Devi Page 7

  “Tulsi Kumar.”

  “Where from?”

  “That Ranibag you heard of, far south? He lives there. His father. Three brothers.”

  “A farmer?”

  “No, Sir. He works in medical shop in Forbesganj. That is where he gets all these electric things and all.”

  “This Ranibag, I tell you. There was this customer who had opened an FD for his minor son. He gave his son’s home-name that time. He didn’t have a legal name. Around eight years later, that was about three months ago, his son came to me to close the account and withdraw the money. He said his father had died and he needed the money. You see the problem here? He had obviously adopted a different name. His photograph didn’t match, neither did his signature. And there was not a single ID card with his old name.”

  “What happened? This is complex problem. And there is no father to verify his claim.”

  “What happened? I told him to get it written in the notary. That he is who he claims to be. His father’s name. His address. I gave him his money.”

  “Only you could do that, Sir. No one else bothered. That Pankaj Shambhu before you, he wouldn’t even break regular FD account. He made customers come back day after day. So Sir, should I ask him?”

  “Ask what?”

  “This Tulsi. Ask him about inverter?”

  “How much?”

  “Three thousand.”

  “Three thousand!” The words boomed across the quiet village. Then there were hushed talks. Aditi heard Manoj say one thousand and that was that. She didn’t bother listening further. She would have given Arvind a thousand rupee just for caring enough to think of a battery-inverter set.

  Her mind began to stray again. She remembered herself crying at her father’s feet after her wedding. Manoj was sitting in a hired jeep, looking straight ahead. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to rush back to her room and reclaim it. Her house. Her rooms. Her walls. Her bricks. They had all been hers, just moments ago. But now she had to leave, rather, she was made to leave, denouncing everything she ever owned. She knew she couldn’t go back. So, she just clung to her father’s feet and cried. The cameraman hopped around trying to get the best angle. He would later mix it with the latest Bollywood songs and special effects. Her mother, for the first time, cried with her.

  The reception was held in Naugachia, a small town across the Ganga, about 25 kilometres from Bhagalpur. She sat in a dingy room, all draped and covered in glittering red clothes. Arms heavy with bangles. Neck covered in artificial jewellery. Visitors came in one by one to see her. Her mother-in-law led them inside carrying a lantern and uncovered her face for them to see. They hunched over and looked in awe, then placed some money in her hands and left.

  The first beating she got was one week after the marriage. Manoj wanted to take his younger brother, Ajay, and his parents along for their honeymoon to Mumbai. Aditi insisted they go alone, it was a private affair after all. That night he came from the bank and beat her in front of everyone. No reason given. His father just sat on a charpoy with a tin box opened in front of him from which he made himself a paan. His mother plucked dopants from a plate of rice. His brother roamed around the house with a radio blaring on his shoulder. When it was all done, he dragged her to their room and left her alone to cry. An hour later, he came in and cleared his throat – it was time for dinner. Holding back her tears she served them their food. They talked and ate, as if nothing had happened.

  “Don’t you think you are lucky?” Ajay told her one afternoon, sitting in their front yard as she came in with a can of milk. He had a handsome face with thin moustache, which he trimmed everyday with utter care, and ample lush black hair on his head. “I mean, Bhaiya married you. For a bank manager your father got off with a pretty good deal. Just thirty thousand! What about a motorcycle?”

  “Why? Your brother cannot buy his own motorcycle?” she replied without stopping.

  There was a pause. Aditi crossed the yard, thinking she might have gone a bit too far. She was at the main door when he spoke again. “You won’t last long here!”

  “What did you just say?” She turned around, her nostrils flaring with anger. He must be what, about six years younger to her. She had had enough. Back in her home, it was her sisters who disrespected her. Not here. This was a new start. Whatever her relationship might have been with her husband, she knew he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her. She, his wife, was the pride of his family.

  “The first one fell off the stairs. We will find a suitable way for you.”

  “What did you just say? The first one?” Her mind began to race. What the hell was going on?

  “Oh, my child! My child!” Her mother-in-law rushed out through the door and pulled her in. “Don’t listen to him! Doesn’t think before opening his mouth.”

  “What does he mean? The first one?”

  “Nothing. He is just teasing you, don’t you see? Now come on. I have a fire roaring. Now make me some strong ginger tea!”

  When Manoj returned that evening, she asked him if he had been married before. His jaw dropped, ever so slightly, but then he recovered. “Who told you?”

  “Your brother.”

  “Did you get in a quarrel with him? He is a just a child. He will say anything to win. Don’t listen to his rubbish.”

  “I think he meant it.”

  “Oho! Stop behaving like a child yourself. Don’t let these petty fights get into your head. Ask your father if you have to.”

  Aditi didn’t need to ask. She knew her father wouldn’t have married her if what Ajay said was true.

  A beam of light crisscrossed the sky. “Good night!” Arvind said and she heard his heavy footsteps retreat. Aditi watched him through the window as he walked along the path, switching on a torch for some time, then switching it off, a common practice to increase battery life. Manoj came in, pretended to go through some books on the table, then shut the windows.

  “It’s suffocating in here,” she complained.

  “You shouldn’t sleep with the windows open. It’s not safe.”

  “Should have thought of that before bringing me here.”

  “I brought you here? I did? You came here on your own.”

  Aditi sighed. She knew it would eventually come to this, that she came here out of her own free will and should not blame Manoj for the consequences. “Anyway. Open the window. It’s open every night.”

  “It’s a tricky weather tonight. Cold outside. Hot in here. You might fall sick.”

  “Now cut this weather nonsense!” she snapped back, “and tell me straight what is going on!”

  Manoj considered answering for a moment. “It is a, err…, a custom in this village that we keep our windows closed at least for seven nights when someone dies during the new moon cycle.”

  “Why? The dead will rob us if we don’t?” Aditi retorted.

  Manoj shut the windows and bolted them without saying another word. He placed one lantern in the hall and another in the backyard. After a quick prayer to the gods in and around the niche, he went to bed and fell asleep in no time

  Hours passed. A strange buzzing came from the fields. The lamp burned low, casting flickering shadows all over the room. Aditi lay drenched in sweat, trying to ignore the sounds that came from the hall – movements, something breathing. She knew it was very likely coming from the veranda where the dog was sleeping. She eyed the window beside the bed. It stared back, tempting her to open it. Going against her own logic, she refrained from doing so. She felt she was in danger. Call it intuition, but there was something frightening the way Manoj had shut the window. And it couldn’t be a coincidence that Arvind happened to warn him about the village custom the same night. She listened to the time tick away. The radium on the clock hands indicated around quarter past one. The buzz began to grow until her entire body felt some sort of feeble vibration. She could no longer tolerate it. She went ahead and opened the window.

  The stars cast a silvery light on the corn plants, all da
rk and indistinguishable. The air was cold and a refreshing breeze reminded her how comforting nature could be. She peered out into the depth of the space, exploring the eternal universe through the window of her room. Stars and so many stars… old beyond age, living in dimensions beyond human imagination…

  And then she saw it.

  A figure moving in the cornfield.

  She watched as he came out in the open, his body hunched, staggering a little. He stood under the stars, looking straight ahead towards the forest. Took a step forward. Then another. And then, collapsed, as if his legs had snapped.

  Aditi grabbed a torch and rushed out of her room. Just as she did, something yelped and sprang up from under her feet. She lost balance and went sprawling into the hall.

  “Who’s there?” Manoj had woken up.

  It was the bloody dog! He had somehow managed to sneak into the hall and was scurrying around trying to find a way out, his tails in between his legs. Manoj came out, and before he could utter a word, Aditi opened the door and ran out. Switched on the torch. Two steps down the veranda. Turned right. Onto the mud path. Torch held in front, searching for the fallen man. “Hello?” she cried. And she stopped dead.

  Her eyes fell on the man.

  He was crawling towards the forest. One by one, he put a hand out and dragged himself forward. His legs trailing behind lifelessly. The humming intensified. The torch began to flicker. It allowed one glimpse before dying completely.

  Aditi turned around and saw Manoj standing on the veranda. “He… I think I know him!”

  “Come inside!” he scolded with gritted teeth.

  “He sold fish in the market. With his wife.”

  “Come inside. Let’s close the door.”

  A light appeared outside a hut across the main road. A window opened in Laila’s house. Someone was peeping.

  “Come inside! I told you to keep the window shut!” Manoj barked.

  Aditi didn’t budge. Two men carrying lanterns emerged from Laila’s house.

  “Don’t create a scene now! Come inside.”

  “Any problem, Sir?” said one of the men. It was Razzak’s youngest brother, Salman. Ali followed close behind. Another window opened on the first floor.

  “Ah! Nothing! She just thought she saw someone.”

  The man had disappeared in the darkness that enveloped the outskirts of the trees.

  “Don’t go near the trees, Madam!” Salman shouted out. “It’s very late. Not safe.”

  “I saw someone go in there. He was injured or something. I saw him fall.”

  “Don’t go around chasing shadows.”

  “Shadows? I saw someone. Ask your Sir if you don’t believe me.”

  Manoj fidgeted, but didn’t say a word. Another lantern appeared up the path. More men.

  “Go inside, Madam,” Ali said in a calm, reassuring tone. “Rest. If there is someone, we will take care of it. He could have been a wounded thief for all we know. Armed and dangerous.”

  Aditi realised she was indeed creating a scene. She went back to her room and sat on the bed. Indeed, the men could take care of the situation far better than she could. Manoj lingered outside, talking to the men who had gathered outside. When he came in, he immediately shut the window again. Aditi didn’t protest. And she didn’t say a word when he lit an incense-stick and began muttering prayers.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE TEMPLE

  Aditi was chopping vegetables for lunch when she heard an auto-rickshaw stop outside. Manoj came in and informed her that the Mukhiya of the village had invited them for lunch. Cursing, she put the vegetables in water and changed hurriedly.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence, she thought, as the vehicle bounced along the brick-road.

  Laila had paid her a visit that morning. Zoya, her youngest daughter, hopped along.

  “I heard you came out in the fields last night,” Laila had said as she settled herself in the bedroom. Zoya observed in awe the many books piled carelessly on the table. “It’s not safe, Madam. You should stay…”

  “I saw someone come out of the field.”

  “Ah, Madam, these thugs, why should you go chasing them? My husband tells me…”

  “Not a thug! It was… never mind. I heard someone died two days ago?”

  “Madam, you want tea, do you? I have a headache. Zoya? You girl, stop nosing around. Go home and make us some tea.”

  “Why are you troubling the little girl? Come along to the kitchen. I will put some milk to boil.”

  “Oh, Madam, you don’t know these little brats. Just playing and eating all day. You stay here. Go girl. Go to the kitchen and make two cups of tea.”

  “Sugar and tea are on the shelf. There is a little milk in…” Zoya had already pranced out of the room. “Call me if you can’t find something,” Aditi shouted after her.

  “You have lots of books out here. Do you teach?”

  “No. I… err… I am preparing for some exam. But where is the time? I mean…”

  “Yes. This is a new era, Madam. The world is changing. Otherwise when have you seen women working? I hear women in cities even drive cars! What courage it must take! Can you drive, Madam?”

  “No, I…”

  “But you can easily learn. I know it! I know what people are capable of the moment I see them. And I see it in you.”

  “Thank you. I surely do want to learn to drive. But tell me, Laila, who was the man who died recently?”

  Laila paused for a brief second. “I will tell you what Madam, there are some things beyond our understanding. And we should leave them to it. They leave us alone. And so should we. Do not go meddling with something you do not understand.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are a guest here, Madam. There is a reason we call you our guest. You don’t know things, so your faults can be overlooked. You are not aware of our customs and beliefs. We don’t want to tell you either, for if we do, then you too will be bound by them. But let me tell you these two things,” she leaned forward and held Aditi’s hands. “Those trees out there. Don’t go near them. And never meddle with anyone – by anyone, I mean anyone – going in or coming out.”

  “Why? What is there in the forest?”

  “We just don’t go there, Madam. There are some customs we villagers follow. It’s for our own safety. Like the red rose! I am sorry I had to do that, but you must understand Madam, you just can’t grow red roses here.”

  “I love them,” Aditi exclaimed. “I have a whole garden…”

  “Really!” Zoya burst in through the door. “Can I see them, Aunty? When you go to Purnia… can I come with you?”

  “You, girl!” Laila grabbed her hand and pulled her. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?”

  “I wasn’t spying,” Zoya replied in a hurt tone. “I was boiling milk. I put in tea and sugar and I was waiting for the tea to swell. Then I heard about Aunty’s roses so I ran in before you changed the topic. Do you know Ammi, you change topics very quickly? Like you did when Aunty asked about the uncle who died day before yesterday.”

  “You stupid girl! Can’t keep your mouth shut…” Laila gritted her teeth.

  A smile spread on Aditi’s face. There was this girl. Still naïve and innocent. Life hadn’t caught up with her yet. “Come here, Zoya,” she pulled her closer and cupped her face. Zoya grinned, revealing her rough, milky teeth. “Yes, I will show you my garden. It has the most beautiful roses you will ever see!”

  “Can I pluck them and wear them in my hair?”

  “Of course, you can, you sweet little girl!”

  “And can I…” she stopped, suddenly attentive, listening. “Oh! My tea!” Like lightning, she broke free and speared through the door.

  “That girl, I tell you…” Laila sighed. “Tell me Madam, what should I do with her? No manners. No sense. Her sisters are much more sensible, they are. Zeenat takes care of the entire household. You know. Cleaning. Cooking. Stitching. Embroidery. You should taste the kheer
she makes! I am least worried about her. She will make a good wife. Her life is settled. But this little rogue! One taste of the tea she makes and you will know Madam. Which silly man would want a wife like that? I am worried, Madam. She is a kid now, but when she grows up…”

  “That’s right, Laila, she is just a kid right now. Let her grow up. I am sure she will mature.”

  “But she has to learn Madam, learn at least something. I keep telling her to watch her sisters cook. Learn something from them…”

  “Why don’t you send her here? I can teach her.”

  Laila took a moment to comprehend. “Teach her what, Madam?”

  “She goes to school, right?”

  “Yes, yes. We have enrolled her. But the school is on the other side of the village. And it’s very irregular. Plus, she is a girl. So, the headmaster said he would pass her in the exams. Give her clean mark-sheets. You know, for the record. No trouble. Nice man, I tell you he is. Very understanding. He said she should stay at home and learn the actual lessons. That’s what’s going to help her in future, you know. I mean, what’s the point of studying all those subjects they teach in school when all she has to do is stay at home and take care of her house?”

  “Whatever you say. But anyway, I can teach her. Who knows, she might grow up to be an officer.”

  “What are you saying Madam? She, an officer?

  “That’s how officers are made. By studying the subjects they teach in school.”

  “Like Sir…”

  “Yes. Like Sir. Maybe more. And why only her, you can send all three of them!”

  “Oho, Madam! Let it go. Why waste your time? These girls will just fry your brains dry!”

  “No, I would love to teach them. And see it this way, I get all bored in here, entire day. I no longer go to the bank. Now I will have three girls to teach. And after their lessons they can help me with cooking or something. And like you said, Zoya doesn’t do anything productive anyway. What’s the harm in giving it a try?”

  Just then Zoya entered the room with two cups balanced on a plate. She was beaming, looking down, trying to hide her expression.