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  Suddenly, the fingers on Aditi’s head were moving furiously. There was a pinch. “Aunty, lift up you palm.” And then Zeba placed a live and kicking louse on it.

  “Oh my god! I have lice!”

  Zeba placed it in between the nails of her thumbs and squished it. “And Aunty, you are growing old. You have a white hair.”

  “That can’t be.” The fingers moved again. Zeba separated one long strand of grey hair from the rest and brought it in front of Aditi’s eyes.

  Lice and grey hair! Her life was over! “Someone kill me!”

  “Or you could use henna,” Zeenat suggested.

  “Henna? No? It’s too much of…”

  “We have it here at home. Ammi doesn’t allow us to use it though. Says it’s bad omen. But for young girls, not married women!” she quickly added the last sentence.

  “Let’s skip it. It will take time and I have never done it.”

  Zeenat jumped out of the bed and opened a cupboard. “Don’t worry, Aunty, my Ammi is a lousy cook. I tell her to learn from me, but she won’t! It will be sometime before dinner is ready.” She took out a packet of henna and went outside. Zeba opened one of the tin boxes and pulled out a rag. “Sit back, Aunty,” she said as she too went out of the room, “we will take care of your hair.”

  “I also want to see a tiger,” Zoya moaned, then carefully wrapped the photo.

  It was about quarter past eleven when Aditi finally returned home, her hair caked in henna. She picked up a towel and went to the hand-pump straight away. Halfway through filling a bucket, she realised that she would probably stain her expensive sari washing her hair. She went inside to change.

  She didn’t see the woman standing on the roof.

  CHAPTER 9

  AAMBARI

  The weather was so good that Aditi did not want to go back to her house. Dark clouds had been rumbling above for the past one day and the temperature had dropped significantly. She folded her hands as she stood on the roof of the three-storey building watching the fields sway with the winds.

  “I will tell you, Madam,” Laila was chopping vegetables on a cot behind Aditi, “I am seriously worried about this girl. She has no manners. I try to teach her things, I tell you. But is this what she is going to do when she gets married?”

  Aditi smiled to herself. Just the previous afternoon the three girls, Zeenat, Zeba and Zoya had come for their first class. Zeenat, the eldest sister, turned out to be the most intelligent of them all. Aditi gave them a few maths problems and she started solving them calmly. Zeba threw side glances to check if any of the questions were same. Zoya didn’t even pretend to be interested in her problems. She stared at the elementary multiplication and division problems, then wrote some random numbers. When she got bored with writing, she looked around the house, or hummed to herself. When her eyes met with those of Aditi, she smiled shyly and went back to writing random numbers.

  “Can I drink a little water?” she asked after a while and went to the backyard. When she didn’t return for ten minutes, Aditi went out to see her chasing the chickens. “From where do they get these beautiful colours?” Zoya asked, ignoring the frown Aditi was wearing.

  “It’s advance maths!” Aditi replied and brought her in.

  Zoya managed to stare at her slate in concentration for fifteen more minutes. After that she was more troubled with something inside her nose and kept poking her little finger in and wiping it against her hair. When she noticed Aditi glaring at her with contempt, she was quick to justify, “Ammi says that if I use this finger,” she lifted her forefinger, “to clean my nose every time, my nose will bulge out and I will become ugly. You see, my this finger is big for my nose. So instead, Ammi told me to use this finger,” she lifted her little finger, “to clean my nose. It is thin and can go deeper inside.” And she began to dig her nose to demonstrate.

  An hour later, when Aditi told them the session was over, Zoya sighed, leaned back on her hands and looked at the ceiling, panting lightly, as if she had endured unbearable torment. Aditi pinched her cheeks. “Tiring, isn’t it? Do you want something to eat? Biscuits? Sweets? Tea?” she asked the girls.

  Zoya’s face lit up. Too shy to actually nod or shake her head, she smiled from ear to ear. It was when Aditi looked up that she saw Zeenat frowning at Zoya as if she had just agreed to take part in something very unholy. The smile vanished. Satisfied with the effect her stare had, Zeenat stood up, “No Aunty. Thank you. Ammi must have cooked lunch for us. But before we go, is there anything we could help you with?”

  “Help her with?” Zeba rose beside her. “Can’t you see how dirty the floor is? You sweep the floor, I’ll clean the kitchen.”

  “No! No!” Aditi stood up as the girls tied their dupatta behind their backs. “There is no need for that! I asked you if you wanted to eat something and here you are instead trying to clean my house. Who was it, you mother told you to do it?”

  “No. It’s not that…” Zeenat murmured.

  “You have come here to study, my dear. I do not want you to go around tidying up my place. If I need something, I can always call out to you, can’t I? So,” Aditi said as she made for the kitchen, “what would you like to eat?”

  “Nothing!”

  Aditi turned around and put her hands on her waist. “Fine then!” she said in mock anger. “You two stand here and watch her eat. Come here, Zoya. Biscuits?”

  “That depends.” Zoya glanced sideways at her sisters.

  “On what?”

  “Can you ask me three times, please, Aunty?”

  “What?”

  “Can you ask me three times if I want some biscuits?” Zoya continued. “And sweets. Because Ammi says that if I go to someone’s house, I shouldn’t accept anything offered to me! It is bad manners.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. It is bad manners if I accept it in the first time itself,” Zoya explained as Zeenat scowled at her. “I should wait for you to offer me again and again, this is what Ammi says. We never go to anyone’s place that often. And whenever we go, Ammi is with us. So, I don’t have say yes or no. But before coming here, Ammi told us not to accept anything you offered.” She gulped and paused for a breath. “Then I asked what should I do if Aunty offered again and again? So Ammi told me if Aunty offers you again and again, then you must accept. Otherwise that would be rude. So I asked her how many times Aunty must offer again and again so that I can accept.” She was panting by now. “So Ammi told you cannot accept anything before Aunty offers it again and again three times!”

  And Aditi had had a good laugh.

  “I will tell you, this girl,” Laila said as she pushed the chopped vegetables aside and pulled out from a bundle of clothes what seemed to be a curtain, folded it from the middle and began to stitch. “She comes home and tells me she had eaten all your biscuits and sweets. I pulled out a big pole and chased her. How dare she asked? That was when she told me. That she didn’t ask any of it. I sat down on the ground and cried, Madam, I will tell you. I don’t know what to do with this girl!”

  Aditi crossed her hands and gave herself a moment to enjoy the wind. “She is just a little girl. It’s all right. She will mature with time. I am sure you used to play these pranks too when you were young.”

  “Me? Never. I grew up with three younger brothers. I took care of them more than my mother, I tell you. Unlike this girl, I knew how to cook and how to clean the moment I opened my eyes. And my father wasn’t like hers. Hers is too gentle. Mine was strict.”

  “Your father. What did he do?”

  “He used to sell fish. Not actually sell. There is a big pond in Naugachia…”

  “You are from Naugachia?”

  “Yes, Madam.” Laila said with pride, that she had some link with the manager of the bank. “My father used to take care of the pond.”

  “And your brothers?”

  “They run a tailor shop together. Naushad Tailors. Have you heard of it? It’s near the railway station. Ask anyone there. T
hey all know my brothers by name. They are the best!”

  Laila returned to her work and the excitement with which she had been speaking began to diminish, but a faint smiled lingered. Aditi turned around and watched the landscape spread out before her. The mango forest ran parallel to the river on her left, following the gradual outward curve. The many colours of human settlement laid sprayed out in front of her – huts and shops and houses – and the cries and shouts that went along. A crimson road, broken and dirty, found its way in between the constructions, ever keeping its distance from the tree-line, and ran ahead southward. As the road passed the last of the huts, the forest branched out abruptly and the road took a curve around before going further south, through the market and in front of the bank, to meet the makeshift bridge across the river.

  She tried to locate the bank on the other side of the branch of the forest. “What’s the point of going around the forest, every day, twice, when you could go through it? Wouldn’t that save a lot of time?”

  Aditi hadn’t expected an answer. But Laila left her seat and stood beside her. She didn’t say anything for a while. The two women leaned against the parapet and watched the forest.

  “The Aambari is not a safe place, I tell you Madam. Bad things have happened there. This village was once infamous for dacoits and robbers. They used to hide in those trees and kill any traveller that happened to cross. They used to even feed on their victims! The police once raided the forest. But they couldn’t catch a soul. What they found were dead bodies hanging from the trees, rotting away. Some lay half buried. They even found graves. Many of them, these robbers, returned after the raid. But as the village began to grow, they began to leave or mingle with the people. Only the dead stayed back.”

  Standing almost at the edge of the forest made Aditi felt gloomy and scared. The never-speaking trees had seen things beyond her imagination. Yet, there they stood, swaying with the winds, always silent, always watching. “But what about the man I saw that night. He was going into the forest.”

  “I told you Madam, you are here for a few days. Enjoy your time and go back to your city. The less you know about our village, the better it is for you.”

  “What do you mean, Laila? You…”

  “What is the point of explaining something you would never accept, or understand, Madam?”

  “Try me!”

  Laila’s answer was terse, and carefully constructed. The words were few, but their implication was enough for Aditi to start shivering. Signalling towards the forest, she whispered, “It attracts evil spirits.”

  For a moment, Aditi thought of running to the bank and asking Manoj to leave the village. She could not live there a moment longer. She thought of her house… so close to the forest. The thought that she would have to go back there that night and sleep while the forest whispered around her… she inched closer to Laila. And then it was all gone. As if someone had switched on the lights. She grew up in a village herself, before her parents had shifted to Bhagalpur, and was not alien to stories such as these. They didn’t frighten her then. What had happened to her now? She had heard similar stories many times before, of boys who were taken away by sadhus and girls who were stalked by jinns. She had heard of women flying and men who rose from rivers at night. She didn’t believe in them, neither did she not believe. She heard those stories and they slowly crawled to the recess of her mind. They remained there, faint and vague, until something happened that brought them back, or time slowly eroded them away. Laila talked of dark things the forest had in store, yet she lived so close to the trees, and would continue to live till her eyes fogged and her body stooped, or until the forest proved her correct.

  “So,” Aditi loosened her hair and began to tie them again, “this forest has nothing to do with the Devi?”

  “What do you know about the Devi?” a surprised Laila asked.

  “Just a little. As you know, I went there to pay my respect. But has her history got anything to do with the forest? She was sacrificed, after all. But why?”

  “This curious mind of you educated people. Curiosity is a dangerous trait, Madam, when you go about meddling with waters you know so little about… Look at me! I see and hear things. But I keep my eyes and ears shut and mind my own business. And look how well I am doing!”

  It started with a spark, then flared into rage.

  How could this uneducated village woman, whose significance was nothing but to get impregnated and reproduce and then care take of her litter, mock the very backbone of human evolution? Aditi gulped down her anger, but the insult lingered – after all she was the wife of a bank manager, while Laila was just another villager leading her life of anonymity – for when she spoke there was sheer coldness in her voice, “It was curiosity which took men across oceans to discover the world as we know today, even if it meant meddling with the waters and falling off the edge.”

  Had it been a moment longer, Laila would have realised that Aditi had spoken intentionally out of contempt. But Aditi recovered quickly. “You know, Sir hardly talks about this village. It’s all bank and money. Just day before, they couldn’t account for some shortage of cash at the end of the day. Some fifteen thousand was missing.”

  “Yes, I know. My husband told me that. There are so many customers flocking the cashier’s counter. I am telling you, they should stop the customers from coming inside, otherwise this is never going to stop.”

  “Yes, I know, and the bank staffs end up paying for it. Anyway, what I was saying is that I am a bit curious about this village. See, there is this mongo plantation which is called a forest. I mean, it’s just a plantation. And it is interesting that I have seen no tree here bearing fruits. They are all barren. Sir never talks about it. Now, you tell me, whom should I turn to if I want to ask something? Obviously, it’s you!”

  Laila smiled demurely. “Madam…” she started, but Aditi cut her off.

  “And it’s not that I don’t believe in what you tell me. I do. Why would I have gone to the temple otherwise? People told me, and mind you, I know even your husband convinced Sir that I should visit that temple, and I did. And then Gauri told me that it was all just a myth and the villagers do it unquestioningly just because their ancestors used to do it.”

  “You have met Gauri?” Laila straightened her posture.

  “Yes, she is a lovely girl. She was the one who took me to the temple.” Aditi noticed that Laila wanted to say something, if not from her mouth, then through her eyes. “It’s a pity, isn’t it?” Aditi pressed a bit, hoping Laila would say whatever she had in mind. “Married at such a young age!”

  “Very young age, Madam. And if you will listen to me, I will advise you to stay away from her, if you don’t want a taint on your character as well!”

  “What? She is such a sweet girl! I feel bad for her that…”

  “Who is she Madam? Do you know her caste? She claims to be a Pandit, but I will tell you a secret Madam, she is not. She is one of those Dalits who managed to get some money and buy some land and thought they could rule the world. Our Mukhiya’s son, Mahesh Singh Ji, he was perfect for her trap. She started an affair with him and thought she could marry him. Her parents were all happy that she had found a scapegoat for herself. But our Mukhiya Ji saw through it all. He married her instead and brought her home so that he could keep an eye on this woman. And I will tell you Madam,” she lowered her voice dramatically, “both father and son take turns to sneak into her bed at night! Serves her right, doesn’t it?”

  “And Mahesh, he let his father marry her?” Aditi asked, her tone high with shock.

  “She had woven such a spell on Mahesh Ji that he couldn’t stop going to her house. So, his father brought her home instead! Don’t take our Mahesh Ji for a fool Madam! He wanted a warm bed after a bad day and that is what she gave him. A man demands what he demands! He too had his needs. Does that mean he would marry a girl as characterless as she? Better to bring her to his house than go all the way to hers!”

  Aditi fe
lt a pinch in her heart. Here was this young girl married to a man who could be mistaken for her father, or even grandfather. And if Laila was to be believed, she was being raped by her husband and her step-son! But it was her own fault, right? To believe she could marry, probably even loved, someone of power. And while she was being exploited, the village watched and contended themselves that she was just enduring a punishment well deserved.

  Laila was a woman herself. Didn’t she understand the pain of a fellow woman? Or was it that she had been subdued and blamed long enough that she had eventually accepted that it was always the woman who was at fault. Even now, Aditi noticed her looking back at the clothes that still needed stitching. Her eyes were restless. She was probably thinking what to cook for dinner so that she could go to bed satisfied that her family was all fed and asleep, only to get up next morning and restart the routine.

  Discerning that Aditi had stayed silent a bit too long, Laila said, “Don’t bother Madam. Save your pity for your own self. There is a full life yet to spend.” She fell silent for a moment, and then spoke abruptly, as if Aditi might mistake her advice as a taunt at the incident that happened not more than two weeks ago, when Aditi angrily beat her husband in the veranda. “I noticed a bulb in your backyard, Madam. I tell you, I was only wondering when Sir will buy an inverter, now that you are here.”

  “Yes, he told Arvind to arrange a second-hand inverter.” Aditi knew it had nothing to do with Sir. Manoj had told Arvind a few times about installing an inverter, but they were all just loose talks, mainly to show her and his colleagues that he did care for her. Arvind waited all along for an explicit order. When she saw him cycling down the mud path towards her house, two days after the field trip, her immediate thought was that he had come bearing more gifts. But then she saw a heavy battery tied to the rear of his cycle and a bag hanging from the handle.