This is a poignant story revolving around a mediocre household, weaving the enduring vices and virtues of humanity. Storyline entwines real situations, places and is an evocation of a little forgotten period in 2005, when both India and Pakistan had tried to take their relationship towards new possibilities for achieving a harmonious coexistence. It highlights the ambitions, expectations and thought process of people from different rungs in our society. Each character in the story exemplifies his/her vantage point and underscores the human vagaries – how at times ends matter more than means, how so called societal norms go for a toss if temptations surpass human’s willpower and how tenets, which provide a framework for faith to dwell, are entirely subjective and transitional.

Chapter 1

Perpetual Anticipations

By the time he had managed to get the farm work finished, sun had descended behind the houses that fringed the western extremity of village fields. Raunak left his village fields for the nearby town, where he lived with his family. Village roads were in a bad shape during that time of year, when there is a heavy movement of tractor-trolleys, bullock carts, jugaad vehicles and other farm machinery. Due to this movement, otherwise hardened and flattened soil loosens up. He could vividly see a raised swell of soil in the middle of the road, which stretched through its entire length. On either side of the swell were dark muddy puddles formed under the weight of vehicles. He steered his pale yellow Bajaj Chetak scooter slowly and cautiously using the faint glow of scooter’s head lamp, which glowed very dimly at that speed. He found it very hard to balance his scooter on the raised and only dry fragment in the center of that road. Somehow, with great attentiveness and exertion, he managed to reach the main stretch of the village road, which linked the village to the nearest highway. Even though that stretch of the road was little bumpy but he was able to drive his scooter at a considerable speed. He approached the highway, turned his head rightwards to look for any oncoming vehicle, took a left turn and ascended the metallic road to reach the nearby town.

That day, since morning he had supervised laborers toil in fields and sow crop saplings on an already ploughed, flooded and leveled field. He had always managed to finish daily quota of work, wrap up his day at fields and return before sunset, but that day he was reasonably late. Season was ripe for planting the Kharif crop - rice. For few weeks he, along with his father, had to visit the fields and prepare them before transplanting rice seedlings. With the first rainfall of the season, they had employed some farm laborers to prepare the fields and plant rice for that season. But that day he had gone alone to the fields, as almost entire plantation work had already been finished and he could have supervised the remainder to closure on his own. It had taken him somewhat longer than anticipated duration to wrap up few straggling activities and settle payments for farm laborers. He was tired and restless due to his hectic schedule over past few weeks but felt a deep sense of fulfillment, for the primary work i.e. sowing, for that crop season was completed. The crop was sown and they had little or almost no work left, but wait till the harvesting period.

Lost in his thoughts Raunak reached the outer periphery of his town. He stopped at a railway crossing, as the railway gates were closed for a goods/freight train to pass. He pulled over his scooter to the left side of the road and started waiting for the gates to open. Although the air was warm and dry, but he found it soothing, as his sweat soaked shirt was getting dried and it was relaxingly comforting him. A lot had changed over the previous decade, the mechanical semaphore railway signals were replaced by the color light signals that can distinctly exhibit signaling aspects in a much effective manner over both day and night time. At some distance, along the track he could see the vertical color light railway signal beaming green LED light. He also noticed an octogenarian, oblivious of the new railway signal system, attentively trying to listen to the sound of approaching train’s horn and determine its direction of approach.

Few minutes later a motorcycle pulled right next to Raunak’s scooter. He recognized the person riding the bike - Kumar, who lived in a house opposite to Raunak’s. As his bike came closer, he also identified its pillion rider, Gopi, who lived in the house adjacent to Kumar’s. All three belonged to a same age group and had grown up together in a same street. They were neighbors.

“Hi Raunak...how are you?” questioned Kumar, after he stopped his bike besides Raunak’s scooter.

Raunak felt something strange and out of place after meeting them there. “I am fine, and how are you...both?” he replied, in a worn-out voice, looking up and glancing at them.

“We are doing great,” laughed Gopi at once. He got down from the bike while Kumar stayed seated, with his arms folded against his chest and feet resting on the ground, balancing the bike. “Have you finished sowing the crop?” he enquired. While speaking he twisted his lips in strange patterns because he was smoking and held a cigarette from one corner of his mouth, softly pressed, between his lips.

“Yes, only today have I managed to finish sowing,” Raunak seemed relaxed. “… and, are you done with your field work…means sowing the crop?” he asked, to go on with the conversation. In parallel, he identified the reason for the strangeness that he had felt after meeting them. It was the absurdity of their togetherness, outside the town and that too at an odd hour. Gopi usually stayed at home, or visited his farmhouse and Kumar was a businessman. To seek some clarification and satisfy his curiosity, he continued and quickly asked another question, “… umm… what are you both doing here, outside the town?”

“No, I am still held up with farm work and am trying to complete the sowing activity over this week,” sniggered Gopi. He exuded an attitude of superiority and smirked while answering. Raunak understood the meaning of those nonverbal cues; indirectly Gopi had ridiculed Raunak’s assumptions and his smirk underscored the fact that he owned huge swathes of farmland as compared to what was owned by Raunak. He taunted Raunak while he answered his first questions. But Gopi didn’t answer to the second question and tried to circumvent it; he concealed something.

“Hey, today we both have planned to dine outside. Why don’t you join us, it would be fun,” said Kumar, speaking for the first time and jumping into the conversation, while turning his neck to face Raunak.

Raunak experienced some uneasiness, the reason being, he wanted to decline the offer but found it difficult to do so. He was aware of the fact that both of them talked behind his back and made fun of him. They had taunted him and tried to attest that he was immature, by ridiculing the fact that he always listened to his mother and sought her permission for almost everything, even for simpler pursuits like eating out with friends. But that day he really ought to break the monotony of his schedule that had set in over past few hectic weeks. Therefore, for a change he decided to accompany them for dinner.

“Ok I’ll,” he said indifferently amidst his self-dialogues.

Both Kumar and Gopi were perplexed and noticed eccentricity in Raunak’s decision, for they didn’t expect him to join them for dinner. After train crossed the intersection and railway gates were opened for the road traffic, they continued driving on the same road for few kilometers and approached a local food kiosk, which was situated almost at the edge of their town. Their locality was at the center of the town and it was unusual for anyone from their neighborhood to visit that food kiosk. Although it had gone dark but still it was too early for dinner, that’s why only few costumers were present at the kiosk, sipping tea or waiting for waiter to take their dinner orders. Raunak et al occupied a table, which was placed in a corner, farthest from the front door. They occupied seats and continued to talk about various tidbits, varying according to their interests and flow of the conversation. After some time Kumar raised his hand above his head, snapped his fingers and signaled the waiter to take their dinner order. A mid-aged waiter with thick curly mustache immediately approached their table with a sheaf of papers and a pen, ready in his hand. Kumar and Gopi placed an ordered for a chicken butter masala and tandoori rotis; and Raunak asked for a shahi paneer. Before waiter turned away to fetch their order, Raunak enquired for wash basin, for he wanted to rinse his hands before eating food. Waiter pointed his right index finger and directed him towards kiosk’s backyard; both Kumar and Gopi also followed him.

Kiosk’s backyard also contained an open air kitchen. Wash basin and toilet were situated next to a pile of fire wood. Nearby, a wood fire oven was lit with a large deformed and discolored skillet placed over it. It was covered with a lid and steam escaped from under its edges. Various other utensils and empty cold-drink bottles were scattered randomly in the backyard, covering every inch of the available space. It was a type of kiosk or dabha that are ubiquitously present everywhere along Punjab’s highways and offer almost all common delicacy at cheaper rates. Not all, but some are unkempt, unhygienic and dingy. Adjacent to the wash basin was a water hand pump, mounted on a concrete slab base. They noticed a boy, sitting on the edge of the concrete slab, sharpening a rusty cleaver.

“Hey, are you preparing for a slaughter?” jeered Gopi, looking at the boy.

“Sahib, I am about to cook a dish… chicken dish,” answered the boy flatly, and pointed towards the large skillet placed on an oven. “…and for that I have to prepare chicken pieces, few chopped and shredded”. This time, while he completed his sentence, he raised his fist with the cleaver still tightly held in his palm and pointed in the direction where chicken were tucked uncomfortably in a deformed wire cage, which laid at some distance from the hand pump. Orange glow, radiating from the oven, filled the backyard with disproportional wobbly shadows. The sharpened edge of the cleaver glistened in the dark and added gusto to boy’s firm resolve.

Gopi found it a little amusing and his mind started racing…conjuring, always ready to play his dirty pranks on others. He liked teasing and trapping others, a person who flirted with a lot of people. He murmured, “… has anybody ever killed a living being?” He stood still with his eyes pivoted at the butcher’s knife, which the boy was continuously chafing against a stone, to sharpen it. He stood there pondering, his arms folded against his chest …exuding seriousness in his talk.

Raunak intriguingly asked him, “Have you...ever killed, somebody?”

Gopi smiled, breaking free from his enchanted state, and turned towards Raunak. “No no, what I wanted to ask is… if anyone has ever butchered a chicken, himself,” he said, breathe laden with cigarette smell rushed out of his nostrils and mouth. Gopi went on, “I have, yes I have butchered chicken, rather many a times. It’s a small but still an exciting brave act… isn’t it… I think so”, he concluded and shared his opinion.

“Why don’t you try it out? I am sure you will bravely handle it, for you are a son of an army person who has never hesitated to tackle even the most difficult situations,” proposed Kumar. Gopi had till then casually talked about it, but Kumar forced his point in a nudging manner and pushed Raunak into Gopi’s new prank.

Raunak found the gauntlet thrown down at him, with the mentioning of his father’s courage and repute. He hesitated, but before he could have gathered his thoughts together, Gopi gestured the kiosk boy to extend his arm and hand over the cleaver to Raunak. At that very movement Raunak realized that he simply do not know how to say no. All along he was just keeping himself to himself. It just seemed they wanted to pick on him. They brought him to the kiosk and then somehow improvised and tricked him to partake in something bizarre. For him it was not a spur of the moment thing, but he didn’t realize when he accepted that cleaver from the boy. It was heavier than what he had estimated and found it tiring to lift it with one hand. During the course of events that evening, he found himself helpless and crippled. He was not doing justice to himself.

Kumar ordered the boy to bring one chicken from the cage. The boy who was sitting on his haunches at the edge of the concrete slab under the water hand pump readily obeyed and jumped out of his position to fetch a chicken. Moreover he grew enthusiastic, to see if sophisticated town babus’ could manage to do what he had been doing on a daily basis as part of his menial job. Kumar walked to the only elevated portion in the backyard, near the cage, on which a big flat wooden log stump was placed. Raunak could clearly see innumerable blotches crisscrossing the face of the stump, made under cleaver’s impact every time it has served a chickens’ head. With time blood had entered those crevices and had dried up. He could smell the dried blood, gruesome and pungent. Kiosk boy came and placed one chicken, whilst it was still alive, on the wooden stump/block, held tightly from its wings.

The conditions under which that chicken was kept had made it so frail that it already appeared dead. It displayed no signs of struggle to regain its freedom, but it shrieked and shuddered after seeing the wooden block. Metaphorically, Raunak was able to draw parallels between that chicken’s and his own plight. He closed his eyes…wished if situation would change and he could escape from that quandary, but he reopened his eyes and found a terrified chicken staring at him, its face pathetically filled with fear.

“Sahib, hold it from here…from the wings just like me…as I am holding…see”. The boy slowly removed his hands and handed over the chicken to Raunak. He held it with his left hand. “Now press it against the log…firmly… and strike the cleaver here…on its neck,” he said while demonstrating the procedure.

Both Gopi and Kumar crackled and gulped an intangible sadistic pleasure, which they drew from that situation. Kumar, who was standing behind Raunak and was overlooking his ordeal, gently touched Raunak’s elbow and uttered, “Be brave … just go on… it’s only a chicken…a bird”. His words were provocative rather than an impetus.

Prior to that moment, Raunak had neither eaten flesh nor had touched a chicken, for he belonged to a vegetarian family. His family considered flesh eating as a savage and unholy act. He felt uncomfortable and playing out of his skin, but somehow managed to turn off his moral compass and finally gave in, because he didn’t want to be mocked and lampooned. He decided to get over with it and not disclose the incident to his parents.

“Raunak what are you thinking. I thought you are a brave person, but it seems that you are still a child…nervous and afraid,” said Gopi, over-excitedly. “Come on what are you thinking,” he grinned.

“Nothing…,” he replied, trying his best to sound braver than what he actually felt. Raunak raised the knife above his head, aligned it over chicken’s head and let it fall loosely. Chicken shrieked loudly as Raunak’s grip had simultaneously tightened around its body. It split into two pieces, decapitated, and spilled few drops of blood on his left hand. The gruesome spectacle immediately made Raunak loosen his grip and release its body, to distance himself from it, with knife still pierced into the wooden block, markedly pierced through its neck. Apparently, there was still some life or reflex left in the chicken and its headless body flapped and fell off the wooden stump. It landed on its feet and unevenly raced towards the nearest wall on a random path, struck the wall, struggled and finally dropped. It laid there immobile, dead. The unexpected sequence filled the air with thrill and gaiety. Everybody, except Raunak, found it unreservedly amusing and laughed at the top of their lungs. Raunak was sad and felt guilty for the sin he had committed. The headless dash touched and moved him deeply. He washed his hands repeatedly and removed all the blood stains. Then he silently retreated back into the dining hall and occupied the table. Moments later both Kumar and Gopi also came back and occupied their seats on the table, besides Raunak.

Gopi teased Raunak and said, “Raunak, you are an educated and a grownup adult… you have spent last four years in another city, away from your home, while you were pursuing your graduation and have stayed in a college hostel. But it is surprising to see that you haven’t grownup and matured… to become a self-reliant and strong person … a decisive individual. Still you seek to hold your parent’s hand in almost every aspect of life…”

Interrupting Gopi, Kumar added, “Don’t worry Gopi, he will soon change, and come out of his naïve cocoon, in our company”. He again laughed after he recollected Raunak’s facial expressions while he decapitated that frail chicken and continued, “…your hands trembled as if you are an old man with some sort of neural disorder… ahhahhhaa”.

For the next half an hour they ate silently without bring up previous instance for discussion and didn’t mock Raunak. To Raunak’s relief they shifted their focus to other topics. After they finished their food, waiter brought the food bill in a tiny steel bowl, gently tucked under saunf – fennel seeds and mishri – crystallized sugar lumps. Raunak reached for his wallet and extended his hand towards his back pocket. He quickly calculated his share of the food bill, pulled out money from his wallet and tried to hand it over to either Kumar or Gopi. Kumar snubbed Raunak and paid the entire amount, all by himself. Raunak was not aware of the payment arrangement that both Gopi and Kumar had defined among themselves, as he had accompanied them for the first time. Raunak found himself in an odd position and felt as if Kumar slighted him because he was only paying for his share of food. He was not as rich as they were and felt mortified after realizing that his approach got perceived as cheap. He didn’t say anything, suppressed his feelings and passed the moment in silence.

Raunak noticed that it was too late for his mother to wake up from her short siesta. She used to wake up from her mid-day sleep by 4 PM and prepare tea for him. Sun had descended behind the farthest tree tops. He found birds returning, towards their nests after their day’s search for food. Nobody had switched on the electric light bulbs in the veranda that faced the street. Soon it was going to be dark. He sensed that something was wrong. Even his grandmother was no-where to be seen. He ruled out the possibilities of their going to the nearby Gurudwara for evening prayers without notifying him. The bed in the veranda, which laid there for his grandmother, was unoccupied. Barefooted he crossed the English grass, which was grown in the courtyard surrounded by old styled living rooms on four sides, to reach his mother’s room. His father had also not returned from work. His heart raced up and nervously he scurried into his mother’s room. He pushed open the door, pushing both panels of the old double pane door at the same time with his hands. It was dark; curtains were drawn and were blocking whatever was left of the twilight. He called his mother and paused, but there was no reply. He placed his left palm against the wall and tried to locate the switch board, navigating amidst the darkness. His hand touched the clothes that were hanging from a hook near the switchboard. He realized that clothes were damp and moist. Perplexed, he rubbed his fingers together and realized that his palm was wet due to perspiration. Suddenly, he noticed that there was someone standing in the door, which led to the store room through his parent’s room. The figure moved and started approaching him. He relaxed and concluded that all this while his mother was in the storeroom. He again called her but still there was no response. He called her once more, his words imbued with anxiety, but still there came no reply. Amidst his elevated senses due to anxiety, he also noticed that she was not moving at the pace she normally used to.

He observed the gait of the approaching figure and comprehended it to be of a man, not his mother’s. Evidently, it also didn’t resemble that of his father because the figure was shorter than that of his father’s. His anxiety grew multifold and he sensed shiver rushing down his spine as soon as he fathomed that it was his own silhouette; he himself was standing there facing himself. That was impossible and uncanny; also he had no twin brother. He explored for possibilities, trying to sort that situation. He noticed that the figure was holding something in each of its hands. They seemed round orbs, bundle of some sorts. He overruled his earlier premise and was convinced that a thief had entered his house and was trying to rob them of valuables. He wanted to control the situation and impulsively stepped forward to overpower the thief. His feet kicked something soft, laid across the room, on the floor. It was his mother’s motionless body. He kneeled, touched and violently shook her. He realized, from a pool of dark viscous liquid slowly spreading on the floor, that her mother was soaked in blood. His eyes immediately followed another blood trail across the floor and discerned another lifeless body across the floor. It was of his grandmother. But he could not locate or see their faces.

In the meantime, the figure had inched closer. Amidst a panic attack, Raunak experienced a surge of adrenaline in his body. He clasped his fists and tightened his hind, ready to punch and attack the stranger. He quickly lifted his head and eyes, which were at figure’s waist level, and could clearly see and recognize the stuffs that were held firmly in stranger’s hands. A terrifying and traumatic sight unfolded in front of Raunak’s eyes. Stranger was holding his mother’s and grandmother’s heads in either of his hands along with a blood soaked cleaver in the right hand. Raunak was overwhelmed with emotions; he screamed loudly, his piercing cry was filled with fear and melancholy. He jumped backwards, fell on his haunches and started crawling towards the door. He dreadfully bolted out of the room, jumped into the grassy stretch in the courtyard, landed strongly on his heels, squelched the grass under his feet and slipped. He immediately got back on his feet, ran toward the veranda, toward the outer gate into the street, to call someone from the street, gather neighbors or passersby to his rescue. The stranger continued to follow him, unperturbed and undaunted by consequences. Raunak reached the outer gate and hurdled into the street. There was not a single soul present in the street; it was silent and deserted. Not even a single person was present in the street densely inhabited by houses on its either side, not even a pariah dog, which otherwise had never left the street and had perennially created nuisance. Far away, from some another street, there came a yap of street urchins. He instantaneously ran towards the farther end of the road, he expected and looked forward to call someone from the next lane. While running he noticed that his father was talking to someone in an alley parallel to the street on which he was running. He immediately stopped and called him; his father looked back at him and enquired for the reason, as to why he looked exhausted and frightened. He wanted to know if everything was alright. Raunak had found succor after he spotted his father, like every kid does in his/her father’s embrace, but he found it hard to speak, utter anything at all and with great effort sobbed through his choked voice that a stranger had killed his mother and granny. He was breathless and was unable to explain further. He turned back, pointed his finger in the direction of their house and tried explaining the entire situation via gesticulations. The stranger was still following him, his body language oozed impunity and retribution, for reasons unexplained.

From the corner of his moist hazy eyes, he discerned that his father was running away from him. He recognized his father’s miserable voice, calling his name, commanding to run away from the unfamiliar person and hide in some safer place. Raunak desperately wanted to join his father as he was petrified and had no clue as to what was unfolding. He couldn’t spot any connecting road that could help him reach his father. He was confused, unable to think and sort things any further. Amidst traumatic recollection of his mother’s and grandmother’s blood soaked headless bodies, he made an effort to see where his father was going. He could not see his father anymore, he looked into the darkness at the far end of that road but there was no sign of his father. He was unable to walk, as he was exhausted and equally baffled. He made a last attempt to escape from the approaching stranger and save himself, but his bare feet struck a boulder and he fell down, face first. Left side of his face got pierced with fine gravels and stones, which were scattered on the surface of the road.

At that moment, he was certain that the unlawful person would harm him and there existed no chance for him to escape. He turned back to see how closer he had come. The dark silhouette was standing calmly above his head. Very next movement he realized that the figure retreated and started drifting away from him. The distancing silhouette was becoming smaller and smaller in size. It had approached him with some sort of furious vengeance only to frisk beside the spot where he had fallen. Raunak was relieved and paced his mind for reasonable possibilities to attach some meaning to the chain of events. Staring into the void, he started wailing; big tear drops rolled down his cheeks and entered into his sparse curly beard. He screamed louder after he realized that the distancing silhouette had metamorphosed into a familiar but grim sight - a chicken, headless chicken, with blood oozing from its chopped feathery neck, leaving a crisscross of blood splash on the road. He blinked his eyes tightly to clear his teary blurred sight and continued to stare at the retreating body of the chicken. It raced and faded into the darkness. He felt a thud at his feet. He looked at his feet but there was no one there. He felt the thud again. He opened his eyes and found his mother looking down over him. She was standing at his bed post, waking him up from his sleep, a nightmarish dream, his eyes still filled with panic, catapulting his trauma into the reality.

“Hey Raunak…its morning… seven am, wake up,” she said softly, pointing at the old rickety pendulum clock, hung on the wall, destined to stay pivoted and oscillate perpetually, but never meant to represent same moments again, “… sun has risen and is hanging over the roof… and you are still in your bed.” She reached for the switchboard and switched off the fan. This was her way to force him out, from the bed.

He continued to lie in his bed drenched in sweat and tried to gather his senses. In parallel he made an attempt to recollect his fast fading dream and made efforts to understand what was happening around him. He was frightened and jolted by the dream. He drew apprehensions about something horrible narrowing down on him and his family.

His mother again shouted from the kitchen, “Raunak get ready. Today you have to go to the market. I have scribbled the items you need to buy… the list is placed on your study table”.

He rolled over the sheet that covered him and pulled himself out. He sat at the corner of this bed, confused with a strange uneasy feeling and slowly pushed his feet into his slippers. His mother again came back running into the room. She parted her lips to call him, but held her words back on finding him already leaving his bed. She didn’t expect him to leave his bed so easily, but the dream had whipped out last remnants of sleep and laziness. She turned back and ran into the kitchen still holding her right arm in a strange position, for her right hand was covered with dough.

Raunak had completed his graduation in civil engineering from GNDEC, Ludhiana in early March of the same year. During a job fair organized at his college, he got recruited as a project manager with an infrastructure and construction multinational. Company had provided a tentative date of joining, few months from the date of completion of his graduation. Till the arrival of his final date of joining or further communication from his recruiter, he was on a kind of vacation and was idling at home, helping his mother with household chores and father with farm work. He was not an outdoors person and usually stayed at home, throughout the day helping his mother and grandmother with various nitty-gritties of daily work. For four long years, while he finished his graduation, he had stayed at hostel and over all those years had missed his home. While at home, occasionally did he visit his local friends as he had only few friends left in the town. Many of his childhood friends had shifted to other cities, either due to their fathers’ job transfers or to enjoy resourceful and better city lives.

New families had shifted into the adjoining houses. But his mother never allowed him to befriend new occupants’ children, because, either their age group won’t match or they were from rich and high class families. Throughout the day he would either read books or watch TV documentaries. But soon this monotonous, purposeless and boring routine saturated him and he longed for a change. Moreover he had no clue as to how long he was supposed to wait for his joining date. There was no communication from the recruiter and he pondered if he should start searching for another job opportunity.

His father had served for fifteen years in Indian military’s Sikh Regiment. After retiring from the military he had worked as a ranger with the disaster management department of Himachal Pradesh government. This department watches out for the safety of the tourists that visit Himachal Pradesh for hiking and adventure sports. He had worked for approximately three years as a ranger before an accident forced him to quit his job. While rescuing few people, whose raft had overturned in the strong currents of Sutlej River, he met with an accident and lost his left leg. Often his grandmother had narrated his father’s accident and had never failed to underscore his father’s bravado - how he quickly tracked down the drowning people after he ran along the river for few kilometers before he jumped into the river to pull them out. While saving the last person, his leg got struck in a crevice between rocks. Somehow, he still managed to push the last person to safety. It was only after half an hour that his fellow rescuers spotted him, after one of the rescued people informed his colleagues about his predicament. During that period he had managed to keep his head above the water and patiently waited for the rescue team. But his leg bone was badly crushed and had to be amputated. He received an honoree retirement from the Himachal Pradesh government. He was given an award and one lakh rupee along with other retirement benefits. Government paid for all his medical bills and also helped him to get a prosthetic leg. Later, he came back to his hometown, busied himself with farm work and occasionally visited local sports academies to make speeches intended to motivate or inspire young audience. Meager monthly pension and semiannual farm income were the only cash flows that helped them meet their living expenses. He continued to follow a definitive routine and would do tasks at fixed hours, as per his schedule, for he was an army person. He believed in an honest living and was content with the accomplishments of his life.

Samsher had a bus pass, which he used to travel both ways between the town and the academy, where he often visited. But sometimes when Raunak had to visit market for purchasing rations, he would drop his father to the academy. On such days Samsher made him leave for the market early in the morning, as this helped Samsher save half an hour of his travel time, which otherwise he had to waste while waiting for public buses. After dropping off his father at the academy Raunak would buy groceries from the market and return.

Looking at his father, Samsher Singh, failing helplessly before his mother’s arguments, Raunak found it hard to believe that he was a strong and a brave person during his army days, as portrayed by his grandmother.

His mother, Rajib Kaur, was a good wife, a good mother and a good homemaker. She loved her family and performed all household duties impeccably. She did most of the domestic work herself. She never conceded to her husband’s suggestion to employ a maid and would simply say, “maid huh…their casual approach to work never inspires confidence in me, never satisfies me; and at any cost I don’t want an outsider to roam about, freely in our house. These maids while in peoples’ house always pretend to be nice and focused on work, considerate of employers’ needs and wellbeing. But all this while, with their witty eyes they would peek around, make note of all the household things and with their omnipresent ears would cunningly listen to family secrets. Later, inflicted with verbal diarrhea, they would reveal each and everything to others, while working in their houses. They have loose tongues. Also they often vouchsafe thieves about the innocuous and timely entry into the houses. Otherwise, if commonsense prevails, how thieves would know…when a family has gone out and when to strike? ….and they are not hygienic … in one house they will clean toilets and in another they will cook food…they carry germs, which they then distribute among all the people they work for”.

She had her prejudices against domestic helpers and maids. But on repeated requests and insistence from Samsher, unwillingly she had agreed to employ a maid and would call her only on weekends to complete weekly tasks. Even then she never allowed her to access any of the rooms and would restrict the maid to the outer façade. She would make her wash all the clothes, collected over a week. On Sunday mornings Rajib would call her after the breakfast time. Before her arrival she would dump all the clothes into a heap near the hand pump. She left no possibility or chance to allow her to enter into their rooms. She would make her do other odd jobs amidst her consistent vigil to prevent any breach of their privacy. She never talked about or discussed any of their family issues in her presence and also recommended others in the house to restrict themselves during maid’s presence.

She was very economical in her spending and won’t allow any member to spend money on blind needs. She was a utilitarian and minimalistic person. The thing that pleased her most was to cook a variety of dishes, for her family, see them relish, satiate their hunger and gobble down their throat.

The only issue that disturbed her was their financial condition. Probably her minimalism was not a willful choice but an enforcement or abstinence, due to lack of resources to support opulence. Although they always had enough; to solemnize their daughter’s marriage appropriately, meet her in-law’s demand for dowry, and pay for Raunak’s engineering fee. They were leading a peaceful life but it was not sufficient to enjoy the societal definition of a comfortable life. Their only sources of income were Samsher’s pension from army job and little farm income. But collectively it was not enough. Rajib always complained about the unfair division of family property and was forthrightly vocal enough to state how they got victimized due to Samsher’s elder brother’s foul play. She would vent her anger on Nasib, her mother in law, via her passive aggressive behavior.

Raunak’s uncle had forged his grandfather’s will-papers and got majority of the property transferred under his name. What fell into their hands was a small stretch of land that was not productive and whose yield was very low. The only other immovable property received was the paternal house where they were lived. These issues faded away with time and took a backseat in Rajib’s subconscious, but a point that pinched Rajib the most was that Samsher agreed to keep his mother with him. Whom she had occasionally abused and said, “Good for nothing…heap of worthless flesh and bones”.

Samsher would always pacify her and reasoned that even if his brother had forsaken his responsibility towards their mother and had left her behind to live in a city after selling his entire share of ancestral property in the town; he can’t do the same. After all she was his mother too. Moreover the greatest virtue that Samsher felt he could earn was his mother’s blessing, by supporting her to live in the ancestral house till her death, where she had come after her marriage.

The house was built according to old architectural patterns. There was a small courtyard cum garden, in the center of the house, which was enclosed on all four sides with rooms. In the center of that garden there was a raised platform and a stake near it, hard-pressed into the ground. Raunak’s grandmother had described it as a place which Muslim people had used to sacrifice goats on Eid festivals. There was a veranda, at a level lower than that of the rooms and some empty space, facing the gate that led into the outer street. The house was not always been theirs, since its construction. In 1947 when British India Empire got its independence from imperialistic British and was partitioned, amidst the chaos and violence that followed, Muslim families fled their houses to reach sovereign Pakistan, leaving behind their belongings and property. During that furor his grandfather had bought the house from a Muslim neighbor, who owned the house, at a dirt cheap price as an outcome of distressed sale. Their own house had once stood adjacent to the house that they bought from the Muslim family. As time passed, they dismantled their own house and it added to the empty space in front of the present structure, facing the gate. From the street, after entering via the main gate and crossing over the empty space a wooden door led to the interiors of the house and courtyard.

The structure of the house bought from the Muslim neighbor was maintained and unaltered. Only change that was made, at the time of Raunak’s sister’s marriage, was to furnish the front room of the house, as a drawing room. Even the old brick floor was not replaced with cemented flooring. Many such houses had once stood in that locality and were gradually replaced by the modern structures. Old structures were purchased by outside people, who had come from the nearby villages to live in the town, and progressively substituted by modern houses and architectural designs.

Raunak, after leaving his bed went straight to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and bathed. After some time he emerged from the bathroom, put on his clothes, tied his turban, brushed his beard and called his mother to serve his breakfast. All this while he was trying to attribute some meaning to his dream and rationalize his previous day’s act as something trivial.

“I have already placed it on the table in your room… after you finish it, pick your tea from the kitchen,” replied Rajib coldly. “…and hurry up son, your father is getting late”.

He galloped his breakfast down his throat. He was still apprehensive about his dream and was not able to get rid of those thoughts, his mind was overwhelmed. Repeatedly he tried to convince and console himself by believing in the fact that the horrific dream, like any other dream, was not a precursor for any imminent misfortune in his life, but was unable to calm himself down. The reason for this conundrum was the realization that it was for the first time he had done something wrong and sinful and that too behind his parent’s back, which otherwise they would not have approved and appreciated. He felt bad and guilty because he had to hide it from his parents. He was scared of the fact that somehow his parents will discover and come to know about his misdeed. He decided to request Gopi and Kumar, not to disclose about his last night’s divergence to his parents, but he immediately ruled out that idea because he was sure that they would ridicule him for being afraid of his parents. He tried not to think about it any further and stepped out of his room, into the veranda where his father was reading a newspaper and waiting for him.

Samsher folded the newspaper and placed it on a nearby table. “Raunak, have you picked your driving license and the money that I placed near your wallet?” enquired Samsher, getting up from his chair.

“Yes dad,” replied Raunak. He picked up a dusting cloth from a niche in the wall, which led to the outer wooden door. He dusted the scooter seats with a dusting cloth and kick started it. Rajib brought Samsher’s lunchbox, which Raunak placed in the scooter’s basket. He handed over the dusting cloth to his mother and was ready to leave.

Every morning during early hours, laborers and slum dwellers that lived at the edge of the town would carry plastic bottles filled with water and set for the nearby fields, to relieve themselves and answer the call of nature. While returning they would meander back through the streets, with empty plastic water bottle in one hand and Neem twig in another, whose frayed end would be used to clean their teeth.

With her left hand, Rajib signaled Raunak to wait and went to open the main gate. Before opening the gate, she looked both ways, down the street to ensure that nobody with empty bottle is coming towards them, because she believed that witnessing empty vessels before leaving for any work brings bad omen or hindrances. Then she would make sure that none of her neighbors was present outside, in the street, because she didn’t like them to cast evil sight on Raunak or Samsher when they leave for work. She always despised her neighbors and believed that they were disingenuous people, who can’t withstand or tolerate others’ prosperity.

Both Raunak and Samsher were aware of her orthodox beliefs and would patiently wait for her to open the gate and grant her permission to leave the house, which she would provide after performing all the necessary checks in-line with her irrational beliefs and elements of faith. She would quickly open the gate and, like a traffic cop swing her arm and signal them to leave.

Raunak drove the scooter out of the main gate and turned left. Rajib stood there with her eyes pivoted and following them until they further turned towards the city. Later, she closed the gate and returned back to continue with her household chores.

On his way to the academy, when Raunak crossed the kiosk, where he had visited the previous night along with Gopi and Kumar, he noticed the same boy, who had handed the chicken over to him, standing outside the kiosk and adjusting an advertisement board. Raunak didn’t want to establish any type of communication, verbal or non-verbal, with him in his father’s presence. His father would have definitely asked him questions to understand how he is familiar with that place and boy. It would have definitely put him in the spot and hence he wanted to evade that situation altogether. Traffic was shallow and he could not hide behind a larger vehicle while passing that stretch of the road. He accelerated his scooter and turned his face to look in the other direction while crossing over. He dropped his father at the academy, purchased groceries and ration as was specified by his mother and returned.

He crossed the bumpy road near the railway crossing and approached the kiosk, this time on the same side of the road. That boy was cooking tandoori rotis in a clay oven, tandoor, placed outside the kiosk. He was artfully preparing rotis, making brisk movements with his hands, clapping, with a portion of dough in between and making a pleasant array of sound, a subtle trick used by many kiosk-wallas to attract passerby’s attention, invoke any signs of hunger and cravings, inexplicitly enticing them to recall the taste of yummy food items that they serve.

Raunak was right and had made a correct choice by earlier avoiding boy’s attention, while he was with his father. The boy immediately recognized him; he laughed with a wide grin, displayed his discolored teeth and raised his left hand above his head, waved it at Raunak, still holding a dough ball in the other one. He continued to wave his hand and called out to Raunak, “Sahib, how are you? Come tonight… again and I will give you another one…chicken…alive.” He stressed the word ‘alive’ and continued, “…to chop it… for now I believe you can handle it…better”. Raunak nodded and passed by without saying anything. His words forced Raunak to recollect his previous ordeal, a series of images flashed in his mind – the wooden block with dark crevices, filled with dried blood, Gopi and Kumar laughing at him and teasing him, and the nightmare that followed it. “I will wait sahib…,” the boy said pleasantly. By then Raunak had crossed the kiosk and he continued to travel towards his house.

He approached the street that led to his home. There was a big warehouse, which was used to store food grains, at the corner of the street that lead to his house. Adjacent to the warehouse, on the same street, stood a huge reinforced concrete overhead water tank; sixty to seventy feet above the ground constructed on long concrete pillars with a staircase spiraling between them. Twice a day, in morning and evening it was filled with water from the municipality’s water supply. Their whole colony drew water from that tank. With time cracks had appeared in the tank walls and water dripped from them throughout the day. The pillars supporting the tank were covered under thick layers of fungi due to persistent dampness. That structure was also inhabited by pigeons that had made their nests on the horizontal concrete beams, which crisscross the pillars to provide added stability to the whole structure. They lived in the shade and beyond the reach of possible predators. On the ground, underneath the water tank, a thick cover of wild grass and weeds had grown. Collectively, mischief of rats that have colonized the warehouse and pigeons perched on the pillars would catch the attention of cats. Poorly maintained compound provide a safe haven for these creatures. On all four sides, the water tank was enclosed by high brick walls with an equally high corrugated iron gate in one corner. All the walls were mounted with razor barbed wire spiral. This was a precautionary measure to deter children from scaling the stair steps that lead to the top of water tank, as earlier few mishaps had occurred there due to this.

A mouse jumped out, from a gap between the gate and the wall and ran towards a dark drainage pipe on the opposite side of the street. A small cat leapt from the wall and chased the mouse. Oblivious Raunak turned left in the street towards his home, didn’t notice the chase and his scooter struck the cat. The mouse safely reached the other side of the street, jumped into the drain and entered into a circular drainage pipe, into the wall of a house. Raunak immediately pushed the brake paddle and brought his scooter to a screeching halt. He bent forward and looked over the scooter’s handle, at the cat, which lay limp near the front wheel. The cat seemed lifeless… suddenly it moved. First, it opened its eyes and then moved its front legs. Raunak got down from the scooter and bent down on his knees to carefully pick the cat. Cat got frightened after sensing that someone was approaching and tried to move, to escape. It succeeded in moving its front legs and body, but rear legs didn’t move. It was also unable to shift its weight over its thighs and its struggle went in vain. Raunak lifted it up from the street and held it gently, clearly maintaining a safe distance by stretching his arms away from his body to avoid being bitten by the frightened animal. He calculated the damage he had done. The cat stopped struggling, may be because it had given up all hopes to escape from his grip. It had a fluffy white fur, with strange pattern of black patches stretched all over its body. Raunak carried it to his scooter; with one hand he opened the mouth of the jute bag in which he had carried rations from the market and pushed the cat into the bag.

It was a malnourished feline. He carried her home to nurse the injured animal. His mother disapproved this, but Raunak got her consent under the condition to turn the animal out as soon as she was cured. But after few days he grew fondness for the cat and named her Meow. His mother’s repeated efforts to get rid of her failed because she would simply not go away. Every time Rajib threw the cat outside the main gate, she would jump back and enter the house again.

Whenever Meow would notice Rajib looking at her or approaching her, she would run and hide under Nasib’s bed. She would sit there and wait, and only after Rajib would leave the room or was not in the proximity, she would come out and play again. She would stare at insects, crawling on the ground, overturn them with her paws, press her nose against them and inspect them before finally freeing them. Raunak ensured that Meow was properly fed and would provide her food and milk at proper hours. He bought a special plastic food bowl for her. After few days she recuperated and regained her strength. One day her killer instincts provoked her and she chased a mouse into the middle of the courtyard, near the platform and pounced over it, killing the poor rat instantly. After witnessing this sight and noticing Meow’s predatory skills, Rajib’s anger thawed and she realized that Meow would help in scaring away the entire mouse population from their kitchen. After that day she never tried to catch Meow, shoo her away or get rid of her. Meow also sensed this change of heart; slowly she started moving freely around the house. She would jump over Nasib’s bed and chew her pillow. She had judged that old and weak Nasib was harmless and would cause no damage.

Nasib never shooed her away, rather she developed fondness towards Meow. She replaced the plastic container with a bigger brass container, which was placed in a wall niche near her bed and was rarely used. She poured her milk twice every day. She had found a new companion in the animal and would talk to Meow, as if talking to a human, in monologues.

In about a weeks’ time Meow had discovered all the nooks and corners in the house and all the possible ways, over the rooftops, to access adjoining houses. During daytime Meow was hardly spotted in the house, she had found her way to the warehouse and water tank compound, as well, where others of her kind dwelled. But she would come back at exact times to gulp her share of milk from the brass container. Also it would slouch under Nasib’s bed for the entire duration in the evening, when Nasib offered her daily prayers. Nasib would proudly say, “... look Meow also join me in my prayers”.

Chapter 2

Quotidian bargains

Kumar’s family live in a house opposite to that of Raunak’s and the one on the adjacent left side of Kumar’s house is Gopi’s. A year back Kumar’s father died of a sudden heart failure. He was an efficacious businessman and bequeathed a chain of shoe stores in the city to Kumar. The business was well established and Kumar’s father had to employ many assistants to manage the whole lot of customers. When he died, Kumar was pursuing his graduation in Arts and was in the second year of the graduation program. Whole of the family responsibilities fell upon him and he had to discontinue his graduation studies. He started managing his father’s business and was able to sustain it well.

Soon he got married to Anu, whom Kumar’s mother Uma had selected during a friends and family function at one of the relative’s house. The marriage was solemnized in line with Hindu beliefs and rituals but was devoid of any pomp and gaiety. Ceremony was not a celebration per se because only a short interval had passed since the inopportune death of Kumar’s father. Hence, as prevalent in Indian culture, a low key marriage symbolized the mourning phase as well. Irrespective of the factors that led to the marriage, Anu brought a hefty amount of dowry with her.

Kumar would leave early in the morning to ensure that he himself supervises key business activities and returned only late at night, after wrapping up all purchase transaction and settling accounts on a daily basis. Few young assistant boys, who worked at his main shop, were provided with an accommodation on shop’s upper level. This arrangement was made to prevent possible thefts during the night hours, especially during the long winter nights.

Neelu (Kumar’s sister) had taken admission in town’s government girls degree college and had enrolled for B.Com program. She would accompany her friends, who lived few streets away, to the college every day. After her college lectures, she would return home; and thereafter either sleep for long hours or watch TV. She displayed no interest and didn’t participate in household work because it was looked after by Uma and Anu. She lived like a princess and would command her mother to prepare dishes, as and when required according to her moods. Kumar never asked her to provide details for the money she spent and questioned her to justify the rationale behind any of her purchases; because he loved her too much. She was his darling.

Anu enjoyed her domestic life in her own ways. She would watch TV soaps or would relax when Neelu was not at home. She always finished her kitchen work and other household nitty-gritties during early morning hours, to have clear hours after that for herself. Often she would wear anklets and dance, as she was fond of dancing and had learned both western and classical forms. Uma would go to kitty parties with Gopi’s mother, Rekha. Uma would indulge herself in casual gossips with other women and often go shopping to satiate her indulgences, for her daughter-in-law was always there to watch over and manage her house. The housekeeping tasks like sweeping, washing, dusting etc. were looked after by a maid, Beebo, who would come regularly, except Sundays.

Unlike Raunak’s house, Kumar’s and Gopi’s were built in accordance with the contemporary architectural designs and decorations, with construction of the building and car parking in the front portion of the land parcel, abutting the outer street, and garden at the back to maintain discretion and privacy. Both Kumar’s and Gopi’s houses shared a common wall separating their houses. Their family ties were very intimate. Firstly because they were the only Hindu families in the street and hence a common belief system kept them closer; secondly they shared common interests and pursuits too. Both Uma and Rekha won’t let other women from the society enter the inner circle of their friendships. Most of the times, they went together for parties, social gatherings, shopping etc. They were proud of their social standing, which they had acclaimed on the basis of their wealth and possessions.

Rekha relied on Chootu, a small village boy, for her domestic work. He was about six or seven years old, thin and weak due to undernourishment during his childhood days, whose family had migrated from rural Bihar and had settled in Rekha’s fields as farmhand. Chootu’s family was laboring for Gopi, looking after his fields and lived in a tube-well room in his farm house. Chootu looked after everything in the house. He was not paid any money for his services but was provided a shelter and meals. On days where there was not much work left at home, Gopi would take him to the farms to leverage him as an extra support for farm work, and also Chootu would find a chance to meet his family.

“Mom today… in the evening I am planning to go shopping,” Neelu said to her mother anxiously. Uma was in kitchen, preparing breakfast.

“Are you going alone,” enquired Uma, looking up at her through the kitchen door with a least satisfied expression.

“…Yes,” she replied hesitantly.

“Neelu, it would be dark by the time you will return,” Uma expressed her concern. She came into the hall, where Neelu was having breakfast and was about to leave for the college.

“But mom I need to go, as today is the last day of end of season sale and I have been planning over entire last week to go shop today. Moreover, I can’t miss today’s lectures… they are important, but today we don’t have lectures for the entire day and hence I can leave early from the college for the market and try to return before it’s too dark,” complained Neelu, raising her beautiful and cute face, which looked more attractive among the gloomy expressions that filled her face.

“I don’t want you to skip your shopping trip..,” she began, in a tone that exuded a mixture of concern and fear. “…ok, then Anu will accompany you to the market. She also has to buy a sari for herself…other day she wished to go shopping, but couldn’t…. I will ask her to meet you at the college after your lectures are finished.” After finalizing the plan to her satisfaction she retreated back to her kitchen work.

Anu was upstairs in her bedroom. By the time she came into the hall Neelu had already left for the college. Uma told her about her decision for her to accompany Neelu to the market. Anu agreed and started helping Uma with other household work.

Uma was proud of her daughter-in-law, for she did much of the domestic work, obeyed her and cared for Kumar.

“Anu, why don’t you search for a suitable boy from among your relations or acquaintances? I want to marry Neelu, soon… she has come of age and it would be good for her to settle now,” said Uma, disclosing her major concern, to Anu.

“But mummy, Neelu is still pursuing her graduation and it will take her another year or so to finish the course,” replied Anu. She was confused that how Uma had missed this point.

“No Anu… what would she do after studying? I wish to see her hands colored with henna… as soon as I find a suitable match for her.” Uma revealed her intentions, and she imagined her plans, which were clearly visible in her eyes, impregnated with her desire.

Repeatedly Uma would advise Anu to keep Neelu along with her, so that she could learn and absorb the traits that are needed in the domestic life, after marriage. Uma opposed Neelu for wearing jeans. Neelu was voluptuous and grown up, but she was naïve enough to get tricked in-case someone meant harm to her. Uma was always worried for her wellbeing. Frequent news stories about uncivil and antisocial activities, specially involving young girls, had piled onto her conformation bias. Many times she forced Neelu to wear saris, salwar-suits and told her not to wear any form of body-hugging dress. Any thoughts of wearing revealing cloths were off the table. Like all caring and conservative Indian mothers she was of the opinion that modest dressing will fend off most of the problems that may befell her daughter. She would repeatedly tell Neelu to follow Anu’s dressing approach, but Neelu would say, “Mom I don’t like saris or salwar-suits and moreover I have to anyway wear those after I get married… so, for now let me live my way”. Many times Uma had shared her fears with Anu that she doesn’t like people staring at Neelu, with their desiring mischievous eyes. Anu would tell her not to worry and pacify her by highlighting the fact that their city was safer; and nudge her to ignore about what people think or intend. Artfully, Anu enjoyed the fact that Uma disclosed her fear’s to her. This helped in underscoring her importance and position in the family.

“BLANKETS…BLANKETS...HANDLOOM MADE…FROM KASHMIR... WARM LIKE SUN…NOTHING ELSE CAN MATCH…BLANKETS…BLANKETS,” yelled a vendor in the street, reiterating his sales soliloquy in an oxymoronic manner.

Rajib stopped the blanket hawker. As winters were only a couple of months away, she wanted to buy some blankets to cover mattresses as it help to keep beds cozy and warm during pronounced windy dry winters of Punjab. The vendor was a young man, fair skinner and tall, with unshaven brown beard. He was wearing a typical Kashmiri outfit, a phiran with side slits, worn over a poots. Many Kashmiri traders would carry their merchandise with them to plains of Punjab during months leading up to winters; where they wander in towns and villages, hawking and vending their products and would afterwards return back, to Kashmir, to come back again in the next season. He was carrying a bundle of blankets, which were nicely stacked and wrapped in a thick piece of cloth. He came toward Rajib’s house, near main gate of the house where she was standing. He removed the bundle from his left shoulder, dropped it gently near Rajib’s feet, opened the knot, removed the thick and slightly soiled cloth wrapper to expose the blankets and help her see them all.

“Beebiji, it’s an original, totally handmade product…its genuine and pure. See…check yourself, you will definitely like it”. He said reassuringly. He had spread different type of blankets on the cloth, like a deck of cards, to ensure that he captivates Rajib and engages her in his sales pitch.

“How much for these?” enquired Rajib, pointing her hand towards a set of blankets, kept amidst the pile of blankets laid out at her feet.

“Beebiji, first select the one(s) you want. Price can be decided later… you should like the blanket and that is important… thereafter, give whatever price you feel is appropriate… I’ll accept it,” said the vendor smilingly.

“Nah … bhai, first tell me the price. Why to waste my time if…,” she went on. She paid no heed to his smiles and deceptive but considerate approach.

“Ok... the single bed blankets are worth thousand rupees and those…,” he began calmly and started highlighting the prices by pointing at the blankets placed on his left and gradually moving towards right, covering all the different types in the heap, “…are for twenty two hundred each”. He again smiled and continued without waiting for Rajib’s reply, “…beebiji, in the market their price is much higher than what I am offering”.

“I need two double-bed blankets and a single bed. What price will you offer, now…? See I am not buying only one product here, so you should further adjust and lower your rates,” said Rajib, haggling in her unique mannerism, which she would usually set out to settle down her purchases.

“Beebiji… hundred…two hundred less kar lena… at maximum... I can’t reduce more than that as there is very less margin in selling blankets,” he explained pleadingly.

“No. I’ll pay six hundred for single-bed blanket and fifteen to sixteen hundred for the double- beds. Tell me if this rate is acceptable to you?” she said boisterously. Rajib slightly turned her steps towards the gate of her house, as if she was about to walk away and pretended that she was not interested in the bargain anymore. In a manner she blackmailed the vendor to persuade him to quickly agree to her offered price.

“Ok…Beebiji…ok. Do give fifty rupees more on the rates you have quoted, for every piece”. He looked at her politely but she still kept the deal open-ended by maintaining her poker face. He understood and comprehended her to be a type who is not easy to deal with or swayed.

Rajib turned back, towards the vendor, and selected the blankets she liked. Throughout her selection she maintained a disagreeable face - nose twisted, eyes frowned, as an expression to drive the message that she is calling the shots in the bargain and will determine the course of the purchase. She picked the blankets, went inside her house and came back with the specified amount of money. Uma had also spotted the vendor from her house and wanted to purchase some blankets. After vendor noticed that Uma was approaching him, he immediately pleaded with Rajib, “Beebiji. Please don’t tell her about the rates at which you have purchased these blankets”. At the very moment, when vendor placed his request, Rajib was extending her arm and was about to hand over the money. After she heard his request and realized that she had the power to spoil the course of his negotiation with Uma, she let him take the money but gently pressed and held back the last hundred rupees note in her hand. Amidst vendor’s conundrum, she had extended her bargain and without uttering a single word had determined the price for her to stay mum. He looked up at Rajib, his eyes simultaneously filled with misery and amazement; he immediately counted whatever he was handed over. Rajib proved to be much astute than what he had anticipated. But, by quickly counting the money he ensured that he had met his minimum profit threshold and tucked the notes into his pocket without even organizing them properly. Then he moved on to greet Uma and readied himself to showcase his merchandise and nab a handsome bargain. Rajib stood there silently, watching, as to what Uma was purchasing.

Uma stood there for a minute without listening to what vendor had to say and after making up her mind asked him, “umm… bhai take out that maroon one and that one… over there…in grey”. She kept her finger pointed towards the second blanket to help vendor identify her selection. She made her selection without worrying or inquiring about the prices. She skipped this part of the purchase not because she wanted to exert her financial richness, but that was how she had always purchased goods – selected whatever she liked and paid without worrying if the price was justified. Rajib, who was still standing there, was looking at Uma’s demeanor with a strange look on her face. Uma had never cared for money, for she had enough money to maintain an opulent lifestyle and need not worry like Rajib did.

Uma authoritatively asked him to carry the blankets, which she had selected, to her house’s outer door. Vendor hurriedly lifted the blankets and followed her to her door step. He gently handed over the blankets to her and politely told her the total amount for her purchase. She took blankets from him and went inside to fetch money. Vendor returned back to the same spot where his bundle was placed, with remaining blankets still scattered on the cloth, stretched over the road tarmac. His eyes were sparkling and he looked satisfied from his latest sale. He looked at Rajib, this time he didn’t seem displeased with her and grinned, which clearly depicted the fact that he had earned enough. Rajib too smiled in return, while she looked at him.

Uma came back and handed him the money, exactly the amount that he had demanded. She glanced at Rajib, her eyes exuded superiority and carried a faint smirk on her lips. Vendor quickly counted and tucked the money into his pocket; he hurriedly organized his unsold blankets and tied them back into a bundle. He thanked them, waived his hand and left.

“Uma sister, how are Kumar, Anu and Neelu doing,” enquired Rajib about the wellbeing of Uma’s family.

“Doing good… Neelu has opted for commerce subjects as part of her graduation, Anu is nicely managing my house and as usual Kumar is doing well in our business,” Uma emanated a feeling of proud and satisfaction in her reply. “….and what is Raunak doing these days”. She asked about Raunak, plainly, just as a formality, as filler in her conversation.

“He has completed his engineering and has come back home. Currently he is searching for a job and is applying for some suitable open positions,” she answered. She didn’t tell Uma that Raunak had already cleared interview rounds for a company and was waiting for his joining details. She didn’t want to share the news of Raunak’s achievement with someone she otherwise despised. Raunak was the first one from that town of farmers and local merchants, who had got an engineering degree and had landed up with a considerable job. Raunak had made his family proud. Rajib didn’t want anyone to jinx it and hence had decided to not disclose that news till Raunak formally received his date of commencement of job.

Uma joked, “Why don’t you push him into some sort of business”.

“Sister, after doing engineering studies what justice he will be doing to himself, if he enters into some local business. He is looking for some decent job that can help him make use of his education,” said Rajib in relief. She smiled and told Uma what she had in her mind.

Neelu had returned from her college. It seemed there was some change in her plan as she didn’t go to market directly after attending her lectures for that day. She got down from the rickshaw and paid the fare. “Mom come inside I need to talk to you...,” Neelu commandingly ordered her mother as if reminding her not to waste time, talking to less important people. She didn’t care to acknowledge Rajib’s presence as if she was invisible. Neelu was loaded with a rosy misty fragrance, a perfume, which was oozing out of her clothes. She went inside after completing her statement and didn’t wait for Uma’s response

“Look at Kumar. He is earning more than enough,” said Uma cheerfully, continuing with her discussion, which was interrupted by Neelu. Her eyes widened with a feeling of satisfaction, while she finished her last statement. “The amount you had spent on Raunak’s education is earned by my son in a month’s time. There is no use of doing engineering studies and these 9–5 jobs,” she indicatively ridiculed Rajib. She completed the sentence with a grin, which broadened with the satisfaction that she had managed to highlight the reason behind her self-esteem and superiority of sorts. She turned and rushed to go behind Neelu, and entered her house.

Rajib felt bad and kept pondering on the last few statements made by Uma. She despised Uma for always flaunting her wealth and not respecting other peoples’ considerations. She thought about the tentative amount Raunak would be able to earn from his job and made some rough calculations vis-à-vis amount that Kumar earned per month. She was not satisfied and tried to forget the discussion she had with Uma, as the truth had painfully shattered her assumptions; but she struggled to alter her thoughts. “What’s the use of money if one doesn’t possess the real wealth – education,” She murmured to herself, rationalizing and trying to add some justification to Raunak’s career choice. “What Kumar might have done if there was no business, bequeathed by his father?” Amongst her self-dialogue, she again relented from her stance and her next thought contradicted all her previous ones, “whatever they say that knowledge, wisdom and health are true wealth… what really matters in the end is the amount of money one possesses”. Her heart ached to own wealth like others and live a hassle-free life.

Late in the evening when both Neelu and Anu returned from market, it was already dinner hour. Excitedly, Neelu showed her jeans and t-shirt tops to Uma, holding them against her body. Uma nodded, but she was not pleased because Neelu had bought western wear items that Uma detested. Uma looked at Anu with disappointment, who helplessly stared back gesturing via her expressionless face that she failed to persuade Neelu for buying a sari or something else, appropriate as per Uma’s inclinations. Neelu placed Anu’s sari on the sofa and ran to her room, carrying her clothes with her and ignoring her mother’s disapproval of her choices. She changed and tried new clothes, impatiently undressing and dressing, standing in front of a mirror, chuckling at herself and desperately waiting to see herself in new clothes. Anu followed Uma to the kitchen and started helping her to prepare dinner. Then all three had their dinner and Kumar’s was kept back in hot-cases on the dining table itself, as there existed no set time for him to come home, back from work, in the evenings. Thereafter, Anu washed all the utensils, cleaned the kitchen, carried her sari and went upstairs, into her room. She too was eagerly waiting to try on or wear her new sari.

She bolted the door of her bedroom and pulled across the curtains so that they cover all the windows. She then removed the sari, which she was wearing, and stood there in her petticoat and blouse, in front of the mirror. She placed the new sari, which she had brought from the market, over her shoulder, across her breasts, and looked at herself in the full body mirror of her dresser. After some time, she packed it back and kept it in her wardrobe among her other saris. She treaded away from the wardrobe, towards the mirror and was lost in her own thoughts. Slowly she loosened her belt and stepped out of her petticoat. While straightening up she looked at her appearance and figure in the mirror, and later at her legs and arms, checking if they were properly removed of all the body hair. Both Anu and Neelu had gone to a beauty-parlor after they were done with their shopping. Both decided not to tell about that part to Uma, their little secret. While looking at her appearance and approving herself she unhooked her blouse and threw it on the petticoat, which was lying, curled on the floor near her feet. Then she removed her brassier and underwear as well. She once again looked at the mirror, but not at her reflection, for she was sad and was thinking about something else. She put her right index finger into her mouth, moistened it by applying some saliva on it and then slowly caressed her left nipple, until both were stiffened and bloody red, like ripe strawberries. She walked to the bedpost and sat there, still lost in her thoughts, with no expressions on her face, her left hand rubbing her pelvis through her pubic hair. After some time she removed a hair-removal cream from the drawer and went to the bathroom. A little later she came back, placed the cream inside the drawer and looked at herself. She widened her legs, lifted her arms above her head and made sure that hair removing was finished suitably. Finally she took an elaborate bath and slipped into her rose laced night gown.

She turned off the main lights, only keeping a dim red bulb glowing, unbolted the bedroom door and came back to the bed. She laid there looking desperately outside the window into the sky, at the twinkling stars. About an hour later Kumar came into the bedroom, back from day’s work, and softly tiptoed into the bathroom without disturbing her. He took a bath and came out wearing pajamas and occupied his place, on the bed, on Anu’s left side. Anu slowly turned towards him and shifted sideways onto her left arm, she was still wide awake, all this while waiting for him.

Anu: how was the day?

Kumar: normal…all fine. I thought you were sleeping.

Anu: no…was waiting for you.

Kumar: what happened… anything special? Is everything all-right?

Anu said nothing but kept staring at him. He didn’t wait for her answer and slipped into his own random thoughts. There was a small pause and both stayed mum.

Anu: what are you thinking? Are you tired?

He seemed relaxed and turned his head towards her, as a reaction to her question. They faced each other.

Kumar: No… am fine, was just thinking about our business. You know what, I have got into distribution of almost all the major shoe brands, covering every type, ladies, gents, low sole, high.… every type, you name it. Also, as a matter of fact sales have gone up. There is nobody in the whole market who can compete with me.

He straightened his neck and stared at the roof, with a soft smile on his lips. Anu was not at all interested in what Kumar was telling her. She raised her hand and pressed it against his lips, forcing him to stay quite. He figured out that all this while she was not listening to him. He didn’t notice, when she had rolled up his pajama sleeve, in one leg, up to his knee. She was rubbing her bare leg against his; he felt the smoothness and softness of her skin. His eyes caught hers, which were passionately inviting. She had opened all the front buttons of her gown. Her breasts were hanging freely and gently pressed each other. She pulled Kumar’s hand, kissed it, placed it on her cleavage, pressed it even harder and dragged it down, towards her abdomen. She leapt and climbed over him, with her legs on either side of his body, pressing her groin harder against his and rubbed it. While balancing herself, she continued to rub her hands on his chest.

Anu: see your tummy. How it has bulged out, like a balloon, like a pregnant woman… why don’t you give me one too…impregnate me.

Kumar: ohhh…I see.

Anu: why don’t you exercise… go jogging every day.

Kumar: do you want me to go jogging… now…or…, he teased her.

Anu: shut up… say no more……..

Among their leisure and romantic love making, her bangles made a clinking sound, striking among themselves, at regular intervals, continuous – cham… cham…cham…cham. Sometime later Kumar got up and went to the bathroom. He came back, jumped into the bed and soon sleep overpowered him, he was tired. Anu sat there on the far end of the bed. She was content and satisfied, she was pondering, how increased work load had suppressed Kumar’s libido. He had stopped carrying the same enthusiasm or interest towards her. Earlier his heart would ache for her and he won’t leave any chance to be near her, be with her; often they had gone for multiple rounds, in a single night. She always had some interesting tidbits of romantic gossips to share with him, to seduce and excite him, but he had stopped caring for that as well. Entire romantic jazz had faded away after he had started managing the business.

Chapter 3

Jovial banters

“Sister, yesterday both Neelu and Anu went to the market,” said Uma. “…and Anu purchased a very beautiful silk sari for herself”. Uma was sitting with Rekha at her house. They had planned to go somewhere together, but Rekha was waiting for Gopi to come back, on whose arrival Uma and Rekha were to leave.

“From which cloth merchant or store do you buy saris,” asked Rekha. It was a casual talk.

“We all buy saris and other cloth items from the store…I don’t remember its exact name…can’t recollect it…ahh…the one that is on the Mall road… the largest cloth store,” she said, forcing her mind to recall the shop’s name.

“Yes, I got it. I also prefer that cloth store. I only rely on them,” she referred to the cloth house. “…for costly cloth purchases… because they never supply unauthentic or substandard saris. The claims they make and the quality they boast of is justly present in the products they sell”.

“… The rates are justified and reasonable too. Moreover they offer concessions to their regular customers, rewards for loyalty”.

“Namaste aunty,” wished Gopi politely. Amidst their conversation he had come back from the market and joined them.

“Namaste beta…god bless,” she greeted him. “How are you and how your work is going on… in the farms,” she enquired.

“Fine…everything is all right, aunty. It will be all finished within a day or two”, he replied with a sigh of relief.

“I’ll go to your place along with you after we return from the market, to see Anu’s new sari,” said Rekha, “…by the way what did Neelu brought from the market? You didn’t talk about that”.

Uma’s expressions changed and she was not willing or comfortable to answer the question. “Yes…she also wanted to buy something but brought nothing, apparently she didn’t get whatever she was looking for” she said hastily, hurrying to pick some other topic. Uma chose not to mention the fact that Neelu had purchased few jeans and t-shirt tops, as she abhor Neelu’s choices and Rekha too was conservative in her outlook. Hence Uma decided to not bring up this topic. “… actually she had gone to buy some books for her commerce subjects, but didn’t get them as they are out of stock and in a short supply as of now”.

Gopi was overhearing their conversation and offered to help Neelu, “as a matter of fact… Aunty, as you know I also graduated in commerce stream. My books are lying unused. Please ask Neelu to take them for her studies, till she gets the new ones from the market” he suggested, sharing his ideas brightly and continued, “... moreover, I can also help her with the subjects, just in case”.

Rekha looked bemused after she heard Gopi’s false claims, because he had lied about being a commerce graduate. In reality, he had failed to pass in the final year examination. Rekha said nothing, for she could say nothing and silently let the discussion drift away. Later, Rekha and Uma left for shopping.

Sundays’ were the most interesting days for Raunak as on weekends’ he would enjoy watching TV programs in the morning. TV programs named “special weekends” intrigued him the most because they contained everything ranging from news, latest fashion trends and Bollywood gossips to music, mythology and drama. It was programs based on Indian religious mythologies that would enthrall him, make him laugh and comment. He would enjoy the screenplay exhibiting extravagant costumes, lavish and grand sets, luxurious visuals, special effects, and amplified dialogues, which were delivered with hyperbolic enthusiasm and gusto. Shot in ostentatious sets situated in Hyderabad’s Ramoji film city, the epics were rife with comical effects, melodramatic and pompous acting.

Indian mythologies consist of traditional narratives and accumulation of stories, which over initial years where passed from generation to generation orally and later were captured in various written forms; written over different times and regions and by different authors. This literature is complex and provides an intersection of multiple perspectives prevalent in historic times. Characters, immortalized in these mythologies, played multiple roles and identities over different phases of the plot. This progressively complex literature provides an insight not only into the belief system that laid the foundation of a great religion, but also into the historical significance of these beliefs. It is a documented evidence of sorts for early human migration, which had populated the northern part of Indian subcontinent.

He would sit in front of the TV along with his father, glued to a chair for the entire duration these programs were broadcasted. Rajib would serve them breakfast there itself, in the drawing room where TV was placed. She knew that while they watched these programs they were stuck to their seats and won’t heed to her multiple requests and getup to take their plates from the kitchen.

Raunak would comment, “Dad why nobody bothers to stop these producers and directors from making such serials, which can clearly be described using one word—uproarious. How can a single arrow shot from the bow would first reach a particular height and then mysteriously multiply into hundreds. Or how can two different arrows shot by enemies from opposite side in a war setting, standing hundreds of meters away transverse the same trajectory to strike at the same point somewhere in the air. Moreover, look at the background in these scenes, the light effects—as if sky has gone mad with northern lights”. The atypical way in which the mythological knowledge (written or verbal) was passed down over the generation had curated the content amidst authors’ or narrators’ subjectivity. Mythological scriptures were written in a grand style, reality was at times blown out of proportion to underscore the importance or impact of protagonists’ actions or deeds. Further, on multiple occasions authors’ perspectives or ideas and interpretation of ambiguous events were presented by constructing an event involving the main characters. Such events were portrayed as actions and were often retold in the voice of gods or characters themselves. Such personal contributions over the ages had added a multiplier effect to the dramatization of underlying events. Therefore, TV adaption of scriptures inadvertently added further distortion to the facts and suspended any remnants of scientific accuracy or logic. TV adaptation of the epics included ostentatious sets, metaphorical actions to highlight the might of god like characters and the acting most of the time stayed too histrionic.

His father would repeatedly reprimand him, “Son you should not say such things. It is totally wrong, rather blasphemous to speak bad or make fun of religious content and beliefs. These are mere depictions or representations of historical events as captured by prehistoric scholars, which have been passed down from generations to us. In these screenplays, director has tried to portray the august and might of legendary characters by taking a hyperbolic approach only to pass the message. Kalidas, Tulsidas and others were great scholars who invoked various events revolving around virtue and vice, and leveraged storytelling approaches to underscore venerable teachings. Characters’ actions might look farfetched, but point is to appreciate the message”.

These discussions continued every weekend and everybody in the house knew it as well. Everybody enjoyed these gossips and jovial banters. They would always discuss something or the other in their own unique way. Every time, topics and content would change but their habit of talking loudly and persuasively stayed. This used to elevate the environment and filled the entire house with laughter and fun. Raunak was a delightful humorist.

After breakfast time, Rajib would get busy with Beebo, supervising and instructing her wash clothes. Nasib, as usual, would maintain her schedule, which had revolved pretty much around few activities only due to her old age. She would read religious literature, recite her prayers using prayer beads, enjoy her siestas after lunch, stroll in the garden, water the plants, and sit or lay on a bed that in daytime was placed in the veranda facing the main gate overlooking the street. While sitting on the bed she would watch people passing the street, reflect on memories and recollections from her past, and at times get into discussion with other society elders who also ached for companionship to push themselves through twilight days or years of life. There was hardly a sunny day when she had missed adhering to her evening routine, for sitting on the bed placed in veranda and enjoying warm sun soothed her joints and helped her temporarily forget persistent joint pain.

Raunak would take the newspaper supplements, which cover numerous topics on fashion, luxury, Bollywood and other trends and usually come along with the Sunday newspaper editions, and lay down on the mat, spread across the brick floor in one corner of his room. He loved reading about movie masala and other tidbits from glamour world. That spot in his room, his man cave, the corner, was his favorite, an oasis for his me-time. From that favorite corner in his room, through the adjoining window, he would gaze at the blue sky and the bare Pepal tree on whose branches little dewdrops would shine like pearls in early morning, and watched sparrows and other birds as they glided on wind or perched on neighboring roof tops. He didn’t know why, but he loved to sit in that corner and spend his time at home. On every instance, when he had spent time there he had felt positive, relaxing, comforting, calming and surrounded by an inexplicable but pleasant feelings of joy. It was his spot where he loved to sit and do his stuffs.

Samsher would bury himself in the Punjabi newspapers and would finish the pending ones’ from the weekdays as well. It was his routine for Sundays as he never found enough time over the weekdays to soak himself in the newspapers and absorb his picks from the swirling world of news. During this time, he would talk and enter into multi-faceted discussions with himself, murmuring about the topics present in the newspapers. Sometimes he would suddenly burst crackling or talking with nobody. This way he used to analyze the news and enjoy the articles. He had his own unique ways.

Sometimes, on Sundays Raunak and Samsher will enter into discussion on some topics of common interest. Every time Raunak did so, he realized that as compared to Samsher how little he knew, about the world affairs, economy and local politics. He would listen to him and enjoyed his company, as it was always elaborate and informational, which broadened his perspective.

“Raunak what do you think about the forthcoming Cricket match between Pakistan and India, at PCA stadium, Mohali. Who do you think will win?” Samsher opted for Raunak’s view, while tapping his index finger on the top article on the sports page and peering through his spectacles.

“Both teams are equally good and also there is not much difference in their ICC ranking for both one-day and test matches. Either side has selected their bowlers keeping in mind other’s weaknesses. Still, the only advantage that our team has is the pitch, which they have used for their preparation matches. In short the advantage of playing on home ground and in front of home audience,” replied Raunak laying down his analysis.

“Yes, that’s true. Also, visiting teams’ always blame the lack of support from the crowd. But in this series this aspect is also alleviated to some extent because Pakistan’s team will have some of their nationals as well, to cheer them up and boost their morale,” said Samsher smilingly.

Governments in both the countries, India and Pakistan, had agreed to open rail and bus links across the border, as an initial step to underscore their thawing relationship. A special bus service from Delhi to Lahore was also flagged off. It would cross the border twice a week, second time on the return journey. In the same context, to rekindle traditional bonhomie and nurture shared interests, Indian government had issued around one and half thousand tourist visas to Pakistani nationals. Almost all the permitted number of tickets, for the cricket match that was scheduled to be held at Mohali stadium, was sold out on the very first day as soon as they were made available to Pakistani nationals. Authorities in Punjab had made special arrangements for their security and accommodation. Authorities had also issued a public message requesting Punjabi people, to offer help and extend their cordiality. Few people shared their houses with the visiting guests, as the very personification of Punjab’s hospitality.

However, all the people from Pakistan had not bought the tickets to watch the cricket match. Everyone had their own motivations, intentions and objectives behind their India visit. Many did use this state organized opportunity to cross the otherwise heavily guarded Line of Control (LoC).

After Raunak had ended his discussion with Samsher, he picked the newspaper supplements and went to his room, to his spot. He finished reading them and later started organizing his room and dusting his books rack.

Nasib came and sat besides Samsher, on the chair placed next to his. When at home Samsher never wore his prosthetic leg; it was his necessity to wear it when he had to go to market or work, to avoid using crutches and to prevent summoning sympathetic gazes from people. But he disliked it as wearing it was equally tiring and uncomfortable. He was sitting on the chair and had worn a white kurta pajama. The left empty sleeve of the pajama was dangling freely and swaying sideways in the air. Nasib rolled up and tucked it between the stump of his leg and chair’s base. They sat there talking about religious ceremonies and marriages in the town, anticipated income from the farm yield, outstanding bills and other household issues.

Rajib had almost finished washing clothes along with Beebo. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of cold water from the fridge. On her way out she took another glass for Beebo.

“Beebiji is there some other work pending that you want me to finish,” asked Beebo while receiving the glass of water from Rajib.

“No, nothing else for today but next time I have to clean wheat grains before sending it to the mill for grinding. So do come an hour early… don’t forget”. Her voice held an authoritative pitch. She shared her priority for next weekend with Beebo while she was hanging the washed clothes, to dry them in the sunlight, on a wire tied near the hand pump, across the boundary walls.

“Beebiji, how are Mataji and Sahib doing? I hope Mataji is keeping well” she said quietly, referring to Nasib and Samsher, and she enquired about their wellbeing.

Rajib clearly understood her habits. Every time Beebo would praise, flatter or ask about wellbeing of someone from her family, she would try to set a tone for some request amidst the repartee. Rajib guessed that Beebo was planning to ask for an off day over next weekend. She turned around to enquire but Beebo fired her next question.

“… and what is chote Sahib doing these days? He is a good boy and has come of age. When are you planning to bring a bride for him? … He never roam or wander in the streets like other boys of his age, idling their time. Beebiji you have raised him well and have given him a good upbringing. He is well behaved, sincere and disciplined. You should be proud of him,” said Beebo, finishing her monologue lauding and praising.

Rajib felt good after listening to Beebo and her chest swelled with the praise. She liked the part where Beebo compared Raunak with other society boys and acknowledged his positive traits. All this while Rajib maintained her flat cold expression and after a momentary silence she looked towards Beebo with her enquiring eyes. “… do you want something?” she asked quickly and bluntly.

“No, Beebiji no… nothing, nothing much… not a big issue… rather let me talk next time,” she said at once, still confused if she was being reprimanded or not. She was surprised to notice that Rajib had stayed unmoved and unruffled by all the praise.

Rajib had already anticipated this response from Beebo, for she had understood her really well and had observed her nature closely after spending weeks with her since she was hired. Rajib deduced one thing clearly from Beebo’s answer that she was not planning to ask for an off day over following weekend, as she had mentioned that she will discuss and share her concern ‘next time’. “No, you better let me know your problem now only, why wait for next time… what is bothering you and what is on your mind,” she said calmly.

“Beebiji, I know I should not ask for, but…it would be a great favor rather generosity from your side, if… like other Beebiji’s have also agreed to…I would be grateful if you also... god has given me everything... happy family, health, job…now he has also stopped drinking and takes good care of children…,” Beebo briefly talked about her husband and continued, “…children have started going to village school and are focusing on education in an effort to get decent employment. Beebiji prices of basic goods in the market are touching sky high. Please do increase my… by few hundred rupees. I would go to the Gurudwara and pray… may god bestow his grace on your family… always”.

Rajib understood her intentions and replied as soon as Beebo finished her longwinded request. She said heavily, “you know it very clearly that I can do this work all by myself. It was only on their request that I agreed to employ you. They want me to rest, to reduce my workload.” She continued gruffly and pointed her one hand towards the wooden gate referring to Samsher and others in her family. Still coldly gazing at Beebo and continued, “…you better not come from next time. Wait here and let me clear your outstanding salary to date.” She turned her steps towards the inner door in an attempt to induce anxiety and an element of fear psychosis in Beebo and asked her, “is there any outstanding amount from the previous months… let me know in case I have missed something”, she finished. She projected as if she had made up her mind to terminate Beebo’s service instantaneously.

In her statements, Rajib had indirectly compelled Beebo to stick to her current wage rate and had left no room for further discussion. Without wasting a single second Beebo pleaded, “Ok Beebiji, alright… why are you getting so angry? Better give me a hike whenever you feel like giving me more for my work. It is difficult to live with this meager amount but still, let’s forget… Ok…I’ll come next week to help you clean next month’s wheat stock”

Rajib anchored the main gate after Beebo had left. She turned back and stood near the gate; she looked around and felt great satisfaction because entire work was completed for the day. She carried a broom, soap case and other small things that were left by Beebo near the hand pump and placed them at their suitable place. She picked her clothes and went to the washroom for a much required bath after heavy morning work. She emerged few minutes later, after her batch, feeling refreshed and relaxed. She soaked the clothes that she had removed, in a bucket filled with water, poured some detergent powder in it and left it near the hand pump.

While walking towards kitchen she picked the rice that was placed in a plate near the kitchen door. It was kept there by Nasib, for lunch preparation after she had cleaned a bowl of rice of husk and weeds. Rajib appreciated such little contributions and support in household work from her mother-in-law. She poured the rice into a cooker after she rinsed it, added two bowls of water to it and placed it on the gas stove. She then picked a floor mat kept against a pillar and unwrapped it under the fan, next to Samsher’s chair. She talked about her argument with Beebo and lay down to take some rest. Samsher listened but said nothing.

After some time when food was ready, Rajib called Raunak, who was lost deep in the plot of a story book, for lunch. Entire family ate their lunch in the veranda. After finishing his lunch, Samsher went into the drawing room and switched on the television, Raunak went back to his room to his favorite spot, opened the novel where he had earlier placed a bookmark and resumed his reading. By that time Nasib had already tumbled into her bed, which was laid out in the courtyard porch near the drawing room, and was fast asleep and snoring. Rajib stacked all the dishes in a utensil basket and kept it near the hand pump. Later she went back to the mat, which was laid outside the kitchen in the courtyard on the opposite end of the drawing room, and punctually went onto enjoy her siesta after the mid-day meal.

At around six o’clock in the evening, sun had receded and weather outside was cozily warm coupled with smooth breeze. Midday summer silence was broken; street was again reverberating with sound of passing scooters, bikes and cycles. People had come out and children were playing in the street. One could distinctively hear the thud of girls’ footsteps while they played hopscotch in the street and clatter of marbles while boys played their versions of game. Birds had left the shades of their midday hideouts, where they had taken shelter from scorching day heat.

“Raunak do you want to join me and go to the Gurudwara,” shouted Samsher from the courtyard, looking towards Raunak’s room. His question was rhetorical in nature and without waiting for any reply, as he knew that Raunak will join him, he continued, “…waste no time… get up and tie your turban, otherwise we will be late for the evening prayers at the Gurudwara.”

Hurriedly, Raunak came out of his room, buttoning his shirt and folding its cuffs. By that time Samsher had already worn his prosthetic leg and was keeping his crutches in a corner. After they went out into the street, Raunak closed the main gate and engaged its latch. He spotted Rajib pacing along the rooftop and collecting the line dried cloth. He informed her that they were going to the Gurudwara for evening prayers and turned right. Gurudwara was a few streets away after passing through a labyrinth of roads. A set of four loudspeakers were switched on at the Gurudwara, each pointing in a different direction, and they could hear the priest – granthi, reciting hymns from the holy granth. There was still some time left for the final evening prayers.

They entered a narrow street, which was inhabited by village laborers and migrants from poor states like Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. Tightly cramped and unsymmetrical houses, which dotted either side of the street, were made of brick and mud. Once these huts were owned and occupied by lower sections from Muslim community, which had migrated to Pakistan in 1947 amidst the chaos that enveloped British India’s partition leaving behind their hutment, and later these vacant huts were illegally occupied by the laborers that thronged Punjab during the green revolution period. Open sewage drains were chocked and overflowing as they were never maintained and cleaned by the local municipal sweepers. Children used them as latrines and with the passage of time this had clogged the drains leading to mosquitoes and fly infestation. All along the street’s wall above the drain, one could clearly see wet wavy spots midst the peeled and flaky layers of plaster. These spots were a permanent feature in that street and were made by dweller’s habit of relieving themselves and urinating against the wall. The air was thick with a strong and repulsive unpleasant odor. Additionally, unrestricted spitting had left red blood like stains splattered against walls and surface of the street. Typical characteristics of any slum dwelling were evident. People had become comfortable staying in those conditions and had displayed zero consideration for personal or public hygiene. Lack of literacy, missing efforts from municipality and health workers had only intensified these conditions.

Nobody knew how many people, families lived there. Hardly a census activity would have taken place in that area. They were unofficially marginalized and disenfranchised lot. There were wooden beds placed in the street itself, with one set of bed’s feet on either side of the drain. Bed sheets were discolored, patchy and smeared. Colors and design imprints were hardly legible. Women were cooking food on hearths, mounted on the street sides, in a variety of deformed and blackened utensils. Their children, naked, shabby, some crying, sitting outside their houses with running noses and nasal fluids dripping down their lips into their mouth, some running or walking randomly in the street, some perched on the drain and defecating, and some playing with marbles, which was the only game available to them. It was a complex mélange of family life and activities spilling into the public or shared neighboring space.

A small boy, difficult to affirm if the boy was really young or was physically diminutive due to malnutrition and underdevelopment, came running towards Raunak and his father. He ran in circles around them and strangely observed them, as they doesn’t fit the scene and had only ventured into that street to take a shorter route, and continued to hum an eccentric playful sound – ahaah…ahaah…ahaah, unclad, with soil sticking to his bums, and running nude with his genitals swinging sideways. He ran ahead, and then suddenly he turned and started running backwards. He looked at Samsher, and gave him a toothless smile. Samsher acknowledged via an unnecessary gesture and smiled back. He was not at all repelled by the surroundings, probably because he had passed through that ghetto multiple times and had developed immunity to the disgusting elements, or because his humane outlook was not influenced by the circumstances that poverty had brought down upon unfortunate ones. His heart was filled with sympathy and pity.

A girl in her low teens came cycling and whizzed past them. She was riding a 22 inch adult men’s cycle by placing her right leg, across cycle’s frame from under the crossbar, to reach the opposite paddle. She was balancing herself in a strange posture and had placed her right elbow on the seat to hold herself to the cycle. Her father shouted behind her, his statement loaded with cuss words, scolding and sensitizing her not to do any damage to the cycle. The count of abuses used as fillers to intensify his message outnumbered the total words that carried the actual caution.

This was almost the same composition that they witnessed every time they had passed through that street. Raunak felt the grip of his father’s hand tightening, which he had earlier kept gently on Raunak’s left shoulder. On the basis of this unregulated stimuli, Raunak tried to guess the assortment of emotions that had crossed his father’s mind.

“Father,” he said, speaking for the first time after they crossed the street. “…I feel the main reason for such pathetic conditions… living situation of these people is illiteracy.”

“No son… things are not as plain and simple as they seem,” replied Samsher ruefully.

“I don’t understand,” he said, looking confused. “…why their condition remains stagnate. Even though, they do receive many favors or welfare grants from the government as part of social assistance programs.”

“The favors they receive are simply tricks, which are played on them. They are only heard at the time of elections… for a short interval… enticed and motivated towards short lived benefits… politicians very well know how to manipulate them…attract them… their vote bank to gain political mileage by passing on ephemeral support as mirage. The false promises and development propagandas are never met in spirit, “he went on, “And the little money these politicians distribute does no good… little education they receive via government funded programs does no good either, to them… it doesn’t help them to prosper or grow… it doesn’t even help them to attach valid rationale to political propagandas of which they are only a part and that too only during voting phases… subjugated electorate.”

“What about the facilities like schools, and hospitals, which are made dedicatedly for their betterment? Why these provisions do no good?” he fired the next question desperately.

“…for they never visit schools because they feel it as wastage of man-hours, which otherwise they think could be utilized to earn few morsels of food, few extra bucks via labor. They are not wrong in missing the education opportunities, even if they study… gain primary education… at the next level they again find it hard to enter the higher education institutes. They are outcompeted by students from private institutes, for there is little governance or regulation in these government schools. Failure to gain access to higher education that can make them worthy of some employment opportunities, forces them to dejection and they gravitate towards some laborious activities as part of the unorganized sector. And therefore the little education they gain, deteriorates and wanes away, and is rendered useless. Providing infrastructure doesn’t mean that they have been provided every aspect comprehensively that can see them through for betterment and advancement,” he said, who could not shake-off his view. “…and in government subsidized hospitals… there are lack of systematic solutions to maintain the level of health care…to put a check to malpractices...to discipline rogue and indifferent health workers…grey faced patients barely respond to the doctors and nurses treating them. For the behavior they meet is like monkeys, who are used for experiments.” He summarized almost every weakness or flaw in the public education and healthcare system that he had come across in daily newspapers.

“Will there be some improvement in future?”

“I don’t know…they are born in a netherworld of sorts and till they live they stay entangled in its various forms. They are so poor that sometimes many people wake up to discover that they don’t have enough money to plan the day ahead or to think of anything progressive beyond a constant struggle to survive. With this hand to mouth living how can one be sure of any sort of improvement from generation to generation,” he said slowly but clearly.

There was a short silence, and then Raunak continued, “…seems, they see no colors and the one they select are different from ours,” he had seriousness in his tone, “…they do take…or are forced to pick wrong professions…easy options…shortcuts free of struggle involved in just living, and finally some turn up as thieves and criminals…failures. But don’t they fear virtue, god? Does, virtue or societal threat of regulation fail to prevent them from reaching extremes?”

“What god…whose godliness they hardly receive. This all is meaningless for them. I am not sure as mine is an external view and how can any of us know how it feels to be on their side of life. Virtue and vice do not have a singular crossover, it’s subjective and is pivoted at ones’ state of life or calling. They live and make choices like all of us do, by responding to the nudges of life, circumstances, desperation and desires; taking any route they feel is better for them. Probably, they join what we call low life… their belief system intertwined with what we call organized or cultured society can be divergent from what we are comfortable with… satanic cults… extreme practices… lack of empathy… psychotic criminals… other extreme of acceptable behavior… this all for them might not be as satanic as it seems from our vantage. They know no good, for they witness no good. It appears like they are neglected, even by god, and…are like…,” he finished, cutting short his sentence.

Raunak guessed Samsher’s last words, “stepchildren of god”. He realized, after hearing to his father, that he can’t be judgmental and hence can’t categorize them. For the context was important that had spread beyond what he could have fathomed with his little understanding of life and its many faceted challenges. After, they came back from the Gurudwara, Raunak retreated to his room and stood by the window, at his favorite corner, analyzing and recollecting the scenes in his mind, which he had witnessed earlier while passing through the narrow street. That experience and the open ended talk that he had with his father was quite thought provoking for him. He was overwhelmed with the facts of social construct and its very elements. He was sure that he does not possess enough experience from the real life that would have empowered him to form any opinion. He had witnessed realistic and somber aspects of the uncertainties those dwellers faced in their lives. The truth, the reality of life laid on the other side of the visible, lost in neglect, far from India’s way of revealing herself to the world. He tried not to think about those miserable aspects because more he unfolded them with his humble understanding; more sadistic sides appeared to him. He felt uncertain himself, uncertain for his future, his preparedness to handle unforeseen challenges in his future that might rattle his definition of preferred life. He thought, how privileged and fortunate he was for all that his parents had provided him as part of a decent living. He was pondering, playing scenarios in his mind, by placing himself among the dwellers – thinking if he was born there, among them, in the dirty street. He felt an inexplicable sense of imminent fear. He looked into the night sky, through the window in his room, breathing deeply and trying to suppress his anxiety, to stop the surge of a lump of uneasiness that had filled his chest. The very next moment he felt uncomfortable and crumbling. He pictured himself as a poor and unfortunate person, after he compared himself with rich people and classes of the town, whose luxury had appealed him from the beginning and had given birth to many of his yearnings. He was overpowered by an unpleasant sensation, scaling his body. It was something strong and had potential to define and deform his outlook for times to come. His mind was undergoing a radical change. His decisions, as part of the various options that he had projected for himself amidst a phase of introspection, were swinging to extremes. During that phase, he was not sure if he was still thinking rationally, he was not sure what answers he had received from his conscience, they seemed misdirected and tumbled.

Chapter 4

Slippery roads

There was a small religious gathering in one of the neighborhood houses, a Hindu naming ceremony – namkaran, for naming a new born baby. After attending the ceremony Rajib, Uma and Rekha returned, walked back together; babbling on random topics of their daily household life. Raunak and Gopi had also gone to the ceremony. They had huddled together on their way back, separate from their mothers, walking few meters behind them, maintaining a little distance and separation for their talks. Neelu was walking besides her mother and was silent throughout, as she had nothing to contribute to whatever three women were discussing. She listened to whatsoever was discussed, occasionally gazing randomly at other neighboring houses or passerby’s.

“Raunak don’t you get bored, entire day… sitting in your home? How you manage to stay indoors for so long?” asked Gopi.

“What else should I do here? There are no places where once can visit. Others from our childhood days have moved out of this locality and there is no one in this town whom I know from my school or college days. But, at times… ahh…once or twice in a week I do go to city, sometimes, to bring goods for domestic consumption or to run other household errands …” It was clearly visible from Raunak’s expressions that how much jaded or fed up he was, staying in his house, waiting desperately for his job offer letter, to rescue him from that idleness. In the town there was no one he could visit, no one from his age group, no one whom he knew. Also there were no relatives or family friends who stayed in the nearby localities. During his stay at his home he had starting yearning for new friendships or companionships, whatever could help him to break the monotony that had seeped in after he had come back from his engineering college. Irrespective of different choices or preferences, random catchups with Gopi were opening him. Inexplicitly and subtly, Gopi’s friendship was welcomed by Raunak and vice-versa. They were headed towards some mutually agreeable common grounds, leading to their frequent encounters, thereafter.

Earlier at the ceremony, otherwise shy and recluse Raunak had enjoyed talking and mingling with others, from his neighborhood, over the lunch hours. Throughout the time spent at the ceremony Gopi didn’t spare much time for Raunak. He excused himself and rather ignored Raunak when by chance they met each other while picking up food plates. Gopi was busy talking to Neelu and had her undivided attention, who had no other company or acquaintance there and Uma was busy talking to other women. Raunak had observed them talking, laughing, cracking jokes and even eating from each other’s plate once or twice. They seemed to have connected easily as if gravitated towards a shared interest.

Raunak continued, “And did you manage to finish your farm work in time”.

“Yes I did. It was really tiring to go daily to the fields and supervise laborers. Farming has become much more demanding now, managing Bihari laborers and tolerating their tantrums really tests your patience. Bihar state has started providing job opportunities within the state and influx of migrants to Punjab has reduced. This has led to a drop in manpower availability and hence an increase in the daily labor wages, here in Punjab. There are instances, where during the sowing and harvesting seasons Punjabi landlords have camped at railway stations to immediately hire and reserve these laborers, as soon as they debark Punjab bound trains,” he replied with a feeling of astonishment but sighed in relief because such troubles were still few months away, i.e. the following harvesting phase. He paused for a moment, changed the topic and revisited one of the previous discussion point, “…Why don’t you come with me. There are many interesting places to visit in the city. I know for sure you are not aware and have not witnessed the changes that our city has undergone while you were away for almost four years, for your engineering studies”. Gopi was still stuck to their earlier talk.

“Places like what…type?” he enquired from Gopi, “…and are you free these days to take me there and show me around?”

“Of course, I am free…absolutely free. As I have just told you…I don’t have any pending errands”, Gopi instantly replied, gazing at him and then looking away quickly as though concerned about something else, more worthy. “Also I will have your company, for you know roaming alone in no fun”. For the first time since they had started walking, he had momentarily turned his face to look at Raunak while extending his offer to take him around and insisting on his proposal.

“Okay… I would be obliged. Thank you. Do call me and let me know when you decide to visit those places. Let me catchup on what all I have missed in our city, over all these years,” replied Raunak accepting Gopi’s offer. Their short togetherness had converted into a deep friendly camaraderie.

Throughout the time they talked, Gopi kept looking somewhere else. Not for a single moment had he willingly turned his face towards Raunak. He was fixated on something, though they discussed a diverse range of topics but he had something else going on in his mind, in parallel, as well. His complete attention had stayed elusive. His eyes were continually pivoted at Neelu, who was walking in front of them, observing and exploring her body, checking her out. He was gazing, rather fixated at her supple and rounded derriere, swinging both ways, while she sauntered innocently.

When they reached back, Gopi went straight into his house. Raunak joined his mother for a moment, got disinterested in whatever his mother and other ladies were discussing and immediately went inside when Samsher called him for some work. Neelu, who was quiet till then and had not uttered a single word, suddenly interrupted Uma, who was engrossed in talking and had totally disremembered Neelu’s presence, “Mom, I will come back soon. I am going to collect few course books from Gopi”.

“Ok…,” said Uma, nodding her head in approval. She was bewildered, though she was pretty sure she hadn’t, but was still trying to recollect if she had informed her about the availability of the requisite course books with Gopi, after he had offered to lend his books the other day. She immediately sorted out that Gopi would have informed Neelu, directly, about the books, at the ceremony. After Neelu left and went inside Gopi’s house, Uma continued with her gossips, with Rajib and Rekha.

Neelu went into Gopi’s house and entered the living room. While she walked in, she noticed that Chootu was busy removing stubs of grass and weed, which had grown through the gaps, between the herringbone pattern brick walkway that led to house’s entrance and extended into the backyard as well. Chootu paused; his eyes followed her till she was no more visible from the spot where he was squatting. The sound of hand hoe – khurpa, hitting the bricks resumed after she entered the living room.

Gopi had already taken out the books and had placed them on a side table near the sofa. Neelu occupied a seat on the sofa near the books and Gopi occupied the seat next to her.

“These are all the books that I studied in the first and second year of the course. Editions might have changed now but you can study from them up until new books are available in the market…I am sure not much would have changed from syllabus perspective,” he suggested insightfully, further relaxing himself on the sofa.

“Definitely they will serve my purpose,” she said, and was busy flipping through the pages of the book, which was placed on the top of the book stack.

A loose page flew out of the book and landed near Gopi’s feet on the ground. Impulsively, Neelu bent forward and extended her right arm towards the loose page and picked it; while straightening herself up, she placed her hand on Gopi’s thigh. He sensed an electric pulse rushing through his entire body and got goose pimples. He could feel his heart pounding and blood running through his veins.

They continued talking; once again Gopi shifted his weight, adjusted himself in the cushion and placed his right arm behind her shoulders, extending it along sofa’s backrest.

“When should I return these books… back,” she said looking straight at Gopi.

“Keep them as long as you want. They are of no use to me, as I have already completed my graduation. Further, if you want to keep them permanently, that’s alright,” he smiled back. Establishing a rapport at any level is a success only when you have something common to talk about. Meeting her for first time in a personal space and talking about educational subjects and books was not really going to help him through his motives. He anxiously raced his mind to think about something more helpful more deeper, which could get him bonus points and win her attention, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“Ok, sure that helps. I will keep the books. Thanks,” she replied back softly, with a tender grateful smile. In the meantime, he deliberately allowed his hand to slip lightly on her shoulder, touched her bare neck and caressed it sensitively. She didn’t oppose or resist but looked at him in surprise. She tried to say something but words didn’t come to her tongue; she was confused, rather paralyzed.

This time he caressed her neck muscles, allowing his fingers to slightly enter her shirt collar. With the sudden found courage, he shifted his weight onto his left hip and moved closer to her, neared his face close to Neelu’s. She closed her eyes like a pigeon, thinking that if she can’t see him she will escape that uncomfortable yet irresistible situation. She was breathing deeply, her bosom rose and fell rapidly with her big voluminous breasts bulging out in a rhythm. He kissed her softly over the forehead, then eyes, then nose, everywhere over her face and finally on her lips. After some initial hesitation, she responded and opened up; she gently parted her lips and kissed him back. The next moment they were sitting with their lips locked, embracing each other tightly with their arms wrapped around each other, sitting still without much movement like love statues, only their lips moving passionately, kissing and nibbling each other. Her reciprocation had bolstered Gopi’s confidence. He freed himself from her embrace, pulled the center table closer and sat on it, directly facing her. She was looking at him, captivated in the moment, gazing at his face in a hypnotic manner and imagining his next move. Her breathing grew faster and faster under the onslaught of Gopi’s seductive artifices. Her nipples were stiffened and protruding rebelliously through layers of her outfits. She immediately stood up, as if awakened from a deep hypnotic sleep, and wanted to walkout, leave. Gopi stopped her, held her left arm tightly, and enveloped her from behind. She could feel his warm erratic breath over her neck and sense his lips brushing her skin. He kissed her roughly over the neck, rubbed his nose, licked her smooth flawless skin with the tip of his moist tongue and simultaneously pulled away her shirt’s collars so that he could bare her shoulders further. He maneuvered and sifted through his acts as if every move was well rehearsed. He wrapped his arms around her midriff and slithered one hand under her shirt. She held his hands, tried to stop him there and then, and pull herself out. However, she scummbled to her desires, which till that time had stayed dormant and unawakened. She could not act and stood there paralyzed, gazing at the ceiling. She loosened her grip on his hands and couldn’t resist him any further. Either one was able to feel each other’s heartbeat, pounding vehemently in a magical rhythm. He slowly raised his hands up her body, lifting any and every layer of her clothing and started fondling her breasts, softly kneading and feeling them. Amidst bittersweet feelings laden with pleasure and guilt, Neelu continued to hold both of her lips, pulled inwards between rows of her teeth, suppressing and subduing any steamy ahhh that might emanate in response to her yearnings.

They sensed some movement outside the living room; she got scared, impetuously pushed him away, adjusted her clothes and hair, and picked the books that were placed on the side table, pressed them against her breasts to hide her stiff teats and left the room. Gopi sat there on the sofa; his eyes followed her till she left the room. Oblivious to the imminent complexities that seemed a foregone conclusion, he appeared miffed due to the paucity of time. Rekha had come and was approaching the living room. Neelu avoided catching her eye and went straight into her house, silently into her bedroom.

In the evening Gopi knocked on Raunak’s door. Raunak was helping his mother to complete few domestic chores. On seeing Gopi he recollected Gopi’s offer to take him to the city and show some new upbeat places, which had popped up in recent years and drew in lot of youngsters. He told Gopi to give him few minutes to get ready; he nodded and chose to wait outside in his car. Raunak informed his mother, Rajib, about his plans to go out, visit few places in the city along with Gopi and went to his room to get ready and leave as soon as possible. He was excited and to a great extent wanted to explore and try something new, outside his routine life. Rajib followed him and cautioned him to return back in time. She didn’t want to allow him to go out with Gopi, but said nothing because he had already planned it and Gopi was waiting for him. She felt helpless in that situation as she didn’t have enough time to reason with Raunak and he had informed about his plans only at the last moment. She was surprised with the new found companionship of Raunak’s.

He came out, dressed and ready to leave. Gopi was waiting for him in his car. Raunak hopped into the front left seat. “Ok… where are we going,” questioned Raunak, excitedly.

“Wait for some time and see it for yourself. You will definitely enjoy it. I can promise,” he said serenely. He turned his car towards the city and pressed the accelerator. Then he pushed an audio cassette into car’s music player. A soft and uplifting music filled the car.

The evening weather was pleasing. Raunak rolled down car’s windowpane on his side and a gust of wind laden with assorted urban scents forced into the car, into his shirt’s collar, sleeves, around his body. He experienced a boundless feeling, enjoying both music and weather, and was anticipating a good time ahead. Gopi drove the car towards the city, but took an otherwise unfamiliar and indirect route. It was lengthier, plied by few vehicles that carried construction material to the city extension, which was primarily under construction. It ran parallel to a dike, didn’t have much commercial activity or regulation, as there were very few settlements, and traffic’s flow was faster. Raunak appreciated Gopi’s plan to select a route that helped them to enjoy their ride and absorb in a bit of the bucolic backdrop. There was hardly any traffic; air was cooler, filled with aroma of the poplar trees that dotted the left side of the road, along the dike. Gopi pressed his feet harder on the accelerator paddle and they vroomed down that road. It further thrilled Raunak.

They entered the city from another end, sky had turned grey, slightly amber beyond the tops and soon it was going to be dark. Gopi raised the volume of the speakers, and carefully ziz-zaged through the busy roads. He was familiar with that part of the city. Little later they reached a hotel, it had a unique hum and buzz around it, away from the busiest part of the city and its shopping center. Gopi parked the car on the footpath next to the hotel; and they went inside.

The dining area of the hotel was beautifully designed and interiors were very clean. It was hexagonal in shape; all six sides had large windows, framed in different patterns and hues of colored glass. Entire floor was covered with opulent looking carpets, with matching shades of color as that of curtains. The hall was temperature regulated with air-conditioning, regularly sprayed with a mild perfume to maintain an uplifting ambience. Roofs and window nooks were covered with marvelous floral designs made out of plaster of Paris. Furniture was equally impressive, shining and methodically placed on the carpet in the hall. There were tables for twos, fours, sixes, and private booths for families. Light with slightly blue color cast dimly filled the hall, a soft instrumental theme played softly and casted its spell. In one of the corners, closer to the entrance, was the reception desk and counter - with beautiful, well groomed girls standing behind it, attending to guests. There was some kind of celebratory brouhaha going on in the corridor at the upper level. Sincere and serious looking bellhops politely ushered guests to the upper levels.

They occupied a two seater table in the dining hall. Gopi wanted to place an order for some drinks. A waiter, silently perched in one extreme of the hall noticed and rushed to help him, smoothly scurrying through the rows of furniture between them. He took the order and went back.

“Why the crowd here, in the dining area, so thin? I guess time is quite ripe for dinner,” asked Raunak, to Gopi who was occupying a chair opposite to him, sitting comfortably and in a relaxed manner. Raunak was still spell bounded and fascinated by the place. He continued to look around and observe various décor items with great curiosity. He was besotted by many aspects of the place and was unconsciously trying to unravel an undefined element of mystique that it carried.

“You will know…,”Gopi replied plainly, after a pause. By that time Raunak had moved on with his thoughts and was not waiting for his answer.

Raunak recollected and asked another question, both to pacify his curiosity and rollover the conversation, “…but look… that side,” he pointed towards the stairway that circled a pillar and disappeared into upper floors, “…there are more people moving in and out there. I think this place is cheaper for night stays but provides costlier food, else why will this dining area be left unoccupied by its clientele.” The very next moment he realized he was not carrying enough money with him. He grasped that he had ended up in a situation, similar to the one he had experienced when he accompanied both Gopi and Kumar for dinner, few weeks earlier. He had not thought about the overlay of possible expenses for that day. He looked at Gopi, just to ensure that he had not sensed his predicament, and sat there in silence, disorganized.

“Why are you getting so restless? Wait, have patience…enjoy your drink, you will get familiarized with this place in some time” he smiled back, “also… don’t worry, I’ll pay… it’s alright”. Gopi had smelled his sudden impatience and genuinely reassured him with his last statement. He didn’t intend to demean him but wanted to ensure that his plan for that evening is not jeopardized by Raunak’s loss of interest due to possible monetary reservations.

It was certainly embarrassing for Raunak. He could not believe that Gopi had accurately read his mind when he inadvertently pondered on a point to check if it was an expensive hotel. He was grateful to Gopi because he had assured him to cover for all the expenses, but he pitied himself and hated the fact that for each and every purchase he had to be considerate of his spending capacity. He kept mum and continued to sip his drink. He contemplated if his desires are basic ones or mere indulgences.

“How are you feeling today? I am sure you are enjoying. Isn’t it better to visit here or similar places, rather than locking yourself in your house,” he asked Raunak laughingly. He examined the expressions on Raunak’s face.

“Certainly, it’s really nice – relaxing and refreshing for a change,” he said, sweeping his ambitious black eyes through the hall and cautiously pushing back other overwhelming thoughts in his mind. He was thankful to Gopi for bringing him there. A hollow sensation of cavity in his stomach encouraged him; “Should we call for some food as well” he said looking into the menu that was placed there on the table, at one edge.

“Don’t jump directly to the food. There are some other stuffs that need to be enjoyed first… will eat later,” grinned Gopi. His eyes emanated a mischievous look and provided a drift that he had other plans too. He finished his drink by pouring it into his stomach in a single big sip; weightily placed the glass on the coaster, sending droplets of water, which had accumulated to form a water ring on the coaster around the base of his cold beer mug, flying around; pushed his chair and directly went to the counter. He talked specifically, smiled while facing a girl that stood behind the counter, handed her some money, collected a token, and looked upstairs into the stairwell, again smiled and returned to the table, where Raunak was sitting.

Raunak was still not able to sort out what Gopi had on his mind. Why did he pay? What for? and How much? He didn’t feel appropriate to ask him and enquire, to clarify his doubts. He was curious.

Gopi, held Raunak’s elbow and pulled him from the chair. He emanated a sense of urgency and said, “Come, immediately… and follow me”. He took him upstairs, searched for a particular room, repeatedly checked the room number that was mentioned on the token held in his left hand, and validated the ones displayed on the doors in the corridor. He located the correct door and they went inside the room.

Room was lit with a faintly glowing pattern of bulbs, hanging from its ceiling. Curtains were drawn, a king size bed was elaborately laid out with soft pillows and mattresses, and embellished with bedside flower vases and lamps. Floor was covered with carpets, expensive and intricate as compared to the ones in the dining hall. Everything that can define better living was present there – wall mounted TV, record player, and fridge, plus replicas of ethnical art, decorative boxes, wardrobes and trays. Hanging flowerpots, suspended above a pebble floor in the balcony, added to the elegance of the room. There was a door, which led to an equally sophisticated bathroom.

Raunak was fully impressed and swooned by observing the possibilities around him. Concurrently, he had construed that Gopi wanted to show him luxury settings and got a little bit upset. “How can he presume that I have not seen or visited such places before,” he muttered to himself. He recalled the duration of his stay in Ludhiana, while pursuing his graduation. Many a times he had gone to dance clubs, high-end malls and themed hotels, for celebrating friends’ birthday, his fresher’s and farewell party, and so forth. Another question came to his mind and for that he realized that it’s necessary to seek an explanation from Gopi. He asked, “Hey, listen... are we going to stay here? By why and what for? I noticed that you have paid some money at the counter, before we came to this room... why will we stay here? Also, I haven’t informed my parents about it. They might get worried if I don’t go back today”.

“No no, we are not going to stay here. We will leave this place in an hour or so,” he said quickly, calming him down. Then after a brief silence he continued, “…are you interested in girls…,” he hesitated “…in sex.” He looked up at Raunak, who stood there amazed. Gopi was blunt in his approach and gave him a mischievous smile.

Raunak heard few soft knocks on the door. He turned back and looked at the main door of the room, but it was the other door that led to the bathroom. It opened; there stood a beautiful, gorgeous girl wearing just a see-through negligee with tassels and flower patterns embroidered over it, literally wearing nothing underneath it. She was well developed, young and in her late teens. She had an appeal in her eyes and wallowed boldness. She stood there gracefully, twisting and curling like a puppet. Her approach was riveting; a personification of a puppet and puppeteer converged into one. She looked at them, peeked through her shiny and dreamy eyes. She purposefully moved her tongue on her glossy lower lip, licking it seductively from one corner to another and moistening it further. Entire room got filled with a provoking and tantalizing aroma, which radiated from her smooth and curvaceous body.

“This in the real stuff… leisure… relaxation…,” crackled Gopi, pointing at the girl, who looked straight into Raunak’s eyes and ruffled him a bit. Raunak stood there dumbstruck, still trying to assign some meaning to the scene that unfolded in front of him. “Go kid…play, tonight it’s your day. Claim it.” Gopi pushed him with his celebratory pitch. But he resisted, an inertia to venture beyond, hesitation of sorts, and stood there pokerfaced like a statue looking inquisitively at her, staring with eyes wide open, without blinking.

“Ok, seems you can’t help yourself, as always. I tried; can’t walk with you beyond this. Wait and let me finish,” he said in an excited voice. Within seconds Gopi stripped naked, shamelessly, ready for his play, and ignored Raunak’s presence altogether. He was brimming with an uncontained eagerness. He approached her, who had already flung her negligee and stood there naked with her silky hair flowing over shoulder, over her small firm breasts, arms slightly swinging on her side, ready to cast their magic. Round, properly shaped hips, taut, thighs toned but soft like bundles of cotton led to slender legs, clean, shiny as if scrubbed with milk and nectar. Gopi lifted her, scooped in his well-built arms and carried her to the bed.

Raunak moved, broke free from a fascinating spell. Attributed some weight to the faint call of his conscience, his uneasiness, opened the door and ran out, down the stairs, excused himself from the people that filled the hall, “please…excuse me, sorry… pardon me… gotta hurry, oops...so sorry.” Girls and bellhops that occupied the counter giggled behind his back, relishing his uneasiness while he plodded out.

He came outside the hotel and went to the spot where Gopi’s car was parked and started waiting for him, rapidly pacing back and forth on the footpath. He realized that, he was neither shocked at Gopi stripping shamelessly before him, nor at the audacity of his plans. He was stunned, captivated by the damsel, who had stood in front of him a moment prior. He closed his eyes and envisaged her twisting and curling. He sat on car’s bonnet, lost in his imagination, tried to recollect every detail of her presence and simultaneously tried to placate himself. He tried to distract his mind and went to a wheel cart, a rehri-walla, who had positioned his stall along the footpath, at a little distance from the car. The vendor, a lean old man, was selling groundnuts, pop-corns, other eatables and snack items. Raunak decided to buy some groundnuts, for he had nothing else to kill his time and was hungry. Moreover, he had no clue about the time that Gopi was going to take, in that room.

“Give me groundnuts…worth five rupees,” said Raunak simply.

“Ji Sahib,” old man replied, weakly. He was aged, with wrinkled face skin like a worn-out and discolored parchment. “…sahib what are you doing here?” he asked while extending his arm towards Raunak to hand over a small newspaper pouch, which contained warm groundnuts.

“What?” Raunak was flummoxed by his question and realized that its answer was not obvious and commonsensical; rather it had a connotation attached to it. He hesitated and decided not to mention the real sequence of events that had brought him there, to that hotel. He was not afraid of getting unfairly judged by the old man, for he didn’t matter to him, but he didn’t want to associate himself with something he was not part of. “Oh…actually I was passing by and my car broke down. I am stuck here now and am waiting for a mechanic,” he lied, cautiously placing his words while he drafted his excuse.

“Fine, good,” he smiled, “I thought… something else,” he said vaguely and moved on to serve other customers.

Although Raunak had understood that the old man had taken him to be a prostitute-goer. But he managed to justify the purpose behind his presence there, by coming up with a suitable explanation, to absolve himself of any association with that hotel. He wanted to explore and know more about that hotel. He pretended and continued to act in his projected self and enquired about the place from him, “I am not from this city and I think it will take considerable time to get my car fixed. Can you recommend a suitable place to stopover, for tonight?” he struggled to look genuine, “…Is this place suitable and affordable,” he said finishing his volley of questions, while pointing at the hotel. He was not sure if old man was convinced with his first answer.

Expressions on old man’s face changed drastically. “Nah Sahib…no, this place is hell, not good for you,” he said violently and tried to dissuade Raunak before he would have made any choice.

“But, why?” he said heavily but inquisitively. Raunak wanted him to provide more details and explain further about the place, its repute and business aspects. His trick had worked well, to convince the old man about his ignorance of the place.

“Sahib, there is more to it than what meets the eye…it’s not a hotel… it’s a brothel,” he said plainly. “Rich lads come here… to get what they say…a… is fun… pleasure or a dope of adventure”.

“Oh, is it… strange… can’t believe it…from where does the brothel… get girls?” he immediately fired his next question, while maintaining his surprised expression. It was his key question, whose answer he was desperately looking for. He was unable to shake off the charm of the girl, whom he had seen in the hotel room. Somehow he didn’t want to accept the fact that she was a prostitute. He felt awkward while questioning in a forthright manner, jumping directly to enquire about the girls, but the old man didn’t find any inappropriateness in his impatience.

“Bitches…bloody shameless… characterless bitches they are,” he replied. He was infuriated and carried a strong opinion about the girls. “They are not the girls who do this… partake in rubbish, for money… some are even school going girls, from well off families”.

“But then why and what for… are they involved into this?” asked Raunak.

“Some girls do this for survival, as means for easy income, some for extra income to support their indulgences beyond their means, drugs, and others just do it for sake of it, pleasure…foolish they are, can’t handle their adolescence, desires,” he paused. “Sahib the picture is not as clear and simple as it seems”, he concluded and flashed a judgmental smile.

“Ahh…I didn’t get the last part… what do you mean?” Raunak looked confused.

“There are some women whose husbands have gone abroad, to earn, provide for better living, and see …see what filth their wives are laying hands on,” again he exploded in anger. “These women are from all possible age groups. They come here and indulge in this god forsaken activity, some manage to pull themselves out and leave, but many find it hard to resist and leave. Believe me, their conscience had evaporated and are stuck in this hell, sinking deeper and deeper into this abhorrent quicksand,” he pointed towards the hotel, which stood there in his backdrop, glittering in a star-studded and moonlit night sky.

“Very bad,” he pretended to favor his point of view. It seemed to be a very touchy subject for that old man. Raunak pondered if he exudes same energy and frustration while talking to others about this topic as well.

“Indeed it is. Moreover, not only this, some married men come here to fuck and experience foreign women, white skin, and taste their bodies,” he looked into Raunak’s eyes, who for some reason failed to look back. “This lust… is bad, it’s a disease. Rather an addiction, which has ruined many families,” he emphasized his point.

Raunak stood there motionlessly, softly chewing his groundnuts. The things had turned out to be much deep rooted then what he had initially expected. The old man had vented his anger, which had oozed out with each and every word that he had uttered. Raunak thought of himself as a confidante, whom that old man had leveraged to unburden himself and share his emotions.

He said, “See Sahib…look at these rich lads. They drain whole of their money in these orgies, on drugs and foreign women. Neither did they fear their parents nor that almighty god,” this time he referred to few boys who were entering that building. “Their parents, what do they get, disrespect, filthy language and abuses from their children. They are wasting the hard earned money of their parents and spoiling and wasting themselves. But, I think somehow their parents also need to be blamed for this. Undoubtedly, common life has degenerated today especially for such children, because of the unreasonable pocket money that they receive from their parents as a substitute for their attention and time. It’s doing no good… to them,” he reflected on multiple perspectives that raced through his mind.

Raunak saw Gopi coming out of hotel’s front door. He wrapped up his talk, excused himself and moved away from the rehri. The old man seemed content, for he had received much attention from Raunak to whine. Raunak met Gopi near his car; he seemed happy and greeted Raunak with a pleasant smile on his face. Gopi started the car and they left. They continued driving towards other parts of the city, for Gopi wanted to show some more city spots to Raunak. After they had covered a kilometer or so, they had to stop at a sobriety checkpoint. A police team was stopping every passing vehicle and questioning its occupants.

“Gopi, now what,” asked Raunak. Small drops of sweat had appeared on his forehead. He was terrified, because Gopi was not sober and also because of the reason Gopi had chosen that road.

“You are a pigeon, always scared of little issues. Calm down and sit silently, I will handle this”. He opened the door, slammed it shut and trudged towards a policeman, who was standing closest to the spot where their car had stopped.

Without exchanging a single word Gopi shoved a five hundred rupee currency note into policeman’s pocket. He didn’t say anything and smiled in return. “Let this car pass…,” he said, loudly informing another police constable, who had blocked the passage with a mobile barricade. Gopi steered it through and managed everything confidently. His demeanor was not that of a first timer.

“For what… did you pay him,” Raunak enquired, surprised at the fact that he gave a five hundred rupee currency note without being asked for anything, not even any sort of explanation.

“For what…,” he grinned, “because from where we are coming. The whole game back there, at the hotel is going on, continuing without any check or restriction, because of these policemen only. It’s their grace. They get their pie of the share, both from customers like us and owner of the hotel. So that, needful people like us can get what we want…,” he explained, laughing loudly and assertively “…without being caught. Its win-win for all isn’t it”.

Raunak was surprised. He whispered to himself, “Money really matters…”

“Yes, it does,” Gopi replied after he overheard Raunak’s comment, “I pay them every time I come here. For the first time I also got scarred but now it’s okay…for I understand the modus operandi here…and they also recognize me well”.

Chapter 5

Intrinsic Commotions

Beebo had left for the day after finishing her quota of work. Entire morning, she along with Rajib had cleaned wheat grains, by removing weeds and gravels, and filled it in a plastic gunny bag, packed, to be sent to a neighboring flour mill, quota for next month’s consumption. Both Raunak and Samsher were sitting in the courtyard and were busy discussing tidbits of world politics and sports. Nasib was resting nearby in her bed, staring into the void and lost in her own thoughts, awake but snorting loudly, making sudden intermittent movements, due to her old age, in response to stray sounds that entered her ears and led to a perforated understanding of her surrounding due to hearing loss. Her eyes peeped through thick bifocal glass spectacles that was supported by her nose; her pupils floated in her deep eye sockets, frisk but restricted, like a roulette table ball. She was almost always lost in her thoughts, memories, because they were her only sincere companions. Sometimes she would sit near Meow’s eating bowl, and watch her drinking milk from it. Meow would drink it in a single go, without lifting her head once shoved into the bowl, her long tongue working rapidly, moving in and out, in a rhythm – gulp…gulp…gulp, swallowing, often spilling few drops from sides of her jaws. Later Meow would lift her head and slowly lick drops of milk clinging to her whiskers with her tongue, moving it over her nose, nostrils, around her mouth, till every point around her jaws that it can reach was scrubbed. Nasib would smile after seeing Meow satisfied and satiated. She would talk to her, in monologues, asking some adorable questions and answering them herself, engaging herself with Meow without expecting any answer, but her attention. Meow would stare at Nasib, every time trying to decipher her various emotions, before jumping over the wall, only to come back later at the time of next meal or her prayers. Occasionally an old woman from the neighboring street would come to meet Nasib. On such days Nasib would opportunely enjoy her company, sharing and discussing anything and everything they would have learned, since their last meeting, while majorly staying within the precincts of their respective homes. Other than that old lady, primarily it was only Samsher, who would listen to her, patiently, give her company and help her deal with old age loneliness, regulating his frustration while answering her repeated questions every now and then. Within few weeks that old women, Nasib’s only companion from the neighborhood, died in her sleep. Samsher chose not to inform Nasib about it and also cautioned Raunak and Rajib from doing so.

“Raunak, what are you doing? Come here,” shouted Rajib from the outer veranda.

“Yes mom…” he came running from where he was sitting.

“Now don’t forget to take these grains to the flourmill. There is only little flour left in the kitchen, else you…we all, have to fast and go empty stomach,” she said, while tying the open end of the gunny bag with a piece of rope.

“Ok…I’ll go after lunch,” he promised. After he had his lunch, he placed the gunny bag, half filled with wheat grains, in the front part of his scooter and left for a nearby flourmill. He hurried because he wanted to return soon, to accompany his father and join him for evening prayers at the Gurudwara.

He reached the mill, dropped the bag on a weighing machine and called a mill worker. A worker, fully covered with white flour dust, dust deposited on his hair, eyebrows and inner lining of nostrils, weighed the bag and told him to wait for his turn after placing his bag behind the row of bags that were already placed there for milling. Worker returned back to his work, near mechanized grinding wheels. Raunak sat on a bench that was placed under a Neem tree outside the mill. Few others were also sitting there, waiting for their turn.

“Sahib ek rupiya dedo… sirf ek rupiya,” pleaded a shabbily dressed girl while extending her hand towards a man who was sitting at the farthest end, of the bench, from where Raunak was sitting. She was begging for one rupee. She was scruffily dressed, with a number of patches stitched to her frock. Her hair soiled, definitely loaded with lice, skinny with thin bone structure and ribcage sticking out of her shirt. That man scolded her angrily and waived her to go away, “Get lost…you filthy being. It’s your daily job… to beg… go find some work,” he finished, clearing his throat, swallowed his saliva, pushing it down his gullet in a jiffy and continued, “…money does not grow on trees, like leafs that I can pluck and distribute…to you…go away…get lost”. Few other men, sitting next to him nodded and supported his point. “These filthy beggars are born, down there in streets, know nothing about their legitimate fathers… bastards… hurled into streets to beg as soon as they learn to walk…nonsense,” supported another, frowning. “Pimps and prostitutes…,” snarled another.

She didn’t get perturbed and stayed expressionless, as exposure to such behavior and comments had become normal to her. She had learnt how to tolerate people’s reactions and not react to them. She approached Raunak and extended her fragile left arm and hand. There were few coins lying on her palm- two fifty paisa coins and a one rupee coin, to be precise. She pleaded with her eyes. She seemed on the verge of crying, trying to hold back her tears and kept looking straight at Raunak. Her lips were dry, parched, with a thick layer of dust settled on them; yellow discolored teeth, with plaque settled around gum margins and between the teeth. In her right hand she was holding a polythene bag, filled with an assortment of rotten fruits, which she had collected from fruit vendors, and a deformed steel glass. These were her only possessions.

Raunak was moved by her situation and plight. It impelled him; he reticently slipped a one rupee coin into her hand. He didn’t want others to notice. “Now go,” he said, with a quick sympathetic glance at her.

Now she had three rupees with her. Her expression changed as if she had accomplished something. She went near a heap that lay in one corner of mill’s façade. It was formed after the flour dust was swept by a mill worker earlier in the day, while he had cleaned the floor before starting that day’s operation. She removed straws, husk, etc. from the heap, did her best to gather only the flour and filled her glass with it. Then she ran to a nearby kiryana shop and bought something. She placed all the coins she had – three rupees, on the counter and shopkeeper handed over something wrapped in a small newspaper pouch. Later, she went to a tap and poured some water in her glass, on top of the flour that she had collected earlier. She mixed the contents of the pouch with flour and water, stirred it with her index finger and drank it. He presumed that she had bought some sugar or salt from the shop, with three rupees that she had managed to collect. He was astonished by this sight of extreme poverty. Others, sitting near him seemed to have become immune and didn’t even notice. He pitied her, others like her; he was extremely shocked to see how people were surviving below the poverty line. He sensed an uneasy feeling, a knot, tightness in his chest and throat and wanted to snivel. He felt as if something had pierced through his heart, adrenalin level had shot up in his body. He had witnessed a very different level of destitution. He couldn’t dodge the chain of thoughts that swamped his mind.

Flourmill worker called him, “Sahib, your flour… bag is ready.” He was reweighing the flour. Raunak gathered himself and realized that he was the last one sitting there, all others had long gone.

“How much,” asked Raunak, without turning his head and looking at the worker. He was still avidly observing that girl.

“Twenty two rupees for your twenty kilograms of wheat,” said the worker, coughing, blowing clouds of flour, which had settled around his mouth, with every single word he uttered.

Raunak took out his wallet, gave him the money and returned back. For a last time, he looked at the girl. He saw her following pedestrians, begging for money; again with an objective to collect soiled flour, sweeten it with some sugar and satiate her hunger, as part of her perpetual struggle to live, strive.

When he reached home, it was late for the evening prayers and Samsher had already left for the Gurudwara. He noticed, Gujjar, a milkman from nearby village, coming towards his house to supply milk for the day, on his motorcycle – put…put…put, making a distinct sound, which was audible from a distance. Rajib came out and held a stainless steel milk container. She allowed Raunak to enter the house and kept the gate wide open. He removed the flour bag and kept it in the kitchen. Later he came out, to help his mother fetch milk and close the gate after she steps back in.

Gujjar brought his motorcycle to a sudden halt making a screeching sound with its brakes–eeeeeeeee. “Choote babuji kiddan….how is your health,” smiled Gujjar, displaying his tobacco stained teeth and initiating a customary talk. He took the container from Rajib and started filling it with milk from the drums that were suspended on either side of his motorcycle.

“I am fine with god’s grace. How are you?” replied Raunak, with an expectation that the conversation had ended.

“Babuji… last night I saw you and Gopi babu at the check post, stopped by those policemen. I got worried and thought I should intervene. But didn’t, for you are now a grownup person… right babuji …and can definitely handle such matters yourself”, he concluded.

Raunak got vacillated. He was certain of the fact that Gujjar had derived the actual reason behind their visit to that part of city’s periphery. He had definitely concluded that they had visited the hotel, prostitutes. Further, he recalled that Gujjar belonged to a nearby village and its approach road was the same, as the one that led to the police check post and hotel. Therefore he was definitely familiar with the nature of establishments that had mushroomed along that road. Raunak looked back at him with some reluctance, while he poured milk. Gujjar was waiting for an opportunity to smirk back at him, shrewdly, in a teasing manner with his pale eyes, to relish Raunak’s anxiety and steer the message that he had discovered his little secret.

“What happened, Raunak? What was the matter? Why didn’t you tell me?” demanded Rajib, turning towards Raunak. Her expressions were firm and she looked worried, concerned.

“Mummy... there is nothing to worry, nothing at all. We happen to come across a police check post yesterday, when we were going to city. They were checking vehicle registration documents and hence we had to stop. This is something normal and hence there was nothing to tell,” he said sounding confident. He improvised and came up with an explanation to calm her down. He called it out as a routine vehicle inspection by traffic police and didn’t specify the name of the road that they had taken and didn’t mention that it was a sobriety checkpoint.

“Beebiji, I shouldn’t have brought this topic up and told you about it. You are getting worried for nothing…small matter it is…don’t worry. Babuji has grown up now and understand the ways of life. He knows what is good for him and can take good care of himself,” intervened Gujjar. He again teased Raunak and twitched his lips. He underscored the message in an indicative manner and enjoyed Raunak’s discomfort. Raunak was worried and didn’t want him to say or add anything further, on that topic. Fortunately, Gujjar himself changed the topic. “Beebiji, yesterday a man was enquiring about you…I mean about your family, your house,” he corrected, “I was sitting there at the local market, at the dairy store. This person happens to stop by and enquired. He didn’t carry many specifics for your house’s address, but was able to describe the house’s structure, locality and streets. As I am familiar with each and every house in this locality, I immediately figured it out and showed him the way to your house. Who is he, Beebiji?” he asked in astonishment, with an assumption that the stranger had already visited their house, the previous evening.

“I don’t know. Nobody came here, no one visited us yesterday,” she glanced at Raunak who nodded his head to approve what she had said, “Who is he? What does he look like?

“A Muslim fellow, approximately six foot tall… well built, strong and muscular, no mustache, only long beard… he wore a white skull cap. He spoke Punjabi, conversed in the same dialect as ours,” he explained, while handing over the milk container to Rajib, “…he was also carrying a tourist duffle bag. I thought he is one of sahib’s friends.” He referred to Samsher.

“I don’t know… we are not expecting any visitor. He might be looking for some other house,” she said discerningly, pointing her left hand, balancing milk container in the other, at a distant cluster of houses, where few Muslim families lived.

“Ho sakta hai…very right…true,” he stared his motorcycle, once again looked at Raunak, who evidently tried to evade any eye contact, and drove off…put…put…put…

Both Rekha and Uma, who were earlier sitting and gossiping in Rekha’s house, stepped out for an evening stroll. They saw Rajib standing outside her house and approached her. Raunak greeted them, took milk container from Rajib and went inside the house. Rajib continued to chat with Rekha and Uma. Raunak kept the milk in the kitchen, washed his feet, face, and sat on the bed, which was laid out in the façade for Nasib, near the gate. She was resting on it. She said something, but he didn’t listen, he was still pivoted on the fact that Gujjar had figured out about his visit to the hotel. This realization had made him uncomfortable. He tried to engage Nasib by answering to her questions. The brevity of his answers highlighted that he was disinterested in her talk but he didn’t want to offend her by neglecting her. Simultaneously, he was also able to overhear the discussion that Rajib and other ladies were having, while they stood just outside the main gate. He got distracted and developed interest in their discussion. This took his mind off the guilty feeling that he was experiencing after visiting that hotel and after being seen in its vicinity by Gujjar.

“Uma sister, yesterday evening was awful; due to the power cut, I had to work in the kitchen by using a kerosene lamp. It was really difficult and exhausting”. Raunak intercepted his mother’s talks, sitting there on the bed and partially listening to Nasib as well.

“I didn’t experience yesterday’s power cut as I was not at home. From many days Neelu was pestering me to go out for dinner, for a change. We all had gone out,” replied Uma.

“Now onwards these long power cuts are going to continue, for some weeks. It was mentioned in today’s newspaper that government has decided to go for regular power cuts, to balance between the growing power demand from industries and farm sector,” Rekha added her part of information.

“Why don’t you get a power backup installed in your house,” Uma suggested Rajib, “…there is nothing better than these modern conveniences. Moreover, now these have become necessities of sorts”

Rajib listened, but said nothing. There was a small pause, silence. It was later broken by Uma, who herself started to describe her previous night’s visit, to a city restaurant. “The food there…I mean the restaurant we visited yesterday, is so delicious that I am finding it hard to appreciate home cooked food now,” she said, shifting her weight to her other leg, “…by the way… I remember restaurant’s name…it’s called Delight. Do visit it some time.”

“But that’s too far, you must have spent long hours traveling, to get there,” asked Rajib at once.

“Nah, we went there in car, Kumar drove us,” she sniggered, glancing at Rekha, who nodded approving her claim, “…I tell you…trust me… it’s really a mistake to travel in public transport these days, especially when you have planned to enjoy your evening. Firstly, there is a time and route restriction with buses and secondly, they are crammed with all type of dirty people… shabby, drenched with sweat, strong odors leaving their dust laden bodies, blocking your nostrils… seemingly they never use soap.”

“Hey… look at your feet,” interrupted Rekha,” how soiled they are, the feet cracks cover all the sides… they might be painful,” Rekha exclaimed looking at Rajib’s feet. “Sister, how can one avoid these cracks? They do appear when you have to work in water, in detergents,” she said dismissively. Rajib stole a quick glance at Uma’s and Rekha’s feet, which were smooth, crack free, pedicured feet, for they didn’t manage their household work and were not exposed to water or detergents for long. Both, Uma and Rekha, had regular house-helpers at their dispose, to work regularly for them and take care of all household tasks.

Discussion continued…

Raunak sat there listening to their conversation. He got irritated, noticing how both of them were subtly or inadvertently ridiculing his mother and her lifestyle. Moreover, the arrogance with which Uma talked about her status, class and distanced herself from mediocre or poor masses, fumed Raunak. They were flaunting their wealth, their choices, their partial knowledge and misplaced understanding about issues and struggles of life, their superiority; as always, trying to demean others, using fake English accent and adding some English words as redundant fillers to their conversation, in an effort to strengthen their class by creating a verbal impact of sorts.

Raunak felt that his parents had suppressed their dreams, ambitions and curiosities to save money, to let family meet its necessities and let him receive a good education. He noticed that quality of Rajib’s clothes was nowhere near to the ones worn by Uma and Rekha. Their saris were costly and were no match for Rajib’s. Raunak’s family had lived a frugal life. But he had never observed any feeling of remorse on his mother’s face. She believed in simplicity, simplicity of character, which is the natural outcome of a profound thought. She was his image of perfection.

Rajib was highly qualified as compared to both, Uma and Rekha, who had hardly seen the outer precincts of a high school. But it was their monetary power that allowed them to rule the roost.

Raunak recalled how his mother had helped him soar in his studies during early years. She would sit by his side, for hours, daily, helping him finish his homework. She would discover easy ways for him to memorize spellings and revise them.

He recalled…

“Mom, I find it hard to remember… when to use which word, out of - week and weak”

“Oh…ho, weak means feeble and week signifies the seven days”

“But these are much alike, they sound similar; I won’t remember their usage for long”

“Ok, remember it by following an easy and logical approach. See in the word week - there are two e’s, how can a group of two entities be fragile and feeble Togetherness always makes us strong, dominating. Don’t confuse it with weak, which has a single ‘e’- unaccompanied, alone, and hence fragile. So the word with two e’s will not be used in a context where we talk about fragility”.

“Okay, that helps… also mom I am not able to memorize spellings for,” he would say tapping his right index finger on the word together.

“Ok…look, break this word into three smaller words that you already know —to-get-her… and group them all, to form the word together”.

Raunak was lost in his memories, from his school days, how Rajib had creatively helped him to learn his lessons.

The hot and humid day had given its way to a cool evening. And as usual at the end of a day, in evening, Raunak sat facing the tall window, facing the sky, looking at the stars, in his favorite spot, the corner of his room. He went to the window and peered outside, and felt a soothing gust of wind. He felt weak, powerless like a newborn helpless baby, who is always dependent on his/her mother’s mercy. Few observations and experiences over last few weeks, since he had come back from his engineering college, had deeply pestered him and he was thinking a lot. He thought about the impact of uncertainties of life, which can throw his family off-balance. The amount of financial cushion they had and the standard of living they will be able to maintain if existing sources of income fade away. Probably he was going through a phase where mantle of his family’s responsibility had rested on his shoulders and he was trying to reflect and understand its true meaning. He had realized that his family was not that well off materialistically and hugely depended on meager farm income and Samsher’s pension. Further he doubted the fact that he will be able to make any difference after joining his first job. He felt desperate and wanted immediate solutions. Amidst his thoughts he arrived at a conclusion that his condition is not much different from the destitute and poor people, whom he had observed over previous days. His mind swung hysterically, he envisaged his situation while placing himself vis-à-vis poor and trodden people. All the families in his neighborhood either belonged to business class or had multiple and sustainable sources of income. Each example of such comparison that came to his mind pushed him deeper, down towards the bottom of an endless pit. He had become what he saw of himself in the eyes of others. There seemed to exist no possibility to bridge his present with his desires. He experienced hopelessness.

It was up to him to decide his character and he had chosen a character that he admired, but for that he had to tolerate people like Gopi and Kumar. Although he was highly educated and qualified among all the youngsters in the colony, no body acknowledged or recognized it as a form of accomplishment. The only known way that was unknowingly rooted in their conscious mind was to categorize people on the basis of money or wealth they possessed. He knew many who were not rich but pretended to be one, as a desired form of existence. Somehow, others approval and a specific external image mattered to him. Though there are multiple templates to define progression in one’s life, but Raunak had started to conform to the one that was widely accepted in his society’s construct.

While he sat in his room, in his favorite sport, he continued to think, question and analyze various aspects of his life, career and ambitions. A little later he changed his clothes. He removed his wallet, when he was about to place it on the bed post, he recollected how stuffed Gopi’s wallet was, loaded with cash, resourcefulness of sorts to venture beyond a mundane existence. He remembered if from the previous day, at the hotel, when he saw it while Gopi was making a payment. He looked pensive while he looked outside the window and observed a great view of the fading sun. His mental state had drifted beyond its normal existence, each facet of his life was amplified in his mind and he was gauging if he was treading in-line with his aspirations. He felt as if he was alone in a crowded room and thirsty in an oasis, threatened by the figments of his imagination. He wanted to question, to find answers for issues that had pestered him. He was behaving like a kid who can understand only half of what emerges before him. He imagined that someone is revealing half-truth, whispering close to his ears, teasingly. He was enclosed by an intangible narrow space, uneasiness and claustrophobia forced him to flap his hands and arms rapidly, to reach for an exit, but there existed none, for there was no enclosed space either.

At that junction in his life, amidst intensive introspection, he was metamorphosing. He had expected that his decisions will lead to bright outcomes. Metaphorically, he considered himself to be a sign post, stuck to a place, where it mean something to all who passes by but has no meaning for itself. He felt breathless, choked and burdened under the weight of his unstructured and undefined desires. He felt that he was not able to structure a real wish list for himself and was hopping between random scenarios, which had filled his mind. He tried to think, to sort out what was actually pestering him. He couldn’t find or narrow down to a single issue in the beginning. But later his thoughts received a push like being dragged under the influence of a mysterious force, like a dam beak. Plethora of issues inundated his passing thoughts. The matters that had concerned him were many, uncountable, but all were open ended. None signified anything meaningful, just puzzles. Suddenly the problems that filled the whole world concerned him; he sensed every individual’s pain and found no antidote for it. He was having a self-dialogue, but struggled to stay oriented.

He wanted to fly, fly high, leave everything back and escape. He wanted to be a savior, one and for all. He extended his hands, opened his fists and threw money at the people, who lived in the narrow street, to whom his father had called, ‘unfortunates, born in hell, to suffer and probably die in hell’. His hands were empty, for there was no money. Only his impulse had made him act that way. He picked a chapatti and gave it to the girl, who had perennially struggled to survive by eating soiled flour mixed with sugar. He noticed a smile blooming like a flower on her face. But there was no chapatti and no body stood before him, whom he had imagined smiling. His anxiety had made him feel so, anxiety and fear to not fall into circumstances that had enclosed her. He shook his head, like a wet dog, tried to break free from the spell that had enchanted him. His eyes fell on a newspaper that was placed on a table near him. A news article in that paper had underscored few statements that were made by a politician for the welfare of country’s poor people. He got infuriated, fumed in rage and tore the paper away. He belligerently squeezed it in his hands. He wanted to drag all such hypocritical politicians down the dirty streets, to show them the bitter realities, hidden in their plain sight. He wanted to hold them from their collars and kick their asses. He wanted to give them a message that one couldn’t see schools and hospitals coming back in return for the electoral votes they draw from the poor and trodden. He was seething.

A sweet gust of air entered the room and surrounded him. In the very next moment he felt being carried out, from the window. He flew around the whole world, through the plain, the valleys, the mountains and the oceans. He danced among the daffodils and lilies, which swayed with the winds in the plains. He scaled the mountains, higher and higher till he touched the peaks, peaks of his desires. He chased unlawful poachers like a predator and killed them all to save the innocent animals from their greed. He felt like a whiff of air and brushed past the bodies of millions of creatures and connected with their divine spirits. He wanted to stop human bloodshed, to fight the cruel dictators, to free the world from the conquerors and to put an end to all forms of misery. Innumerable problems stung him like locust. He kept fighting, bravely, hopefully, but an already defeated battle. There existed no such armies next to him; he was fighting himself, it was his internal dialogue that had gone awry.

The pendulum in his room struck and broke him free from the burrows of his thoughts. He found himself standing next to the window, staring at the night sky, his left hand holding tightly to the iron grill in the window and a squeezed newspaper in the right. He felt smallest in the smallest and minuscule in the minuscule. He thanked god for he not being a sufferer, for his grace, but he wished for more, he wanted more. He wished to be rich, so that he could help others, by alleviating their pain, feeding and making them benefit.

Were these really convulsions of a growing generosity, or was he looking at faces of poor, where in every face he saw his own image, distorted reflections of his many desires and unmet wishes. Was he really poor? May be he was sinking and was desperately trying to identify means to achieve a subjective level of luxury and indulgences.

Chapter 6

Blast from the past

Air was soggy and still, leaves dangled from branches, frozen, as if time had stood still and won’t allow them to flicker again; pigeons sat silently in their nests, which were made along ventilators, their mouth open, waiting eagerly for sun to go down; water flushed down the drains had evaporated, ground was parched; dogs laid stretched on the damp ground under shades with tongues hanging loosely, dried, from their mouth; sweat pouring out from every stoma of living bodies in the form of small hazy droplets, combining together to form bigger drops, slowly moving down along the body, in the form of hundreds of tributaries; water in taps was hot as if it had been boiled; walls burnt like coal and air close to them created illusions. Men had stripped, only wore underpants; but women cursed themselves for being women, unable to follow men and strip into their underwear’s, frustrated, pulling their clothes away from their body to prevent it from sticking and letting some air in, which would stubbornly stick again.

Shadows grew longer, softer and finally camouflaged with the ground, day had ended. Air was stagnant but weather had turned soothing. Birds and mice hurried for their last capture of the day; and then returned back to their nests and burrows. Dogs came out of dark damp shades, moved in packs, prowled, barked at strangers, reemphasized their territorial claims and stirred to rule the streets during the night time. Sky had turned dark, and suddenly it appeared darker —power cut.

Rajib was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, struggling in darkness under the dim light of a kerosene lamp. Nasib was sitting on her bed, eyes closed; reciting her prayers, her fragile fingers fidgeting beads of a milky white rosary. Meow curled under her bed listening to her prayers, exactly as Nasib had often described. Both, Raunak and Samsher, were strolling on the roof, waiting for Rajib to call them, for dinner. They looked at bulbs glowing at a distance, in a house with a power backup and were indulged in some random talk.

There came a loud knocking sound— thuk…thuk…thuk, from the main gate – thuk…thuk…thuk. Someone was ramming their outer door, main gate of the house, with his/her bare fist.

Rajib turned down the cooking flame, came out from the kitchen, into the veranda and glanced at the gate. She could only see a silhouette against the less dark background of the street. It was of a man, a stranger. She returned and called Samsher, to check who had turned up, the person who stood outside their main gate.

“Who is he?” he gruffly queried, hurrying down the stair steps.

“I don’t know”.

Samsher came down, toward the gate and opened it. “hanji… sorry, ahh… I didn’t recognize you. Can I help you?” he questioned the stranger, with a little confusion.

“Huh…As-salam-u-alaikum,” he paused and then continued, “…Sat Shri Akal,” correcting himself in the context.

“Sat Shri Akal…sorry I didn’t recognize you,” he repeated, stressing his memory to recall the new face.

“My name is Rashid…ah…Rashid Ahmed,” he introduced himself promptly but politely.

Electricity came back. Tube light in the street flickered for a moment, struggled and then blazed, spreading its light along the dark street. Now either could see each other’s face, vividly.

Samsher allowed him inside, extending courtesy, and seated him on the charpoy, which was previously placed near the hand pump in an inclined position against the lower wall of the house. He was wearing a white shirt, black pants and sandals. Raunak stood on the roof, balancing himself against the railing and peered at the stranger. Rajib turned off the gas stove, came out and stood near them, trying to identify the stranger and determine the purpose of his visit at an odd hour.

“Ji, Sat Shri Akal,” he wished her, smilingly, folding his hands as Sikhs and Hindus usually do while greeting each other.

He had no moustache, only beard, and held a white skull cap in his hand. Rajib’s expressions changed, she recognized him. The day before, Gujjar, the milk man had talked about him, had described him. But he was not having any bag as was mentioned by Gujjar. Then she noticed something placed at the farther end of the charpoy, eclipsed behind it. It was a duffel bag. He was the same person whom Gujjar had described, she thought.

She went inside and brought a glass of water, atithi devobhava or jee aayan nu (guest is god and you are welcome)—the loftiest tenets of Indian ethos. Rajib handed him a glass of water.

“Shukreya………,” he smiled and accepted the glass of water.

Then she pushed the gate back in its closed position, to prevent people in the street from gazing inside.

Samsher tried to reinitiate and roll over the conversation and said, “a……janab”.

Rashid immediately interrupted him and said, “Sardar sahib, can I stay here for a day.” His pitch was high. The request he made sounded more like an order.

“What…?” Samsher tried to be polite. He was not sure if he had heard him correctly the first time.

“Only for a day or so,” he repeated slowly but clearly.

“But I don’t even know… who you are,” he tried to be rough, “how can you say that? Why should I allow you? Any good reason…..why didn’t you go somewhere else? … to some hotel or an Inn.” He fired his volley of questions. He straightened himself, to get up, as a signal to the stranger to leave the place, their house.

Rashid placed his heavy hand on Samsher’s thigh, pressed it and forced him to calm down. His eyes were shining, lips thick; seemingly holding some magic words in his head that he would recite and make Samsher obey him. He was sitting there with a firm resolve and won’t move. “Sardarji, please see this… have a look,” he emphasized, pushing a paper into Samsher’s hand. His instincts told him that he would make his demands through.

Samsher got irritated. His first thought was to through back that paper, on his smirking face and put an abrupt end to his mischievous plans. Something stopped him and he opened the paper, turned it to let light, from the bulb hanging in the veranda, fall on it. What he found written on the paper jolted him; he read those words again to check if he was mistaken. He lifted his face, looked at Rashid, explored his face in a quick glance, and then looked back at the paper. Samsher handed it back to him. Again Rashid gave him something, it was a type of mini-diary. This time Samsher was not annoyed and calmly opened it. He looked befuddled but curious.

Type: P

Name: Rashid Ahmed

Sex: M

DOB: 14/02/1938

Country code: PAK

Place of issue: Lahore

Rashid was a Pakistan national and it was his passport. Samsher passed it to Rajib, who opened it intriguingly, read it and gave it back to Rashid. She recalled the pertinent news headlines broadcasted by multiple news channels, since fortnight ago, about many Pakistani people visiting India to watch India-Pakistan cricket match, that was scheduled at PCA stadium, Mohali.

“Sardarji,” he waited, looked at Rajib, as a gesture to make her listen too, “I am from Pakistan and have come here…to India…to watch the cricket match … that will be played at Mohali stadium,” He pointed at his papers in his hands, “and in a few days’ time I’ll go back”

“Ok…then you are here, in India, on a tourist visa for viewing the match that will be played day after tomorrow,” he nodded and continued, “but what brings you here, to our town, our house?… this place is nowhere close to Mohali. And, again… what have we to do with this? This all is not circumstantial,” he finished, sounding unconvinced.

He smiled and said, “Sardarji, before partition we… I mean my family members… were nationals of British India Empire, but at the time of partition, communal riots broke out, and we had to leave for Pakistan, forever. I was nine years old…then.” Samsher was forcing his mind to anticipate what Rashid was leading them to. Rashid hesitated, pressed his tongue between his front teeth, paused, and started again, “and this was our home.” He opened his arms, extended them wide open, and glanced at the house. A concoction of emotions filled his face.

Samsher sorted out the whole situation in a chronological manner, in his mind, and arranged his understanding to fill-in for few missing links. At the time of partition, Muslims had shifted to Pakistan and Hindus/Sikhs had to leave Pakistan for India. People left back their properties to the new governments and in return were issued new property, worth same value in their new countries. Samsher’s father had purchased their present house from such a Sikh family, which was allotted the house, after they had migrated to India. Samsher was lost in his thoughts, recalling back his memories.

Rajib was looking silently at Samsher, for she knew nothing about such events in the context of their house and its previous occupants, as she had only arrived in that house after she got married to Samsher and became a part of his family.

Samsher nodded his head, signaling that he had recollected and can associate events with Rashid’s narrative. Rashid took his nod as an approval for staying there. Rajib was still confused and was not able to understand what Samsher had concluded. She noticed a faint smile on Rashid’s lips and this incensed her. She whispered something into Samsher’s ear and went inside.

“Janab, just wait…give me a minute…I’ll be back,” he said, patting his hand on Rashid’s thigh, and went after her into the kitchen. Rajib was eagerly waiting for him.

“Are you going to allow him to stay here,” she asked vehemently.

“I feel we should. He has come down to India after so many decades to see the house, which once belonged to him…his family”.

“No…,” she was adamant and resolute.

“But… why? It’s only for a day, I guess… today’s night.”

“No…,” she strengthened her voice, “his stay is unwelcome…makes me uncomfortable and leads to added costs overlay as well. We have to offer him food etc., it will cost us,” she held the kerosene lamp placed by her side and brought it in front of Samsher’s face. By lifting the kerosene lamp, she indicatively expressed her displeasure, her discomfort to work during power cuts when she had to struggle to manager her household chores. “…what would you know? I have to work, suffer”, she said, sounding disdainful.

“Relax…he has his memories attached to this place. I can’t do injustice to him and force him out,” he said truthfully and defenselessly.

“…and what about the injustice you are doing to me,” she blustered. She frowned and returned to her work. She resigned to his decision, disagreed but committed.

Samsher went outside, back to Rashid. He was sitting there and looking at the house, curiously glancing and examining it, as if searching for something, rarely blinking his eyes.

Rajib again fired the gas stove to cook food for the untimely guest.

“Theek hai janab…I can’t turn down you desire to live here. This is your place,” he smiled.

“Allah aap ka bhala kare,” he said coloring up.

Samsher sat by his side and continued the talk. Rashid told him about his long pending desire to visit the house and other places, whatever he could remember, in and around the town. From the beginning, he was hiding something, which Samsher failed to guess. There was something else that occupied Rashid’s mind. After sometime Rajib came out and carried the utensils, which were kept near the hand pump, back into the kitchen. Samsher assumed that dinner was ready. He guided Rashid to the guest room, a spare room next to Raunak’s. Rajib had already informed Nasib and Raunak about the visitor. Rashid changed his clothes and after some time emerged from his room wearing a typical Muslim suit.

“Uncle…dinner is ready.” Raunak informed him politely directing towards the place where food was served, on the mat. Rashid asked him his name, smiled and followed him.

“Sat Shri Akal, Mataji.” he greeted Nasib and softly toughed her feet for blessings.

“Sat Shri Akal, Puttar,” she said tenderly and blessed him, “…long live puttar… god bless”.

Rajib served them food and after they all finished eating, she went back into the kitchen. Then she sat in the kitchen and had her dinner, she didn’t feel comfortable to eat in Rashid’s presence, Indian ethnicity. But her ears were wide open, listening to every word that Rashid uttered. She was impatient to get answer for one and only one question, which pestered her i.e. when, at what time will he actually go? They continued the discussion. Nasib was the one who was most vigorously indulged with Rashid, for she had found someone to talk to.

“Sardarji, by tomorrow afternoon I’ll leave for Mohali, after visiting the local Masjid, meandering a bit and little seeing around in the town.” He revealed his plan. Rajib got her answer and consoled herself to tolerate him till following afternoon.

“Why puttar, why are you in such a hurry. Live here for few days. This is your home.” she was anxious because she was about to lose someone, whom she thought she could talk to, the only activity that interested her the most in her twilight years.

“Gustakhi muaaf Mataji, but I have limited time available with me,” he said in an apologizing manner. “Shabba kher…” He wished them and went into the room he was allowed to stay in. He seemed focused, driven by an inexplicable purpose.

Rajib was annoyed by Nasib’s behavior, for she had requested Rashid to extend his stay, but was relieved that he didn’t agree.

Next morning Rajib was busy, with her work, she swept the floor, washed dishes after the breakfast and was taking care of other daily domestic chores. Raunak retreated to his room after the breakfast, to his favorite corner, along with a newspaper. Samsher had gone to the academy. Rashid came out from his room, back into the courtyard, after he finished Zuhr prayer and sat by Nasib’s side.

“Did you sleep well …puttar,” Nasib questioned him eagerly. Slowly she lifted her back, adjusted her pillow and rested it against the wall.

“Yes Mataji I slept well. I didn’t notice any disruption and I slept as I was at my home” he said, sounding relaxed.

“Of course…this is your place…son.” Nasib was pleased because she had somebody to talk to. “What do you do, there in Pakistan? Who all are there in your family?” She asked, continuing with her questions.

“Ji…we continued the same occupation there as well, the one which we practiced here before partition”, he started slowly, running his eyes over the rooms across the garden. He was minutely observing each and every aspect of the house.

“Which occupation …?”

“Gold-Smithy. My father opened a shop in Lahore’s Bazaar after he shifted there. Then slowly he grew his business and involved my younger brother and me, as well, into the same business”. He replied her politely. He removed his sandals, folded his knees into lotus position and eased himself down to sit on one side of her bed. He looked interested and committed to talk to her for some more time. This pleased her.

“How is he now… means your father”.

“He stays at home… these days, because old age and few related illnesses have set in. The business is now managed and looked after by us…brothers.” He continued and gave a detailed account of all the members, in his family.

“Honestly son… whatever I have heard about the partition, was frightful,” she said warmly, trying to recall her memories.

“Yes Mataji,” he said, taking a deep breath and preparing himself to explain a painful piece of history. He began, “…some people who lived in cities knew about the political situation. They had time, a head up, and prepared themselves for migration, to Pakistan. For us, the people who received delayed or no news about the changing political climate were struck by surprise and caught unprepared for the hard events that followed. We had no time for preparation, no time for gathering our belongings, packing our clothes, nothing. The riots started and soon the fire of chaos leaped to cover every nook and corner of Punjab region. There were mass killings, houses were burnt and no one was present to check the vandalism; criminals were acting at their own free will and looted everything they wished for with impunity”. He was lost in his past and gave a brief account of whatever he remembered. “There were clashes among people from different sects and religions. Hindu’s and Sikh’s suffered in Pakistan and on the contrary Muslims suffered here…in this part of Punjab.”

“Were there any clashes here…in this town?” she interrupted, “… As far I know this place was inhibited harmoniously by people from all religions before independence…a mixed genus of community.” She was interested in what he told her.

“No…Mataji, there were no clashes or riots here. People had lived with mutual cooperation… there existed a deep rooted brotherhood,” he stopped and cleared his throat, swallowed saliva and started again, “On that fateful day,” he referred the day when people from the town had to shift, leave for the newly formed country i.e. Pakistan “…in the evening there came some news from the people, local residents, who had gone to the nearby city. What they told was very hurtful. Entire state was engulfed in riots; few of the Muslims from our town got killed in those clashes. Those who managed to survive were in a miserable state. They had changed their identity… I mean visual recognition, had shaved their beard, and removed their clothes or any articles of Muslim faith, in an attempt to hide their religion. They came here, they were in a hurry, they informed every one, made announcements by using Masjid’s loud speakers. They announced the timings of the trains that were arranged for Muslims, leaving for Pakistan”. He paused and looked at Nasib who seemed transfixed. She had heard about these events but never a firsthand account from a sufferer. “I don’t know much as I was just a kid at that point in time. My father came running from the Masjid. My mother was cooking food for us and sister was helping her.” Expressions on Nasib’s face changed suddenly; she wanted to stop him to question him about his sister, whom he had not mentioned earlier while he talked about his family, but allowed him to continue, “…he told us that the last train in the evening will leave at eight, that very evening. He didn’t want us to postpone it until the next day when few more trains were scheduled because there was too much uncertainty and he didn’t want to risk our lives. We sensed urgency and fear in his eyes. Within half an hour all Muslim families of this town gathered outside the village, at the railway station, after packing few necessary belongings in a jiffy. It was decided that all the Muslims would leave together. They had all prepared for an unexpected journey that followed a life changing event. Sikh’s and Hindu’s were equally shocked; they had never expected circumstances to shift in an unprecedented manner. They had never objected us, Muslims, from living in this town. Together we had defined this town; we were an integral part of it. They helped us, some packed food, water and medicines for our journey; many lifted our luggage, kids, and elders on their shoulders and bullock carts, to help us reach the railway station safely and in time. We immediately packed whatever necessary we could lay our hands upon. I cried, screamed, threw things and rolled on the floor. I didn’t understand and was not ready to leave, but my father forced me, slapped me to calm me down,” he smiled after he remembered his childhood, amidst the intense feelings that overwhelmed him. “Mataji… as a child what could have I understood?” he questioned, but continued without waiting for her answer, “My grandfather decided to stay back. My father argued with him, but he was firm on his decision. He was very attached to this house, this town. It was a very hard decision for him. He reasoned that he will stay back and will try to bring rest of the belongings later, which we had to leave behind, along with him. We had to agree, and we left for the station in a rush. We had to leave the house, our house, and were not even having enough time to absorb that grieving moment. Wet clothes were left in the courtyard where they were hung for line drying; fire continued to simmer in the Chula, dough, half cooked vegetables and chapattis lay near it. We dumped our bags on a neighbors cart and left along with it”.

“Did you all succeed to flee, safely,” she asked intriguingly. Surge of emotions had engulfed her.

“No Mataji…near the city few unlawful people attacked us. Many of the travelers were killed and injured. Nobody had time or nerve to help, rescue the ones who were attached or wail for the ones who died. There was no stopping, no turning back, no wasting of time.” He again paused. His eyes were moistened. There was a hurricane of excruciating memories that rattled his heart. “Criminals pulled girls and women from the carts, which were heading towards the railway station. They even didn’t spare the pregnant and elderly. Those women, girls never returned, for they were raped, sold to others, raped, again sold, passed on or traded like commodities. They suffered inhumanity. Few died and others gave birth to illegitimate children. Many committed suicide. Nobody can tell what happened to those that lived, survived. There was no law and order, emergency was declared. …Na jane Allah ne kis gunnah ki saja di te unnko….” he stopped. This time a feeble wail left his lips. He didn’t try to hide it, for he simply couldn’t. It was too much for him. He continued slowly. “My…sister also suffered the same fate. I remembered only a faded memory of her and that also got erased with time… I don’t even remember her face now”. He completed the last sentence hastily and wiped his eyes.

Then there was silence. None of them talked for a few minutes. Nasib was stunned and looked traumatized. She was in an intense state of disappointment as if she had experienced the pain herself. Rashid changed the topic.

The stranger from Pakistan, Rashid had whirled a fascinating tale of Partition attempting to navigate the narrow straits between suffering, crises, love, desire and Islamic tradition. He described a clichéd view of life during those difficult times.

“All praise be to Allah as everything is normal now. Allah helped us to bear our pains,” he murmured and looked up toward the sky. “Mataji…nothing has changed in this house, as I had seen it at that time.” He appeared strong and composed. “The room I am staying in was used by my grandfather to design jewelry. When at home he used to work there.”

“I never knew about that because we have purchased this house from a person… whom it was allotted after the partition. A distressed Sikh family that had migrated from Pakistan… during the partition”.

Suddenly he got tensed, upset, and tried to hide his anxiety. “…achcha.”

Rajib came in the courtyard and sat near the kitchen door. She was aggravated because Nasib was telling Rashid everything about the house, disclosing details about the individual rooms and its occupants. She didn’t like it, for Nasib was innocently passing household secrets to him.

He extended his discussion and enquired cunningly about the domestic issues. But throughout the discussion, he appeared restless and impatient. “Mataji, and here…,” he said pointing at the center portion, at a small raised platform, of the courtyard, which was surrounded by the rooms, “we would celebrate Eid and sacrifice goats as an act of obedience to Allah…” He immediately cut short his sentence. “Gustakhi muaff,” he apologized. He felt that he had done something wrong, an offence of sorts, by talking about animal sacrifice, for Sikh’s abhor such practices.

“No need for an apology son… and what are you apologizing for? These are religious beliefs and practices… multiple paths leading to one almighty,” she said smiling back, “we never felt bad and didn’t object to the religious beliefs of any of the previous occupant, who had lived in this very house”.

Throughout his discussion he kept talking about the house, he peeped and looked at the goods placed in each of the rooms. His eyes worked craftily, strangely. His focus was on something else, something covert. Rajib noticed this but said nothing; she was tolerant as he had told them the previous night that he would leave the house, leave for Mohali, in the afternoon. She tried to endure the presence of an unwelcome guest till that afternoon.

………….. Allah ho Akbar………….

… screeched the loud speakers, fastened on Masjid’s tomb. The Muezzin in the Masjid had started reciting Azaan. This Islamic call meant for all the faithful people of Allah to assemble in the Masjid’s, to gather for prayer, for worship, perform Naamaz. Rashid asked Rajib for permission, to send Raunak along with him to the Masjid because he didn’t know the path. She hesitated but allowed Raunak to accompany him.

Neelu came back early from her college. She had nothing to do or occupy herself with, nobody around her to talk to. Throughout the afternoon she slept, watched TV and again slept. She was alone at home. Uma, Rekha and Anu had gone to a distant Lord Shiva’s shrine, where thousands of pilgrims from across the state visit to offer ‘jalabhishek’. The occasion was the fourth and final Monday of the auspicious month of ‘Shravan’. They were to return in the late evening.

Neelu went for a bath. All of a sudden she recalled an incident that had occurred earlier that day. She felt uncomfortable; every tissue in her body ached, as if bitten by an army of wild ants. She couldn’t focus on anything; she turned off the shower and came out from the bathroom, into her bedroom, dripping, naked. She dried her body and lay down on the bed. She tried to break her chain of thoughts and engage her mind by reading a magazine; but she couldn’t make out any sense and kept reading the same line again and again. She found it hard to concentrate, hard to identify the words, even the simple ones. She suffered a mental blockage. She threw the magazine away and switched on the TV. This time she couldn’t hear, voices were not entering her ears. She felt uneasy, irritated as if someone was scratching fingernails against the wall in her room.

She was unable to wipe away the words from her mind that she had heard in the morning. Gopi had whispered something into her ear, words that forced her to lose control of herself and push aside her rational judgment.

That day in the morning when she was leaving for the college, Gopi was washing his car outside his house, in the street. They both smiled at each other, mischievously, after remembering their previous rendezvous. Gopi stared at her, continuously and prominently, checking her out and trying to mesmerize her. As she walked past him, he whispered a few words to her, “Please come…today. I am all alone, at home”.

Her situation was similar to that of a thirsty person, stranded alone amidst a vast desert, desperately yearning for a sip of water. Her body ached for a touch, a male touch. Her bubbling feminine wishes were at its zenith. She failed to understand her state, lost control of herself and prompted by an impulse got carried away on the spur of the moment. She hurriedly dressed herself and jumped into Gopi’s backyard, over the wall. She went into the drawing room. Gopi was sitting on the sofa, watching TV, keenly shifting through the channels. He saw her and jumped to his feet. Neelu stood there before him. She looked vulnerable, standing there, obliviously, trying to rationalize her action. He found her attractive beyond measures and her vulnerability pushed them towards intimacy. She was wearing a loose tee-shirt and night pants. She had hurried to meet him. Gopi noticed her cruel intentions, passionately looked at her body, her breasts, which hung loosely without any support, but still gracefully firm. She was not wearing a bra.

They wrapped each other in their arms, attracted like opposite charges. Gopi lifted her in his lap and took her upstairs, to his bedroom. It was only in the late evening, when Uma, Anu and Rekha were to return that Neelu left Gopi’s bed. Gopi walked with her into the backyard, to help her jump back.

“Can’t we meet daily,” asked Neelu, disappointed but confused.

“Yes, we can…,” he replied at once. “It’s not at all difficult, but you have to do as I would say.” Gopi had some mischievous schemes in his mind.

“How—?” she asked him intriguingly. There was a feeling of desperation on her face.

“You have to jump over the wall, from here… every time, this very spot like you did today.” he said persuasively.

“Ok…” she said nodding her head like an obedient child.

“But only during the nighttime, when everybody in your house would sleep,” he emphasized.

“Don’t worry,” she replied happily. “… both, Kumar and Anu are leaving for Anu’s parent’s house, and they won’t come back before… next two weeks,” she paused and gazed into Gopi’s eyes, which were twinkling in delight. She continued, “…they have to make some arrangements for Anu’s younger brother’s forthcoming marriage”.

“Oh…that’s great.” He jumped in ecstasy.

“But how can I evade my mother’s skeptic eyes. She won’t leave me alone,” she said truthfully. Her mood changed and she looked miserable. “Also she wakes up many times during nighttime.”

Risk is the quintessential part of romance, and Gopi tried to find a way to deal with it. He raced his mind eagerly and said, “Don’t worry, I have a solution for this, and then we can meet every day… during nighttime. Moreover, during nights nobody will see you jump into my house.”

“What is the solution that … you are… talking about,” she asked him.

He told her something. “No, I can’t do this to my mother,” she said opposing stiffly.

Gopi continued explaining, trying to persuade her, trying to mold her mind. She gazed at him with concentration. Firstly, her face looked stern, and she wanted to resist him for his plan, but later agreed after he pressurized her. Then she looked okay and sorted. She believed that nothing will go wrong.

“But… what about your mother?” she asked, reminding him about Rekha.

“Her bedroom is on the ground floor, and also she never wakes up during nighttime.” He cleared her doubt with no delay and continued, “Look there…,” he pointed towards the stairway, different from the one indoors, in the drawing room. It led to his bedroom from outside, backyard, “…after jumping over this wall, you can reach straight to my room using this staircase.” He explained her with inevitability in his voice.

Neelu had few reservations in her mind, but finally she agreed and promised him to do so. Once again they kissed each other but this time it was not a forceful and desperate kiss, for they knew that thereafter they could meet each other on daily basis. When she was about to scale the wall and jump back she shrieked at what she discovered. Chootu was present there, in the backyard, standing behind them near a flowering shrub. She got scared and started crying. She had not known about his presence in the house.

“You said…you are going to be alone,” she sobbed bitterly.

“Oh…don’t worry. He is shit…not a problem at all. I’ll handle him,” he said consoling her.

She jumped back, into her house. Gopi didn’t say anything to Chootu, smirked and went inside. Chootu stood there holding his hand together, pressed tightly between his thighs. He had enjoyed watching them cuddle and stroke each other, in the bed, the whole time. Newness attached to his observations had intrigued him. A novel dimension of human behavior and bittersweet nature of intimate activities had befuddled him.

Next day Kumar and Anu left for Anu’s parent’s house, and Neelu proceeded the same way as she had planned along with Gopi. Every night she would jump into Gopi’s house. They were free to talk and make love with each other for as long as they desired. Every time, after they were finished with their activities, she would slowly tiptoe back into her house over the same path as Gopi had charted out for her.

Samsher returned home from his academy. He had just entered the house when Rajib came running towards him and took him inside. She carried a sense of urgency; she had some important matter to discuss with him.

“See… did you observe… he told us that he would leave by afternoon…this very afternoon, but he has not. Also he has not even started packing his stuff,” she said stiffly, barely concealing her frustration.

“Why are you starting this over… all again? He will leave…” He seemed irritated by her over skeptic behavior. “Where is he now?” he sighed, gazing around in the house.

“He has gone to the Masjid and has also taken Raunak with him,” she replied in a weak voice, nervously.

“But why are you so afraid… like you have spotted a ghost.” He was concerned about her sudden outbreak. There was unusualness in her complaint.

“Because I found this in his room,” She picked a paper, which was placed in a niche, in the kitchen wall, and handed it to him. There was firmness in her voice. She continued,” … when I had gone there to sweep his room... the room that he is occupying”

“What is this…?” he grimaced.

“Try to figure it out, yourself,” she said in an authoritative manner.

“No…I can’t understand… make any sense out of this.” He folded the paper back signaling her that he would check it later. “Can you please give me some water to drink? Also let me change first, let’s talk about this later,” he muttered.

“No water… first you resolve this… just see it,” she rebutted at once. She was fuming, in frustration over her husband’s neglect. “Let me tell you about what I figured out from this paper.” She snatched the piece of paper from his hand and reopened it. “Why has he drawn or mapped our house’s layout on this paper? See…here…he has drawn a detailed map of this house,” she looked nervous “…and see …he has even scribbled each and every measurement… rooms’ length’s… breadths’.”

Samsher immediately turned frail. He appeared equally suspicious and looked at her in an approving manner. He wanted to apologize for ignoring her concern. “But what does it signify?” he demanded looking perplexed. He wanted her to annotate her conclusions.

“I don’t know…may be he is planning to rob us….moreover, we have no way to check if he had ever lived here, and are his claims about his identity genuine?” she emphasized, “…you just believed him, got carried away in his emotional but apparently a concocted story, and allowed him to enter and stay in our house, without any rationale.”

“But what precious things he might have seen in our house… what lured him here…there are other good, opulent, houses in the town.” He looked around in a self-ridiculing manner. He began again, “…and he had shown me his passport. Why would someone cross over the border to burgle somebody… us?” Then he himself discarded these questions. He didn’t want to undermine her concern, and this time he wanted to check further out, reevaluate the whole situation. “Have you noticed some else… any other strange thing about his behavior or conduct?”

She immediately narrated her findings, “yes…throughout the day he has talked about this house with mother.” She turned and looked at Nasib in rage. “…and she kept leaking… sharing all our household secrets, without any stipulation. Even I couldn’t stop her,” she answered, placing down each word forcefully and clearly.

Chapter 7

Finders Keepers

When Raunak and Rashid returned from the Masjid, they found Samsher waiting for them. He was strolling impatiently, in the veranda overlooking the main gate. Rajib also came running into the veranda as soon as she heard the sound made by the latch, when the gate was opened. Both, Rajib and Samsher, looked at Rashid like hungry wolfs, ready to pounce on the prey. They had few specific questions, which were bouncing in their heads, and eagerly wanted to get clear answers. There was jaggedness in their demeanor and attitude. This time Samsher didn’t push his doubts aside and let principles of hospitality subdue him. Rashid noticed the uneasiness in the house, their eyes narrowed to slits, unwelcoming, rife with suspicion and rage. He guessed for the reasons that had led to this change and deduced it accurately. He had spotted the paper, which he had used to draw a map of their house, in Rajib’s hand. He felt guilty and tried to avoid their stares. He wanted to ease the situation, pretended to laugh and initiate a conversation. He thought that a conversation will slacken the tension, which had filled the situation, but it didn’t work. Raunak had also sensed the tightness in the atmosphere and watched silently. He closed the gate behind him as he didn’t want people, passerby’s in the street, to look inside their house.

“Janab, I want to talk to you… please come” instructed Samsher, signaling Rashid to follow him to the charpoy, which was placed near the hand pump. Rajib also followed her husband. This time she didn’t seem uncomfortable or reluctant to participate in a discussion in a stranger’s presence. She was ready to join and support her husband in the arguments.

“…Ji hazoor. I also want to talk,” replied Rashid immediately.

Samsher turned his head and looked at him in confusion. He had not expected that Rashid would speak, for Rashid was a culprit, fraud. “What… you have something to say… something to talk,” he questioned him vehemently.

“Yes, I want to clarify this… there is an explanation”. He pointed at the paper, which was in Rajib’s hand. He himself pivoted the discussion, took a lead and wanted to solve the predicament amidst their estranged behavior. He didn’t display signs of any distress and appeared confident, composed.

They were amazed at Rashid’s canniness and cleverness with which he had evaluated the circumstance, context, by spotting that paper in her hand. Raunak stood there, silent and unmoving, and viewed whatever was unfolding. He had no clue as to what was unfolding in front of him.

“Ok…now what excuse you have to justify your actions?” he ridiculed him, treating him harshly.

“Ji…this is a map… layout of your house,” he answered grimly.

“That I have already seen… figured out, but what the hell are you planning to do with it? To gather our house’s specifications… is none of your business. We have envisaged your malicious ideas, and we want you to immediately leave the house… please go,” he snarled resentfully. He looked annoyed and articulated his verdict straightforwardly.

“Listen Sardarji…listen. Please allow me to explain this… I have a purpose,” he said promptly, trying to make his point.

“I know your purpose – burglary. Truth is out here in the open… still you presume that you deserve to be heard… you shameless crook”. He was not ready to compromise. He didn’t want to hear him say anything. Raunak had never seen his father in such a bad temper and anticipated that Rashid will be thrown out of the house. He feared that the heated argument might turn into physical aggression.

“No, you are mistaken…I understand, given the way things have panned out, it is quite natural for you to reach this conclusion…not your fault. But please listen to me; I beg… we have a misconception here. Actually I have not come here, to you house, to rob or harm you, but to find, locate, something particular,” he said, rolling on with some explanation in his defense. Somehow, he was unable to select his words judiciously and every word he picked further tightened the noose of Samsher’s questions for him.

“What particular thing are you talking about… and what claim or entitlement you have for any of our household possession?” he asked skeptically. He was a little confused because Rashid had admitted his mistake, his fraudulent intentions, and was disclosing his entire plan, to them. Rashid’s approach appeared a bit eccentric.

“Yes, a particular thing…ahm… kept at a particular place, in this very house,” he fired back, rapidly answering the questions and trying to unfold his shadowy purpose. He tried to stay calm and composed all along, despite Samsher’s continuous verbal outbursts of anger.

“Again what thing? How you know about it? What is your true motive behind this all?” he gasped.

“Sardarji, I don’t know if Mataji have told you about the circumstances under which my family had to leave this house, place, and escape from this town… at the time of partition. Please, let me take a minute and explain it… and allay all your concerns and apprehensions,” he said weakly.

“Oh okay… are you trying to weave another story now, to fool us?”

“No…Sardarji, believe me…Allah ki kasam,” he vowed. “Sardarji my father and grandfather worked as goldsmiths and had owned a shop here, in the main city.” They were listening with great curiosity because they didn’t comprehend the reason as to why Rashid was telling them about his family. His intentions were still unclear. Rashid continued, “…when riots engulfed the entire region we were not having adequate time to gather our belongings and stuffs. We left the town in haste but my grandfather chose to stay behind.”

“But why are you telling this… to us… I feel sorry for you… for what you people had to suffer and that’s why I initially allowed you to stay here… I empathize with you… but what do you want from us beyond this?” interrupted Samsher, warning him by raising his voice.

“Sardarji…we were not able to carry everything… so we…,” he stressed and paused, gazed at everybody and started again, “…had to bury our valuables, wealth…gold… in our house…your house… this very house.”

Both, Rajib and Samsher, were left stunned and astonished after they heard Rashid’s last statement. They appeared a lot like life-size wax statues, they continued to occupy their respective positions and were rendered motionless for a moment, speechless and hypnotized. Raunak tilted his head to hear Rashid better, for he thought that he had got his message wrong the first time. All of them kept staring at Rashid. They wanted him to make them believe what they had heard.

Rashid broke the spell. He realized that he had regained his control over the situation. He politely shepherded their thought process in-line with his plan. “Sardarji…yes, it’s true. Allah ki kasam,” he vowed again, “neither was I planning to burgle your house nor am a thief”. He defended himself. “Somehow during the nightmare…riots that followed the partitioning of British India Empire, we collected our gold from our city shop, brought it home, here, and buried it. We thought it would be safer to carry it later and grandfather, who had stayed back, would bring it. But he never succeeded because it became more and more difficult, almost impossible to cross the border unchecked for a long period of time. The partition and the riots had changed the nature of the relationship between India and Pakistan”.

Samsher gathered himself and tried to stay unruffled. He saw an element of plausibility in his story. “Why didn’t you tell us, about this earlier? So, you wanted to keep us in dark and elope with the wealth without letting us know… and were waiting for a right moment,” he said grinningly, as he massaged the tip of his nose with his right index finger.

“No Sardarji. I didn’t plan to elope... nor did I plan to keep you, your family, in dark about my real purpose behind this visit. I withheld the truth earlier, not to deceive anyone, but to evaluate the situation, in the house, first. I wanted to understand the composition of your family – is it a small nuclear family or a joint family with many members. I didn’t intend to involve too many people in my pursuit to avoid unnecessary complications,” he said honestly,” I hope you understand my point”.

“Actually, I am not getting your point… what about this?” He pointed at the paper, which was still in Rajib’s hand. She stood there astounded, holding tightly to the evidence of his malicious intents.

“Yes…the paper, the map I have drawn… is an effort to find that place in the house, where the gold was… is buried. My father told me about the possible locations in the house where my grandfather could have placed it,” he said smilingly, for he had gained their confidence. He continued, “I was overjoyed to realize that you have not demolished the old structure of this house, to build a new house. It means that gold is still here and it is much easier for me to locate it.” He lowered his voice, it was just a whisper. Rajib and Raunak had also come closer and stood next to him. “I was about to tell…share this with you… Sardarniji,” he turned his head towards Rajib, “…but in the morning… earlier today, when I was talking to Mataji, she mentioned that you have further bought this house from a person, whom it was initially allocated after the partition. I dreaded the thought that occupied my mind – what if earlier occupant had somehow discovered it, wealth, had laid his hands on it and moved. I am still not sure, am doubtful and anxious. I thought I should talk to you, I wanted to talk about this and here I am, though it’s unfortunate that the conversation started in an awkward manner.”

Nobody looked annoyed, any more. The seriousness among them had not subsided, rather had grown more dense. Rajib forgot that she had wished for him to leave the house. She stood there, all this while, pivoted and sincerely listening to a fantasy. She had always despised the house for its antiquated structure and felt subjugated when others in the neighborhood had talked about it. All her qualms took a backseat in her mind and it was filled with new thoughts and possibilities. She was filled with bliss; she was eager and prayed to god for Rashid to be true. She wanted to find the treasure, which had lain under their roof for years, undiscovered, untouched. She was anxious too, for she feared if previous house owner had discovered the treasure, but her excitement made her thrust aside such thoughts. It seemed to her as an antidote for all her pains, her problems and her desires. A dash of passing thoughts tickled her imagination, she fancied herself to be a rich person, with an opulent big house, living in the many folds of resourcefulness and luxury, wearing and eating the finest, and buying unrestrictedly to fulfill slightest of her desires. She desired for a good life for Samsher and a healthy future for Raunak. All the desires and wants that were shoved aside due to their humble existence had sprouted back. That moment had rekindled Rajib to consider all likelihoods for bright days thereafter.

Samsher’s question dragged her back, into the reality from her daydreams. “So, there exists a possibility that the wealth… gold had already been taken out by the earlier occupants,” he asked, straightening himself.

“May be… Allah Jaane. I wish they had not laid their hands on it by sheer serendipity”. Rajib found support for herself in Rashid’s wish.

“Hold on for a minute,” said Rajib cautioning Samsher, speaking for the first time. “What is in it for us?” Her question was precise and blunt but it didn’t make Rashid uncomfortable. It was an important question in the context.

“Yes…half. We will equally divide the gold… into two equal halves.” He had already thought it through and had decided about the division, his proposal. He had anticipated that question.

“Fine…” she said conformingly. She didn’t find it necessary to discuss it with Samsher. A deal was set.

“What you would have done… if yesterday we didn’t allow you to stay here,” laughed Samsher. Their talk turned casual. There was nothing left, which either side must have discussed. They were set to work as a group.

“Ha…ha,” Rashid burst laughing as if reacting to a joke. “… in that case, the points that we are discussing now would have required a disclosure then and there in the gate.”

“Alright,” he paused, “when are you planning to start searching…digging, for it?” There was a sense of urgency in Samsher’s tone.

“Now… at this very moment… it would be good for us all. Why to delay it any longer?” he said intently. “The earlier we start the better it will be,” Rashid was impatient, “…and we will get more time…”

“More time… for what? What am I missing here?” asked Samsher looking confused.

“Oh… actually as I was told by my father, the gold ornaments, which they use to design, in those days, carried typical configurations and patterns, heavy and voluminous, elaborate jewelry articles. Such pieces are a passé these days. So if I carry them back, as such, in their true form, I may face some difficulty. Therefore after locating the gold jewelry I have to make few design changes… not sure but I guess in each and every piece of jewelry, to erase or dumb down their unique and striking features, which otherwise could clearly demarcate them in the present times.” He explained systematically.

“It seems you have planned everything. I must say you have thought it through and have prepared yourself well for this trip,” said Samsher in an appreciating manner. “But how will you cross the border with this jewelry. There are high chances that security or customs, at the border, will spot your nonconforming possessions. Also one can’t carry gold beyond a specific weight limit freely between countries, especially ours.” He asked about other obstructions, which Rashid could face.

“Sardarji, I appreciate your concern, but please take no offence… it’s my problem and let me worry about it. That’s exactly why I have waited till now, this long, patiently sitting there in Pakistan, waiting for the circumstances to change at the border. Anyways, for your information, I have made requisite arrangements to safely cross the border, back into my country.” He smiled and tried to put an end to all possible questions. “It is for the first time since partition that India has allowed thousands of Pakistani nationals to cross the border, and its suitable and comparatively easier for me to cross back among all the people… also, I have worked hard to establish key connections, amongst border security officers, who are deployed there on duty at the border check posts along the border crossings.”

“Ok… that’s your concern,” said Samsher selfishly, looking satisfied with a preliminary inquiry. Being ex-army personnel, he was not convinced but decided to put his questions and doubts to rest.

They kept talking openly and without any hesitation. There was no more tautness between them. Rajib’s attitude had also changed. She brought milk and some snacks for them. The person she had despised had gained importance and she had started acknowledging his presence. She started treating him with gracious hospitality. There was an excitement that filled the air.

Samsher picked the paper, which Nasib had kept at the edge of the charpoy, and handed it back to Rashid. “So what all possible locations have your measurements pointed out,” he asked curiously.

He unfolded the paper, their house’s map, and laid it on the bed, in the space between the spots where they were seated. Raunak also approached them and sat next to Rashid. He started looking at the map with a heightened interest. It was a nicely prepared map, detailed and to scale. He was intrigued.

“It must have been buried in this room,” he said with confidence, repeatedly striking his index finger on the map, where one possible location was marked on the paper. “…somewhere, in this room”. One possible location was Raunak’s room.

Samsher observed Rashid focus on the map, pensively evaluating Raunak’s input. He wanted to interrupt; he paused for a moment and then muttered, “Means you are not certain about any specific location within this room, which you have highlighted in your map.” Samsher looked upset as a lot of time was required to dig the entire room. He realized that they can’t have gratification of attaining that treasure easily.

“Yes…probably it can be anywhere in this room, in the 8 x 10 sq feet area of this room.” He talked in terms of dimensions, which he had scribbled on the map, for the room that according to him held a treasure, underneath.

Raunak sensed a strange feeling arresting him, like waves in an ocean. He wanted to add something, contribute further to Rashid’s conclusion. He had no reasonable explanation for justifying his claim but undeniably trusted his instincts. Mysteriously the particular place in his room, which he had preferred the most, his favorite corner, spot, seemed an appropriate starting point to him. He felt his dreams fulfilled and desires granted. He had always liked that spot and sensed positivity associated with it. It had always provided him hope and comfort, invisibly and intangibly. “I know the location... its here, in this corner,” said Raunak glaring up, breaking his silence. He emphasized, instinct supporting his claim. His words transfixed both, Samsher and Rashid. Both looked at him, made no enquiry about how he had concluded it. They believed him and nodded in consent. For, they anyways needed a starting point.

“Okay, let’s start from here,” Rashid said, looking satisfied.

Samsher wore his slippers, lifted himself out of the charpoy, and straightened himself up. His movement signaled both, Raunak and Rashid, to follow him. They followed him to that room, to Raunak’s room and to his favorite corner. Rajib guessed the objective behind their movement and came running, with a shovel and hammer, one tool held in her either hand. All were working together, in unison. Raunak stomped his feet on the spot, which he strongly believed was the right place.

Rashid was able to roam around freely in the house, look at things, interiors, and was able to scrutinize unrestrictedly. In that context, he displayed no hesitation, for there was no restriction. Motivated by a common objective, even Rajib had lowered her guard.

“No…they missed to lay their hand on it,” said Rashid jumping in an excitement. He referred to the earlier occupants, whom he feared had taken the gold.”…it’s still here, untouched in entirety.”

“How can you conclude? How can you be so sure?” asked Rajib, pressing her fingers together. She was equally excited.

“Look at the floor”. He pointed at the floor in Raunak’s room. “…I still remember this pattern vividly, this particular array in which the floor bricks have been paved.” The floor was made of bricks, paved together in a particular geometry. “…neither the pattern has changed nor the bricks tampered with.”

“What does it mean?” questioned Samsher. He continued to tread logically.

“Definitely the floor has not been replaced because nobody will go for the same kind of out-of-date brick flooring as part of home renovation. Rather one would prefer to replace it with concrete or marble tiles, which are prevalent and contemporary options. Also, this is true for every room, the floor everywhere… in the entire house is still paved out of bricks”. Rajib discerned that how astutely he had checked their house earlier, without letting them know about his intentions. He continued, “And the edges of these bricks are not chipped or conked out. If someone had taken out the bricks, he must have had used some form of lever, inserted between the bricks to pull them out. If this had happened then the brick edges should have got chipped.” He ran his fingers on the brick linings, which were still neat and edgy. He was a keen observer, or the desperation and anxiety to possess that gold had made him an acute observer.

“But, how did brick edges remain unscathed while the gold was buried for the first time? How were bricks pulled out when your grandfather buried the gold?” asked Samsher suspiciously. He was a realist and wanted clarification for each and every aspect that didn’t add up.

“Brick floor was laid out after the gold was buried. It was an imperative for the cover-up required to protect it for an easy access. When we stayed here, we only had kuccha flooring, made out of mud and cow dung paste. Grandfather got this brick flooring paved for the entire house as part of his improvised solution to safeguard their gold, which they could not carry along with them due to the life threatening circumstances that prevailed at the time of partition,“ replied Rashid, highlighting the efforts that his grandfather had made to protect their wealth. “…my grandfather did describe the floor’s brick pattern, this very pattern”.

Raunak closed the windows, so that nobody from adjoining houses, rooftops, could peek at the activities that were taking place in that room. He picked the hammer that Rajib had brought earlier and paced towards the corner of his room, his spot. Rajib lit a candle near the spot and switched off room’s light bulb, to add a veil of secrecy to their activity in the room. Samsher and Rajib retreated back and sat on Raunak’s bed. They watched Rashid and Raunak, who had started removing the floor bricks and clay.

Samsher was apprehensive; a concoction of odd fears had engulfed him. He was not sure, if he needed that treasure or not. Last couple of hours had slipped through at a much faster pace. The fretfulness that had surrounded the new revelation didn’t allow him to evaluate likely consequences and its bearing on his family. He was not prepared to see and receive whatever Rashid and Raunak were trying to pull out. He silently came out, approached Nasib’s bed and sat down beside her. He told her about the development and uncertainties that had overwhelmed his mind. He sought her opinion and judgment. He wanted to put an end to his inner dialogue.

“Waheguru…the truth,” she murmured. She didn’t look pleased. “Son…I too am not feeling right about this finding. We should not have this gold. It will do no good. Also … what else we need, we have all one must have to live peacefully.” She had misgivings about the sudden revelation of the buried treasure and influence it would spell on their life. Nasib was an oracle on unjust matters.

“But what could possibly go wrong?”

“I don’t know…I don’t know.” Nasib held as person against it. She continued, “… one can value only that money for which one has paid something, made efforts to earn it. What come easily goes easily. But sometimes marks left afterward, after it slips away, can’t be erased because of their far reaching consequences. I am saying it goes as quickly it comes.” Her avowals sound clichéd but bears repetition.

“But what could possibly go wrong?” he repeated his question. “The money will only help us to fulfill our desires.” He tried to present an inference while he himself was not sure. He was thinking out loud.

“If your desires are not extravagant, are reasonable, they will be granted anyways,” she said hotly, but weakly. “Son, unnecessary wealth is an illusion to life. Could illusions be felt as wholly as truth? It's one of those situations, which could be spent just spinning in circles if a person is not careful,” she continued declaratively. “Thick shrubbery of wealth is not always an open sesame to a well-lived peaceful life. All that has been and all that will be points the truth… and only truth.”

He neglected her counsel, who behaved like an oracle. But oracle didn’t belong to his world, his cognitive precincts, either. He brushed aside her undue concern and found it hard to shrug off the easy surge in their wealth that was to follow, for gold is gold and its sheen can’t be unheeded. He didn’t find any wrong in possessing it and couldn’t think of any reason to do so. He pondered and realized that they were not doing anything unjust and it was a mere serendipity. He was not able to fathom if it could lead to anything unfortunate. He impolitely said, “That’s okay mother.” He didn’t know if there was any element of truth hidden in Nasib’s concern.

Inside the room, Rajib sat glued to the bed. Raunak and Rashid were engrossed in the task at their hand. They had stacked few bricks, which were removed from the floor, under their buttocks as seats. They were working in a set pattern, Raunak was removing soil and clay from the pit, and Rashid was immediately pulling it away from the pit, to prevent it from slipping back. They were working hurriedly. The pit grew deeper and deeper but there appeared no trace of any treasure or valuable article. They tried to concentrate on digging, broadened the pit after reaching a certain depth, and dodged the thought that it has been removed or it never existed. Raunak folded his pants and descended into the pit. He was standing waist deep.

Many a time, shovel struck something rigid, and every time they held their breath in anticipation and Rajib would say, “Is it—?” with her hands clenched together as she struggled to hold her excitement but only discovered stones or pebbles. Rashid sat there, mum, clearly disappointed. He had maximum stakes in it and didn’t want to fail.

After some desperate wait, shovel struck again and produced a screeching sound, metal striking metal. They were delighted; a certain level of optimism filled the air. Raunak again hit the same spot with his shovel and a similar screeching noise followed. This time Rashid failed to control himself, his emotions dripped and he asked, “Is it—? He looked hopeful and he was sure. Raunak placed the shovel in the pit after loosening some soil around that hard metal casing, and used his hands to pull it out, what he thought was a metal vessel. Rashid and Rajib couldn’t see as there was darkness at the bottom of the pit. Power outage had brought further darkness, as a faint beam of light from the veranda had also disappeared. Only Raunak had some lucidity on the development and he was sorting out the contents, at the bottom of the dark pit, with his sense of touch.

“Go on—go on,” said Rajib impatiently, standing up and trying to focus at the bottom of the pit. Candle light was not helping; she turned and rapidly searched for a battery powered torch. She located it in a nearby table drawer. In the meantime, Raunak climbed out and pulled a big copper vessel, covered with layers of clay and soil. He had always sensed some unexpected excitement to transpire, whenever he had sat in his favorite spot, and his instincts had proved right. His favorite corner held much for him. Rashid dusted the vessel and reached the surface of the vessel. They could see beautiful designs, covered with green patina, engraved on the vessel. Rajib ran outside the room and softly called Samsher in her hushed tone, who immediately jumped out of his seat and followed her. All of them were thrilled and wanted to see the contents within the vessel. The mouth of the vessel was covered with a leather sheet, tightly tied around its mouth with a cord. Raunak was still pivoted on something else, focused at the bottom of the pit. He grabbed the torch and jumped back into the pit. Nobody else noticed this. It was only when he exclaimed in another round of excitement that they broke themselves free from the spell. They were enchanted by the presence of the first vessel. Raunak stood in the pit and directed the light beam from the torch at the bottom. It brightly reflected back from the spot where shovel had scratched another metallic surface. All were filled with joy and were breathing heavily; only one word collectively escaped their lips “…another?” Raunak climbed out with another vessel and placed it with a heavy thud near the first one. He had shifted into overdrive and jumped back, which overwhelmed everyone. He brought another vessel with him. Fourth time he jumped back, greedily, into the pit but there existed nothing except another layer of cold hard clay, earth. He inspected the bottom of the pit by vertically hitting it, few more times, with the shovel. Later, Raunak and Samsher poured back the loose soil and filled the pit, but didn’t cover it with bricks as paving required patience and some effort. Also, more soil was required to fill the pit up until floor level was attained.

Rashid and Rajib dusted the vessels. She laid out a carpet on the floor and Rashid removed the leather tied on the mouth, of all the vessels. He lifted the vessels one by one and turned them upside down, to empty the contents on the carpet. The room was filled with the soft and light clinking of jewelry, jewelry articles, of varied size, fell out while bustling other pieces before settling on the heap below. The jewelry articles, emptied from the vessels, formed a huge heap. They were awestruck, speechless and sat there dumbfounded. With their eyed wide open, they gawked at what laid before them; they repeatedly rubbed and cleared their eyes. After jewelry had stopped drifting and sliding in the heap and its fairylike clinking waned, Rashid dug his hand deep into the heap, squeezing it through the gold jewelry and felt it through his skin. Others followed.

“Wah!” exclaimed Raunak in joy, while he brushed his thumb over the beautiful pattern inscribed on a necklace, which he had lifted from the heap.

The jewelry was designed according to the old patterns as was specified by Rashid. Thick and heavy pieces of jewelry were made from multiple tassels, strings and layers of minutely woven manacles. All the jewelry items had an element of vintage and heritage attached to them.

“Sardarji…do you believe me know,” laughed Rashid, sweeping his gaze from the vessels to the heap.

“Haan…yes,” answered Samsher and Rajib, together.

All of them lifted few jewelry articles and continued to feel its existence. It was a moment of rejoice and merriment. They all held the jewelry items tightly in their palms, rubbed it against their bodies and savored that moment in their own unique ways. They were in a situation where people truly make something out of nothing. An unexpected bounty had materialized that had potential to shift them to a new level of existence within a blink of an eye.

“Can you please immediately arrange for a weight measuring device… a weighing scale,” demanded Rashid. He placed the question to all. He was delighted by laying his hands on the gold but not dampened to waste any valuable time. He still had his focus at the end state of his mission.

“Yes…I have one, a spring balance,” answered Raunak quickly. He leapt to his feet, jumped over his bed and fetched a spring balance. It had a capacity to measure a maximum of six kilograms in a single round of measurement.

Rashid accepted it, “Ok… yes, it will solve the purpose.” Rashid hurried to execute the next steps, keep his end of the deal, leave with his share of gold and go back to his country, to his home. He spontaneously improvised and pulled off one of the pillow covers, used it to hold jewelry together, by filling it with articles, for weighing. After few iterations he finished the measurement part. The entire heap of gold weighed twenty kilograms.

“Ten kilograms…ahah! We will have ten kilograms of gold…each,” whispered Rajib in elation. She daydreamt and visualized her desires metaphorically, “here is the awesome moment amidst the fountains… fountains of joy, which are going to bubble out, and all things of beauty shall come into being.” She was excited and everything seemed possible.

Rashid again weighed the jewelry and made two separate heaps of ten kilograms each. In parallel, he had double-checked the measurement.

“Is this fine…correct?” Rashid sought for their approval to what he had done, to equally divide the gold treasure.

“Fine, its fair…very right,” answered Rajib. She was actively involved in the decision making and equally fervent to own her share.

“Now, how will you change or alter these designs… to hide the old patterns so that no one can get suspicious? Though I am not sure how much and in what manner will it help you to cross the border, on your way back,” questioned Samsher. He had noticed that they can’t sell those items as is without attracting suspicion because the jewelry was not in accordance with prevalent trends. At first glance there existed a high probability for anyone to enquire about its point of origin. In all likelihood, jewelry’s as is state would have summoned too many questions.

“Don’t worry…Sardarji. Just wait and watch… see my magic,” he answered softly. “I have brought required implements to fix this.” He declared assertively. “Go Raunak, please bring my bag.” Raunak went to the room where Rashid was made to stay and fetched his bag. Rashid unzipped the bag and removed a tool kit, which was tucked under his clothes. It contained the implements that are used by goldsmiths: blowtorch, needles, tweezers, stencils, flux and few small hammers.

“Wah!” Samsher appreciated his preparation and asked, “When will you start, to showcase your artistic craftsmanship… to alter these designs and disguise its origin under the veneer of contemporary designs.”

“Fauran…abhi…straightaway. There is no good reason to wait. I must complete this as soon as possible.” replied Rashid. He also asked Rajib to provide him a kerosene lamp and few candles. “Moreover, I sincerely request you to please ensure that you all don’t let a single word, about this treasure, escape the confines of this room, house.” He cautioned everyone to conceal the discovery, even though he was certain that they won’t utter a single word.

“Not a word to a living soul,” she nodded and reassured him on the behalf of her entire family. “Why don’t you first eat something,” she suggested him. “…and then start with your next activity? It will take considerable time for you to wrap up your work and therefore it’s appropriate for you to eat first”. Rashid agreed and came out near the kitchen. Samsher sat with him on the ground and kept talking about various issues. Rajib asked Raunak, to help her in arranging the plates. Secretively she instructed Raunak to stay close to Rashid, for the whole time. She feared that Rashid would steal some gold from their ten kilogram heap. She seemed over cautious. Shrewdly she stole a moment, alone with Samsher as well when he came into the kitchen to wash his hands, and passed him the same instruction. Both, Raunak and Samsher, agreed to her idea, to keep a vigil on him and not leave him unattended near their heap of gold.

As soon as Rashid finished his dinner he went back to Raunak’s room, where the whole drama was unfolding. He carried another matchbox and kerosene lamp along with him. Rajib signaled Samsher to follow him into the room and told Raunak to get some rest, for she wanted him to replace Samsher’s watch, after midnight. Rajib was not tired and she didn’t sleep. Rashid was determined and displayed a firm resolve to finish his work during the night time. He wanted to return to his country at the earliest possible. Throughout the time when Samsher was sitting in Raunak’s room, watching Rashid, Rajib provided them tea at regular intervals, as she didn’t want them to slow down. She was excited and eager to welcome the changes that were to follow. She finished her household work after she had washed the dishes, boiled the milk, sliced vegetables for breakfast, and gave Nasib her medications and bed tea. A little later, after the midnight she woke Raunak up and told him to watch Rashid. She also accompanied Raunak and sat in the room, where Rashid was diligently working. She nudged Samsher to leave and catch some sleep. On various occasions Raunak tried to talk to Rashid, initiate some conversation to get answers for the questions that cropped up in his curious mind, but Rajib stopped him from doing so, because she didn’t want to break Rashid’s concentration and disturb him in any way. She felt indulging Rashid in talks would decrease his working speed and efficiency.

The entire room was filled with smoke, which emanated from the kerosene lamp, ascending higher toward the roof before spreading around. Rashid continued to work only in the brightness of the kerosene lamp. He had switched off the light bulb in the room after midnight as he didn’t want to invite any unwanted attention from anyone in the neighborhood. Apart from the dim light produced by the lamp, the only other source was a beam of yellow light, which entered the room through the ventilator window, falling from the street lamp mounted on an electricity pole along the drain, in the street. The room was left with little fresh air, but they were willingly sitting there because of the nature of task at hand. Rajib sat there suffocating in smoke filled air and had kept a folded handkerchief on her nose to avoid inhaling smoke. She had nothing to do except keep vigil on Rashid. She continued to observe myriad patterns of smoke and shadows, which filled the room. A kaleidoscopic outline of smoke consistently wafted and soared against the beam of light as if it was getting pulled from outside through the narrow opening of the ventilator window. The big sooty flame casted shadow, Rashid’s and Raunak’s, over the wall behind them, starting from their feet, creeping up against the wall, higher, all the way till the ceiling. The dancing flame made their shadows to wobble horribly, like two giant swaying balloons, tied to the ground, brushing against each other. Entire scene appeared uncomfortably delusional.

Rashid’s fingers were covered with thick deposits of soot. His fingers moved rapidly, making small calculated strokes, playing with gold-smithy needles. He was heating up the jewelry pieces in the flame, using a jeweler’s mouth blow torch, and altering the designs on them using his implements. His eyes focused strictly on his work. He was not deterred by the smoke and suffocation in the room, for he had a long way to go and hence little time to waste. He was on a mission, anxious and restless.

Raunak took a short break and came out in the garden, to breathe in fresh air. Rajib also wanted to leave the room as sitting in a smoke filled room was highly discomforting. She waited for Raunak, but he didn’t return. She continued to wait but after sometime, when she failed to bear the smoke even after breathing through a handkerchief, she came out. She expected that she will be able to spot Raunak sitting in the patio, outside the room, but he was not there. He was overwhelmed by sleep and laid there snoring, along with Samsher. She realized that the whole mantle of responsibility had fallen on her shoulders. She didn’t want to leave Rashid alone and peered back at him, while she continued to stand outside the door. To her shock, he was not there in his place, where he was earlier sitting on the floor. The room was empty. She felt restless and agitated but immediately comprehended the illusion that had tricked her. Smoke clouds, which were occasionally emerging out from the door, had obstructed her view. Still Rajib got anxious, felt apprehensive; her adrenalin level had shot up. She sensed a knot in her chest after thinking about Rashid stealing her part of gold.

“Do you want something… water, tea?” she said, scurrying in, through the smoke cloud, which had filled the door. She had asked just to look concerned, genuine, and occupied her place on Raunak’s bed. Then she remained there, glued, for the whole time. Selflessly doing her job, to watch over him, amidst her struggle to breathe through kerosene odor and dust filled smoke.

“No…shukreya,” He said, shaking back white laced cuff of his shirt, which was repeatedly disturbing him.

Rashid had also altered designs, patterns and made some structural adjustments for the share of gold jewelry that belonged to Rajib. Considering the time and effort involved, it was a big favor that helped Raunak’s family to mask the origin of their share of jewelry as well. After Rashid finished his activity and had retouched the last piece of jewelry from his heap, he tossed it onto the heap that belonged to Rajib. She noticed this but kept mum and seemed oblivious to the irregularity. She didn’t highlight his mistake.

By the time, first ray of light came over the horizon, Rashid had finished his work. He was tired, but satisfied at the work he had finished. His eyes were dry red, moreover, his blackened face, which was covered with soot, due to continuous exposure to kerosene lamp, made him look outlandish. He seemed to be a character from some horror movie, with bright white dry red eyes striking a contrast against his blackened hairy face. His brown beard was no browner, and his hands too were laden with thick layers of carbon and dust. He had diligently focused on his work and had displayed his firm resolve.

“Sardarniji….” Rashid tried to speak but paused because of the soot, which had mounded on his lips and entered his mouth. He took out a handkerchief from his bag and wiped clean his lips. His yellowish white teeth looked comical against his darkened face. “…I will need another bag to fill this soil along with my share of this jewelry,” he started again, pointing at the dust and waste ash, which was scattered at his feet under the kerosene lamp.

“What?” she asked in amazement, “…for this soil”.

“Yes, Sardarniji… even this soil contains gold dust worth lakhs of rupees, which can be extracted by dissolving this ash and soil into a chemical where it separates out from the ashes,” he said trying to explain. “I will do it at my workshop, back home. And that’s why I added an anklet, the last piece that I worked on from my heap to yours.” Rajib listened carefully as Rashid provided an explained and rationalized his action. She felt humiliated after he categorically underscored the reason for tossing an anklet onto Rajib’s heap, but he didn’t harp on it any further to ridicule her attitude. He collected the soil and ash, which was more, in volume and weight, than what he had anticipated. He brushed every single granule of the ash, with a piece of cloth. He didn’t hesitate to use his toothbrush, to reach for the ash particles that had fallen into crevices in the floor. The entire soiled ash weighted about two to three kilograms, a considerable weight as compared to the weight of gold jewelry that had fallen into his kitty. The ashes included a major portion of flux and wax, which he had used during the redesigning and retouching process. He filled an empty vessel, which earlier had contained gold, to hold the ashes that he had gathered.

“Ok I’ll arrange it…a bag,” she agreed. “I’ll bring it from the market.”

“Fine, let’s pack it.” He pointed at both the heaps of gold. He didn’t want to use vessels to pack his gold to avoid unnecessary weight. Therefore, he helped Rajib to fill her share into other two vessels. She then carried the filled vessels to some other room. She struggled to lift both the vessels together, for she was acting in a possessive manner and was not ready to trust Rashid; as deeply ingrained beliefs and habits seldom change. He tied his share in a cloth, into a bundle and placed it along with the ash filled vessel. He left his share in Raunak’s room and didn’t carry it to the room where he was made to stay as it would not have made any difference, for the whole house was theirs.

“Have you collected…packed yours?” she asked, entering into the room.

“Yes, but this all needs another bag, to be filled in,” he replied, pointing at his share, which he had tucked under Raunak’s bed. He indicatively explained her about the appropriateness of his demand for another bag.

“Yes, that I can see,” she nodded. She once again appreciated the judgments, which were made by him throughout and also guessed the size of the bag required by Rashid, for the contents to be packed in.

Rajib swept the room, cleared all implements - shovels, candles, torch, lamps, etc. that were used earlier and kept them at their suitable place in the house, opened the window to let fresh air enter the room and brought it back to its normal existence. Rashid helped her in cleaning the room. Then he excused himself and went for a bath. Later Rajib served him breakfast and he then went to sleep, for he had worked the whole night. He was really exhausted and worn out.

Rajib also took some rest. Afterwards, in the noon, she asked Raunak to accompany her to the market. Together Rajib and Raunak went to the market and indulged themselves in shopping. She was excited to visit the market and had carried a long list of things, in her mind, that she needed. She carried a large sum of money with her, which otherwise she would have used carefully, to support her household needs, over a span of many months. But she didn’t care for the expenditure because now she had no shortage of money, her vantage point for expenses and necessities had changed overnight. New desires grew in her, brimmed to new heights, and she was ready to enjoy her life, once again. There was no need to spend money in meager drops and she was ready to erode complete buckets. She had chance to fulfill her wishes and dreams, which were sidelined due to their humble monetary health and hand to mouth existence.

She looked at everything, which were displayed in the market, for she had required wherewithal’s to choose them, buy them. Earlier she would only buy requisites to support her household necessities, but new contrasts in a changed context were budding. When both, Rajib and Raunak, were buying a bag for Rashid, she suggested him to buy another for himself. He also liked the option and selected another bag similar to the first one, which she had selected for Rashid. He needed it because he had to dislodge, to go to Delhi, for his job after receiving his date of joining from the company where he had landed a job.

Raunak was amazed, when Rajib paid money for the bags without checking, for price, with the shopkeeper for the second time; leave aside the haggling and bargaining part. Neither she confirmed nor did she worry about the appropriateness of bags price. Suddenly she had changed and had attained a new individuality, overnight. She almost spent all the money she had carried, literally emptied her purse. They returned in the late afternoon loaded with a number of commodities they had purchased.

She gave one bag to Rashid, who stuffed it with the vessel containing the ashes, the bundle of gold jewelry, gold-smithy implements, and some clothes. He zipped the bag properly, readied it for his next leg of journey, back home, and kept it under Raunak’s bed. The bag he packed was heavy, but he didn’t look concerned about the effort it required to stow and carry it back. He packed his remaining clothes into the other duffel bag, which he had initially brought with him. He was ready to leave; move on, for his mission to visit India had neared its end. He had planned to return, to his country, the next day in afternoon, when majority of Pakistani nationals were scheduled to go back, after watching the cricket match between India and Pakistan. Rashid had got an appropriate closure and was ready to sever all ties with his country of birth. He had yearned for long to return, for once, to the place where everything had went wrong for his family.

Chapter 8

Swirling vicissitudes

Neelu and Gopi enjoyed the time that they spent together, after dark, in the tranquility and serenity of every night. Both would eagerly wait for that part of the day. Every time they parted, they carried more verve and longing. She always entered his room like a fairy, graciously, tiptoeing without any noise and filled it with an inexplicable excitement. Day by day, they continued to weave their quixotic fairytale, until her fear of being caught would force her to leave. They had added a new color to their life and both were enjoying it equally. Moreover the thrill and fear that surrounded their romantic pursuits made their encounters even animated. They never talked explicitly but both wanted things to continue the same way, perpetually.

On many occasions, she had thought to sidestep it. She had sensed the absurdity of her advances and had sensed its wrongness. Perchance the relationship into which she had tumbled with Gopi was sufficient. She let herself enjoy the little expedition, which they had planned to go on, during Kumar’s and Anu’s absence. Simultaneously she was a little concerned as well, not because of the realization that she was doing something wrong but the uncertainty that filled her mind. She was not sure how she will manage to keep her secret liaison alive after their return. She wanted it to never end. Till she could stretch her memories, she had enjoyed her youth to the fullest for the first time during those days. Her life and desires were in full bloom.

That day she was alone at home, and she also knew that Gopi was alone too, for Uma and Rekha had gone somewhere. She felt uncomfortable and bored. She wanted to enjoy, relax and to continue the new game she was into, from many days. This time she didn’t struggle with herself to subdue her sensations, for she had the choice, easy, guiltily pleasurable and desirable alternative. She went to Gopi’s house, this time in the daytime.

She faced no difficulty to locate him in the house, as by then she was familiar with every portion of his house. She entered the house with confidence and boldness. He was not there in the living room so she went upstairs, to his room. While scaling the stairs she removed her clothes, massaged her palms, neck and vitals, and convincingly pushed the door open. He lay in his bed, idly, flicking through TV channels. Immediately, after he noticed her presence, he jumped to his feet.

She stood before him, shyly inviting, hands on her hips, smiling softly. Her seductive physical responses, wriggled body language, blushed and stiffened body messaged him to avoid any delay. He stood there, hinged on her unembellished beauty, and observed her amidst an adventurous exhilaration and confusion.

He tried to think of some sexually witty repartee, which might help them navigate through their intimacy and add taste to their passionate togetherness. But her strong cravings let him skip any new idea. Excitedly but impatiently he sat down on the edge of his bed and waited till she had run through all her gesticulations. She approached him, to the spot where he was sitting on the divan. He cleared his throat, to ask her rhetorically but hesitantly, “dear…please come to me, don’t tease and play with me, no more”.

Gopi kissed lightly on her rosy moist lips. He noticed no resistance or hesitation. She had closed her eyes and surrendered herself to his will. He was in no hurry, as the entire moment was unrestrictedly theirs; they were free to define and rule that phase of their liaison. They allowed their imaginations to run wild and amok. He pressed his hands on the side of her breasts, cupped and mildly felt their shape. Her breath raced up. They progressed through their fervent lovemaking, maneuvering ever moment graciously and devouring it with new fervor. She could feel his lips working down her midriff, navel and further down her irresistible body. Both were precipitously full of life.

“Ahaaaaaaa…,” she shrieked and with an impulse jumped to her feet throwing Gopi aside. She pulled the bed sheet, wrapped it around and covered herself. She started crying bitterly, screamingly. She had seen Chootu standing there reticently, behind a curtain and peeping over them. Chootu had climbed to that room following the stairs from the backyard.

“Oh, damn you…what the hell are you doing here,” exclaimed Gopi. He had never expected it from him. He had not considered him as a threat to his privacy.

“Why…why didn’t you tell me… he is home…all this while,” she sobbed through her tears. She was terribly upset.

“Sorry…I felt…”

“Nothing…no, you are a cheat, disrespectful. Earlier also you didn’t tell me about his presence… you have hurt me,” she interrupted him. She was angry at Gopi. She felt disgraced and undignified in front of Chootu, who was still standing there, staring at her naked legs, like a statue. He was drooling over the scene, seeing her naked. “Why don’t you go…leave…moron,” she scolded Chootu, who stood there in a fearlessly defiant and immovable manner. She had draped herself in the bed sheet and continued moaning like a terrified child.

Gopi was not concerned about himself and stood there naked; Stark naked like David’s Michelangelo. But his well built and perfectly toned youth body no more enthralled her; she continued to whimper. Gopi was irritated as he didn’t intend to hurt her. Amidst his anger he found no other way to console her, but to beat Chootu. He verbally abused him and growled, “schmuck…you shit…bhaiya jaati…I’ll teach you a lesson…throw you out”. He wanted to pacify her, because he didn’t want to end his affair, secret dreamy liaison, with Neelu. He went mad, trembled in anger over Chootu’s breach of their secrecy. He held him from his neck and shook him hard, like a bush. Against his expectation, he was much lighter in weight, for he was undernourished and had not grown up fully as compared to others in his age group. Gopi simmered in a fit of rage and pushed him to throw him out, from the room. But his jerk was very powerful and Chootu could not handle it. He was flung across the doorway, struck against the stair railing in the backyard, lost his balance, stumbled over and fell in the backyard, head first on the brick floor. At once, Gopi realized the magnitude of his action and what he had done in his rage. On seeing this Neelu felt a blow in her stomach and without more ado stopped crying. There was a pin drop silence and both guessed the seriousness of the mess into which the matter had entered. They waited for some sound, sob or moan, from the backyard; but there was none.

“You please go… leave without any delay. I’ll see,” Gopi said ordering her to go back. “Don’t tell anybody…don’t worry. Everything will be Ok. I’ll take him to the hospital.” He kissed her and led her out, through the living room.

“She collected her clothes, dressed herself and fled back into her house. She was scarred and realized the wrong she had done. She regretted for allowing herself into such an infatuation. She wanted to forget it, emerge unscathed and not to repeat it ever again. She threw the medicinal powder that Gopi had given her, which she had added regularly every night, mixed into Uma’s bed-milk so as to deepen her sleep, before jumping into Gopi’s backyard and reach his bedroom. It was this trick, an evil design that Gopi had suggested her to follow, to make their secret meetings feasible. Her senses and thoughts were too addled over past weeks for her to estimate seriousness of her actions.

Gopi hurried to reach the place in the backyard where Chootu had fallen over the brick floor. He was lying in a pool of blood, which was oozing profusely from his head. Gopi called his name, repeatedly, but there was no response. He was dead, had suffered a brain hemorrhage. All the romance that had hung heavily on his mind, like febrile seizure, had faded away. He turned cold after he found him motionless, dead – murdered.

He raced his mind and thought about plausible alternatives to emerge out of the situation. He clearly ruled out the idea of telling the truth and decided to hide his body, cover up his death. He brought a large polythene bag, which was used to pack the refrigerator they had bought previous month. He pushed Chootu’s body into the bag, wrapped and tied it tightly. The polythene bag was made of a thick sheet, its surface also carried bubble wrap for shock absorption. He believed the bag won’t allow the smell of the dead body to leak out. He locked the body in the storeroom, washed and scrubbed the floor, to remove the coagulated blood stains and all possible traces. He sprayed a huge amount of salt over the brick floor to prevent the ants from collecting over the place. He impatiently waited for day to end, for he had decided to throw the body outside the town at some isolated place during the nighttime. He was not afraid for being caught as Rekha was to return late at night.

When the sky turned dark, he decided to take his next step, to dispose of the body. He easily carried the body from the storeroom, for Chootu was just a small kid and didn’t weight much. At the bottom of the polythene bag a thick layer of blood had collected. Gopi didn’t want to carry the body as such because the body was partially visible through the sheet of polythene bag. He tried to find a gunny bag to doubly cover the body. He struggled throughout the house but couldn’t fine an appropriate bag. He went to Raunak’s house, met him and asked him for some bag. He tried to suppress his nervousness, conduct himself normally, and talk as if there was nothing out of place. Raunak, who was in a hurry, had to leave for a local dairy shop for buying some cheese for dinner. He didn’t ask for any explanation. In a jiffy he could find nothing dispensable. So he handed over his luggage bag, which he had brought from the market, earlier that day. He didn’t ask when he would return the bag and left for the market, for Rajib was preparing something special and a different level of excitement had elevated their spirits. There existed a celebratory hum and buzz in their house. Rajib was cooking a special meal and was not at all frustrated to cook food for Rashid. She didn’t treat Rashid differently.

Gopi carefully packed the body in the bag he had borrowed from Raunak. Then he placed it in his car and drove out of the town. But he didn’t find an appropriately isolated place, which was apt to dispose of the body. He kept wandering along the fields and wastelands outside the town but couldn’t finalize a place. He was unable to think clearly and decided to look for a suitable place during day time. After struggling for half an hour he returned. Reality had started sinking in; he was quivering with fear and was unable to drive properly. He reached his home, turned off car’s engine and forced his mind to come up with other alternatives. He saw Raunak returning from the market and his mind sprung into action.

“Hey Raunak… wait,” shouted Gopi weakly, getting down from his car hurriedly.

“Yes… from where are you coming…..you look tired… what happened?”

“No…am not tired, only a mild fever,” he answered nervously.

“I can see that…something is concerning you,” he asked, trying to read Gopi’s face.

“No… ah…yes,” he stammered.

“What?” Raunak looked serious, “is everything okay. Can I be of any help? ”

Gopi took a deep breath, composed himself and said, “actually she…mom has gone somewhere and I do not have keys to the house,” he lied. Gopi was a master of deceit; making false excuses instantly came naturally to him.

“Ok…fine, come over…to my place…and wait,” offered Raunak.

“No, I have to leave, go back…somewhere. I just came to keep this bag,” he said pointing at the bag, which he had earlier borrowed from Raunak. “I brought some clothes and other domestic goods from the city… in it,” he completed, trying to look genuine.

“You went to the city and came back in such a short time,” he asked amused.

“Raunak, have you brought the cheese?” shouted Rajib, who had taken note of Raunak talking to Gopi in the street, outside the gate.

“Ji …am coming,” he replied. “…alright, keep it with me… hand it over,” he said, hurriedly approaching the car to lift the bag. “I’ll hand it to Rekha aunty when she’ll return.”

Gopi suddenly looked perplexed and fired back, “why bother about that. I’ll collect it myself tomorrow morning. Also mom will be returning late in the night and otherwise it would keep you waiting.”

“Ok,” Raunak carried the bag, “oh! It’s loaded…a bit heavier than I expected.”

Gopi tried to conceal the truth; he said, “… yes, all the goods are tightly packed,” he paused and started again, “keep it in your room.” He felt an unpleasant sensation in his body.

“Alright,” he replied. He decided to keep the bag in his room. Otherwise he thought Rajib or Samsher would nag him down with unnecessarily questions.

“Okay. I will collect it tomorrow,” he said, once again reminding Raunak, who by then had entered his house and was closing the gate. Gopi didn’t wait for his reply, started his car, turned it back, toward the city and sped away.

Gopi looked relieved, but was unable to control his trembling. He was terrified, for he realized that he had only managed to postpone the trouble and not absolve himself out of it. That night he didn’t return home. Rekha had her set of keys to the house and hence he didn’t bother while he stayed away from home. He was worried that Rekha would get skeptic after observing his nervousness and wanted to avoid her.

Next day, after Rashid had left, their privacy was restored. However things had changed a lot and many new, which were to follow, were subtly set into motion. A hidden breeze of excitement filled the air and every moment that they started venturing into was different. Their outlook had ascended new altitudes, their needs had grown out of proportion and their beliefs had undergone a drastic revision.

Rajib felt no need to shy away, abstain from or suppress her true desires. For her, those desires were the dreams from her past, which she could realize by utilizing the bounty from her fate. Life had been tough for her in formative years, but it had stretched out into new horizons. Moreover, she was willing to spread her wings, soar high in the sky and glide with the winds. Her life had always been simple. Earlier she would spend judiciously, plan prudently with a dream to live well in future, held firmly to her guiding principles and faith but not anymore, in the post-Rashid phase of her life.

Suddenly she started looking at things around her in a different light, like a blind person who suddenly regains his eyesight and starts recognizing new realms, colors, around him/her. There were colossal changes in her viewpoint, but she felt indifferent. There emerged lots of new activity and experimentation.

Her social circle grew by leaps and bounds. For her it became a pleasure filled goings-on to get ready, dress up, for occasions at other peoples house. Now she would evidently spend the mornings in her room, grooming herself. She tried to impress others by an outward display. The money in her hand made her aware of her looks, to which up to then she had paid little attention. It was the money that led her through myriad garment stores, select and buy new clothes. She had resources to command herself in the hall of fame.

She started buying many goods for her house, which were unnecessary but only added luxury. It had never seemed important to her to have a dining table and oven, but now they were her basics, primary needs. Frequently she would go to market, both for shopping and fun. There was a huge change in her, from taking to ochre clothes and various unwanted accessories. She tried to shed her pedestrian image and ran to catch-up with others who were riding wagons. It was money that nudged her, enabled her to spend extra bucks on rickshaws to commute. Earlier she had always preferred to walk, even in the scorching heat of the summer sun.

She would calculate and gauge her social status. Respected, recognized, important was how she thought of herself or how she wanted it to be. This was not always the case, but she enjoyed basking in her present, her new chapter, paying little heed to those who earlier displeased her.

She easily accustomed to the responsibilities of rich parents, and she gave her son a gold plated wrist watch. She stopped enquiring and following up with Raunak to gather an account of his spending. She brought many things for all the members in the family. She decorated the house with finest of the carpets. Everyone in the family was confused and wondered how she had managed to acquire knowledge about stuffs like –feng shui, home and décor, western tapestries, Italian cuisines and couture. She even expressed an interest to own a car and made Samsher to bow before her budding needs.

Raunak also got generous liberty to expand his wings in the newly discovered open sky. Inside the mouth of the pots he had seen, both the countless, and never ending opportunities of a peaceful cum luxurious life. He enjoyed the mood of his new life of activity. He felt he had changed. He acquired and imbibed new traits in his character at an incredible pace, which became something totally personal. His present character was not what others had taken it to be.

Unless one is wealthy there is no use in being a charming fellow. Romance is the privilege of the rich, not the profession of the unemployed. The poor should be practical and prosaic - the few sentences written by Oscar Wilde, which Raunak had studied in his primary classes, staged a comeback in his mind. He felt the opportunities to opt for new options. He started buying branded clothes. Now he could compare himself with other children. Moreover, those who in other times were mean, ignorant, rude and bully were revealing unsuspected qualities of friendliness and generosity towards him. As said there are always people out there who come to share your happy moments, and you always have them, who will cheer you on until the end of happy times. Now the girls of the colony approved of him. From the polite to the obnoxious; from the dreamy married women to the disapproving overweight aunties and to the giggling group of svelte college girls. Raunak felt that he had turned the cynosure of all eyes. He admired himself because the character, into which he had transformed, had in its own small ways become an example. Everyday Raunak started going out with Gopi or some other new friends from the town. At night they would go out driving, just for the sake of fun. Richness gave Raunak multiple opportunities to go to new places, somewhere other than usual dingy roadside kiosks. He had no hesitation in visiting costly places. Even he started paying for other’s bills. It was something he was compelled to do; doing this came with sudden emergence of money in his wallet. He started spending his time away from his family members. The days when he would share his ideas, over weekend morning gossip sessions, with his father had become a thing of past. Gone were the days when he used to find relief and solace accompanying his elderly grandmother, and enjoy his much earned moments. Nasib had always insisted him to try, to find what he was good at and to make himself a believer; for she believed a well-directed imagination is the source of great deeds.

But soon the new way of life became a routine for him. He felt uneasy and wanted to explore more. Then he began to long for some adventure. Moreover, adventure has always attracted man, they are for fun or a short detour, but some prove out to be gnaws of devil. And finally he made a bold step and decided to visit a new place, for adventure. He had virtually been strutting over this option for few weeks. He had detested this option earlier because at that time he didn’t have enough money. Raunak traveled to the other extreme of the city life, to the hotel, where once Gopi had introduced him to a pleasant surprise, a pleasurable existence in the form of prostitutes.

One day he went there during an evening because he had feared for being spotted in day time. He confidently marched to the counter, paid for his special expedition and went upstairs to a room. He opened the door to a new world. A beautiful girl stood before him, wearing a thin black negligee with red décolletage. Her electric looks provoked him. His heart started beating faster, he had butterflies in his stomach and his hands went cold. Few specks of conscience that had yet not faded rattled him, telling him to rush out, to hurry and do away with the hell. But he just let his heart decide, whether he wanted to get out of that. He moved, taking calculated steps, as if walking across a chessboard but making an unintelligible move. She stood there, still, like a king, checkmated. It required efforts, both physical and mental to let it start. He waited for a right moment, for an inner desire to erupt, because he knew that to make it a vigorous affair he had to be careful. He made his first move and placed his hand on her curvy waist.

“What are you waiting for,” she said, exploring him up and down.

Suddenly he got filled with an irrepressible confidence and leapt over her. He failed to control himself, anymore, for there were no latches to suppress his feelings. Previously his friends had always ridiculed him, “you are grown up, with beard so dense, macho and tough looking, but still struggle to play decisive male games.” But that day he behaved like an unleashed bull, alone, growling and striking in a forbidden world.

He pressed his fingers to her eyes, to her lips and caressed them. His lips worked down her body, like a butterfly, creeping across the petals...

After he finished he dressed up and came down in the hall, where he sipped and ate before setting back for home, but nothing proved as tasty and delicious as the earlier moment. He had the most wonderful time.

When he stepped out, he bumped into the same old man, hawker, whom he had asked questions to inquire about the repute of that hotel during his first visit when Gopi had brought him there and introduced him to the other side; but this time he tried to ignore him. The old man kind of recognized him and tried to initiate a talk. Raunak neither responded to his greetings nor did he pay any attention to him. For some people, who don’t have money, wealth is just a surface thing, a waylay to an ugly life. But for Raunak, it had to do with life and its charms. He thought old man’s life won’t change, never, because those who lack something never appreciate its virtues. The old man, his eyes framed by heavy white grey brows, stared out of the shot with glowering intensity, and Raunak could not look into his face, for they were characters on opposite sides in the new context. Old man’s eyes followed him in silence, but he said nothing. Raunak’s ignoring him clarified all his doubts.

Raunak too established acquaintance with the police constables, who eagerly scrutinized the traffic on the road leading to that hotel, to get their pie of the share, an externality for letting that illegitimate business flourish. Raunak would skid a five hundred rupee currency note into constables’ pocket, every time he visited there.

There onwards he continued such extravaganzas as his appetite for adventure had increased multifold. He had become acquainted with a number of prostitutes. What he thought to be an occasional profligacy turned into an addiction. He felt the damage he was doing to himself but allowed himself to be carried in this ephemeral escapade. Earlier his mother had never allowed him to go out with Gopi and others. But post an extraordinary bit of serendipity, she never bothered to check for his where beings, for these are the liberties followed with richness. He tried to give himself a personality. His core ambitions were no more certain to him and gradually they faded. Inspirations, roll mottos are bookish things and get closed within the covers unless one doesn’t hold principles. He felt good for a while, extracted pleasure from the moment, but yet again, he felt that there was hardly any fun left in that state. He heard a new voice in his heart, “There is something I need, and I need more”.

He tried to match realities with his desires and dreams. His effervescent desires existed in all shapes, sizes, and senses. They were narrow and wide, flighty and grouchy. Call them what you will, a medley of imaginations, a farrago. They were disparate, they were diverse. They were varied and variegated, unclassified. The excitement built and built, pent up wishes. And he was ready to try out many things. He thus went about visiting all the places, which appealed him, in various nooks and corners of the city. Now he had enough money. Money, the root of desire, was in his hand and it recommended him to take up challenges and experience new stuffs. For him money was no more a wonder, rather he started exploring the infinite wonders it can divulge. He never hesitated. To him it seemed that he could just go on, according to his will.

It was due to an increased thickness of wealth for which no hard efforts were done that he got sucked into a parallel world of existence, darkness. He followed colors that appealed him, the one that are not favored by relevance. Somewhere he was going wrong. But what all this could have led to?

Everybody in the house had changed, were happy but one—Nasib. She was more the same person, unmoved by the fortune. Innumerable times she tried to caution her son, daughter-in-law and grandson, but they didn’t listen. Rajib had started treating Nasib as her foe.

One day, Rajib was sitting in the garden, clearing rice for lunch. Nasib, who was lying in her bed, placed in the courtyard, started her perennial talk. She said, “When spring of his grace comes it will rain success on you.” She looked concerned about some unseen troubles, which only she could sense in the house.

“Oh…ho,” said Rajib bitterly, “now which spring are you talking about? We have already found the ultimate spring, the wealth. How many times I have to tell…” it was Sunday, Beebo had come as usual. She was washing clothes, near the veranda. Rajib looked frustrated because she had clearly forbidden Nasib from talking about it in her presence, or any outsider presence for that matter. Rajib lowered her voice into a whisper because she didn’t want Beebo to overhear anything about the wealth. She started again, “… one has to be a chosen one to have such divine favor, hitting a treasure.”

“You need to be true to yourself and there are always certain boundaries to expand. The whole world has not been locked up there, in unnecessary wealth. You may need to block out some time for thinking twice, else flashes of guilt would keep on pestering you in the times to come,” said Nasib weakly.

“Have you gone insane? What ghoulish things you are talking about. If you can’t speak good… then at least stay quiet,” she said angrily. “Any ways…,” she continued, “there’s nothing like these modern conveniences. I hope you understand.”

“Conveniences…huh… don’t forget our first and last love is... self-love. Loving false things…wealth is not humane. It may cost heavily,” she murmured.

“Why don’t you realize how our dreams have come to be?”

“These…are false dreams, meaningless,” she said, remaining fixed to her viewpoint. “See how Raunak has changed. He is going wrong, heading towards unknowable future. He turns up late at night and has become careless. This is not good…he is turning unconscious to rightness. Great blunders sometimes do germinate in unconscious minds. I pray for him… may almighty grace him with his love”

“You are wrong,” said Rajib, firing at once. “You are saying these things about him because he has started avoiding you…he has not become careless but is busy in his life. We can’t rein him to ourselves. He can make his decisions and is mature enough to determine his good. Moreover, he is just hurrying to gain new ways to success, exploring and trying to nudge ahead.”

“One has to really be in hurry and strive to be successful, but no shortcuts. Over expenditure will do him no good. Being successful doesn’t signify tasting unnecessary wealth,” she said desperately but philosophically.

“These days when rich people says something everybody sits up and takes notice. People will listen to you, and they'll be affected. People, even some, who are out of your mind, would stage a comeback,” she replied trying to defend her stand to have wealth.

“Beebiji,” shouted Beebo from where she was standing in the veranda.

“Now leave this discussion, put an end…” said Rajib to Nasib, stepping up to reach Beebo in the veranda. “Yes, what do you want,” she asked Beebo coldly, as she reached the door that led to the outer precincts of the courtyard.

“Beebiji, I need water…to drink.”

“Why don’t you use the hand pump?”

“Beebiji, water from the hand pump is not cold,” replied Beebo politely.

“Ok. Wait here.” Rajib returned inside, to the kitchen. Earlier Rajib had never objected Beebo for asking for water. She came outside and handed her a glass of water.

“Take it…and go…complete your work as soon as possible,” she said rudely.

Beebo looked disturbed on seeing the glass. Rajib had brought her water in a deformed stainless steel glass; it had cracked around the edge. The glass looked more like an earthen lamp. Rajib had taken out the utensils, which were earlier thrown in the storeroom. She had started using them to serve people, whom she had started categorizing as lower classes. This demarcation of utensils according to a persons’ status was new foundation of hospitality for Rajib. These were the subtle but noteworthy changes brought out by increased richness on which she delighted herself. Her snobbery certainly shocked Nasib. Rajib never appeared content; she wished to go beyond the visible.

“Beebiji, I want to tell you something,” said Beebo, with a tinge of hesitation in her voice.

“If you want to pull in the picture that other people have increased your wage and you want me to follow in the same stead…then my answer is no,” sniggered Rajib.

“No…no. it’s about chote sahib…Raunak,” she said. Beebo had adapted to Rajib’s changed behavior.

“Yes, what is it?” she asked intriguingly.

“Beebiji, don’t feel bad. If you won’t like me saying like this…then please for god sake…do forgive me,” she paused and studied Rajib’s face. Then she started again, “Beebiji…Raunak sahib has developed companionship with few boys in the town, who are not good people.”

“How can you say and what exactly do you mean?” interrupted Rajib.

“Others have told me… those boys indulge in unacceptable activities… have showcased objectionable behavior. And…,” she said hesitantly, “…Gopi babu is also not a good person. I have heard many saying… that a lot of times he has mixed up or got involved in criminal activities and drugs.”

“Ok. I’ll check it myself.” Rajib hurried to finish the discussion. She thought about what Beebo had told but ignored it. For she felt that it’s hearsay from lower class people who have nothing else but to talk stupid things and spread wicked rumors about others.

Samsher had also veered off his path but had managed to salvage himself. After initial phase he was more the same person, though he could not persuade Rajib and Raunak to do so and subdue their impulses. He had no extravagant desires, nor did any surfaced in their distorted existence. He disliked changes that overpowered both, Rajib and Raunak, but he never opposed them because he was unable to help them demarcate between virtues and vices. He was also hard-pressed between his principles and his family’s desires, against his will. He failed to decide if he should let things happen or not. He thought the fortune had planted the seeds for happiness. But, one can’t plant happiness and see it grow; it requires constant vigil. Deep down, he had understood this fact.

They were in the middle of luxury and nothing seemed unlikely or difficult after the fortune had struck. Nurtured by fortune they grabbed everything they wished. Life had been tough for them in their formative years. During their difficult times everything had appeared distant and hazy, which seemed possible and within reach after they landed with riches. Earlier they had no choice but to plainly disregard and suppress their materialistic desires. Later, myths covered with the ugly realities of prosperity had appealed them, imbuing them with totally different personas. And they took to the corridors of another life. They joined the club of greed, which has no standards for its membership. They had dashed to claim an imaginary utopia. Not to mention a higher purpose or a great meaning to life, everything had reduced to a meaningless jumble. Unexpected developments were following. At some later stage assorted outcomes were likely to fall on them in full measures. Time always work on the back or was ignored by them. The time they were in and the one they joined held a contrast.

But can they be blamed if their decisions later harden into a trouble? Destiny was somewhere there, playing its quite role. Mighty fate is always silent on the surface like a duck, but resolutely active beneath the water. The web it spins is the one no one can evade. A glorious impulse was shepherding them to glorious ruins. The played obliviously, all along, as the smell of doom is scent free.

Chapter 9

Succession of tragedies

Gopi had properly washed the blood spots from his backyard. The place where Chootu had landed on the brick floor after rolling over the railing was repeatedly scrubbed with detergent and water. Only little blood, which had entered the gaps and crevices between the bricks, was vaguely noticeable. After few days even last remnants of blood got covered under the overgrowth of grass shoots that grew naturally through the crevices, which crisscrossed the brick floor. To ensure that nothing looks out of the ordinary and none of his activities invite suspicion he busied himself with his daily work. When Rekha enquired for Chootu’s whereabouts, he told her that he had gone to his native village, in Bihar, along with his family, as there was no work left in the farms over that month. She believed him, for his explanation sounded reasonable and there was nothing that could have made her suspicious. She employed another maid, temporarily, to cover for Chootu’s absence. But, to her surprise later she discovered a totally different picture.

Chootu’s family members, who lived in the tube well room in his farm, repeatedly asked Gopi to bring Chootu, along with him to the farm, as they had not met their child in quite a while. On all such instances Gopi mentioned that Chootu was occupied with one or another household task, back in town at his house. Gopi had failed to anticipate the severity of the issue and unmindfully thought that he would be able to control the situation on the go. He failed to see the doom racing towards him. For few days they believed him but when Gopi didn’t bring Chootu even on their repeated requests they grew skeptic, because Chootu had always visited them at regular intervals. They waited for few more days but when he didn’t turn up, his father decided to visit Gopi’s house, in the town. His family was worried for him and had understood that something was amiss.

Chootu’s father reached the town. That day Gopi was alone at home, he tried to shoo Chootu’s father away with some new excuse. He patiently tried to dispel his worries and made a diligent effort to persuade him to return. But Chootu’s father remained unmoved and declared that he would wait for Chootu and return to the farm only after seeing him. He was convinced that something was not right and there was no rationale why he should have agreed to not stay put on his demand. When Gopi failed to make him go, leave, he sensed that matter was slipping out of control. Inadvertently, amidst his nervousness, he abused and rushed him up. He scolded him and alleged that Chootu had run away from the house after stealing many valuables and money. He further threatened him to immediately vacate his tube-well room and go back to his village, in Bihar state. Gopi promised him that he will give him huge sum of money too, if he quietly goes away, from Punjab. Gopi thought that he will succeed to suppress the chaos, leverage his money power and went ahead with his proposition. To ensure that he impose his plan on Chootu’s father and family, he threatened him by mentioning that if he refuses to bow, he will lodge a police complaint and get him arrested.

Chootu’s father found Gopi’s behavior totally inappropriate. He sensed foul and was convinced that Gopi had hidden the facts, had subjected Chootu to some kind of misfortune. He immediately returned to the farm and informed all the laborers, who worked in the nearby farms and were from his clan, about what he faced during his visit to the town. Next day they all visited Gopi but had to return without any success, for Gopi persisted on his statement that Chootu had run away. They got their complaint registered with the city police but Gopi managed to deflect the initial investigation that the police conducted. He was acquainted with few of the policemen, who visited his house, and hence they easily agreed to what Gopi had to say and accepted his offer to close the case. He gave them hefty sums of money as well to rule in his favor. When laborers received no support from the police they went to their labor union’s head. The union leader, another Bihari who belonged to their community, took the matter seriously and contacted the local human rights body. They thronged the police station and protested against the oppression that they had experience. This time police had to register a First Information Report (FIR) against Gopi. The situation worsened, few local news reporters caught a whiff and started keeping an eye on all the proceedings of the case. This led to a multiplier effect. Amidst all these developments police had to take a serious view of the increasing opposition, which they faced while containing the scale of the demonstrations in the town.

A terrifying moment arrived that day. In the evening some shrieks erupted near the town. Slowly they grew louder and louder. A horde of laborers had come together to lend their support and protest against the injustice meted out to poor, Chootu’s family. What followed next was never expected. It was a huge angry mob and was vehemently demonstrating against Gopi. They flooded the street, they were in thousands and few reporters also followed them like hawks. People came out from their houses when they listened to the noises, ruckus. The mob protested and raised strident slogans—“doshi ko saja do…doshi ko saja do”—punish the culprit. It gave an impression that they won’t shy away from lynching Gopi, mob justice.

All the residents were confused because they didn’t know what had happened, and what had led to that upsurge. The mob assembled outside Gopi’s house and continued their protest. This time Rekha was also at home. A person from the neighborhood enquired about the matter from one of the laborer and found it hard to believe what he was told. They blamed Gopi for murdering Chootu. The news traveled from ears to ears. Gopi came out, he was petrified and his color had faded away. Few young men from the town stood by his side and tried to hold back the protestors. Gopi again accused Chootu and stood firm on his statement that Chootu had absconded. Rekha was confused because Gopi had initially told her something different, but she chose to support him–the very blind support that had brought Gopi to that chapter in his life. The mob didn’t agree and forced into the house. They searched, brought out Chootu’s clothes and his money from the room in the backyard that was allocated to him. They challenged Gopi’s claim by questioning why had Chootu left his own money and key belongings while escaping, after burgling the house? The argument heated up, they again raised slogans “attyachari…”—merciless, heartless. The people, who had initially supported Gopi, slowly backed out. They found laborer’s claim reasonable and hence decided to avoid getting involved in the mess.

Someone from the crowd picked a stone and pelted it at Gopi, but it hit Rekha on the forehead and she got injured, bled copiously. They all turned savage; attacked the house with stones, mud, sticks and anything else they could lay hands on. The angry mob smashed everything and let lose their anger. Gopi and Rekha managed to run back inside, to hide and shelter themselves from the fury. Police was informed and it arrived without much delay. It came in white Maruti Gypsy’s –four Gypsy cars, which scaled like a snake through the town streets.

When police reached the town, protestors started raising slogans with greater vehemence and intensity. Police tried to calm them down and tried to take control of the situation; but they didn’t listen, they demanded Gopi’s arrest and wanted to know if Chootu was all right. They wanted police to locate him at the earliest and sought justice for the harassment. Behind the scene police party had received orders from their high ups to suppress the protest, as applicable, at the earliest to ensure that local law and order is not disrupted. Looking at the scale of the gathering, police had realized that they need to side with the laborers on certain aspects of investigation and execution. Police didn’t want the demonstrations to continue and had to balance its act. The involvement of human rights activists had further worsened the matter by magnifying the situation and had brought unnecessary attention to the case. Police went into Gopi’s house and it was only after they reassured him that the mob won’t hurt him, he opened the door. Few leaders from the labor union and human rights body also tagged along with the police.

Police patiently listened to the explanation that Gopi presented in his defense. He continued to blame Chootu for burglary but his lame statements failed to convince police. Police observed many uncertainties and decided to arrest him on the basis of doubt. Rekha pleaded but police took firm action. She felt helpless and the embarrassment associated with the whole scenario further made her speechless. Gopi said nothing and stayed mum, for he knew that he was trapped. Police dragged and brought him out. The protestors attacked him and even police failed to control their anger. With great efforts police managed to free Gopi from the clutches of the angry crowd and threw him into a Gypsy car.

“Tell us where is Chootu? Where is our little child? What have you done with him?” asked a person from the crowd, in a threatening tone. Many followed and raised the same question. They wanted to solve the matter there and then. They tried to pull him out from the Gypsy and find their own way, to make him speak and share the truth.

“I have told you…he ran away,” cried Gopi.

“Liar…you are a liar,” said a voice dismissively from the crowd. “Tell us where is he?” another voice rattled the scene. Few threw stones at the Gypsy car and others kept banging on its hood, with their bare fists. Fury of the crowd was at its peak.

Gopi looked confused, he wished to free himself; he didn’t want to go to prison and looked for his savior–some excuse. He had realized the fact that he can’t escape the punishment and considering the severity of his crime he won’t be able to emerge unscathed on the basis of mere explanations. Amidst all the buildup and the awful din, his mind raced for some way out of this problem. “He killed him,” said Gopi, immediately raising his finger and pointing it out “…he…Raunak had killed him…” What made him blame Raunak was unclear, but he had decisively changed his stand. He kept repeating his words, his new charge. He tried to have him framed.

A deafening silence reined the crowd and everyone was staggered in their thought. After listening to Gopi’s last statement that Chootu had been killed, Chootu’s mother shrieked like some animal in pain and started beating her chest. Many gazed in the direction where Gopi had pointed. They discerned and spotted Raunak and started abusing him. It was an intense verbal assault and mob rallied together towards the new drift that Gopi had deviously introduced.

Raunak couldn’t believe his ears and felt that there was some misunderstanding. But after he heard Gopi clearly, he realized that he was being accused. He sensed that someone had gone back on commitment, friendship. Gopi’s blame was among the latest ominous signs that an unprecedented step change was underway. He sensed a great danger. Rajib and Samsher were also equally taken by surprise. They had just turned their heads to ask Raunak about the genuineness of the blame and seek some response from him, but laborers had made up their mind, treated him like another culprit, rather an accomplice, and attacked him. A volley of verbal abuses and violent remarks hit them like an avalanche. Laborers pulled him into the street and started beating him mercilessly. Men punched him, knocked off his turban; women found nothing else to hit him and chose to pull his long hair, which came into their grips easily. The climate was filled with abuses, anger, cries and slogans. The haywire that erupted showed how society classifies its members so easily and so conveniently into ’the right’ and ‘the wrong’. Events were not transitioning but leapfrogging into a new sphere.

Police displayed its force, fired a shot in the air, intervened and succeeded to get Raunak out. He struggled to get back on his feet; one police constable helped and lifted him, and shielded him from the wrath of laborers. Those who are supposed to be the custodians of law i.e. police, had failed to check the menace created by the angry protestors. They were able to steer through the situation but incapable to control it.

“You… stupid, son of a bitch. Huh… First you were involved with prostitutes and drugs only… bastard… now you have taken to crime as well… murders,” said the policemen, who stood next to the constable who had pulled Raunak out. He was the same policemen, whom Raunak had bribed many a times, at the police check post near the hotel, in the city, whenever he had visited prostitutes. He shook his head in exasperation and scolded Raunak, “Now see what all stuffs law will teach you...murderer. I will straighten you out”.

The situation ran red when the blame clamped its jaws in Raunak. He had no option but to listen, vulnerably. He was arrested for something that he failed to fathom. He had, of course, no choice in the matter. He was afraid that his parents would take notice of what the policeman was blaming him for and would no longer trust him. Everybody failed to recognize the reality and there existed no reason that could have assisted them to do so. Raunak had stood at a junction where his destiny could have sprung into any direction but miserably in the new turn of events he was not at the helm of things. He might have cursed the circumstances but altering the fate was not in his hand. He landed into a situation no one could have contemplated.

On the professional front, police inspector had displayed excessive zeal and acted impulsively, but favored the protestors because of the pressure. Policemen had expected that protesters would calm down and disappear after the arrests, which the mob had demanded. But arrests also failed to pacify them. They continued to create the disorder, for the moment was on their side and the crowd could vent their anger with impunity.

Police made no further enquiry, just dragged him into another Gypsy and sped away. Raunak was not ready for this, nor had he expected. He tried to emphasize that it’s a false implication, but his efforts went in vain. No body, of course, cared to think about him being innocent. Laborers continued to shout, abuse, and raise slogans. After police had gone there was nobody left to check and regulate their actions. They again thrashed Gopi’s house and few pelted stoned at Raunak’s house too. Residents had locked themselves in the safety of their houses. When mob got tired and lost its vigor, they left the street. The scene that had prevailed was horrible.

Afterwards, people from the neighborhood came out, poured back, into the street and discussed the matter. They tried to rationalize the situation as per their best judgment. Few consoled Rajib and Samsher, who were shocked and paralyzed. They wanted to express their pain, but didn’t say anything because there was such an awful lot to comprehend but little time to do so. Nasib kept asking people about the matter but failed to force her voice against the hubbub that filled the air. It had quite a bit of an effect on her. She felt it as an illusion at its brightest, loudest and sharpest. She stood aghast at the sight of so much commotion.

It was only when Samsher and Rajib had vanished into their house that Nath, a neighbor, approached a group of other fellow neighbors who stood there as spectators and remarked, “There goes Raunak and Gopi... sloppy boys, who have spoiled their future.” To which Swami, a cloth merchant, added, “Children do mistakes in their youth but murder is a big no-no”. The old, bald Chawla was, as usual, the last to conclude the discussion, swirled his tongue through his toothless mouth like a venomous snake, “how careless their parents are. They are equally responsible, for not reining their children… oh graceful god save them.” And as usual he closed his mouth prefaced by a pious summons to the almighty. He always thought it irrelevant to think that his own son had eloped with a neighbor’s daughter. In short all spectators felt a flutter of excitement.

In their conscious what Raunak’s family had missed to anticipate and that accompanied their new life style, lavish life, had started to simmer. No sooner had they claimed the luxurious ways, they had run into troubles. While pursuing false dreams it was impossible for them to be sure what exactly was happening to their family. In any case, latest outcomes couldn’t be fed back to the decisions of the past, to rollback or alter the course of things. They had liked to climb uphill, like those nursery rhyme characters, Jack and Jill. And then, just like them, tumbled down to lose their happiness in the course. That potpourri of events had turned out to be a public drama.

Following this, another storm was waiting to beat down Raunak’s family intensely. And, when next day newspaper reports screamed of the murder, everybody knew that trouble for Raunak had arrived. It erupted like a volcano, sending columns of ash into the air. Was this Raunak’s fate, to be convicted in a false case? Fate, of course, does make a difference in shaping one’s life, but isn’t fate after all a mere reflection of our decisions, past dots waiting to get connected.

Chapter 10

Desultory repentances

Next morning was no different but at Raunak’s house nothing was same. Melancholy and gloom filled the air. They woke up much earlier than their usual routine, for none had slept the previous night. Throughout the night, Rajib had cried, many times, for what Raunak had done. Nasib had prayed the whole night; she didn’t sleep and kept wailing, while she lay in her bed, in the veranda. Nobody in the house had energy to console others, as they all were equally helpless. Samsher had gone dumb, hallucinated. He felt insulted and undignified after police had dragged Raunak into their Gypsy car. He couldn’t believe the situation to be true. He was angry at Raunak for what he believed he had done, but felt sick after he imagined Raunak’s ordeal, suffering, at police’s hand, brutality. He struggled between righteousness and fatherhood.

Samsher gathered some courage and went to Nasib’s bed. She appeared frail and was fast sleep. He wondered how she could sleep, for she had not eaten anything since previous night. He wanted to talk and slowly called Nasib, but she didn’t respond. He touched her arm to wake her up and realized that it burnt like amber. He touched her forehead with the back of his hand and found that she had a high fever. He repeatedly called her name, gently nudged and shook her; she responded but only once, she weekly opened and closed her eyes. He had never before seen her so sick and tired. He called Rajib, but she was nowhere around. Rajib was sitting, in the veranda, against a wall since morning. She only answered him when he called her for the second time.

When she arrived near Nasib’s bed, Samsher immediately requested her to bring cold water and a soft piece of cloth. He used cold compress, by repeatedly placing a cold damp cloth on her forehead, to control and bring down her body temperature. It was only after half an hour that Nasib’s body temperature receded and she began to move her hands and head. Their life had gone haywire. Samsher didn’t go to his academy and continued to sit by his mother’s side. That day, there was no morning tea, no breakfast and moreover nobody asked for food.

“Are you fine…now,” asked Samsher politely. Nasib had regained her consciousness and her body temperature had descended.

Nasib stared at Samsher, blankly, for a moment, and then moaned, “Is there some news… from him? How is he?” Her voice seemed weak and fragile. She enquired about Raunak. Neither Samsher nor Rajib uttered a word. Their silence answered her question.

“Why don’t you go and see him,” she suggested, clearly disappointed.

This time he answered her. “No, I won’t go. He has done wrong and has to suffer. I won’t go…I won’t support him. He has brought down shame upon the family,” he declared ungraciously. He was angry and presented his judgment, decision. Rajib started crying after she heard the words that Raunak had done wrong.

“No, he can’t kill anybody. He can’t be a murderer,” Nasib sobbed and defended Raunak. “He is a nice kid…my poor child”.

“But then why… why did Gopi accuse him?” He stopped and pondered, and continued, “… also, from many days Raunak was involved with him”.

“I don’t feel right. Something is wrong… totally wrong, but he can’t be a killer. He is such a nice boy… he is not rogue,” said Nasib stubbornly.

“But he can’t be an innocent, either. Smoke only rises when there is a fire. Definitely he has some role in this case”. He was skeptic.

“Why would he kill Chootu? He had nothing to do with him,” interrupted Rajib finally, forcing through her sobs, in a weak voice. She continued, “…may be Gopi had committed this crime and when he found himself trapped he tried to toss his part of deeds onto somebody else…my poor boy…child.” She started crying, vacillating.

Samsher looked confused. “Even if you are right, how will we prove his innocence,” he said, nodding.

“Then why don’t you go, and meet him, talk to him. Simply sitting here won’t help. Ask him about this entire quagmire,” pleaded Rajib.

“Go and at least see how is he doing, coping up there, my poor child…go for God’s sake,” forced Nasib impatiently, approving Rajib.

“OK, I’ll go… to the police station,” he agreed, barely concealing his own feelings, to see him. “…but let me first take you to a doctor”. He again touched Nasib’s forehead, which still burned hot.

“No…no…I am alright. I’ll be fine, better, after I hear about my child’s wellbeing,” she said stiffly, opposing him for planning to take her to a doctor.

“Fine,” said Samsher, standing up and striding around, in the veranda. He got ready within few minutes, as his own heart ached to meet Raunak. Neither he demanded breakfast nor did Rajib remembered to offer. He hurried to reach the police station.

Samsher knew that Nasib won’t agree for medical checkup, so after he left the house, firstly he went to a doctor and requested him to check Nasib, by visiting his house. Then he took a bus to the city. There he enquired a person about the location of the police station, for he was going to a police station for the first time in his entire life. He hired a rickshaw and reached there.

Earlier that day both Gopi and Raunak were taken to the city magistrate. He took into consideration the gravity of the case and sent both of them on police remand for three days. The continuous pressure from the demonstrators, labor union, made police to hasten up and solve the case. The situation had moved beyond normalcy because the case was perceived as suffering of a poor at the hands of higher class people, followed by denial of justice. All the earlier incidents, which had ever occurred in the city, like bonded labor, low wages and ill-treatment, were packed together and seen as one by those laborers. The labor union had even threatened to go on strike and stipulated severe punishment for the culprits at the earliest possible. Most of the people, who had later congregated had never known Chootu; they had nothing to do with the case, but jumped into the agitations as a chance to speak against the upper society. Some even tried to associate other demands along with the case. It seemed inevitable to prevent Gopi and Raunak from laborers wrath, they were at the receiving end.

Both were taken back to the police station and then to separate interrogation rooms. Police made them remove their clothes, strip naked. The treatment they met was comparable to the one faced by hardcore criminals.

A police officer struck Raunak’s feet and legs with a hard wooden stick. Every time the stick, would land at the same place on the leg where it had earlier smacked and the wound would pain severely. “Tell me…what you bastards have done to Chootu…where is he?” shouted the police officer. He held Raunak from his neck. But there were only bawls that left his mouth. He failed to tolerate the pain in his legs. Within seconds from the first hit, his legs turned blue. “Tell me…you son of a bitch”. This time he slapped him.

“Ohouuuuu…………,” he shrieked, tears rolled down his face. The physical trauma was so intense that he felt dead.

The police officer had gone berserk. He again struck him with stick and punches. He didn’t care where they landed. The compulsion to solve the case had made him fierce. He pulled his hair, which were scattered, and shook his head mercilessly. “Tell me…tell me. What you did with him…speak,” demanded the police officer heatedly, his temper rose with every word he uttered. He punched him on the face. Raunak’s lower lip got smashed against his teeth and blood rushed out in small explosions. “……tell…you filth eater”.

Now Raunak was submitted to his persecution with the slave like docility. He tried to deduce the seriousness of the problem he had landed into. He made efforts to speak because he knew, otherwise the beating won’t stop. He moved his tongue, amidst the taste of his own blood, which had entered his mouth. “Sir…I know nothing…ah…ah…ah,” he said wearily, struggling through his pains.

The officer loosened his grip and allowed him to speak. “Hey…boy you listen to me first. If you think somebody will save you… then you are mistaken… nobody can… not even your bearers,” he said, sounding bitter. He pulled his blood soaked beard. Much hair got uprooted and left with his hand. He took a great, hoarse and deep breath and continued, “this is one place where even god can’t dare to enter... so you better tell me all you know…tell.”

“…ah…ah…ah” He gazed, hopelessly at him, then said, “Sir I have nothing to do with this,” he pleaded. Raunak hesitated because his reply was not the one that officer would have liked to hear. Big tear drops rolled down his eyes. Nasal fluid also came out and mixed with his saliva.

His injured condition didn’t make him shower any pity. Rather he went mad with insanity at Raunak’s stubbornness. He warned him to tell the truth, didn’t wait for his next reply, he dragged him across the dingy floor, by holding him from his long hair. Raunak tried to endure the pain to best of his limits. “You won’t speak …kid you don’t know us…you have just tasted a morsel till now. See what I’ll do, next. Nobody had dared to hide the truth here,” spluttered the police officer. He kicked him with his feet. Few others, who were standing there also vented out their frustration and kicked him.

There were no cries and shrieks. Raunak lost his consciousness. In the adjoining cell Gopi still struggled against the brutality.

Samsher entered the police station. He felt strange; the building he had entered was different from all others. There he saw nobody at relief, many were waiting there to meet their family members or relatives. Few were rushed out, chained, taken to court or shifted to other prisons. He approached the nearest desk. A man in uniform was occupying the chair. His face was stretched, in some perpetual form of anger, as if he had never laughed.

“Sat…shri…akal sahib,” Samsher said softly, but there was no reply. Neither had he expected any.

“Huh…what’s your problem?” the constable questioned him roughly. His teeth were discolored with Paan and few crumbs of betel leaf were repulsively stuck to his lower lip.

“Sir I want to meet my son…Raunak, he was arrested last night,” explained Samsher lamely.

The constable recognized Samsher as he had gone to their town the previous night, and had also witnessed the furor. He uninterestedly struggled through few files, pulled out one, and scribbled some lines on it in a broken handwriting, which Samsher failed to read. “Hardly a day has passed and you want to meet him,” he squeaked. “Sign here…,” he ordered him, and placed his pen on the page, where he wanted his signatures.

“Ji sahib…,” he obeyed cautiously.

“Theek hai…now wait till two o’clock. Relatives are allowed to meet the defaulters after that,” said the constable furiously. He humiliatingly pointed towards a row of benches, signaling him to wait.

Samsher said nothing, turned towards a bench near the wall. There were many eyes that looked at him. The stares judged him, didn’t mean to declare specifically that ‘your son is a criminal’ but categorized him as ‘one whose family has harbored some criminal’. He felt shameful and hurt. The term defaulter used by the constable disturbed him the most.

He had to wait for two long hours. During that time he had not moved from where he was sitting. He was hungry and had not even sipped water since that morning. He desperately wanted to meet his son.

“Samsher Singh…father… Raunak Singh…,” announced the constable.

“Yes sir…yes sahib,” responded Samsher immediately, while he looked surreptitiously.

He signaled another constable and said, “Take him to Kaidi number 13”.

Samsher followed the constable. He wanted to ask him about the treatment, hardship, that Raunak had to suffer since his arrival, the previous night. He looked into the jail cells he passed and got disheartened to see people lying there, like street dogs. He prayed to almighty, he didn’t want to see his son in the same condition. The constable stopped and snarled, “lo mil lo…also tell him to cooperate…it will be good for his health”. He returned “…only twenty minutes…”

Raunak was in a bad state, resting hopelessly against a wall, covered in dust and blood. He was scared, tired, and dismayed, for he had never expected himself at such a place.

“Raunak… puttar,” Samsher called him softly. Before meeting him, he had decided to deal with him with strictness, but on looking him there, in a miserable condition, all his anger evaporated.

Raunak pulled himself closer to the iron grill door. He started crying. He felt ashamed, for he never wanted to insult his family, his father, which he had done by pushing himself into that situation. He looked at Samsher and felt guilty. The person, who had not worn without removing the last speck of dust and dirt from his shoes, was standing in front of him with his shoes deeply covered with dust. It was difficult to recognize the color of his shoes. He was in disarray.

“How are you…,” enquired Samsher caringly. He placed his hand on his wounds to gauge their severity.

“They thrashed me…they are ghosts,” he sobbed through his tears.

“Then why don’t you think, fear the consequences before committing this crime,” added Samsher.

“No… I did nothing. I didn’t do any such thing,” he forced his words and tried to prove his innocence.

Samsher felt hurt. The pain in Raunak’s answer immediately made him believe his words. He regretted for thinking wrong about him and not believing in him. “…Sorry… but how this all happened,” he said, momentarily diverting his feelings.

“I don’t know… I don’t know,” he sighed.

“But why has Gopi blamed you? For…?” he looked skeptic.

“I don’t know…” he shuddered, “…I don’t know.” He kept repeating the same answer.

“Ok, then I’ll try to tell the truth and reason with the police inspector.” He consoled him but didn’t sound confident.

“Father, how long would… all this continue?” asked Raunak, anxiously. He needed assistance to eject himself out of the abyss of the problem that loomed large on him.

Samsher said nothing, for he had no answer. “Son…even if you are innocent you have to admit yourself that the person you selected as your friend is not worth it. He is not a good person. You made a mistake. If you're feeling guilty about a transgression, don't try and fight it, rather admit it, at least to yourself. Earlier also it was your decision, which brought you here, and now also your decisions will set you free. Try to keep your balance, be patient and don’t lose hope, especially in these testing situations. You are very near even if you falter a bit, you will be the winner – prove your innocence”.

“Huh…,” moaned Raunak. He nodded his head and admitted the mistakes he had made.

“Challo…times up…over,” shouted the constable hotly.

“Take care…,” Samsher said softly and left the cell.

Out in the office he requested the police officer politely. “Sir I know my son… he can’t make such a big mistake. He has nothing to do with this”.

He looked unmoved and firm. “Sahib, most of the times such mistakes occur accidentally and these kids try to hide them,” said the officer, barely listening to him.

“No, no,” he hastily explained with an apologetic look, as if he himself were responsible for Chootu’s disappearance. “He has nothing to do with the boy’s disappearance. He has somehow fallen into the case.”

“Nobody can hide things, truth, after what he has suffered at our hands. I feel he is innocent but that doesn’t counts, we have orders. The public out there is annoyed; they want results, to track and locate Chootu. You only tell… how we can set him free… moreover somewhere somehow this case is linked to your son’s involvement as well. He has to bear this all, till he didn’t speak out. Also there is no other suspect, other than Gopi,” he made his point reproachfully. “…rest we’ll see.” He flung back at him, turning his back, indirectly indicating Samsher to leave the place.

Samsher said nothing and left, back for the town and went straight to the doctor. The doctor told him that Nasib had lost her zeal to live, appetite. She had suffered a trauma from Raunak’s arrest and to alleviate its effect doctor recommended few medicines.

Both, Nasib and Rajib, waited eagerly for any news related to Raunak. Their eyes were restless and gazed endlessly towards the gate. Samsher tried to hide the truth and didn’t want to upset Nasib. But he let them know whatever he had witnessed in the police station as he himself needed some support. Rajib cried bitterly and Nasib looked bewildered.

“Oh god…the truth…thou shalt help us sail across these testing times…Oh god do no harm to my child…give me his pains, his sufferings…what have you done to us,” Nasib wailed, holding her hands near to her heart.

When Samsher was going to give Nasib the medicine, which he had brought on doctor’s prescription, he recalled that nobody had eaten anything since that morning, for they had lost their appetite. He sent Rajib to cook something as he wanted to feed Nasib. Rajib had to obey him, although in a subdued manner. Later Samsher forced Nasib to eat and gave her the medicine. She kept saying that the medicine will do no good to her, she was broken in spirit. The medicine didn’t work and her health deteriorated gradually. She lay in her bed, and kept talking with Samsher in her feeble voice, the whole day. She was worried about Raunak wellbeing.

Nasib kept repeating the sequence of events that had struck them like an avalanche. “They came to arrest him in the house; they took him in a police Gypsy car. They took him to the police station, put him in a cell, took his photographs, his fingerprints and poor kid is now remanded to three days of police custody… rather than asking or inquiring first, and then…then decide to charge him with something like… an uncommon offense - a murder,” she murmured. The events were not fading away from her memory.

“Don’t worry…mother. Things will change, and soon everything will be alright, normal.” He consoled her and his heart pound a little faster.

“Samsher…,” she said, in a fragile voice, holding his hand tightly and struggling to speak, “…puttar. I told you million times, but you won’t listen…the easy money does no good. It has always laid roots for illusions, which seems mightier than they actually are…hollow from inside. See how your obsession has been the stumbling block. While playing with vices, you never think of the end; you just keep working on the illusions and its many charms and the final result accrues on its own.” She was annoyed, but her poor health had made her so frail that she was stressed to make her voice audible. “…you never know how a person had gathered a wealth—by doing just or not. The one that comes via just path, sweat and effort, resembles greenery and is never hidden…I told you…I told you that this wealth will do no good,” She referred to the wealth that had fallen in their hands. Nasib looked oddly groggy. “… It looked greener, a haven of sorts, but in reality is a twig uprooted in floods, providing a false semblance but unable to save who so ever decide to hold onto it, forcing to drown along…you paid no heed to my advice. Now see what damage it has done.” Her eyes were open, but were focused at something that was not in the real world, rather only in her imaginations.

“Sorry…ma…sorry.” Samsher admitted his negligence in guiding his family. Holding up her hand tightly he continued, “…sorry. I let them go their way”. He referred Raunak and Rajib. “… I failed to understand and judge their moves, shield them from the illusions that tempted them. I just wished them to be happy and enjoy their happiness.” He was not sure if Nasib was listening to him, because her eyes were still focused somewhere, or nowhere. “…I even omitted asking them about what they were doing all along… sorry”.

“Time passed is like water spilled,” she gasped. She looked weaker and delicate, “you have to abide by his …god’s will…the ever truth…the ultimate one.” She closed her eyes and kept repeating her last words.

He struggled to ease her pain, to erase her concern. He wanted her to sleep as he felt that medicines would heal her. “Don’t worry…ma,” he said blankly. He had said these words just to console her. The words had no meaning, neither for him. “…everything will be alright, back to normal…don’t recall this episode…this will be over. Your god…ah…our god will carry us out from this maze”. His mind was full of uncertainties and contrary to his message, to Nasib, he was petrified as he foresaw a dark abyss.

“No son…the truth…,” she was entirely focused on the matter that had disturbed her. “Throw the seeds away…throw the cause, reason away…the cause…the beginning itself,” she said hastily but serenely, trying to tell him something. Her eyeballs moved rapidly in the eye sockets of her skull, while she struggled through her words.

“What …ma…” he listened keenly.

“Throw it away…the road ahead will be again smooth, without unnecessary bends”. Nasib inhaled long harsh breaths, which made strange sounds in her throat.

“What…ma…,” he said feverishly. He got nervous, for he felt she had lost her mental health amidst the chaos. “…ma…sleep…rest…everything will be fine, don’t worry…forget it…Raunak will be fine…,” he pressed her one hand, gently held it in his both hands, as she had done in his childhood to calm him down, dispel his anxieties.

“No… No…get rid of it,” she continued obstinately “Throw the ill-fated gold jewelry away. It has shed the doom hidden in the midst of its false dazzle… get rid of it,” She presented her wish, her judgment.

“Ok… ok. I’ll do it later… no …I’ll do it right now, “he agreed. “I’ll immediately come back… stop worrying…ok.” He left her bed and went inside.

He took a gunny bag and immediately filled it with the gold and jewelry items that they had received as part of their share. The metal made much tinkering noise, but this time it didn’t sound like a melody to his ears. He threw the empty pots in a corner, which struck the floor, bounced, many times before they finally came to rest. The disturbance created by him seemed music to Nasib, she felt its effect as pleasing one. She continued to recite her prayers; requesting the god to pity on them, once again embrace them. Only her lips fluttered, no audible words, just air came out through her lips. She held her beads-of-rosary, but her fingers failed to move, count the beads. Her eyes were looking beyond the present, physical conundrums and worlds. Rajib was sitting near her on the floor, crying. She was shocked by Nasib’s dwindled health and to some extent by her unusual demand. She wanted to stop Samsher. He came running and raced towards the outer gate. He hurried, so that he could come back, soon, to be with Nasib. Rajib spoke unintelligible words to him, later suppressed her abysmal desires, which had choked her mind until that moment. She had failed to be an excellent mentor or mother, a good wife and a caring daughter-in-law. The image of perfection that she had projected for everyone in the house had shattered. She was overwhelmed by mixed feelings; she gulped the pain of parting from her cherished treasure as this pain was to a great extent negligible as compared to the one tolerated by her son, Raunak.

Samsher regretted for ignoring Nasib’s trepidations and felt awful. He went to the village Gurudwara and donated all the contents that he had carried on his shoulder, a fully filled gunny bag of gold jewelry. He made the donation and requested anonymity. His condition didn’t make the priest, head granthi, to raise any questions.

He went into the Gurudwara, the holy sanctum where sacred granth is placed. He bowed, showed obeisance and sought forgiveness, mercy. He read a verse written on the wall behind the granth.

TRUE IN THE PRIMAL BEGINNING.

TRUE THROUGHOUT THE AGES.

TRUE HERE AND NOW.

O NANAK, FOREVER AND EVER TRUE.

The words in the verse pinched him; every word held a meaning for him and made a perfect sense. He prayed with folded hands, “O God, O Merciful Lord, Ocean of compassion, O Forgiving Lord, please forgive us, and bestows understanding to your humble children. I have come seeking Your Sanctuary”. Later, he rushed back to reach Nasib and struggled to walk quickly with his prosthetic leg. He heard the melodious prayers that filled the air, which emerged from the loud speakers in the Gurudwara. He listened some of the hymns on his way back… The sinner is unfaithful to himself; he is ignorant, with shallow understanding. In the remembrance of true path, hopes are fulfilled, and the filth of the mind is removed…Those who remember truth are not lacking and dwell in peace… If it pleases the Supreme Lord God, then even a stone will float on water. Meaningful path means…To gather truth, to partake the Ambrosial Nectar. He realized himself to be a sinner, for the sins his son had done. Greed and falsehood were what they had collected within their minds. But thereon he felt relieved, light and free from burden.

To him the whole house appeared different, bright, pollution free, which had hung around the house since the illness was first dug out.

“Ma…I got rid of it…kicked it away… purged the house…don’t worry…no more,” said Samsher complacently. He was breathless.

Nasib moved, opened her eyes and looked at him. All her throbbing had disappeared, she looked calm and serene. She continued reciting her prayers, “O Immovable Lord, O Supreme Lord God, Imperishable, Destroyer of sins: O Perfect, All-pervading Lord, Destroyer of pain, Treasure of virtue: O Companion, Formless, Absolute Lord, Support of all: O Lord of the Universe, Treasure of excellence, with clear eternal understanding: Most Remote of the Remote, Lord God: You are, You were, and You shall always be. O Constant Companion of the Saints, You are the Support of the unsupported. O my Lord and Master, I am your slave. I am worthless; I have no worth at all”.

“… sleep…Raunak will come back soon…he will emerge neat…untarnished,” he smiled and tried to help her forget the disaster. “…don’t worry…,” he offered her food, which she clearly denied. She had no pain, no hunger, nothing. She looked okay, slowly she blinked her eyes, her eyes had a mysterious shine, and slowly they closed curtaining the dirty world from her. Samsher was relaxed as Nasib had stopped fretting. He smiled and saw her silent visage…she was overtaken by sleep. She had distanced herself from the maladies, drifted far away.

Raunak laid there on the dirty floor in the dingy prison cell. It was during that time of mental distress and suffering, Raunak recollected his memories and pondered how it all started. He realized that he had spent a simple but peaceful life before he got entangled in that situation. Rashid had stepped into his life and let the sweet poison, more than what it seemed, blemish their serene life. He had started living a life steered by no principles, akin to a kite with broken cord, taking a direction, whichever pleased him without thinking twice and grew intimacy with Gopi, who thereafter led him to murky depths of new worlds, including the sex orgies in that hotel. He tasted whatever was revealed to him in the dark world. He was set on a path where the miles cannot be tallied amidst its many illusions and charms. He had thought that he had found Elysian Fields; lost control over his choices and finally got stabbed in the back by no one other but the person he had trusted the most in his detour. This all had shocked the foundation of his happy life and had pushed his family members into a similar but endless pit. The enjoyable life that surrounded him like shade, symbolizing comfort, caress, and charisma turned out to be a shadow, the very insignia of doom, difficulty and depth. The favors uncalled for, the skills undiscovered and the gifts not deserved, did no good. They only led to the dawn of unguided and unmanageable sequence of events. There was no possibility to silently move back and return to the order of the past. The past, which they enjoyed, and the life they led before Rashid arrival, from Pakistan. It had been a pleasant enough life. He regretted for not being kind to himself; by ignoring the rightness and truth, moving the way up enjoying the false shade of luxury. He found it hard to face the same truth after being pulled down the way, by his fate. What appear to be obvious and plausible is not always right. Honestly, the one who had deceived him was no one else but, he himself. He thought of himself to be a rough paper or a waste cloth, used and thrown. He had failed to handle himself with care. A person’s stars encourage him to switch over to a challenging new course but never reveal the effects that prevail along. For long, he just had his straightforward life, but the awe-inspiring treasure and the breathtaking landscapes it offered were somber. There was a surge in his nervousness, about been trapped in a vicious problem. With only darkness and haze as far as the eyes of his mind could see. Those were the real testing times. He happened to find a word for himself—pauper. The realities were crystal clear. Every inch of his body reflected his short adventure. He tried to forget, to run, and to confess. But there exists nothing like a confession-box in real lives. Unconsciously he had scaled the heights but was forced to descend the slope with thunder and blast. He sensed darkness, limitless and infinite.

Chapter 11

Coming undone

Raunak laid there on the dirty prison floor. It was hard to tell, if he was sleeping or unconscious. His condition was very pitiable; clothes soaked with sweat and blood, discolored, torn at elbows and knees after being dragged like a rug multiple times by the policemen. His beard was filled with dust and saliva; his hair scattered, uncombed.

That afternoon a policeman unlocked his prison. Raunak shuffled and got scared, he thought they were taking him for another round of investigation, beat drill. Psychologically he was in tatters. But he proved wrong; the policemen nudged him slowly, by poking his thigh with his feet, to wake him and ordered him to reach the front office after washing up. Raunak was confused, he didn’t know if they were going to set him free or if they were taking him to court. He had lost hope for any positive change and was getting institutionalized in the prison.

He reached the office and was shocked to see his father sitting there. Samsher looked disheartened, had tied his turban improperly, void of its elegance, and had hurried to reach the police station. He made a brief eye contact with Raunak, said nothing, signed a register and guided Raunak outside the police station. Samsher behaved differently. Two policemen accompanied them. Raunak was able to realize that he was not freed. Policemen took them to the town, to their house, in a police Gypsy car.

Many people had gathered in their house and the main gate of their house was wide open. Samsher didn’t utter a single word on his way back and took Raunak into the house. Policemen remained outside, waiting. An inexplicable sense of uneasiness made him hesitate between one step and the next. He had tried all the possibilities for been taken home, but what he faced had never occurred to him. Nasib laid on her bed, in the centre of courtyard, covered in a white sheet, cotton buds stuffed into her nostrils. Raunak stood their immobile, startled after facing the unexpected. He tried to cry but tears didn’t appear, for there were no left in his eyes. Samsher softly asked Raunak to change his clothes; he talked for first time since he had brought him from the prison.

After Raunak changed his cloths, he went to Nasib’s bed. Her eyes were closed, face was expressionless and whole body wrapped in a white cloth, draped just like a newborn, as if preventing her from the malice that had filled her surroundings. She appeared serene and calm. Her death had definitely cushioned her out from the sinful worldly existence. He kissed her forehead. He noticed her beads-of-rosary near her pillow, picked and tucked it near her neck, in the cloth wrapped against her. When not praying she used to wrap it around her wrist, which she would, otherwise, only remove at the time of prayers. She would hold it in her right hand and with each word of her prayer slowly her fingers would reach for next beads. She had a great fondness for reciting the prayers aloud, because she had believed that it allow words enter ears of nearby living beings and hence help them to bond with divine powers. Every day during her prayers Meow would appear and crawl beneath her bed.

Raunak took it, her departure, as a bad dream, closed his eyes and opened them back in an effort to shun the reality, but devastatingly faced the realty that Nasib had left for divine abode. He was in a state of shock, felt guilty for his deeds, and considered himself responsible for the whole disorder. He wished, if the situation was an illusion.

Then her corpse was lifted and taken to nearby cremation ground. Police also followed Raunak to the cremation ground. Her corpse was placed on a stack of dry wood lumbers, pyre. Samsher poured hot ghee on the stack, so that it catches fire easily. Then he lifted an earthen pot and smashed it against the ground, proceeding ritualistically. Tears filled his eyes and flew down his cheeks. Samsher set wooden stack, pyre, on fire, came back and stood besides Raunak. He wept slowly and stood in silence with his head bowed. For Raunak his bowed head meant something different and other than sorrow –dishonor, which he had brought down on his family by landing into a criminal case.

Raunak looked into the fire; flames rose higher, feverishly, levitating Nasib’s soul higher and higher. He gazed at the pyre, without blinking, lost in the recollection of moments that he had ever shared with his grandmother. He had never cared for the value of those times but at that point of time there was no way out, no scope for salvation. He broke free from the haziness of his thoughts when he noticed some moment in the fire. He tried to focus on the movement and sorted out that Meow had emerged from the bushes, on the other side of the pyre. She had come there to pay her tribute to the departing soul, to her human companion, to her foster mother. Raunak was moved, moved by the feelings that had erupted from the little life form, Meow. She appeared weary and small, sad. Raunak realized that Meow looked straight into his eyes, through the shifting blanket of smoke and fire. He felt Meow shouting at him in an abusive conceit. He felt himself as a culprit, responsible for the quagmire. After sometime Meow turned back and entered into the thick foliage. After that day she never turned up, at her otherwise usual feeding times, for her bonds with the family were severed.

After the cremation, police escorted Raunak back to the prison. That day both Gopi and Raunak were taken for another beat drill, for they were on remand. Raunak was afraid, rather broken, and didn’t want to be beaten. He decided to tell the police everything he had done in Gopi’s company. The police already knew the fact that he had frequented prostitutes but still he ensured to inform them that Gopi had taken him there. He told them about the uncertainties he had noticed in his behavior, his spending, how he had pressurized him to keep a bag in his house and later requested him to give it back. Raunak didn’t know if his statements would save him or not but he had nothing else to tell. He made sure that he touched base on all his interactions with Gopi over past couple of weeks.

When Raunak had finished giving his statements a constable came rushing into the cell. “Sir…,” said the constable, as he approached the police officers who were present with Raunak. “…Kaidi number 9 has told something important, you must check it out,” he added sharply.

They immediately left for the cell to meet Kaidi number 9 i.e. Gopi. At that moment Raunak seemed useless to them as he had not given any useful lead.

“Sir…yes, listen to what he is telling.” The officer enquiring Gopi told all the others who entered the cell. “Yes, now repeat what you have mentioned earlier… speak,” he said roughly, forcing Gopi to repeat his statement.

“…will I be free then…after that?” enquired Gopi. He had another dark design shaping up in his mind and made a desperate bid for his survival.

“That we’ll see…you just do what I say,” said the officer slowly, staring down at Gopi. The officer looked strict and pressed his stick on Gopi’s chest.

“Ok…ok.” He cleared his mouth and swallowed the saliva down his throat. He seemed nervous. “Sir he killed him…Raunak killed him, Chootu…I know and I have called this out earlier as well,” mumbled Gopi.

“But why…why did he kill him?” asked another policemen, hopefully.

“That I don’t know, but he had killed him. I have proof and will share it with you. He is a psychopath, insane… please believe me,” panted Gopi.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier… about the proofs that you now claim to have,” screamed another voice a few seconds later.

“Sorry Sir… sir I wanted to save him …sorry, my mistake...a big mistake. It was my poor judgment, for I tried to save a criminal, a murderer, a bad man-schmuck,” he said pleadingly.

“We have already told you about our power, this stick…huh…tried to save him… what the hell were you thinking? Do you know what consequences you may face for obstructing justice by hiding the truth and proofs?” yelled the officer, flaunting his power and ridiculing Gopi. “But where is his body…where has he concealed the body?”

“Sir…I will tell, I am telling. He packed him in a bag, a duffle, black in color, and dumped it”. His eyes wandered in all the directions while he made his statement.

“Where did he dump the bag?” screeched another probing voice. Everybody present in that cell was filled with curiosity.

“Yes…he took the bag, near the cemetery, which is outside the town and hardly anybody visit that place”. He tried to look confident.

“Where in the cemetery has he hidden, buried, the body,” said another pressurizing Gopi.

“…Sir after leaving the access road, which lead to the cemetery, there is a big mango tree…”

“Yes…where …where? Continue and finish you sentence…”

“…beneath the tree, in a pit. Yes…sir. There in the pit.” Gopi went mum after his last words and looked relaxed. He had played his cards. “…when will I be free…? Will you release me now?”

“How do you know about that place,” said the officer placing his final question.

“Huh…” He was surprised and confused. “…sir…”

They didn’t wait for his answer and left the cell. The only person that had stayed back in Raunak’s cell was also called out. The policeman that had come to call him scolded Raunak and threatened him, he bellowed, “Now see…you son of a prostitute. We gonna knead you like a street dog. Just wait for us, to recover the body. Now nobody can save you, curtain your deeds.”

Gopi’s false statements had brought another stunning downfall that day. With the disclosure he had pleaded guilty to a reduced charge against him and tried to push Raunak still further into dimness. Raunak noticed that the policeman, who had abused him while disclosing the news about body’s recovery, joined a police party that was hurriedly leaving for the town. A team left for the town and went straight to Raunak’s house. They also took few leaders from labor union, along with them.

Raunak could make out nothing from their warning. He was happy as Chootu’s body was found and they were going to recover it, but the thing that frightened him was their outburst; the charge related to the murder that they had leveled on him. He sensed the new complications that were added to the case but was unable to decipher them completely. He knew nothing reasonable he could do, for he had nothing to do with the case, either.

He sat there suffocated like a wild caged animal. Unknowingly he had carried himself miles and miles away and landed in a swamp where he failed to move. Since his arrest, minutes had turned into hours and hours into days. How long had he been up there? He had failed to remember. Now this was his own private fight. Raunak’s family, who were going about life on a casual account, had ended up paying an extraordinary price. He wanted to go back. They wanted to go back. His world had been corrupted, polluted. He didn’t wish to see it. He had always tried to choose his decisions sensibly, but always ended up surrendering to instincts and impulses, which he regretted while he was locked up in the prison. Every time he closed his eyes, he desired that things will turn back to normal after he would open them, but things won’t change. He wished to go back. His fate was really poles apart; bizarre you might be tempted to say, for wheel of time ascends all and no morning sun lasts a whole day.

The police party reached Raunak’s house. They were ten in number and two among them were senior inspectors, who were leading the party. They came in Maruti Gypsy cars, which they parked in the center of the street, outside the house. People from the adjoining houses came out, after they took notice of some hustle in the street. They were curious to know about the new findings in the case. Nobody knew about Raunak’s innocence and honestly nobody in the neighborhood cared, but only piece of information they held was that both Gopi and Raunak were somehow involved in Chootu’s disappearance.

Police pushed open the gate and forcefully entered into Raunak’s house. They didn’t ask any occupant of the house for permission and began searching their house. They wasted no time, were in a hurry and displayed a sense of urgency. The police team members dispersed and entered various portions of the house. They showcased a well coordinated effort.

“Look here, sir,” rasped one policeman excitedly. “Some soil has been taken out from here.” He pointed at the spot in the garden from where Raunak had lifted some soil to fill, level, the pit in his room before patching the brick floor back into its original state.

“Search more…closely… and look sharply,” shouted the officer.

Samsher and Rajib stood quietly in the garden. They didn’t understand the sudden change of events. They were already in a mood of melancholy and sadness loomed large over them because of Raunak’s arrest and Nasib’s death.

Police team was throwing and toppling household items, furniture, etc. like a crazy elephant. They were searching for some clue, lead, murder weapon or any other suspicious object.

“Sir… check this out,” called another from Raunak’s room. They all collected in that room. “It seems the floor bricks here were recently removed.” Someone from the group tried to explain the new finding and put together a plausible theory.

“Also look at this shovel,” shouted another, who carried the shovel that Raunak had used to dig the soil while pulling gold urns out. “It has soil attached to it…fresh and slightly moistened…it has been recently used for digging.” His voice seemed to shoot up as he rationalized his suspicion.

“Don’t draw any conclusions yet, just keep looking around,” the senior officer went on. “Ok…you stay here, dig the ground and check it,” he ordered another.

Few of them came out, back into the garden where Samsher and Rajib were standing, fixated at the unfathomable turn of events. “So, your son was trying to hide the dead body here, in the room,” said a constable fervently and looked at Samsher in resentment.

The use of the words ‘dead body’ caught everybody’s attention in the street and the new update multiplied like a seismic wave, showing its effect catastrophically. “A dead body in the house… under the floor... they will find it. Police can see through the darkness… sift from thin air… now only god can save them”, were the words, that were on every one’s lips.

One policeman dug entire volume of the soil that was comparatively loose and recently poured back, but found nothing. Anyways, as per the trail provided by Gopi, they should not have expected anything there, in the house, but still they wanted to be thorough and confiscated the shovel as an evidence of sorts.

“Don’t think it’s over yet,” the officer in charge said angrily. “…we have got one clue for a suspicious activity…the case is wide open now…only a matter of time… just watch it out…nothing can save your son for his deeds. We know he is a murderer and we are just looking for the proofs to nail your son”. Then he ordered all the policemen to reach the spot that Gopi had highlighted as part of his confession.

Night fell and the sky blushed black. Police team sped outside the town, toward the place mentioned by Gopi, like they were going for a hunting expedition. All the people of the town followed, as beaters.

Samsher didn’t know what police was up to but he went after them, to the cemetery. He walked alone, nobody from the neighborhood cared to help him, support him morally, for now he was blemished, father of a culprit, murderer. Raunak had been personified as a criminal. All were curious, interested only in the outcomes thereon, not bothered about the social fabric or bond that had ever existed among them and Raunak’s family. Though on seeing Samsher follow the gathering, few hostile tones of gossips had died down to cautious whispers.

A furlong outside the town, a small place to the eastern side, the humid scrubland gave way to seemingly endless vistas of tall, geometrically spaced deodar and mango trees. Among all the trees police reached the cemetery and specified mango tree, as was described by Gopi. Few feet away, from that tree the wild grass was not as tall as the one that had covered the rest of the cemetery ground. A policeman removed the upper layer of grass, dead leaves and reached the soil. With every impact of the spade the soil came out easily. After finding that spot police’s doubt had strengthened as the soil, otherwise hard, was unexpectedly loose, for cemetery grounds are rarely mowed, cultivated and are void of any such activity. As that portion of the cemetery was not allocated for burials, therefore police immediately ruled out other possibilities. The crowd grew heavily and people surrounded the place, which was being dug up, and jostled among themselves to get a better view. All eyes were fixated at the spot, in the pit, with an expectation to locate a decayed body. Chootu’s body was getting exhumed from an otherwise unmarked grave. Few had even covered their nose, proactively, with handkerchiefs and duppatas’, to mask possible smell emanating from the rotten and decomposed body. The leaders from the labor union, who had accompanied the police, were also present and their anger had soared.

Gopi’s statements and claim proved to be a truth, for a bag came into sight, black in color, a duffle bag. Disturbance in the crowd reached its zenith. People murmured according to whatever they could make out from the discovery. There were as many explanations as there were tongues. Police tried to link the sequence of findings and focused to reach some conclusion.

Samsher recognized the bag, it belonged to his family. It was one of the two bags that Rajib had brought for Raunak. Second bag, similar to the first one was taken by Rashid. Samsher lost all his hopes; he had not expected that Raunak had murdered Chootu. He was stunned and stood there with a catatonic rigidity.

The bag was heavy, police dusted it properly, brought it near their Gypsy cars, which were parked on a nearby road and finally unzipped the bag.

Raunak had no hope but to pray. Looking at the only beam of light that entered his prison from a ventilator he had requested repeatedly, “Please, God, lift me up and out of the terrifying moment”. He longed for the sun and imagined how wonderful it would be to feel the fresh air.

He realized what he did wrong. It was to reduce life to a sum total of mistakes. He had slipped to cherish ephemerals in his consciousness. False are the assets and delicacies that come without any effort. Little things count in life, and they always do count. Acquiring hundreds of thousands and millions, the desires shall not be contained. No idea is a bad idea, no desire is a bad desire but their excess definitely is. One never bumps into situations in their life that are irrelevant, but they can go unnoticed. One needs to avoid drinking poison of unmerited desires in life. If one does, it needs to be made sure that it is consumed in limited quantities. A drunken life is not any contentment one would like to associate with. If a situation is fundamentally flawed to begin with and is entered into for all the wrong reason, it flounders, sooner or later. Can one escape the wrath of outcome? No one can. It watches over us, face to face, ever-present. People fall in love with the shade of the tree, and when it passes away, they feel regret in their minds. Without understanding, everything is false. One need to be genuine in his/her wishes or receiving other’s compliments.

Life takes full circle. That which was imminent, he believed to be far off—his freedom, but how? One needs to look at a bigger picture.

Matters were serious, but not hopeless. That day the remand period, which was specified for the investigation, expired. Also the investigation was over. Later, police brought Raunak out from the cell, where he was locked up, and made him complete certain paper formalities before setting him free. Yes, he was freed, some miracle had happened, but sudden changes made no meaning for Raunak. It took him by surprise. He didn’t take anything for real; only the suffering was real. Either he was out of the case, or the relief was temporary. He was scared and was not excited for being allowed to go home, for he felt that he will be again arrested soon. He was the one around whom the whole case revolved, but he himself knew nothing about the findings of the case. He wanted to cry. He wished to experience no new adventure. Only thing that would have given him strength to live was any possible way out of this problem.

He set back for his home. Questions were still bouncing in his mind. He thought police would chase and arrest him back, for he felt the police had mistaken him with some other prisoner as there was no reason that could have plucked him out of the murder case. He walked through the city streets and didn’t expect to get any support from any passerby, as his condition was miserable, like a dirty street urchin. He had no other option but to walk back to his town. He shivered with pain that mounted his legs. He felt as if his left leg was longer than the right one, uneven, due to what he had suffered in the prison. He had never anticipated that he can turn out to be weak and vacillating. He had lost a sense of dignity. Every step seemed tough and required more and more effort. He felt like climbing a mountain, road had lengthened for him, and he felt like he had walked for days. He hallucinated and realized that he knew every single fact there was to know and understood every single feeling ever experienced by anyone on earth, no matter how subtle. He came out of the city and all sort of noise and music, leaving behind city’s traffic, city’s hum and buzz gradually faded away.

It was then that he began to will everything away, the unnecessary desires, the addiction to women, everything. He no more felt charm of possessing the gold vessels that had turned to be a plethora box. He had never expected he could come so far. He had experienced the life till the other end and didn’t want to hold the fake colors on. He decided to make sure that he widens his life among the right people. Things were going to start falling into place quickly, and he was certainly up for the adaptation. He understood the need to force himself to stay on the righteous path, despite the non-stop stream of distractions and minor annoyances that parade past his life. It was possible – he just had to look deep inside his faith. For him wind had blown so strong in last few weeks that it carried with it the hardest of ground in the form of a sand storm. During its course nothing was clear and when it settled nothing was same. Truth is merely a copy of objects and events in an ordinary life, but its effects were not ordinary in Raunak’s life.

He passed a slum along the gutter which had carried the dirt away from the city. The mounds of filth dumped along the gutter, the heaps of feces and patches of urine that slum children had left along the gutter, the scattered frills of cloths smeared with greasy spots, which were used by children to clean themselves after defecating—nothing displeased him, nothing else could have displeased him. His condition was no better than those slum dwellers. He made his way towards his town through the slum. That was a familiar sight as he had passed those roads earlier as well, but never on foot. He was not familiar to the people who had filled those streets. They stared at him, women washing their utensils and clothes along the road took notice, because they had confused him with one of their members but could not identify him.

Along his way he also crossed the places, which he otherwise had chosen to get a flavor of opulence, but he felt no charm. The very beautiful scenes that occurred during the sunset didn’t bother him. The kaleidoscopic play of the nature failed to soothe him. Everything skipped before him like a slideshow but he paid no attention. Things had lost their meaning in his life. He was facing a situation that he had never expected even in his worst dreams. There was no way out. He had no excitement, for he was going home and the circumstances there were not the same. Everything had worked so fast and he had no time to absorb the things that had happened around. He had just begun his flight, enjoying the wealth that had added pomp and pageantry to his life, when he met with a crash. He had a great desire to enjoy life in all its colors, but at that moment he realized, few colors are merely colorless.

By earning nothing and just spending the money one have, no one can achieve contentment and happiness. The very efforts that are made to earn something in life augment its sweetness and help one to realize its effects in the life. Wealth that just comes in one’s way neither bring its worth along with it, nor does it allows one’s principles to sense it. It works in a similar way as the blinder tied to a horse’s eyes does, so that it can’t look sideways while towing a cart. It does harm, nothing is mysterious during the course but a person misses it out amidst the enjoyments, which are there in its fake colors. The harm done by easy money that had carried Raunak in its flow blinded him to guess some fall ahead, sooner or later. He just kept floating without any direction.

There’s no rule book for living; our realities make the man we are. If one need to avoid unruly desires, keeping ones hands in the pockets isn't enough, one has to remove oneself, else they effect like demons. Although one who is overcautious will accomplish little, but one who is little cautious carry out shadows. We ourselves could be our, savior or nemesis. One need to try to open ones’ mind a bit more and foresee what one comes up with. Difficulties are redundant but always appear in different forms, so are our choices. Riddles are everywhere and it takes more to enjoy more. There is a fine line that separates happiness and sorrow, although two must always go together.

Chapter 12

New beginnings

In the late evening he reached near the town. All the houses in the town laid in a strong white glow of full moon, which hung above. He walked through the streets, of the town, which were filled with a haughty and unfriendly air. He entered the street leading to his house; dogs laid stretched on the surface and shifted their tails to let Raunak pass, for he was not a stranger, although traversing through a very strange situation of his life. Raunak’s clothes emanated a thick, musty odor mixed with sweat and the blood from his wounds. He had worn the same set of clothes since the day he was arrested or had stayed naked in the prison.

With a great effort he managed to reach his home. There were no signs of any human activity in the house, bulbs in the veranda facing the main gate were not lit, house was not swept, dead leaves and dust were scattered in the gate. House seemed deserted as if nobody had ever lived there. The house, almost symbolically, stood distinctively, along the street among the neighboring cluster of houses, hunchbacked in darkness. Rajib and Samsher were buried under grief and murkiness, as there was no one to make them laugh, for there was no one to crack jokes or pull them through the gloominess. The house which was once populated by Raunak’s voice, echoing and hobbling everywhere around, from the walls, was now deserted even amidst hundreds of daily visitors and soothsayers, who had visited to console them. He knocked on the gate; his knuckles ached every time his hand hit against the iron sheets of the gate. Nobody came to open the door. He again made an effort to knock the door, this time a bit harder.

Initially, there was some disturbance in the veranda, it then turned into a sound of footsteps, sluggishly moving towards the gate and stopped near it. Somebody removed the latch with fragile hands and pulled it slowly. Rajib opened the gate and returned; she had assumed that someone from the neighborhood had visited to see them, to offer condolences for Nasib’s death. They had felt low down and felt like giving up all hopes. But on unexpectedly finding Raunak standing in the gate they ran eagerly to meet him. His father, who had not worn his prosthetic leg, jumped out from the chair he was sitting in and balanced himself on one leg while he hoped to reach for him. He cuddled Raunak and pulled him close to his chest. He started crying and vented out his emotions without any inhibition. His mother, who didn’t expect to see him, felt a jolt and stood glued to the ground in a hypnotic manner. His sudden appearance had left her dumbstruck, she seemed frozen, her eyes were fixed on Raunak’s face and her hands were still in the position they were a moment earlier. When, she realized the veracity of his presence, she didn’t know her next step, for she had lost all her hopes to see him ever again, as a free man outside the cage. Large drops of tears started flowing down her eyes, proving that she was not motionless from deep within. After she had absorbed the moment, she tried to scream, shout and implore in happiness but words won’t escape her mouth.

For the first time since Raunak had entered the house, she moved toward the chair where by then he was made to sit by his father. Her lips were stretched and tongue gently held between them by front tooth; all the skin folds around her eyes and wrinkles on her cheeks down the lips had disappeared as she stared at him. Her eyes were wide open. Amidst surge of sentiments she had forgotten to close the door, which she had never missed earlier to shut in her family life from public. A boy passed by and coincidently peered inside; he noticed Raunak emotionally embraced by his father. The boy informed somebody in the neighborhood about his observation and the news swelled like a wild fire. Entire colony poured down their house in a sudden cloud burst, to express their solidarity and peck tidbits of new development that was unfolding.

Rajib let out the feelings that she was holding inside her. She sat by his side, on the ground, held his left hand tightly, kissed it repeatedly and wept bitterly. Her tears washed the dust from Raunak’s hand and the trail marks, left behind after tear drops rolled over and fell on the ground, were distinctly visible.

Rajib heaved herself together and went to fetch some water for him, she hastened and pulled a glass from the basket in which utensils were kept. Few utensils got scattered and the eerie silence that had prevailed till then was broken amidst the din of falling utensils. Her heart ached to return to him, as soon as possible. She didn’t want anything to eclipse him from her. While leaving the kitchen in a jiffy, she kicked a bucket that was placed near the door and spilled some water. She was so much moved by her son’s return that she no longer sensed what she was doing and what she had done. She gave the glass of water to Raunak.

Forcing back her sobs and cries, she immediately returned and brought a bucket, half-filled with water. She soaked her dupatta in it, squeezed it to get rid of excess water and started cleaning Raunak’s face. Samsher helped Raunak remove his shirt and assisted her in dry-washing him. After looking at his wounds and bruises, signs of police’s savageness, on his back his heart pounded loudly. He wanted to snivel, for what his son had to suffer, and to laugh, simultaneously, for a bad episode was all over. He suppressed his feelings because he didn’t want to add further distress to the moment. He collected himself and allowed his feelings to subside. Although he clearly understood and saw how Raunak was feeling at that instant, but still he asked, “are you well, my heart.”

“Huh…,” moaned Raunak. He was in a state of trauma, still making an attempt to adapt to his new environment, recuperating.

She gave him food and helped him eat. People who had horded the house, were watching him, as they would watch a conjurer about to perform a trick. They kept mum, for they had no word that could have relieved him. He satiated his hunger, every time he took small bites and swallowed them slowly. He looked like a living nightmare. He looked into their eyes, he was sure, they would have cried at his condition if not forced by the demand of that moment.

Samsher supported him, and led him into his room. He made him sleep. For the first time in a week he slept on a bed. Softness of the bed and tenderness of his home immediately pushed him into the depths of sleep. People commiserated both Rajib and Samsher and went to their houses, this time without gathering in the street to discuss the situation, to discuss their views. Though, some excitement was caused among the people, who had never witnessed such a situation.

The blame that had fallen on Raunak was like a mud wall, which can never be washed clean, but the truth had uprooted the whole foundation of the wall. The lessons time teach are immortal.

Samsher and Rajib wanted to bring everything back to normal. They wanted him to forget everything that had happened, like a bad dream. They wanted to celebrate, laugh and rejoice for their moon was back.

Weather during nights was always the same since Raunak was taken to jail. But Rajib had lost her interests and failed to notice the colors of nature. After he returned and lay on his bed, feelings again revived in her. She regained her consciousness and listened to the voices that had surrounded her, the barking of dogs, the jangles from the children that were playing in the street, and so on. This collectively appeared music to her ears, like a music emerging from a concert, celebrating Raunak’s coming back. She looked intently outside the window. She noticed the branches of the trees, in the street, shaking and leaves dancing. She got delighted with the weather outside and opened the windows. Cool breeze entered the room and brushed her skin. The feel of the breeze could tell her the difference, turning over of a new leaf. That evening, the sky was clear and stars decorated the night sky. There was a sweet scent in the air. For few minutes she stayed glued to the window and watched aimlessly at the blank sky.

Life was again returning on the track, falling back to normalcy. The hot winds, for Raunak’s family had stopped but had left behind its effects, for difficult times have icy edge to them; they never do pass by easily. Samsher wanted to bring everything back to its initial state, what had happened, had happened. He wished to make the horrendous memory a thing of past. He didn’t wish to recall it; he wanted to help his family move on. He thanked to almighty for helping them out from the darkness, for it was nobody else but god who worked in his mysterious ways to help them sail them across. Sheer luck was the single most important weapon that god has added in Raunak’s armory, when it came to save him.

After Raunak had had his breakfast he spoke for the first time since he had returned from the prison. His wounds and swollen lips pained but the comfort at home was healing him and helping him recover at an expedited pace. During previous night’s sleep, in his cozy bed, his muscles had relaxed, only the pain was left. This was a moment of triumph as he had emerged neat and as they say he was the man of the hour. The only solace he could find from his fate was that he had not gone far and there existed a way back. Though that detour in their life had left its mark, for they had toiled a lot amidst immeasurable surge of distress and trauma; also his grandmother had died. Deep down, he could not forgive himself, for his deeds were the core reason for her suffering and untimely death.

“Ma…how did it happen?” he asked Rajib, sitting up straight. He wanted to know about the circumstances that had made his freedom possible. Whatever he knew was an incomplete picture and wanted to fill-in the gaps in his understanding.

She tried to explain but Samsher took over the conversation. He told Raunak everything about police’s raid, at their house, the same day Nasib was cremated. How they ransacked the house and then followed Gopi’s lead till the mango tree in the cemetery. “…and then they dug that place and,” he paused, remembering the way he had felt during that moment, “…and they found a bag…the bag that was described by Gopi,” said Samsher quietly.

“…means Chootu was really killed and so, they found the body…,” asked Raunak, in exclamation.

“No,” Samsher replied, hastily, who seemed to restrain his doubts with some difficulty. He was confused and many loose threads were still unclear to him. But he didn’t wish to know anything more, for his son was back and his family was no where associated with Chootu’s murder or disappearance.

“What…?”

“But it was our bag, the one that was supposed to be taken by Rashid, back to Pakistan,” he said firmly, and looked straight at Raunak. He had doubts flowing in his eyes, “The bag had no dead body but Rashid’s share of gold, gold dust, gold smithy tools and his clothes,” he paused, “…one thing I have failed to understand is why did Rashid leave his share, in the bag, there in the pit, and how did Gopi come to know about it?” said Samsher, gazing down at the floor.

The sequence of events described by Samsher meant much for Raunak, as they had immediately helped him find missing pieces to the puzzle. He looked surprised. He thanked god for showing its magic via his mysteries ways. Everything was transparent and crystal clear for him. He had understood the reason, because of which he had emerged neat from the murder charges. “I got it…everything, … wow… what are the odds that this could happen and it works in our favor” said Raunak quickly, slumping back in the chair. He looked at Samsher and Rajib in a quick succession.

“What,” squeaked Rajib, speaking at last. She didn’t know what he was trying to tell and her pitch prompted him to say more, clarify her uncertainties.

“That how this all happened…means what was Rashid’s bag doing over there,” said Raunak, sluggishly, breaking free from the silence that had overtaken him a moment ago. He looked surprised and a little excited, simultaneously.

“How come you know? What have you to do with it,” asked Samsher steadily.

“Gopi had borrowed the bag, another one, the very day we brought it from the market,” he replied, distractedly. He recalled the evening when he had met Gopi, who had looked confused and didn’t share anything clearly with him. “…He took it from me. He wanted a bag to pack, carry, some thing. He didn’t tell me anything, but he looked troubled and was in a hurry. I never knew about his intentions and I innocently gave him my bag, second bag, similar to the one that we had brought for Rashid.” He explained, briefly, about the series of events that had set another drama into motion behind the scenes.

“It means, Chootu was in fact murdered by him, and he was trying to carry the body…away, somewhere…to hide it, to dispose it off,” added Rajib in a low voice.

“Very right… true,” said Raunak firmly.

“But then where is the body? And why did Rashid leave his bag here, in that pit? It contained gold dust and gold jewelry that according to Rashid was worth hundreds of thousands… rupees. How are these two aspects correlated?” questioned Samsher, firing another volley of questions.

Raunak explained and shared his understanding of the sequence of events, which had somehow gone wrong, and had baffled them. However, chance occurrence and overlapping nature of few events had proved helpful for him and helped him to emerge unscathed, from the case. While they were adapting to their new normal, they also tried to identify such events that had fortunately played in their favor.

When Gopi had failed to dispose the bag and decided to place it temporarily with Raunak because he didn’t want to keep it in his house, Raunak had carried it to his room and placed it under his bed. Raunak didn’t want anybody in the house know about this, for he thought that they would question unnecessarily. Very next day, Rashid readied himself to leave, return back to Pakistan, and asked Samsher to bring the bag that he had placed under Raunak’s bed after filling it up. The bag he asked for was the one that he had filled with his share of gold, goldsmithy implements, gold dust and his clothes. Coincidently it was identical to the one that Raunak had kept there. Unknowingly Samsher handed him the bag that contained the dead body, and Rashid took it with him. Amidst his excitement, Rashid didn’t check the contents of the bag and left. And, likewise the bag that Raunak returned, to Gopi on his demand was not the one he meant. The bags got exchanged and later Gopi buried the wrong bag. When police had searched the house and recovered the bag from the location specified by Gopi, they found nothing that was relevant to the case and charges that were pinned against Raunak. The bag was not the one described by Gopi; there was no dead body inside it. Rather it had gold, clothes, and implements in it. The findings had no relation with Chootu’s disappearance and added no weight to the case. Things got complicated for Gopi and police again rounded him up, tortured him, this time ever harder and in a strict manner. There was no way left for Gopi to evade his crime, and finally he succumbed to the pressure. Then his worst nightmare came true, and he admitted his crime, murdering Chootu and explained everything, including the circumstances that made him to do so. He broke down and gave vivid account of his deeds.

Both, Samsher and Rajib, sat there captivated with the truth, the reality. Their eyes were wide open, akin to what children do while listening to a dragon-story. They sighed with relief that it was all over. They had seen what they have never expected to see in their life and admitted to themselves, where they had not thought they could go. They thanked god for his mercy, his forgiveness. If it was not a fluke then what else was it? Raunak’s family was roller blinded, rather oblivious to all that had conjured around them, while they were busy relishing their ephemeral bounty. There were no half measures there; it was as god up there held nothing back and let righteousness prevail, for everyone. Samsher and Rajib tried to help Raunak emerge from the swamp of regret. They had hitchhiked from one phase of life to another, evolving into new panorama. What they had known was visible; what they came to know just then formed a part of invisible, the bigger picture. Apparently, it is not easy for anyone to even day dream their time away, because thing that are set in motion, consciously or unconsciously, play their part till the end.

The events over past few weeks had put Raunak in the clear and showed him a path to get somewhere that is meaningful. He had understood that sins are never left back they always manage to bounce.

“Please don’t think of you as a victim,” said Samsher, “We should surrender to the reality that it was somewhere our flaw as well to travel down this road without thinking about the direction we were heading. Greed is greed, this is its nature, and we were enticed by its false charms and were blindfolded by its evil sheen. Let‘s stop regretting for the mistakes, for there is no way to improve upon them retrospectively. We were wrong, stepping ourselves away from truth, distancing ourselves, into the rank of stepchildren of god. However, let’s remind ourselves of the real good times we have had to date and how we want to carve out our future from here on”. He had revived his responsibilities to guide his family, which earlier he had erroneously ignored or overlooked. It is instructive in life, on how to maintain steadfast faith, poise and equanimity despite situations when everything turns topsy-turvy, this is what Samsher had concluded, barely concealing his own feelings.

The acidic words used by Samsher, stepchildren of god, had rattled through Raunak’s ears, to his spirit. He remembered the underprivileged people, whom he had observed languishing in poverty, at various stages of their struggle from birth till death, living their whole life on streets with nothing to wear, to eat, and to leisure amidst their perennial struggle to survive. He realized how deliberately he had underestimated and thanklessly neglected the grace that almighty had bestowed on him and his family. He had a home, with almost everything needed to live peacefully, though not in abundance. He regretted wishing for superfluous things slowly pushing himself into poverty, poverty of peace and virtue. He couldn’t summon up enough courage to tell his parents about the paths he had treaded upon. He never uttered a word about his doings, but after that day he sensed that they had somehow figured out about his actions, maybe from police or from gossip mongers like Gujjar, the milkman.

Many other upheavals had surfaced in their neighborhood. Gopi’s and Kumar’s families, which had once occupied the top rung in social status in the town, had gone down the ladder. Their dignity was squashed in their society. Neelu had fallen sick and matters reached a zenith when her sickness proved to be her pregnancy. As usual, the price for such illegitimate relations has always been high and is paid sooner or later. Everything was out, in open, laid in public and there existed no way for them to revive the reputation of their families. Their intimacy had grown sullen, then abusive and finally transformed into a battle. All the sweetness among them had shattered into ambers, their friendly relationship’s Velcro fell apart amidst a loud ripping noise.

After listening to what had happened to Kumar’s and Gopi’s family, Raunak felt he had had his revenge. He regretted for developing bonds with Gopi, a person whose ideas had flaws, whose character had flaws and whose whole life had been an amorphous construct. Neighbors had realized the mistake they had made in ridiculing Raunak and his family. They empathized with him, and efforts of their sympathy were so great that the pain of wounds on Raunak’s body and essence waned away to some extent. He was seen as a victim, but nobody knew how he had ventured into it. Only his parents had known that and stood by his side, carrying amber of fresh beginnings within their hearts. He had given his parent’s faith a blow, by venturing down a frightful path, while sailing on the trade winds of his meaningless desires. He was wrong. Thing that he ignored, had proven to be the true danger signs. Of course, it is the judgment of today that decides what one have to bear tomorrow. The reason for our problems at times is hidden in our choices.

Many times Rajib had experienced uneasiness and had secretly slipped into the store room, and looked into the pots, which were now empty. The way her expressions unfurled when she looked into the pots, she looked unhappy. Every time she did so she also felt humiliated and guilty. A day later she threw the pots. It was time she set her own, as well as, her family’s life in order. After she had lost wealth, it never came back, but something else did, her family and mental peace. But, for her the tragic sequence of events remained a bitter remembrance for life.

Raunak knew that the tumults and turbulences needed to be forgotten quickly as a bad accident. Within few days’ time life had returned to a new normal and Raunak returned to the softness and coziness of his home. But what was unraveling in his sordid story? Answers stay hidden in the future as only a phase was over.

Past few weeks had remained a memory of ignominy for him. The people, whose ways of life had once delighted him, no more caught his attention. In the crucible of life there is much to learn and experience. He had learnt his lesson that only when something is well earned, it lasts. He tried to set himself ready to thrive on, forget his strange times and weird encounters. He promised and made sure to find a way to keep himself oriented in a right direction and constantly move forward. He sensed that thereon his past experiences will always prove to be a compass of sorts. Perhaps, it was time for him to ask whether he would repeat such mistakes and put his life to proper use by shutting down unmeaning desires. He desired never to lose control over his life as he had learnt that one cannot make up for moments that flow out of hands, once they are dealt. There were many do’s and don’ts of luxury, desires, companionship and other life lessons that he had picked on his way out. Amidst this introspection, he tried to define what he really wanted out of his life. He pondered that one should earn to live and not live to earn He had understood that he need to admire the thirst to learn, earn and reach for more meaningful objectives, and recognize the fact that at every phase new and brighter objectives will emerge; but it’s not wise that in due course he forgets the satisfaction that he basked-in from each individual achievement. One should only go that far from which s/he can return, and abolish all desires to which one could not attach oneself sooner or later and yearn only for those which one can exhibit openly, with a feel of satisfaction. His experiences had underscored that craving for unnecessary desires mean one is joining inexplicable satanic cults. His ordeal had turned him into a realist and had made him humble. He recognized that one’s mental energies should be complimented by the power of positive thinking. He wished if in years to come he could dare to look in the eyes of fake enchantments and never blink, for there are no short cuts in life and the best way is always through. A flash of life lessons crossed his mind. He had many beads, lessons, in his hand and was trying to assemble then together. He had understood that the game of life is best played in a calm and focused state; moreover, undue favors, on the way, from others does no good, also there is nothing like favor, as sooner or later thing add up. Howsoever alien the sky; it is always reachable, even though once-in-a-lifetime. He sensed that his mind was still filled with turbulences but he was able to control and vet them. As he moved into an uncertain future, he was certain that he can do his best to stay pragmatic.

Today, once again they are back to a workaday world. Samsher has gone to the academy. Raunak is reading a newspaper and lay stretched; on his stomach, on a mat in the veranda. He had tasted curse of riches. He had understood the spirit of life correctly and decided to follow and practice it properly. He is a changed person now, for prison changes a person. He is ecstatic about his new life, again simple but peaceful. His job offer letter and date of joining notification lay next to him, fluttering in gentle wafts of fresh morning breeze.

He has never looked this charismatic and energetic before. Now it’s time for him to take-up an abandoned zeal for life again, with all vigor. This is a happy day and it is a happy moment. It seems all so magical again.

In his mind, whenever he looks back, he wishes to see someone in the empty bed, which was now placed against a wall in the veranda. He wishes, “if grandma were here”. Every time, a mood of melancholy descends on him. But on all such occasions, he decides to not resign to the past. He has already taken a step back to find his way forward. Clock keeps ticking, so does a variety of moments in our life. They can just pass by or leave their long lasting imprints, which can be sweet or sour. One must keep going, for we have no choice to alter them but one must imbibe the open lessons life bring along. He took a deep breath and promised himself to do so.

Rajib is busy in her work. It is a bright day, in many perspectives, birds are chirping and everything seems musical again.

Tak…tak …tak, there is a knock on the door. Sudden noise breaks his chain of thoughts. Rajib discerns a man outside the gate, with no moustache, only beard and wearing a white cap. Her heart raced and she experienced déjà vu; remnants of past experiences, won’t you agree. She opens the door eagerly, but finds a Kashmiri carpet merchant, smiling at her, wishing to sell his merchandize. Amidst the new beginning Raunak notices her haggling with the merchant for few carpets.

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