhlal wields considerable influence in some circles. Your sister perhaps is Kanak’s fellow student. She’s finished her BA?’
‘No. She deposited her fees for her exam in March. We thought that she’d sit for the exam and her wedding would take place afterwards. But the examinations were postponed.’ From Nayyar’s friendly tone and his inquiries, Puri could feel a change from his earlier attitude.
‘Who is this tea for?’ Kanchan’s voice came from the aangan.
‘Jijaji has asked for it,’ the servant replied.
‘Jijaji has gone out,’ said Kanchan as she entered into the living room. Seeing that Nayyar was talking with Puri, she said namaste to Puri and asked, ‘Shall I serve the tea for you people?’ She poured tea into two cups.
‘Kanchi, you’re not having any?’ Puri asked in a tone of familiarity.
‘I’ve just had some with Pitaji,’ she replied. She did not say anything else, but left after pouring the tea.
‘There are problems everywhere because of the disturbances in the city. Will your sister’s marriage be postponed until after her exams in September?’ Nayyar asked, showing great concern.
‘No, that won’t be possible,’ Puri said, grasping his knee in his clasped hands, ‘The groom’s parents don’t want that.’
‘Well, that’s not a big problem,’ Nayyar expressed his sympathy. ‘She can appear for her exam after her wedding. The preparation for the exam will of course be disrupted. But marriage is a bigger exam than even the BA.’ Nayyar laughed. ‘It’s become a problem to find suitable matches for educated girls. It’s your good luck that your family found a good match for your sister. What’s the name of Lala Sukhlal’s son?’
‘Somraj.’
‘Somraj… er, is he a professional or is in civil service?’
‘He’s probably helping in the family business. I’m not quite in the know.’ Puri found his own answer somewhat inadequate. He added quickly, ‘The engagement was made in 1944 while I was in prison.’
‘It’s an arranged marriage then?’
Puri said uncomfortably, ‘Yes, in a way arranged, but both parties were given a chance to see and get to know each other. I was in prison at the time.’
‘That’s good. If the boy and the girl are happy and the family is satisfied, what else is needed?’ Nayyar said approvingly.
‘You’re right,’ Puri breathed more easily now that the subject had ended.
Puri had finished his tea, and Nayyar had drunk only half of his. He began to pour more tea into Puri’s cup.
Puri said politely, ‘Have some yourself. You haven’t finished yours yet.’
‘I’ll take some more shortly. You go ahead.’ He filled Puri’s cup.
Nayyar talked about various things to keep the conversation going, ‘Why don’t you write for the cinema? How much does a good journalist earn working freelance? Why don’t you go to some hill station to have peace to write?’ He seemed curious to know all about Puri.
Puri finished his second cup and asked, ‘If Panditji is at home, I’d like to pay my respects to him and express my gratitude.’
‘He’s in, but he’s not well. He just went to lie down. Don’t stand on ceremony. I’ll ask Kanchan to tell him later.’
Puri finally said what he had been gathering courage to say, ‘I also wanted to thank Kanakji for her help.’ He knew that Nayyar and Panditji had helped him at the request of Kanak. His guess was that the fact of her going to the police station would be known to them, so he said, ‘She took the trouble to come to the police station.’